Call of the Herald (30 page)

* * *

Osbourne cried out as one of his boots
slipped from the stirrup, only Spenwar's firm grip kept him from
tumbling to the sand. Riders came from all directions, and it was
difficult to tell friend from foe, but when a horse materialized
from the dust bearing two riders, he knew it was one of his
friends. Strom roared as they passed, throwing what looked like a
pear at an oncoming Zjhon horse. The fruit struck the horse in the
forehead, startling the animal while it was at a full gallop. The
horse and its helpless rider veered sideways and crashed into
another Zjhon soldier.

Osbourne would have cheered the victory, but
more riders came, and he followed Strom's lead. He opened one of
the pouches along the saddle and found soft cheeses wrapped in
broad, supple leaves. Knowing they would have no need for food if
they did not first escape, he took half of them and began throwing
them at approaching Zjhon riders. Though he was aiming for the
horses' eyes, he often missed, but one bundle of cheese struck a
Zjhon soldier in the face and exploded on impact.

The blinded soldier dropped his reins and
tried to clear the cheese from his eyes, but the cheese clung to
his skin and lashes, and sand began to collect on it, making
matters worse. Unprepared when his horse suddenly veered around a
fallen rider, the soldier flew from the saddle and plowed
face-first into the sand. Osbourne let out a brief cheer just
before a Zjhon horse struck them broadside and at full speed. As
the world tumbled around him, Osbourne gave thanks for all that
life had given him.

* * *

Activity to Catrin's right caught her
attention, and she turned to see what was happening. The Arghast
had adapted quickly and were using the Zjhon's ramming technique
against them. She watched, horrified, as the Arghast crashed
recklessly into the Zjhon. One horse caught her attention as it
bowled over an unsuspecting Zjhon soldier, its second passenger
taking down the Zjhon with his staff. Nat howled, wide eyed, like a
man possessed as he searched for a new foe.

Catrin recognized Irvil of the Sun clan, who
rode before Nat. Irvil attacked with a fury, driving his horse into
the Zjhon, thrashing them with his spears, and yelling exultantly
whenever Nat landed a blow. They cleared a hole in the Zjhon line
just large enough for them to break free. Vertook and Irvil urged
their horses on, and somehow the marvelous beasts found their wind.
They surged ahead of the pursuing Zjhon and thundered toward the
rocky borderland where a sparse forest skirted the cliffs.

Vertook let Irvil and Nat lead since only Nat
knew their destination. Catrin could see several Zjhon closing in
from behind. She feared their swords, but the men armed with bows
terrified her more. Her back exposed, she felt naked and vulnerable
and continued to watch for arrows, but the archers were out of bow
range and had loosed none, which only increased her terror. Skilled
archers would not waste arrows on bad shots, and these men seemed
prepared to wait.

As the land sloped upward, stunted trees grew
thick, stinging with their branches, and loose rock shifted under
hooves. The trail became as much an adversary as the Zjhon, and the
nearly spent horses struggled with the terrain.

A sharp crack sounded from behind, followed
by sickening thud, and as Catrin spun around, she saw a horse go
down, its leg shattered. The flailing animal tumbled down the
rocks, taking two others and their riders with it. Irvil struggled
to outrun the remaining Zjhon, following a winding path that was
barely more than a game trail. Low-hanging branches assaulted them,
and brambles clung, biting deep. Catrin counted four Zjhon
remaining, and she shouted to Irvil, urging him on, but he was hard
pressed, and despite his best efforts, the Zjhon were making better
time. All they could do was press on as relentlessly as they
could.

Irvil barked a warning, and Vertook veered
away from a hornets' nest so large it covered the tree that hosted
it. Catrin watched as the Zjhon grew closer to the nest; then, in
one fluid motion, she drew her knives and launched them at the
nest.

Her old belt knife with the broken tip flew
wide, striking only bark, but in the next instant, her Zjhon blade
struck home, exploding the nest into a cloud of paper and enraged
hornets. Moving like an angry specter with a shared life, the mass
descended on the Zjhon with unmitigated fury.

Cries of man and horse split the air, and
Catrin watched, awed but horrified by what she had done. Two horses
went down and the rest panicked. Some of the hornets overtook
Catrin and Vertook, and their horses surged ahead with renewed
energy born of pain. Vertook had to duck under many branches, and
Catrin was nearly unhorsed by leaves that raked her face and a
branch that struck her in the forehead.

The Zjhon fell farther and farther behind,
and Irvil took full advantage of the situation. He pushed his mount
through brush and brambles, and the noble animal lowered his head
and pressed on, ignoring his scrapes and many bleeding cuts. Catrin
kept a watchful eye on the woods behind them, seeing soldiers
moving between the trees, but they were still a good distance back
and moving more slowly.

The forest thinned and gave way to a rocky
incline, beyond which loomed the bluffs--the absolute edge of
Catrin's world. Sorely winded, the horses were clearly in no
condition to carry them across such terrain. Vertook and Irvil
spoke quietly and, in a moment, seemed to agree on a difficult
decision. First, they dismounted; then they helped their passengers
to the ground.

Vertook and Irvil then did what would have
seemed unthinkable in other circumstances: they commanded their
horses to go on without them, but it was entirely contrary to the
animals' nature, and they stood their ground, confused and
agitated. The men persisted, and Catrin watched in anguish as
Vertook chased his horse away with a flick of a switch. The bond
shared by the Arghast and their horses was like mated souls, and it
grieved Catrin to witness the scene. The image of these animals,
going against their very natures, retreating through the
trees--their ears pinned back and their tails tucked--was burned
into her senses, and she knew she would never forget it.

Nat took the lead and scrambled up the rocks
to look over the edge. He scanned the water, pulled a piece of
polished metal from his robe, and signaled wildly. Sounds of
pursuit grew closer, and Nat searched the water desperately. Then
Irvil grabbed him and spun him to the right. A bright signal, not
far east of where they stood, was coming from small boats secluded
under the shadow of the cliff. Elated, Nat rushed east along the
cliffs. Catrin still feared the soldiers would catch them, and
Vertook and Irvil stayed as far from the edge as they could.

Suddenly soldiers emerged from the trees, and
Catrin saw one of them nock an arrow. Nat ran to a large rock that
jutted out over the water. Catrin and Vertook rushed to join him.
When they looked down at the small boats below, the height
terrified Catrin, and she turned to retreat. Before she could take
a step, however, Irvil cried out and rushed toward the approaching
soldiers. He held his ground against a man wielding a sword, but
Catrin saw the archer draw and loose his arrow in one smooth
motion. She knew where it would strike even as the archer's
fingertips slid from the bowstring. Tears filled her eyes as she
turned back to the cliff. Vertook stood at her side, looking grim
and determined. As one, they prepared to meet their deaths, but as
they turned to make their final stand, Nat spoke softly.

"I'm very sorry to have to do this," he said,
and Catrin knew what was about to happen as she felt his hand on
the small of her back. She screamed as he pushed her over the
edge.

* * *

Dust and the smell of blood choked Strom as
he pulled himself from under the horse that had given its life to
save his. Luck had been with him, and he was uninjured. The same
could not be said for Malluke, who was under the horse, dead. As
Strom stood, his head spun, and the world around him was a blur.
After a moment of shock, he recalled the danger and took a sword
from the nearby body of a soldier. Before he could even test his
swing, a shadowy rider materialized within a cloud of dust and bore
down on him with speed.

Stepping back and bracing himself, Strom
prepared to take a desperate swing, but then he saw it was Chase.
Leaning down from his saddle, Chase reached out and grabbed Strom
as he passed, barely slowing. Strom grabbed on and leaped up in the
saddle behind Chase, and he was glad to see that Chase had stolen a
Zjhon horse. At least it had a bridle and reins.

"Where are the others?" Strom shouted.

"I don't know. Let's go find them," Chase
replied as he drove their mount to greater speed.

Chapter 20

There is no greater act of faith than to put
your life in the hands of a stranger.

--Guntar Berga, soldier

* * *

The wind buffeted Catrin about mercilessly as
she fell after Nat pushed her off the cliff. The air was sucked
from her lungs, and she was unable to control her limbs. She
flailed wildly to right herself then tucked herself into a ball,
preparing to absorb the impact.

The waves rushed toward her with impossible
speed, and she struck the water feet first. The impact forced the
last of the air from her lungs, and her momentum drove her far
beneath the waves. Terrified, she fought to reach the distant
surface. Hampered by her clothing, she didn't think she would make
it. Her lungs burned for air, and only willpower kept her from
parting her lips to inhale water.

Above her, light reflected off the surface,
dancing, taunting her, just out of reach. Her body demanded breath,
and she gulped, repulsed by the salty taste and burning in her
throat. Her body went into spasm and thrashed with little effect.
Something hard struck her, but she barely felt it. Darkness was
settling on her as rough hands yanked her from the water.

When the darkness faded, she found herself in
the belly of a small boat. A man was beating on her chest and
blowing air into her lungs with his mouth. Her body convulsed, and
he turned her onto her side so she could empty her lungs and
stomach. The small boat tossed violently, compounding her
disorientation.

As she tried to right herself, the men in the
boat continued to row vigorously. Her stomach betrayed her again,
and she clung to the gunwale, feeling sea spray on her face. The
wind was cold, and noticing her shivering, one of the men draped a
blanket across her back. She wrapped herself tightly, but still she
shivered violently and her teeth chattered.

As she regained control of herself, she saw
there were four men huddled in the small craft, rowing as if their
lives depended on it. Several other boats floated nearby, and they
all struggled against the current. The men were oddly garbed and
had darkly tanned skin. Catrin had never seen men adorn themselves
with jewelry, but these wore rings on their fingers and some had
earrings. She had seen tattoos, but none like the complex patterns
that ran up one man's arms, looking like a live painting.

None spoke, though, not even to one another,
and Catrin huddled in silence, not trusting her voice to speak.
Cold rock jutted from the water, looming over them, and Catrin
feared the waves would batter them against the imposing cliffs. As
she watched, the men turned the boat sideways to the bluffs and
rowed into the shadows. As they entered the gloom, an opening
materialized before them, previously hidden in the darkness. Cool,
musty air barely stirred, and as they rounded a bend, they were
bathed in soft torchlight. The violence of the thrashing waters
subsided completely.

Their rowing was now confined to keeping the
craft in the center of a natural channel that flowed into a large
cave. It was lined with jagged rock, and firelight danced on the
water ahead. Around a bend floated a ship in a cavern just barely
large enough to contain it. The ship didn't look quite right, and
Catrin realized it was missing its mainmast.

Above them, on a rock shelf, a fire burned
and at least a dozen people milled about, but when they saw the
boats return, they ran up the gangplank of the ship, tossed down
lines, and secured them to large iron rings on the boat's rails.
The men above used a windlass and a series of large pulleys to haul
the heavy boats up to the point where they were level with the
deck. It was only then she realized there were three boats in
addition to her own that must have been waiting for her and her
companions below the cliffs. When each boat was empty of people,
they hauled it onto the deck and turned it on its side. It took a
dozen men to lift the boat to the hooks where it normally hung, but
they quickly secured it and dropped the lines down for the next
boat.

In relatively short order, all the men were
aboard, and the boats were stowed. Catrin found Nat and was amazed
to see he still held his staff. It took her longer to locate
Vertook, but she eventually saw him huddled in a corner, his head
cradled in his hands.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly and
slightly. "I did not know there could be so much water, or that it
could be so"--he struggled for the word--"tall."

She nodded her understanding, touched him on
the shoulder, and walked back to the railing. This ship did not
move as violently as the small boat had, but it still moved
constantly, and Catrin found it disquieting. As she leaned on the
railing, trying to move with the movement of the boat and compose
herself, a young man presented himself. A skinny lad with bright
red hair and freckles, he was the only sailor she had seen without
a dark tan.