The road curved round behind a low hill a mile or so outside of town, and Sparhawk reined in. Nobody can see us now, he shouted over the howling wind. Lets try this and see what happens. He reached inside his tunic for the golden box.
Berit came galloping up from the rear. Weve got riders coming up from behind! he shouted, wiping the rain out of his face.
Following us? Kalten demanded.
Berit spread his hands uncertainly.
How many? Ulath asked.
Twenty-five or thirty, Sir Ulath. I couldnt see them very clearly in all this rain, but it looked to me as if they were wearing armor of some sort.
Good, Kalten grated harshly. Theres not much fun in killing amateurs.
What do you think? Sparhawk asked Vanion.
Lets have a look. They might not be interested in us at all.
The two turned and rode back along the muddy road a couple of hundred yards. The riders coming up from behind had slowed to a walk. They were rough-looking men wrapped in furs and armed for the most part with bronze-tipped spears. The one in the lead wore a vast, bristling beard and an archaic-looking helmet surmounted with a set of deer-antlers.
Thats it, Sparhawk said shortly. Theyre definitely following us. Lets get the others and deal with this. They rode on back to where their friends had taken some small shelter on the lee-side of a pine grove. We stayed in Jorsan too long, Sparhawk told them. It gave Rebal time to call in help. The men behind us are bronze-age warriors.
Like the Lamorks who attacked us outside Demos? Ulath asked.
Right, Sparhawk said. These are most likely followers of Incetes rather than Drychtnath, but it all amounts to the same thing.
Could you pick out the leader? Ulath asked.
Hes right up front, Vanion replied.
That makes it easier, then.
Vanion gave him a questioning look.
This has happened before, Sparhawk explained. We dont know exactly why, but when the leader falls, the rest of them vanish.
Couldnt we just hide back among these trees? Sephrenia asked.
I wouldnt want to chance that, Vanion told her. We know where they are now. If we let them get out of sight, they could circle back and ambush us. Lets deal with this here and now.
Were wasting time, Kalten said abruptly. Lets get on with it.
Khalad, Sparhawk said to his squire, take Sephrenia and the children back into the trees a ways. Try to stay out of sight.
Children? Talen objected.
Just do as youre told, Khalad told him, and dont get any ideas about trying out that rapier just yet. The knights turned and rode back along the muddy track to face their pursuers.
Are they alone? Bevier asked. I mean, can anybody make out the one who might have raised them?
We can sort that out after we kill the fellow with the antlers, Kalten growled. Once all the rest vanish, whoevers responsible for this is going to be left standing out in the rain all by himself.
Theres no point in waiting, Vanion told them, his voice bleak. Lets get at it. Im starting to get wet.
They all pushed their cloaks out of the way to clear their sword arms, pulled on the plain steel helmets that had been hanging from their saddle-bows, and buckled on their shields.
Ill do it, Kalten told Sparhawk, forcing his mount against Farans shoulder. There was a kind of suppressed fury in Kaltens voice and a reckless set to his shoulders. Lets go! he bellowed, drawing his sword.
They charged. The warriors from the ninth century recoiled momentarily as the mail-skirted Church Knights thundered toward them with the hooves of their war-horses hurling great clots of mud out behind them. Bronze-age weaponry and ancient tactics were no match for steel mail-shirts and contemporary swords and axes, and the small, scrubby horses of the dark ages were scarcely more than ponies. Kalten crashed into the forefront of the pursuers with his companions fanned out behind him in a kind of wedge formation. The blond Pandion stood up in his stirrups, swinging his sword in vast, powerful strokes. Kalten was normally a highly skilled and cool-headed warrior, but he seemed enraged today, taking chances he should not have taken, over-extending his strokes and swinging his sword much harder than was prudent. The round bronze shields of the men who faced him barely slowed his strokes as he chopped his way through the press toward the bearded man in the antlered helmet.
Sparhawk and the others, startled by his reckless charge, followed him, cutting down any who tried to attack him from the rear. The bearded man bellowed an archaic war cry and spurred his horse forward, swinging a huge, bronze-headed war axe. Almost disdainfully, Kalten brushed the axe-stroke aside with his shield and delivered a vast overhand stroke with his sword, swinging the weapon with all his strength. His sword sheared down through the hastily raised bronze shield, and half of the gleaming oval spun away, carrying the bearded mans forearm with it. Kalten swung again, and his sword struck the top of the antler-adorned helmet, gashing down into the enemys head followed by a sudden spray of blood and brains. The dead man was hurled from his saddle by the force of the blow, and his followers wavered like mirages and vanished.
One mounted man, however, remained. The black-cloaked figure of Rebal was suddenly quite alone as the ancient warriors who had been drawn up protectively around him were abruptly no longer there. Kalten advanced on him, his bloody sword half raised and death in his ice-blue eyes. Rebal shrieked, wheeled his horse, and fled back into the storm, desperately flogging at his mount.
Kalten. Vanion roared as the knight spurred his horse to pursue the fleeing man. Stop.
But...
Stay where you are.
Still caught in the grip of that reckless fury, Kalten started to object.
Thats an order, Sir Knight, put up your sword!
Yes, my Lord, Kalten replied sullenly, sliding his blood-smeared blade back into its sheath.
Take that weapon back out! Vanion bellowed at him. Wipe it off before you sheathe it!
Sorry, Lord Vanion. I forgot.
Forgot? What do you mean, forgot? Are you some halfgrown puppy? clean that sword, Sir Knight! I want to see it shining before you put it away.
Yes, my Lord, Kalten mumbled.
What did you say?
Yes, my Lord. Kalten shouted it this time.
Thats a little better.
Thanks, Vanion, Sparhawk murmured.
Ill deal with you later, sparhawk! Vanion barked. Making him see to his equipment was your responsibility. Youre supposed to be a leader of men, not a goatherd. The Preceptor looked around. All right, he said crisply, lets form up and go back. Smartly, gentlemen, smartly. Were soldiers of God. Lets try to at least look as if we knew what were doing!
There was some slight shelter from the wind back in among the trees. Vanion led the knights through the grove to rejoin Sephrenia, Khalad and the children.
Is everyone all right? Sephrenia asked quickly.
We dont have any visible wounds, little mother, Sparhawk replied.
She gave him a questioning look.
Lord Vanion was in fine voice, Ulath grinned. He was a little dissatisfied with a couple of us, and he spoke to us about itfirmly.
That will do, Sir Knight, Vanion said.
Yes, my Lord.
Were you able to identify whoever it was who raised that party? Khalad asked Sparhawk.
No. Rebal was there, but we didnt see anybody else.
How was the fight?
You should have seen it, Khalad, Berit said enthusiastically. Sir Kalten was absolutely stupendous!
Kalten glared at him.
Sephrenia gave the two of them a shrewd look. We can talk about all this after we get clear of the storm, she told them. Are you ready, Sparhawk?
In a moment, he replied. He reached inside his tunic, took out the box, and commanded it to open. He put on Ehlanas ring and lifted the Bhelliom out.
Here, Sephrenia said. She lifted Flute, and Sparhawk took the little girl into his arms.
How do we go about this? he asked her.
Once we get started, Ill be speaking through your lips, she replied. You wont understand what Im saying because the language will be strange to you.
Some obscure Styric dialect?
No, Sparhawk, not Styric. Its quite a bit older than that. Just relax. Ill guide you through this. Give me the box. When Bhelliom moves from one place to another, everything sort of shivers. I dont think our friend out there will be able to locate Bhelliom again immediately, so if you put itand your wifes ringback in the box immediately and snap the cover down on your own ring, he wont have any idea of where weve gone. Now, hold Bhelliom in both hands and let it know who you are.
It should know already.
Remind it, Sparhawk, and speak to it in Trollish. Lets observe the formalities. She nestled back into the protective circle of his mailed arms.
Sparhawk lifted Bhelliom, making sure that the bands of both rings were firmly in contact with it. Blue Rose, he said to it in Trollish, I am Sparhawk-from-Elenia. Do you know me? The azure glow which had bathed his hands hardened, became like fresh-forged steel. Sparhawks relationship with the Bhelliom was ambiguous, and the flower-gem had no real reason to be fond of him.
Tell it who you really are, Sparhawk, Flute suggested. Make certain that it knows you.
Blue Rose, Sparhawk said again, once more in the hideous language of the Trolls, I am Anakha, and I wear the rings. Do you know me?
The Bhelliom gave a little lurch as he spoke the fatal name, and some of the steel went out of its petals.
Its a start, he muttered. What now?
Now its my turn, she replied. Relax, Sparhawk. Let me into your mind.
It was a strange sort of process. Sparhawk felt almost as if his own will had been suspended as the Child Goddess gently, even lovingly, took his mind into her two small hands. The voice that came from his lips was strangely soft, and the language it spoke was hauntingly familiar, skirting the very outer edges of his understanding.
Then the world seemed to blur around him and faded momentarily into a kind of luminous twilight. Then the blur was gone, and the sun was shining. It was no longer raining, and the wind had dropped to a gentle breeze.
What an astonishing idea! Aphrael exclaimed. I never even thought of that. Put the Bhelliom away, Sparhawk, quickly.
Sparhawk put the jewel and Ehlanas ring back into the box and snapped down the cover on his own ring. Then he turned and looked toward the south. There was an intensely dark line of cloud low on the horizon. Then he looked north again and saw a fair-sized town at the bottom of the hill, a pleasant-looking town with red-tile roofs glowing in the autumn sunshine. Is that Korvan? he asked tentatively.