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Blade nearly stepped on the dead man as he gripped the saddle. He swung himself up and into place so swiftly that the rolgha barely had time to realize its old rider was gone before the new one was holding the reins. Then Blade was putting in the spurs and the rolgha jumped forward, more like a kangaroo than a horse. It was cantering before any of the dead man's comrades even noticed that his rolgha had changed owners. It kept trying to work up to a gallop, but Blade fought it back to a canter. Both visibility and footing were uncertain. He'd managed to avoid breaking his neck in the glider, and didn't want to do the job now in a riding accident on the very edge of safety.
The next moment he wondered just how close he was to safety. An arrow whistled past him less than a foot away. Another struck the rolgha in the leg, but fortunately low down where there was nothing except skin and solid bone. Blade had another fight to keep the rolgha under control, and by the time he'd won, the archer was out of accurate shooting range. Now the smoke was on Blade's side.
He kept the rolgha at a canter as he headed toward the ford. He also let it drift to the right as far as he could, toward the river bank. If he couldn't break through to the ford he could always ride the rolgha off the bank into the river and swim for it.
He heard shouts and neighings around him in the smoke as he rode, but no more arrows came at him. He suspected the Jaghdi were sufficiently confused so that one odd rider more or less looked enough like a Jaghdi cavalry outfit to be deceptive at first glance.
He was more than halfway to the ford when he saw a line of mounted men emerging from the smoke ahead. He turned even more sharply to the right, and someone, thinking he was a Jaghdi, shouted, «Hey! Where do you think you're going! Join us!»
Before the man could shout again, Blade put his head down and his spurs in. There were at least sixty riders in the line ahead, and that was too many. Saving a little time in getting across the river wasn't worth the risk of not getting there at all.
Blade's gallop should have signaled «Enemy» to the Jaghdi archers. As it was, the idea of an Elstani on a rolgha penetrated too slowly to let them shoot while Blade was an easy target. Arrows whistled all around him as the smoke swallowed him up, and two struck the larger target of the rolgha. It screamed and seemed about to go out of control, but Blade once more fought the animal so that it calmed down.
Then he was out of the smoke and riding down to the riverbank. Once again the sheer novelty of a mounted Elstani helped him. It also helped that more than half the Jaghdi guarding the river were looking across to the other bank. Blade was glad to see that most of the Elstani refugees were on the march toward the ford now. Only a thin line remained along the bank, enough to help escaping glider pilots out of the water.
Some of the Jaghdi had dismounted and were standing around a body on the ground, prodding at it with lances. Blade's mouth twisted and he rode on toward the bank, hoping that the fallen man was already past feeling pain. Then he saw the man writhing, and saw that under the blood he wore a green belt.
Fador'n!
Suddenly Blade knew that what made sense and what he was going to do were different things. It wasn't in him to let Fador'n lead the gliders into action, and then leave him to be tortured to death by the Jaghdi! Before he'd finished the thought, Blade's sword was out of its scabbard and his mouth opened in a war cry that made the men around Fador'n turn. Before they could realize they were in danger, he was on them.
It would have been a thoroughly one-sided battle if Blade had dared let his rolgha use its teeth and hooves on the Jaghdi. Unfortunately he couldn't risk having Fador'n savaged or trampled. So he had to keep his distance and use his sword. He split a skull, chopped off an arm, and laid open a shoulder in four strokes, but then another man drove a spear into his rolgha's belly. Blade knew from its scream that it was not only going to die but was likely to go out of control before it did. He threw himself out of the saddle, landing so hard he nearly lost his sword. The Jaghd was more worried about the rolgha than about its rider, and didn't take advantage of Blade's moment off balance. He retreated, dropping his spear and drawing his own sword.
Then Blade regained his balance and raised his sword. The Jaghdi's mouth opened in a scream that died abruptly as Blade's sword came down. The Jaghdi's head toppled from his shoulders and his body fell almost on top of Fador'n. The Elstani tried to get to his feet, looked up at Blade, then fainted from pain and loss of blood. Blade scooped him up and ran for the riverbank. Fador'n's hundred and forty pounds was a small weight for Blade's adrenalin-driven strength.
Blade reached the bank where it was ten feet high and nearly vertical. When he saw that, he didn't even break stride but dove off as arrows started cutting through the air where he'd been. He went almost to the bottom, and lost his grip on Fador'n. The current lifted them both and drove them back together. Blade surfaced with a new grip on Fador'n's collar, just enough to keep the man's head above water. With both legs and the other hand, he struck out for the opposite bank.
Arrows splashed back into the water around them, but the smoke was now creeping out over the river, the two heads were small targets, and the river was already full of the bodies of men and rolghas. Blade finally ducked behind a dead rolgha and treaded water while he caught his breath and examined Fador'n. The man's wounds looked ghastly. But if he didn't die from shock or loss of blood, he still might survive to tell his grandchildren about the battle.
Blade stayed behind the rolgha until the current had drifted them a few hundred yards downstream. There were still Jaghdi on the bank, but the smoke was now pouring out over the river so thickly that visibility was steadily shrinking. Blade drew only a few badly aimed arrows when he struck out again for the safety of the far bank. Then he was beyond the range of the Jaghdi horsebows.
The river was only about four hundred yards wide, but to Blade it felt more like four miles. The cold ate into him and sapped his strength, the letdown after battle did more, and the constant struggle to keep Fador'n's head above water took away most of what energy he had left. He gritted his teeth and swam on, until suddenly his feet struck a gravel bottom and there were Elstani shouts in his ears.
He managed to stay on his feet until he'd seen Fador'n placed on a litter and hurried off to the doctors, and after that he stood while someone shoved a cup of spiced hot beer into his hand. Then he sat down, ignoring the shouted congratulations all around him, forcing strength back into his limbs as the warmth of the beer flowed through him. By the time Daimarz came up, his face a red mask from a scalp wound, Blade was on his feet again.
«The work of the gliders is done, Blade. Your work.»
«There were five hundred-no, more like five thousand sharing that work.»
«Have it your way, if you're going to be stubborn about it. But you'd better hurry if you want to be in on the kill. Our people are across the river, and the men from the other guilds are in sight. They finally agreed to join in our fight.»
It was about time, Blade thought, but all he said was, «I'm coming.» Blade noticed a nick in his sword, but decided it would last out the rest of the fight. He belted it on and followed the woodcutter.
The Jaghdi weren't helpless even without their rolghas, but they were certainly doomed. The Elstani had steel swords and their crossbows outranged the Jaghdi horsebows. The woodcutters were trained to work together on foot, and the refugees fought like men possessed. A third of the Jaghdi died, but there were only a few hundred Elstani casualties. The rest of the invaders were surrendering as fast as they could by the time the men of the other guilds came up.