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Right at the begi
I couldn't afford to give the interplay of magic too much attention, though, because a pair of Dorthini riders chose that moment to come at me together, one on each side. If it hadn't been for Lesh and Harkane, the ploy might have worked. As it was, I deflected the first Dorthini to my companions and concentrated on the second.
We didn't fight just with our swords. Our horses became weapons too, and the Dorthini was more adept at that part of the job. Maneuvering animals took more concentration and effort than swinging blades. The horses had ideas of their own, and they didn't always agree with the riders'. Horses sometimes have more sense than people. The only thing these animals wanted to do was get away from the melee.
With the longer reach Dragon's Death gave me, I could have cut the Dorthini's horse down, but I was loathe to attack any animal that didn't have its own designs on my health and well-being. That inhibition dragged out the fight-almost as if it tied one hand behind my back. The Dorthini had a good hacking sword, with a blade nearly as broad at the hilt as my elf sword. I couldn't snap his blade, and he was good enough to keep me fully occupied for several minutes.
More Dorthini riders pushed in toward us. For a moment, the press of numbers forced my troop back a few paces in the direction of the castle. Then I got a clear shot at the Dorthini who was trying to get right in my face. I flashed a one-handed slice across, skipping my blade off the tip of his. Dragon's Death caught him solidly between helmet and eyebrows. Blood welled out like red wine overflowing a mug before he fell and dragged his horse down with him.
I had a little clear space in front of me. Through a break in the dust, I saw the Etevar's wizard staring at me. At the moment, he looked to be no more than a horse's length away. I knew it was a trick of perspective or magic, though, since he was actually fifty yards or more from me. But I could see him as if he were right there. He had a pale face and black beard and sideburns. A single eyebrow covered both eyes, a thick black line that looked as phony as Groucho Marx's greasepaint mustache and eyebrows. The wizard gri
There was no time to think it through. I spurred Gold toward the wizard, impatiently cutting two Dorthini foot soldiers out of my way with a single swing of Dragon's Death. The battle couldn't end until I got rid of either the wizard or the Etevar, maybe both. The dust closed in again as I forced Gold between the panicked horses of two men I had just wounded, who were trying to escape. I lost sight of the Dorthini wizard, and when I spotted him again-after I sparred inconclusively with several more soldiers-he was farther away, as was the Etevar, a rougher-looking man, swarthy-ski
The battle flowed toward the castle again. My troop had to give some ground, but we had shown enough power that the bulk of the Dorthini army broke around us. The drawbridge of Thyme was up, so the Etevar couldn't reclaim the castle as a quick refuge-though why he might look for refuge when he still had us vastly outnumbered didn't occur to me at the time. I had my hands full, trying to keep my people together and dealing with those Dorthinis who couldn't avoid us.
One encounter in that phase of the battle will stick with me through eternity, I think. A Dorthini foot soldier, armed with a long spear and a short sword like a Roman legio
He couldn't have been any older than Harkane-fourteen, maybe fifteen. Blue eyes opened in wide surprise. The muscles in his face relaxed. Blood spurted from his neck and he died. For a moment, all I could do was stare down at him. He was just a kid. I gagged and almost threw up.
I backed Gold around, trying to see how things were going around me. Horns sounded near the Etevar, and his army moved farther east, clear of Castle Thyme. The Dorthinis marched into what little was left of the village's spring crops. Suddenly, the Etevar and I were in the open, between our armies, with only our own guards to support us, I spurred Gold forward again, knowing that I had to take a chance to reach the Etevar before he got behind another wall of soldiers-and before the Dorthinis could cut me off from my support.
Then my danger sense went berserk, and so did my horse, but the Dorthinis weren't the cause. It was a distant shadow, first in my mind and then in the sky, and a cry like metal ripping in an auto wreck. A familiar feeling, a familiar shadow. A dragon-a mother-huge dragon-was heading straight for me.
While I fought to control Gold, the two armies moved farther apart-and away from me-as though I had just broken out with the stigmata of every infectious disease ever known or imagined. Even most of the troop right with me decided that they belonged somewhere else. All I had left were the people I would have bet on to stay-A
This dragon was coming specifically for me, just like all of the threats in Fairy. My danger sense was very definite about that, and there was more. The Etevar's wizard loomed in my sight again, appearing much closer than he actually was. His hands-delicate-looking, with long, pointed fingers-grasped a broad medallion that hung from his neck on a heavy gold chain. I could see each link in the chain, but his hands covered whatever device the medallion bore. The Dorthini wizard squinted, concentrating on me. I saw his mouth move as he chanted, flashes of white teeth and almost purple lips and tongue.
This is it, I thought. I looked around for Dad and Vara and the rest of the congregation of Heroes. This dragon was much larger than the one the elf warrior had died fighting on that beach by the Mist. Even if I somehow managed to drop this beast, I had to expect to go the way of the elf. And there was nowhere to run.
I stepped several paces in front of my companions to get room to swing the elf sword. Dragon's Death-a meager hope. My mouth was moving too. The whistling that came when I used the long blade got louder and louder until there were almost words to it, a magical chant of the incoherent sort I had heard Parthet use. And A