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The land along the forest-edge and across the hills had become a place of horror, riven armor and flesh tangled in clots and heaps, wherever the fighting had been thick. Someone moaned and cried for water, another for help they were not able, themselves, to give. Men moved among them in the distance, bringing both, he hoped.
They came on a little knoll, a tree, and a dead horse. One man sat with another in his arms. They wore the red of the Guelenfolk.
Erion and Denyn. The Ivanim, wounded himself, held the boy, rocking to and fro, and looked up at them as they stopped.
“Come with us,” Tristen said gently. “We shall take you to the King.”
“I will go there soon,” Erion said faintly and bent his head against the boy’s, with nothing more to say.
Tristen lingered, wishing there were magic to work, a miracle he dared do; but there was none: the boy was dead—and he would not.
He rode on with Uwen. He saw the Heron ba
Wheel on the slope of the farther. They rode to the tattered red ba
They rode up among the Guelenfolk. He saw the faces of those about
Cefwyn turn toward him. He saw hands laid on weapons. He thought that they did not know him, and lifted his free hand to show it empty ... he saw Cefwyn’s face, that was likewise stricken with fear.
“Cefwyn,” he said, and dismounted.
Idrys was there, and caught at Cefwyn’s arm when Cefwyn moved toward him, but Cefwyn shook him off and came and took his hand as if he feared he would break.
“I lost my shield,” Tristen said, only then feeling his heart come back to him. “—And my helm. I don’t know where, my lord.”
“Gods.” Cefwyn embraced him with a grate of metal. He shuddered and held to Cefwyn’s arms when he let go. “You fool,” Cefwyn said gently.
“You great fool—he’s gone. Asdyneddin is dead, his whole damned army has fled the field, or surrendered under m’lady’s ba
The rest of us are coming in. Pelumer is found ... lost himself in the woods, to his great disgust ...” “It is no fault of his.”
“Holy gods, —Wizards. No, I knew it. Ninévrisé’s had word of Sovrag; his cousin was wiped out, lost, and Sovrag couldn’t pass upriver. A blackness hung over the river, and the boats lost themselves while it lasted ... even so, they’ve taken down the Emwy bridge. The rebels that did escape us won’t cross. —Gods, are you all right, Tristen?”
He flexed his hand, wiped at his eyes. “I’m very well.”
He walked away then. Uwen led Dys and Cass behind him.
He had no idea where to go, now. He thought he would sleep a while.
True sleep had been very long absent from him.
—Emuin, he said, but he had no answer—a sense of presence, but nothing close. Possibly Emuin was asleep himself.
“Where are ye goin’, m’lord?” Uwen asked. “Sounds as if they’ll be bringin’ the wagons in, if ye please. We’ll have canvas ’twixt us and the weather. She’s clouded up, looking like rain tonight.”
He looked at the sky, at common, gray-bottomed clouds. He looked about him at the woods. Owl had gone, Shadow that he was, into the trees, where he was more comfortable. But he knew where Owl was.
Owl had gone to the river, where the small creatures had not been startled into hiding. Owl would wait for night. That was the kind of creature Owl was, as kings were kings and lords were lords and the likes of Uwen Lewen’s-son would always stay faithful.
He saw no shadow in the sky. None on the horizon. He did not know how to answer Uwen’s question, but he thought that he would sit down on the rocks near the road, and wait, and see what the world of Men was about to be.