Two hills upthrust, the farther of incredible steepness, although all the clearing else was naked and flat, hazy with distance and the westering sun.
A vast hold sat atop that high place, dominating all the land round about, looking down on clearing and on forest, square, a cube such as the great holds of power tended to be.
Nehmin.
And before them on the flat of the vast clearing was mustered the host of Shiuan, the glitter of arms ascending the side of the rock of the fortress, shining motes, rare in the dark tide of Men, all misty with afternoon haze.
Morgaine had drawn rein yet within the cover of the woods. Dismay seldom touched her face, but it did now. The number of those about Nehmin seemed that of the stones at Narnside. They stretched as a gray surging mass across the floor of the clearing in the far distance, stretched up the farther hill like the waves of Shiuan's eroding seas beating at the rock, tendrils of humanity which straggled among the rough spires and wound constantly higher toward the stronghold.
"Liyo," Vanye said, "let us work round the side of this place. To be caught between that and what already pursues us… little appeals to me."
She reined Siptah about so that her back was to the clearing and her face toward the woods from which they had come. There was audible again the distant sound of pursuit. "They have us between," she said. "There is ambush everywhere; they have come in by all three rivers. Days— days—before the arrhend can match this kind of force."
Merir's face was grim. "We will never match it. We cannot fight but singly. In time, each will come, each fight."
"And singly die," Vanye said in despair. "That is madness, to go by twos against that force."
"Never all die," said Sharm. "Not while Shathan stands. But it will take time to deal with that out there. The first to oppose them will surely die, 241
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ourselves surely among them… and thousands may die, in days after. But this is our land. We will not let it fall to the likes of these."
"But Nehmin may fall," said Morgaine. "Enough force, enough weight of bodies and doors will yield and even the jewel-force cannot long stop them. Their ignorance— let loose in Nehmin— amid the powers it holds— no. No, we do not wait here for that to happen. Where, lord, is the access to Nehmin?"
"There are three hills, not apparent from this view; there is the Lesser Horn, there to the side of the greatest hill, a fortress over the road itself: gates within it face this way and the far side… that is the way up. Then the road winds high to the Dark Horn, which you cannot see from here, and then to the very doors of Nehmin. We cannot hope to reach more than this nearest and least, the White Hill, before they come on us."
"Come," she said. "At least we shall not be waiting here for them. We shall try. Better that than sitting still."
"They will know that horse of yours, even at distance," Roh said. "There is none such in their company, yours or Lord Merir's."
Morgaine shrugged. "Then they will know me," she said. There was distrust in her look suddenly, as if she had of sudden reckoned that Roh, armed, was at her back in a situation where none could prevent him.
But the sound of pursuit was almost upon them, and she touched the spurs to Siptah and led them forward, circling within the fringe of trees, riding the bow of the clearing.
She meant a run with the White Hill between her and Nehmin, Vanye realized; it was what he would have done, running at the horde on the flat from an angle such that they had cover for at least a portion of their ride.
"They are on us!" Kessun cried; they looked back and the foremost of their pursuers had broken through, riders stringing out in wild disorder, cutting across the open to head them off while they still rode the arc.
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But at the same moment Morgaine veered out into the open, and meant to lead them from under the face of that charge, riding for the White Hill.
"Go!" she shouted. "Lellin, Sezar, Merir, ride while you can. We will shake these from our heels and overtake you. The rest of you, stay by me."
Well-done, Vanye thought; the unarmed five of their party had cover enough in which to gain ground; the nine armed had cover in which to deal with these rash pursuers. He disdained the bow: he had no skill at firing from horseback. He was Nhi when he fought, and whipped out the Shiua longsword, at Morgaine's left. Perrin and Vis, Roh, Sharrn, Dev, Larrel and Kessun: their arrows flew and riders went down; and Morgaine's lesser weapon laced red fire across the front of the charge which met them. Horses and riders went down, screaming, and even so a handful broke through. Demon-helms, their barbed lances lowered, with a straggling horde of marshlands foot panting behind.
The charge reached them: Vanye fell to the side Nhi-style, simply not there when the lance passed, and the good horse held steady as he came thrusting up again, blade aimed for that rider. The khal saw it coming, horrified, for the lance point was beyond and his sword inside the defense.
Then his point drove into the undefended throat and the khal pitched over his horse's rump, carried on the force of it.
"Hai!" he heard at his side, and there was Roh, longsword flashing through khalur defense— no plains-fighter, the Chya lord, but there was an empty saddle where there had been a khal about to skewer him.
Others came on them; one rider pitched from the saddle short of them, a red streak of fire for his undoing. Vanye trusted to Morgaine's aim and took the gift, aiming for the rider hard behind, whose half-helmed face registered horror to find an enemy on him before he expected and his own guard breached. Vanye cut him down and found himself and Roh enmeshed in marshlands rabble. That dissolved in terror at what fire Morgaine sent across their mass, cutting down men indiscriminately, so that dying fell on dead. Grass was burning. The trampling of feet put it out as the horde turned in panic. Arrhendur arrows and Morgaine's bolts 243
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pursued them without mercy, cutting down the hindmost in windrows of dead and dying.
Vanye wheeled to turn back, chanced to look on Roh's face, which was pale and grim and satisfied. And he turned further and saw Larrel on the ground with Kessun bending over him. From the amount of blood that covered him and Kessun there was no hope he could live; a khalur lance had taken the young qhal in the belly.
Even as he watched, Kessun sprang up with bow in hand and sent three shafts in succession after the retreating Shiua. Whether they hit he did not see; the khemeis' face ran with tears.
"Horses!" Morgaine shouted. " Khemeis— get to horse! Your lord needs you!"
Kessun hesitated, his young face twisted with grief and indecision. Then Sharrn ordered him the same, and he sprang to the saddle, leaving his arrhen among the Shiua dead. The shock had not yet hit Kessun. Vanye hurt for him, and remembered at the same time that they had two horseless members of their company… one, now: Perrin had caught Larrel's.
And Roh came up leading one of the Shiua mounts, even as they started to move. They struck a gallop and held it, and Kessun rode ever and again looking back.
The White Hill lay before them, and their party neared it. Morgaine gave Siptah his head and the gray stretched out and ran with a speed which none of the arrhendur horses could match. Vanye dropped back in despair, but he looked on that craggy hill which rose so strangely out of the flat and of a sudden chill hit him as he considered how it seemed to stand sentinel to this approach.
Morgaine wanted the others stopped short of arrowflight of that hill; Merir's group was nearly there, moving at the best speed they could make with two horses carrying double, but she and the gray horse closed on them rapidly, the while they behind labored to stay with her. And she had 244
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their attention; the five waited at the last, seeing her desperate to overtake them, and in moments they all closed ranks, out of breath.
"Larrel," Merir mourned, seeing who it was who had fallen. Vanye recalled what Merir had said of a qhal dying young, and grieved for that; but he g
rieved more for the stricken khemeis who sat his horse with his hands braced on the saddle and his head bowed in tears.
"Mount up," Morgaine bade the arrha shortly; the young women scrambled uncertainly to the ground and Sezar helped them to the horses they were offered. Their handling of the reins was that of folk utterly unused to horses.
"The horses will stay with the group," Roh told them. "Keep the reins in your hands and do not pull back on them. Hold to the saddle if you think you will fall."
The arrha were frankly terrified. They nodded understanding, and held on at once when they started to move, the horses hardly more than loping.
Vanye looked on the women and cursed, showed them how to turn and how to stop, thinking with horror of what must befall the helpless creatures when they rode full tilt into the Shiua horde. It was all there was time to give them. He shook his head at Roh, and received back a grim look.
"Larrel was only the first," Roh said; and that took no prophecy, for the arrhendim were not armed or armored for hand-to-hand. Only he, Roh, and Morgaine could fight that sort of battle. Vanye rode closer to Morgaine, taking his place by habit as much as clear thought; and it was impossible now to avoid the sight that faced them. Gray indistinct lines stretched across their whole horizon, the great rock of Nehmin behind.
Their coming was not yet remarked or not yet known for attack: they might as well have been Shiua riders for all the main forces knew. The skirmish had not been seen because of the hill… and the approach of thirteen riders to that countless host could hardly seem threatening.
"Look!" cried one of the arrha, gazing back, for there was a signal fire lit on the White Hill, a plume of smoke trailing out on the wind.
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And that was enough.
The sound that went up from the Shiua horde was like that of the waves of the sea, and their number— the number was unimaginable even to a man who had seen forces in the field and knew how to estimate them: all that the camp on Azeroth had spilled forth, the refuse and scourings of a drowning world. Khalur riders poured out toward them, a troop of demon-helms, a cold sheen of metal and a forest of lances in the fading daylight.
Then Vanye doubted their faintest hope of survival, for even if the marshlanders would flee and confound themselves by their own numbers, the Shiua riders would not: the khal knew what they attacked, had made up their minds, and came at Morgaine for hate. A hundred riders, two hundred, three hundred deep and twice that wide; a shout went up, drowned in the thunder of hooves.
And of a sudden Merir drew even with them in the lead, the white mare easily matching strides with Siptah and the bay. "Fall behind," the old lord urged them. "Fall back. Here the arrha and I are worth something, if anywhere."
Morgaine began to do so, falling back more and more, though Vanye shuddered at the sight of the old lord, out to the fore of them, and the frail white-robed arrha joining him in the face of those lances. Merir and his companions spread wide, and the horses shied with the arrha as Gate-force suddenly shimmered about them; one lost her seat and fell, a stunning blow; but the one on the horse which had been Larrel's rode still with Merir.
The downed arrha scrambled for her feet, scraped and shaken, childlike in her size and her helplessness. Vanye rode down on her and in a desperate maneuver leaned from the saddle and seized the back of the clothing as they seized the prize in riders' games in Kursh… dragged the bemused girl bellydown across his saddle and kept going. Morgaine cursed him bitterly for his madness, and he flung her back a look of anguish.
"Stay with me," Morgaine shouted at him. "Throw her off if you must; stay with me."
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"Hold on," Vanye begged of the arrha; he could not do more for her. His horse was already laboring with that added burden. But the frail child struggled to rise, pounding her taut fist on his leg, until at last he realized that she yet held the jewel and wished him to know it. She was sore hurt; he thrust his sword into sheath and hauled her up with one hand by her robes, knowing what pain the saddle must be giving her. Thin arms went about his neck, held desperately: she dragged at one side and he leaned to the other. She flung a leg across his, relying on his balance with more courage than he had expected. The Shathana horse held steady with this shifting, staggered only a little, and when she had gained a hold he suddenly felt the queasiness of Gate-force about them: the arrha had unleashed the power of her jewel.
He knew then what she wanted of him, and used the spurs, aimed himself forward with all the speed the horse had left… defying Morgaine's direct order for one of a few times in their partnership. He pulled out to the side at the interval of Merir and the other arrha, hearing someone coming hard yet farther over; and it was, as he had thought… Morgaine.
He gasped and the horse staggered as they joined that bridge of force, but the little arrha held tightly and he blinked his eyes clear as the serried line of lances came at them, near and distinct, like a forest horizontal.
It was madness. They could not hit that mass and live.
Senses denied it, even while the terror of Gate-force ripped the air along the line they held. He thought of Changeling added to that, and that frightened him the more; but Morgaine did not draw it. The red fire of her lesser weapon laced across the charge, merciless to horse and rider.
Animals went down in a line; those behind tumbled after in a screaming tangle; and others went round them, some falling, but not enough. The lances came into their very faces.
Vanye leaned aside as the Gate-force hit the rank like a scythe, tumbling horses and riders in the area of crossing forces; but the few riders nearest stayed ahorse, unaffected, flashing past most too dazed to strike well.
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horse stumbled badly, recovered by a valiant effort, and they rode over corpses and the unconscious; he was hit more than once, and then they broke into the clear, the horses running. Morgaine drew ahead of him, Siptah taking free rein for a space, with the marshlanders ahead of her.
The rabble tried to hold their ground; a hedge of braced spears barred her way. Then Changeling flashed into the open, a force that hit his nerves and sent the horse staggering even at this distance. It stopped; the arrha had shielded her own. For an instant he thought himself clear.
Then a hoarse shout warned him. He hurled the arrha off as he wheeled and leaned, holding to the mane only. Roh was there, and Lellin, and the rider that thundered past spun off over his horse's tail. More Shiua came on. Vanye gained his seat and whipped out his sword, feeling his backing horse stumble over a body, recover under the brutal drive of the spurs.
Hetharu. He saw the khal-lord coming down on him ahead of a trio of riders, and tried to gather himself to meet that charge. But Roh was already flashing past him, sword to sword with the khal with a shock of horse and metal, and Vanye veered instead for the rider at Hetharu's right— swordsman likewise. The halfling shouted hate and cut at him; Vanye whipped the sword aside and cut for the neck, knowing the man at the last instant: Hetharu's akil-drugged minion. He grimaced in disgust and reined about for the two that had sped behind him, expecting attack on his flank, but arrhendur arrows had robbed him of those. Roh needed no help; in his jolted vision he saw Hetharu of Ohtij-in flung nigh headless from the saddle, and themselves suddenly in a wide area where only corpses remained, corpses, a scattering of dazed men and horses only beginning to recover, and a handful of arrhendim, and the main body of the horde yet hazy with distance.
He reined full about in desperation, seeking Morgaine— but he saw her then beyond them, she, and Merir, and a wide area where no dead lay and their enemies were in confused retreat. Changeling's shimmer glowed moon-pale in the twilight, and his arm ached in sympathy, for he knew well what it was to wield it.
Then he recalled another com
panion, and looked right, turning his horse…
saw with a pang of shame the little arrha, her white garments torn and 248
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bloody, who had gained her feet and caught one of the dazed horses. She could not reach the stirrup; the horse shied from her. Sezar reached her before any other, reached across the saddle from the other side and pulled her up. Then Vanye called to the rest of them and they started moving forward anxious to close the interval between themselves and Morgaine and Merir, for the Shiua were recovering themselves and their clear space was about to be invaded.
But Morgaine did not delay for them. Once she saw them coming she reined about and spurred Siptah into a charge, knifing toward the regrouping Shiua foot, driving them before her as they had scattered the first time. Arrows flashed about them, brief and short of the mark; the fleeing Shiua did not delay to fire again.
The Lesser Horn loomed now distinct and near, rising out of the twilight; a road led up to it, and marshlanders and Shiua humans scattered off it as they came. Some lingered to die, whirled away into that darkness at Changeling's tip; more fled, even casting down weapons in their terror, scrambling down the rocks at the side of the road.
A vast gateway was open before them, and a dark interior with yet another open gate beyond, showing road and rocks in the fading light. Morgaine rode for that narrow shelter, and Merir beside her, the rest of them following in desperate haste, for arrows began to rattle on the stones about them. Then they gained the refuge, finding it empty— a fortress, of which the doors were splintered and riven, the near ones and the far. The horses skidded on the stone floor, hooves bringing echoes off the high arch above them, and stopped, hard breathing. Roh came in; and Lellin and Sezar; and Sharm and Kessun and Perrin, the arrha with them. Vis came last and late.