Part 39 (1/2)

”We can manage that Only a handful of their armsmen remain there.” Hanfor turned. ”Alvar! The Green Company-take the mound.”

”Ser! Green Company ... Green Company...”

Anna turned to Liende. ”We'll have to remount, and ride to the mound.”

”Mount and ride. Follow the regent.” Liende had already slipped her horn into its case. ”Now. We must remount and play again.”

Another ragged trumpet sounded. From across the valley to the west came the sound of riders, hoofs, harnesses.

”Those are not Sargol's,” Jecks said. ”Leronese lancers.”

”From Gylaron?” Anna struggled into the saddle and urged Farinelli downhill. Rickel eased his mount beside her, and Fhurgen led the way, following the three companies that swept down the low hill.

Anna shrugged to herself. She'd thought all along that they'd have to defeat all three lords. She coughed and spat out more mucus, hoping her asthma wouldn't act up too badly.

A faint smell of burning flesh drifted with the dust into her nostrils, and she pushed aside the sensation.

Beyond the mound were dark lumps across the low green gra.s.s, hundreds of dark lumps. Some moved.

Most did not.

Anna swallowed, and put the thoughts out of her mind. Sympathy, concern, those would have to wait. She concentrated on riding, on staying close to her charging armsmen, although it seemed less than a handful of mounted figures even remained of those that had been riding toward her forces. That handful turned back toward the tents.

Reaching the mound took little time, and Anna reined up, finding she was panting slightly. Holding her breath? That wasn't good. She forced herself to breathe easily and deeply, but not too deeply.

”Dismount!” ordered Liende as the players rode up behind Anna. ”Your pleasure, Lady Anna?”

Anna frowned. What spell? What did she need? Then she looked west, at the oncoming lancers.

”The arrow spell.” That shouldn't take that much effort, and she needed to husband her strength, shaky as she was after the first spell.

”Arrow spell. Warm-up.”

Again, horns and strings tumbled out of cases, and Fhurgen's men grabbed reins and gathered players'

mounts.

Anna eased out of the saddle and toward the players, who stood in the middle of the mound. To the south of the mound where she stood were a handful of foot levies, forming up beside the tents below the keep of Suhl, and a scattering of Suhlan mounted armsmen. To the west, drawing up in ragged order, were the lines of Leronese lancers. They had also taken a less direct route to the battlefield, or that might have been the shortest way from Lerona. Joining them were another group of lancers, nearly two score under a crimson banner.

Anna shook her head. Again, someone else was paying for the games of the d.a.m.ned chauvinistic lords- but Sargol was nowhere in sight, not surprisingly.

”Which forces, lady?” asked Hanfor.

”The Leronese. I guess.” She looked at the arms commander. ”What do you think?”

”The Leronese are the threat. And the red lancers. They must be from Dumar. You have felled most of Sargol's lancers in the valley. His levies gathered by the keep could not reach here soon. He may have others in the keep, but they are not a threat.”

Not yet. ”When I signal-I'll drop my hand-can you have our archers loose their arrows toward the Leronese?”

”That. That we can do.” Hanfor turned in the saddle. ”Bowmen! To the west, to the lancers. Nock your ar- rows.”

Anna cleared her throat, then gestured to Liende. ”Once through-the first arrow song.

As the music rose, in tune, she began to sing.

”These arrows shot into the air, the head of each must strike one armsman there with force and speed to kill them all, all those who stand against our call!”

Anna dropped her hand, aware that a humming or thrumming sound vibrated somewhere before her.

”These arrows shot into the air...”

As the music and her words ended, she half smiled, pleased that she wasn't dizzy or light-headed, then looked at Hanfor, consciously avoiding a glance toward the lancers.

”If you could do another,” he suggested, his eyes flicking toward the west.

Anna could hear hoofbeats. She glanced toward her chief player. ”Liende? Can you and the players manage the arrow spell again?”

”We can, Regent.” Liende turned. ”Players! The arrow spell again. At my mark.”

Anna nodded.

”Mark.”

With the second release of arrows, and the end of the spell, Anna felt a brief light-headedness. She glanced toward Hanfor.

He smiled grimly. ”A handful remain, and they have turned back to the west, on their way back to Gylaron.”

That's what we hope, anyway. Anna slouched toward Farinelli, absently patting him before extracting the water bottle and drinking deeply.

”Do not forget to eat, lady,” suggested Fhurgen.

To eat-a good idea. She fumbled out another stale biscuit and slowly chewed, moistening her mouth.

Then she glanced southward. The gates of Suhl stood ajar, and men and horses straggled through them, leaving tents on the flat empty.

Dozens of mounts walked riderless across the flat. Some grazed amid the dark lumps of death. Anna looked, blankly, and ate. After a time, she turned and looked at the squat timber framework that held a burned and broken crossbow, wondering who had broken it. Hanfor? Fhurgen? Someone else? Did it matter? She ate another biscuit, sipped more water.

Jecks eased his mount nearer, stopping next to where Fhurgen sat mounted, holding Farinelli's reins. He looked down at the dusty sorceress. ”They retreat behind their walls.''

The sorceress glanced south.

A lone individual hobbled toward the keep, behind the others, squeezing inside before the iron-banded timbered gates swung closed.

For a moment, Anna closed her eyes. Then she turned. Liende sat on the dirt, limp. Most of the other players slumped in similar positions. Kaseth lay stretched out, eyes closed, his white head on a folded blanket, his breathing ragged. Delvor looked whiter than snow, and seemed to sway as he looked at Anna, then glanced hurriedly away. Even Liende's eyes were glazed.

Her players were more spent than she was. Then, after a fas.h.i.+on, she'd trained harder than they had. Still, she hadn't even considered what all the playing of spellsongs would do to them. She just hadn't worked with players for extended spells under stress, and her inexperience showed through. Again.

”Fhurgen! They need food, water.”

Anna wondered. This was the first time her players looked as exhausted as she felt. She snorted, almost to herself. They'd never played so many spells so long and so close-nor ridden across a valley in between sets.