Dave Duncan – The Living God – A Handful of Men. Book 4

Rap groaned. There was no other explanation, then. “Ylo did. Did go after her. They’re here.”

“Here?”

“Over there. Across the river. The impress is heading for the water—see? And Ylo’s up that road there, facing off with . . . God of Mercy!”

With Centurion Hardgraa.

“Gladiator scum!” Ylo bellowed. “Come and get me! You think an Yllipo is scared of you, you dreg?”

Last of the Yllipos! Bred of mighty warriors! His heart soared. He was exultant with bloodlust. He was fighting for his woman and his unborn child. Chain mail or no chain mail, that stinking legionary was never going to get past Ylo.

Hardgraa turned to stare back up the hill. His two minions were still coming, but one horse was obviously lame. Ylo fought down the temptation to charge while his opponent was apparently distracted.

“I don’t fall into those traps, cretin!”

Crazy with terror and the stench of blood, his horse skittered and danced, and he held it in place without a thought. He had the advantage and was going to keep it. That poxy-eyed no-good centurion had to come by him, and there was half a barrier still. Hardgraa was good with a sword and knew every dirty trick ever invented, but he wasn’t in Ylo’s class with a horse.

Still staring behind him, Hardgraa slammed his spurs into flanks already bloody—typical sneaky tactics! His horse hurtled through the gap as if to clear Ylo’s mount out of its way by brute force alone.

Yld rose in the stirrups, leaning forward, lunging at the centurion’s eyes, trying to use his greater reach. Hardgraa parried contemptuously with his heavier blade. The two mounts collided with screams, swords clanged again, rapier against gladius. Ylo tried to back off, then realized his error. As the better horseman, wielding the longer sword, he would normally try to keep his distance. Conversely he had expected the centurion to keep the fight close. But Hardgraa wanted only to get by, so Ylo must seek to block him. For a moment the match was a melee, with knees and heels and hooves doing far more than arms. Dust swirled in choking clouds.

Then Ylo ducked below a stroke that would have removed his head, and Hardgraa’s horse bucked, throwing him forward. The point of Ylo’s rapier scraped over his helmet. Damn, that had been close! Fast as a viper, the legionary recovered and swung his gladius upward. Ylo felt the wind of its passing on his face as he swayed aside. Before he could even draw back his elbow for another lunge, Hardgraa spurred forward and struck again. Ylo parried a blow that would have taken off his sword arm, but a rapier was not meant to be used that way. It bent like an earthworm._ Hardgraa’s sword screeched along it and sliced deep into Ylo’s thigh. The impact on the bone was stunning-pain and fear and nausea. As the horses danced apart, he threw both arms around his mount’s neck and his rapier clattered to the dirt. Blasts of pain shot through him like thunderbolts. A hot tide of blood poured down his leg. He held his breath, waiting for the quietus.

“I’ll finish you off later!” Hardgraa bellowed, spinning his horse around. He dug in his spurs and was off at a gallop down the road.

“He got him!” Rap cried.

“Who got him?” Inos shouted, squeezing his arm. “Ylo? The one on the gray is Ylo? Who’s the other?”

“Hardgraa.”

The archons were muttering. The ambience flickered in aurora of emotion. In the sky the illusion of eyes persisted, cold, stone eyes watching the tiny drama below. The impress was still staggering on foot across the meadow, burdened by her load and obviously close to collapse. And Hardgraa was racing down the hill.

“I think the emergency is over,” the Keeper said in a small, satisfied whisper.

“Who is Hardgraa?” Inos demanded.

Rap kept his gaze on the chase. “One of Shandie’s men. He was Eshiala’s guardian. Looks like he followed them all the way here.”

“You mean she ran off with this Ylo man?”

“She probably thinks that Shandie is dead,” Rap said. “Of course she does! All of them do! They think that child is reigning impress! That’s why Hardgraa’s here!”

“Rap!” Inos shouted. “What do you mean?”

“He’s after the child.” Rap stared at those monstrous eyes in the sky. Hardgraa was probably in the power of the Covin. Mundanes could be votarized just as sorcerers could. That must be what the Keeper had detected. Knowingly or not, Hardgraa had brought the Covin with him.

It looked as if he was certain to win. Except that Ylo was coming in pursuit.

He lashed the gray with the flat of his dagger. The world was fading in and out of gray mist. Every hoofbeat sent waves of agony up from his thigh, and he knew he must be spilling a trail of blood along the road. He had very little time before he blacked out. The world was disappearing from the edges of his vision and drums beat in his ears. All he could see was the hateful back of Hardgraa ahead of him. All he had to do was catch up. All he had to fight with was a dagger, against an armored legionary.

Yllipo! Yllipo! Last of the Yllipos. Father, Yyan, Yshan help me! Let me live just that long.

Hardgraa must have thought the hooves were one of his cronies coming to help. At the last minute he turned his head and an expression of comical shock showed even under his helmet. By then it was too late—his foe was to his left and he could not bring his short sword to bear.

The centurion spurred again, started to pull out ahead. Using his hand to move his useless leg, Ylo pulled his right foot from the stirrup. He raked his horse with the point of the dagger. It spasmed forward. With a final, killing effort, clutching the mane, he let himself slide over, wounded leg drooping, and he struck at the only target he could be sure of, Hardgraa’s mount. Even as his grip failed and he began to fall, he felt the dagger bite into the hamstring.

He thought, Eshiala! and that was all.

Hardgraa’s horse went down. Ylo’s fell on top of it. The centurion rolled free, stunned. Ylo was somewhere in the middle.

The impress plodded grimly toward the river.

Nauseated, Rap and Inos put their arms around each other. “Rap of Krasnegar!” the Keeper cried from the shadows. “You must go down and make her turn back. I shall cloak you again in the spell of inattention.”

“Me?” Rap shouted. “Never! Let her in, you heartless old bitch! If you do not pity her, then have mercy on her child!” The archons reeled back in unison like a ballet corps. Inos said, “Sh!” nervously.

“It is the woman with child of your prophecy!” he said, just as loudly. He had no idea what the prophecy said, but obviously it mattered. ”I think the Gods have rolled your dice, Keeper!”

She wailed. “No! We must stop her!”

Rap pushed Inos aside. His temper blazed out of control, jotunn fury. ”You think that would save you? Two days ago an army turned back in the east. Today a fugitive is turned back in the west? Do you call Zinixo an idiot? You think he will not wonder now? Thume is exposed, Keeper! The trumpets are sounding!”

A yell of triumph from the Keeper and archons made Rap spin around. The impress had fallen. The child was sitting up, howling, but the woman lay still, not far from the riverbank. The two horsemen were racing down the hill, almost to where two prone men and two struggling horses marked the scene of the second battle. Rap’s heart sank without trace.

“We are saved indeed, faun!” the Keeper cried.

The first horseman jumped from his mount and knelt beside Hardgraa. Rap saw the centurion speak, though he could not make out the words. The second horseman was almost there, his mount limping. The fist straightened, beckoned to him, and vaulted back into his saddle. Hardgraa had told them to catch the woman before they tended to him.

“It’s all over!” Inos said.

Rap nodded grimly. Nothing he could do, and Ylo’s gallant battle had been in vain. Ylo was almost certainly dead. Failure.

No! The Keeper howled like a dog-two more players had come on stage. Two girls were splashing across the river, going to help. White blouses, long skirts . . .

Rap had felt nothing in the ambience, but he had known that Thaile was a mighty sorceress. She had moved Kadie and herself down to the edge of the barrier without a flicker that he had detected. She had even evaded the Keeper.

One of the archons cried, “Stop them, Holiness! They will be seen!”

They had already been seen. The ghostly eyes in the clouds narrowed at the sight of these mysterious newcomers. How long would the Covin be content to watch and do nothing?