‘What of the riders who came looking for you?’
‘They are gathering their mounts and preparing to follow. One of the servants said they had seen us at the stables.’
‘Then we must ride. On fast horses they could be upon us in less than an hour.’
Using the stool, Ustarte mounted the pony and they set off once more. The old mare seemed to have gathered strength, and for a little while they made good time. But as they reached the scree slopes above the ruins of Kuan-Hador the beast stumbled. Ustarte climbed down and placed her ear against the pony’s flanks. ‘Her heart is labouring. She cannot go any further carrying me.’
‘We cannot escape on foot,’ said Keeva. ‘There is still too far to go.’
‘I know,’ answered Ustarte softly.
Tossing aside the stool the priestess removed her grey gloves. Slowly she undressed, the moonlight gleaming upon the striped fur of her back and flanks. Passing the robe, gloves and soft leather shoes to Keeva she said, ‘You ride on. I will meet you where the trail forks on the mountain road.’
‘I cannot leave you here,’ objected Keeva. ‘I made a promise to the Grey Man.’
‘You must,’ said Ustarte. ‘I will deal with the men following, and I will be at the road to meet you. Now go swiftly, for I must prepare. Go!’
Keeva leaned over to take the reins of the pony. ‘Leave her,’ said Ustarte. ‘There is one more service she must provide.’ Keeva was about to argue when Ustarte leapt towards the chestnut. Panicked by her scent the big gelding reared, then sprang away down the slope.
Ustarte moved to the old pony. ‘I am sorry, my dear,’ she said. ‘You deserve better than this.’ Her talons slashed through the pony’s throat. Blood spurted. The mare tried to rear but Ustarte was holding the reins. As the blood pumped out through the severed artery the pony’s front legs buckled. Ustarte lay down alongside her, pushing her face into the gaping wound. Swiftly she drank.
Her body writhed and twisted, muscles swelling.
Though not an expert horsewoman Keeva did not panic as the gelding raced down the slope. With one hand on the reins, the other grasping the saddle pommel, she held on grimly. The gelding, only momentarily panicked by the scent of Ustarte’s fur, calmed down swiftly, and by the time they reached the first bend in the trail he was moving at a trot Keeva gently tugged on the reins, halting the animal. She stroked the long sleek neck, and whispered soothing words, then swung in the saddle to stare back up the slope.
She was angry now. The Grey Man had asked her to see Ustarte safely away from danger, and now the priestess was going back alone to face the enemy. Keeva swung the gelding and began the long ride back to where she had last seen Ustarte.
It took some time, for the slope was steep. When finally she came upon the scene there was no sign of the beast-woman. The little pony lay dead upon the trail, her throat torn out, blood pooling on the stones. From some distance away Keeva heard a fearful roar. The gelding tensed. Keeva patted his neck. The distant roar came again, accompanied by the screams of terrified horses.
Keeva sat very still, and fear was strong upon her. A part of her wanted to ride on and aid the priestess, but the greater part desired nothing more than to flee, putting as great a distance as possible between herself and the dreadful sounds. In that moment she knew there was no right answer to the problem. If she rode to what she thought was Ustarte’s rescue, and was captured, she would not be able to keep her promise to the Grey Man. If she followed Ustarte’s orders and rode on, leaving the priestess to her fate, she would also be betraying the Grey Man’s trust. Struggling for calm Keeva recalled the last words Ustarte had used. ‘/ will deal with the men following, and I will be at the road to meet you. Now, go swiftly, for I must prepare. Go!’