But the men were riding on, heedless of his call. "Lord Odfrey!" Dain shouted with all his might. Hisvoice was drowned out in the thunder of the hoofbeats, the clanking and jingling of armor, saddles, spurs, and bridle bits. None of them spared him a glance. Their blood beat hot, and their minds were on war.

He could sense it rolling off them like a stench. Desperate, Dain climbed halfway up the slippery bank, and cast his mind at Lord Odfrey's: HaltIhaltIhaltIhalt.

Again the chevard reined up, signaling for the column to pause. Dain ran the rest of the way to the top of the bank.

"Lord Odfrey, your huntsman is in mortal danger!" he called, jumping and waving in an attempt to be seen in the midst of the hors.e.m.e.n. "Lord Odfrey!" "Let him through," someone commanded. The riders parted, reining their mounts aside, and Dain trotted through their midst straight to Lord Odfrey. Staring at Dain through the narrow eye slits of his helmet, the chevard sat there on his war charger, which pawed the ground and champed its bit with much head-tossing. Breathlessly, Dain stumbled to a halt before him.

"Lord," he said, gasping between words, "your huntsman and two others were prisoners of the Bnen. I set them free, but they are still in danger. The Bnen are hunting them even now, and the huntsman is wounded."

"M'lord," protested the knight who had knocked Dain off the road only moments before, "have done with this brat. We've a whole village to avenge." Lord Odfrey raised his visor, revealing a weathered face both stony and hostile.

He kicked his mount forward to meet Dain, who reached out for his bridle. The chevard circled his horse, and as he pa.s.sed Dain he drew his spurred foot from the stirrup and kicked him in the stomach.

All the wind left Dain in a whoosh of pain. He doubled over, sinking to his knees, wanting to vomit.

The chevard rode around him in a circle so tight, Dain feared the war charger might trample him. "Never seek to command my wits again," Lord Odfrey thundered at him. "Keep your pagan ways to yourself, boy!"

Clutching his aching stomach, Dain struggled to draw breath. He held up the huntsman's cap mutely.

"What is that?" the chevard asked, but Dain could not speak.

The knight protector rode forward and plucked the cap from Dain's hand.

"What is that, Sir Roye?" Lord Odfrey asked the man. "Nothing," the protector answered. He flung the cap on the ground. "A piece of cloth."

"That belongs to your huntsman," Dain said, finding breath and strength enough to regain his feet at the same time. "He cannot hide in safety long. You must ride to his aid."

"This is mindless babbling," Sir Roye said impatiently. "Let us ride on, m'lord."

"I owe you my life, lord," Dain called out. "Why should I lie?" Lord Odfrey frowned. With visible reluctance he beckoned to Dain, who approached him warily and stopped out of reach this time. "You are the eld I saw yesterday."

"Yes," Dain said. "I sent you back into the forest from whence you came. What do you here and now?

We've the Nega dwarves to hunt down-"

"But the Bnen attacked your villages," Dain said in protest.

Around him, a babble of consternation and anger broke out.

"What knows he of the raid?"

"Part of it, most like."

"A spy, he is!"

"Let's carve his bones for the trouble he's caused."

A shout rose up, and Dain's knees locked in fear. He held his ground, however, knowing they wouldn't attack him until Lord Odfrey gave them leave. His life hung on the whim of this stern man towering above him on horseback. Dain never let his gaze waver from Lord Odfrey's dark eyes.

"Your wits are addled," the chevard said. "My huntsman is safe behind in Thirst Hold-" "Nay, he lies bleeding in the forest," Dain interrupted. "And with him are two men, stalwart and tall. One has hair like wheat. The top of his left ear was cut off probably a long time ago. The other has a nose hooked and broken, with no front teeth. Are they not your men? Who else would they be? I saw your huntsman yesterday. I know his face well."

"Enough of this," Sir Roye said. "M'lord, let us go-"

"Silence," the chevard commanded, and Sir Roye clamped his mouth shut without another word.

Lord Odfrey's dark eyes bored into Dain. "Your clothes are torn worse than last I saw them. There's blood on you-"

"The huntsman's," Dain said quickly. "Not mine."

"How far have you run?"

"A league, hardly more," Dain said with growing impatience. "Come, if you will save them-" Lord Odfrey lifted his hand. "Boy, my huntsman is not-" "But he came for the stag killed by those boys. I heard you give him the order to fetch the meat."

"So I did," Lord Odfrey said as though he'd forgotten until now. "But this morn, when the alarm was raised, I left orders for him not to go. It's not safe, with raids coming out of Nold."

Dain shook his head. "The man is in the forest, in desperate need of your help. Where I hid him and the others will not hold long, especially if they ... It will not hold long. If you mean to save them, you must hurry!" "The chevard must do nothing save by his own will," Sir Roye said to Dain. Within the frame of his helmet he had a face like a wrinkled nut; his features were dark and fierce. Hostility and suspicion radiated from his cat-yellow eyes, and Dain knew that were it not for the chevard's presence, Sir Royewould have run him through with that sword instead of just smacking him with it. Already, Dain had begun to feel a steady ache in his ribs from that blow. Sir Roye leaned down from his saddle and stabbed his finger at Dain. "You don't tell him what to do, ever! Morde a day, but I'd like to slit that pagan tongue right out of your gullet."

Believing him, Dain swallowed hard and fought the urge to back up.

"You're saying these men are in the clearing where the stag was brought down?"

Lord Odfrey asked.

"Near to it. Not far past it," Dain said. "I'll show you."

He tried to go forward, but Sir Roye moved his horse to block Dain's path. "It's a smooth trick, this urgent story of men in need of us, but it's naught but pagan lies, m'lord. He wants nothing better than to lead us to certain ambush." "I tell the truth!" Dain said hotly.

"You're lying, like all your kind."

"Hold your tongue, Sir Roye," Lord Odfrey said with steely anger. "This boy was Jorb maker's apprentice. He's no stranger, and I think no liar." "M'lord, this tale has holes abounding in it," Sir Roye said. "The men are in the hold where they should be-" "Nay!" shouted someone from the rear of the column. "They rode out before first light. Caix here saw them go!"

"Aye," said another voice that was fainter, as though even farther back. "I did, m'lord."

The chevard struck the pommel of his saddle with his gloved hand. "d.a.m.ne! Did the fools leave before word of the raid came to us?"

Sir Roye drew back, but the other men surrounding Dain stared down at him, silent now, and intent.

"Fools," Lord Odfrey muttered again, but Dain wondered if it was the men he meant, or himself. The chevard scowled at Dain. "Quickly now, tell me what you know. You saw Nocine-the huntsman-and two others-" "Sir Tilou and Sir Valon," Sir Roye muttered.

Lord Odfrey nodded without taking his gaze off Dain. "Exactly where?" "They are hiding in a gully beyond the clearing of the Forlo travel burrow," Dain said. "Now my sister's burial place.".

Compa.s.sion sparked briefly in the chevard's dark gaze, then vanished. "A gully?

They can't hide there."

"Not for long," Dain agreed. "The Bnen were about to torture them." "And how did you rescue them from this war party of dwarves?" Sir Roye asked with open skepticism.

Dain opened his mouth to answer, but Lord Odfrey interrupted. "Never mind.

There's no time to be lost-"

"But, m'lord," Sir Roye said in protest. "What about the raid that left fourteen of your villagers dead and their huts afire? What about the Nega who-" "The Nega would not raid," Dain said hotly. "They neverraid. They are-" "We saw their marks, boy," Sir Roye said. "We have proof." "A mark is not proof."

"And who else would draw it?"

"The Bnen who did the raid," Dain said, meeting the knight glare for glare. "The Bnen I saw carrying man-loot and bringing man-prisoners. Here lies Nega land," he said, pointing at the curve of forest behind Lord Odfrey, "but the Nega do not winter this far west. They are gone south, to their mines in the Rock Hills."

Lord Odfrey pointed to the cap, which lay on the ground where Sir Roye had thrown it. Dain hastened to pick it up and hand it to the chevard, who turned it over in his hands.

"This is Nocine's," the chevard said. "There is blood on it." Sir Roye's face crinkled up as he squinted at his lord. "And if this one's a trickster, sent forth to lead us off the trail?"

Lord Odfrey looked at Dain. "Come here, boy."

Dain went to him, as wary as before, and stood next to his stirrup. Lord Odfrey reached down his hand.

Hesitantly, Dain started to clasp it as he had seen Mandrians do, but Lord Odfrey gripped him hard just above his elbow. The chevard's fingers were like steel, clamped on to Dain's flesh. Dain struggled to hold back a gasp, and hid the pain he felt from his face. Lord Odfrey's dark eyes bored into Dain's pale gray ones as though he meant to look inside his very soul. Then he released him so abruptly, Dain staggered back.

"He brings us truth," Lord Odfrey declared.

The men exchanged glances, murmuring to each other. Sir Roye's mouth opened in dismay. "M'lord-"

Lord Odfrey drew his foot from the stirrup, and Dain jumped back out of reach. "Quickly now," Lord Odfrey said to him as though he did not notice. "Get up behind me."

Dain put his foot in the stirrup and scrambled up behind Lord Odfrey's saddle. He had never ridden such a tall horse as this before. He felt as though he were floating high in the air. The charger shifted beneath him, its powerful hindquarters flexing with strength. Dain clamped his legs tight to hold on with, and Lord Odfrey cast him a glance.

"Don't kick him in the flanks or we'll both be thrown," he said, and wheeled the horse around with such speed Dain nearly toppled off. "Hang on to my cloak and point the way."

Dain gripped the magnificent fur in one hand and slid his other past Lord Odfrey's armored elbow.

"There."

Lord Odfrey gathered his reins, but Sir Roye was not yet done. He spurred his horse to block Lord Odfrey's path. His eyes held distrust and suspicion. "M'lord, consider the risk. If he's leading us into a trap-" "And if he is not?" Lord Odfrey retorted. "Will I chase blindly through the Dark Forest all day or will I use this guide that Thod has brought us?" "Thod is leading us in the guise of a pagan?" someone behind Dain said in loud disbelief. "Mercy of Tomias, what next?"

Dain did not glance back to see who spoke, and neither did Lord Odfrey. The chevard's gaze clashed with Sir Roye's. "Will you protest all day, or will you follow me, Sir Roye?"

"If he betrays us-" "Then you have my permission to draw and quarter him," Lord Odfrey said grimly. He glanced back at Dain, who sat very still and wary at his back now. "That is," the chevard added, "after I take off his head. Still eager to save men who are strangers to you, boy?"

Dain swallowed hard, but he knew he could not waver now, before this challenge. "The Bnen killed my family. If I can bring them harm by leading your men to them, I will." He pointed again. "That way, lord."

The chevard turned his gaze on Sir Roye, who backed his mount out of his master's way. Lord Odfrey spurred his horse, and they leaped away in a gallop. The horse's mind was a dim flicker of goIgoIgo.

Grinning with eagerness, Dain tipped back his head to savor the rush of wind against his face. This was like flying. He jounced along, as high as the tree branches, clinging to the back of the chevard's saddle.

The rhythmic thunder of the army's hoofbeats filled his ears.

He pointed the way, and the column of riders arrowed into the Dark Forest as fast as the snarled undergrowth would allow. The horses snorted their white breath and ran tirelessly. Leaves were falling, as golden as bright coins, and the small, furry denizens of the forest fled to their dens at the noisy pa.s.sage of horses and riders. Always, Dain was questing with his mind, seeking the Bnen raiders.

Some remained at the clearing. The rest were scattered. He murmured this in Lord Odfrey's ear, and the chevard nodded.

"The clearing first," he said.

They crossed a road no wider than a trail that wound through the ever-thickening trees. Although a weak, wintry sun shone this day, it barely penetrated the canopy overhead. Here and there, pale shafts of light pierced down to the springy mold underfoot. Vines looped low from branches, creating hazards of their own. The riders slowed down to a trot, ducking vines and branches, sometimes halting to cut their way through.

"This," Sir Roye muttered behind the chevard's horse, "is why we don't bring cavalry into the Dark Forest."

Dain ignored him, as did the chevard. "There," Dain whispered, pointing at the clearing ahead. His keen eyes, long accustomed to picking out the movement of a quarry from the trembling of leaves, saw a group of the dwarves working to pile something in the middle of the clearing. The bonfire blazed less brightly than earlier. He wondered if the wise-sayers had succeeded in bringing their spell to life. Sniffing suspiciously, he detected no dark magic. The chevard drew his sword, as did Sir Roye and the riders behind them. "This is their smallest force," the chevard said in a soft voice. "Strike quick and hard.

We've more work to do elsewhere."

"My lord," asked a cultured voice from among the men. "What degree of mercy do we show?"

Growls of protest rose up, but a glare from Lord Odfrey silenced them all. "No mercy," he said, and spurred his horse forward.

Behind him rose a howling battle cry such as Dain had never heard before. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. He realized he was being hurtled into battle without arms or weapons, but at that moment he felt immortal and did not care.

He drew his own dagger, gripping the back of the chevard's saddle with his other hand. Lifting his ownvoice, he cried out Thia's name, and rode the galloping charger into the clearing for blood and battle, seeking her vengeance. By the time they burst upon the dwarves, the twenty or so Bnen there had thrown down the loot they were stacking in piles and reached for their war axes. Gathering themselves into a knot with their backs guarded, they tried to withstand the initial rush of the riders, but they were too few.

Lord Odfrey did not swerve around them as Dain expected him to. Instead, he set his charger straight at the enemy and rode right into their midst and over the top of them. Several dwarves were trampled beneath the charger's hooves, their screams blending with the shouts and battle cries of the others.

Hearing a skull crunch and shatter, Dain swallowed hard and leaned down to swipe the enemy with his dagger. He missed his mark as the charger leaped sideways. Then there came a great whistling whoosh of air as Lord Odfrey's long broadsword swung and sent a Bnen head flipping in an arc to bounce and tumble on the ground. Blood from the headless dwarf spurted across Dain's leg, then the charger was on the other side of the cl.u.s.tered dwarves. The horse swung around without any command. Dain noticed that the reins were lying slack on the horse's heavy neck. Both of Lord Odfrey's hands gripped the long hilt of his broadsword. His shoulders bunched with effort as he lifted and swung again. Another dwarf went down, cleaved in two. From the other side, Sir Roye was hacking and cursing steadily.

The dwarves broke ranks and scattered. In a few minutes, all of them lay dead, even the wise-sayers.

One of the knights stirred among the loot with the tip of his spear and brought up a child's rag doll impaled on the end of it. "These are our raiders, sure enough," Lord Odfrey said grimly. Raising his visor, he glanced around at Dain. "Is this all of them?" "Nay, there are eighty or so more," Dain answered breathlessly. Brief though it had been, this battle had filled his mind with scenes of shock and slaughter.

He wanted more. "They're coming."

Lord Odfrey exchanged a glance with Sir Roye. "Hard to maneuver in the trees.

Still, the advantage is ours. Give the orders."

Sir Roye wheeled his horse around and bawled out commands. The knights scattered and rode out of the clearing in various directions. In the distance, a drum began to pound. Dain heard it before Lord Odfrey did. Both of them tensed. "Ah," Lord Odfrey said quietly. He settled himself deeper in the saddle and gathered his reins. "Lead me to where you left Nocine and the others, boy." On the way to the gully, they encountered two more attacking parties of dwarves. The Mandrian knights had all the advantages of being on horseback and having spears and broadswords. The dwarves were fearless, ferocious, and used both arrows and axes, hesitating not to attack horses as well as men. But the chargers were trained fighters, rearing and trampling with deadly forefeet. Both times Lord Odfrey fought his way through, with Sir Roye sticking grimly to his side. Two other knights also rode close, protecting the chevard. Leaving dead or dying dwarves behind them, they rode on in the direction Dain showed them. Before he reached the gully, however, he knew his spell had failed. Dismay swept his heart, followed by exasperation. The two saplings that should have been standing in the bottom of the gully were gone. Only the real stands of crimson-leaved shtac remained, along with the briars and the clumps of perlimon laden with bright orange globes of intensely sour fruit. It took a hard frost to ripen perlimon, and even then the fruit was often too tart to enjoy. Dain stared into the gully while the charger pawed the edge restlessly. "Well?" Lord Odfrey asked in a harsh voice.

"They did not stay," Dain said, wondering what had become of the men. "I told them they would be safe if they-" He broke off, feeling the knights' suspicion gathering around him like a net. "No cover to hide in here," Sir Roye said, glaring at Dain with his yellow eyes.

"I told you, m'lord-"

"Wait," Dain said. He slid off the charger before Lord Odfrey could protest. Ducking beneath theperlimons, Dain slithered down the steep bank of the gully to its bottom, where the log still lay, half-covered with drifting leaves. He knelt and began to scoop armfuls of them away.

"Boy," Lord Odfrey said.

"He's lost his wits," Sir Roye muttered.

Dain ignored them both. Laying his hand on the log's rough bark, he felt the life force of the man within his spell, a dim, nearly spent force. Dain broke the spell, and there the huntsman lay for all of them to see.

Nocine's face had turned gray and sweaty. His mouth hung open slackly, but when Dain pressed his palm to the huntsman's chest, he felt the erratic thud of his heart. "Morde a day!" Sir Roye swore. "What magic is this?"

Dain turned his head to look up at them. "Only a weak nature spell," he said. "It fools the eyes, nothing more. I told the others to stay still. If they grew frightened and moved, the spell would break."