Changer of Days by Alma Alexander Page B

and pricked up their ears, scenting water.
    “Don’t let them drink too much,” Kieran said, easing his own horse close to the bank and slipping off its back, glancing swiftly up- and downstream. “Where is the island?”
    Charo gauged the lay of the land with a quick, experienced eye. “It’s upstream,” he said. “Not too far away. Which horse is the least winded? I’ll go for the boat.”
    “He’ll have to swim out for it,” said Adamo, before Anghara could ask.
    If she could have asked. By now she was drooping like a scythed flower; it was doubtful she could have lasted much longer on horseback. In Adamo’s opinion, it was already miracle enough she had managed to stay with them thus far.
    “Perhaps it’s just as well you’ll be taking to the water,” Adamo said to Kieran in a low voice. “She’ll need a rest before she will be able to ride again. Given a choice, she should have been taken from that thrice-damned dungeon straight into some goodwife’s feather bed, and fed herb infusions and chicken broth until she got her strength back.”
    “Instead she gets this crazy escape, a wild ride across the fells, and is dropped from the spit into the fire,” said Kieran with a grimace. “If only Sif had got back a day later…we wouldn’t have had to run like this. There would have been time.” He stirred, glancing back over his shoulder uneasily to where two of his entourage had gone to keep an eye out for Sif’s forerunners, then threw a restless glance in the direction Charo had vanished. “Come on. If the horses have had enough, let’s follow Charo.”
    They found him sitting beside a small coracle drawn up on the shore, his sword naked on the ground beside him, pulling his boots on. Hearing their approach he’d reached for the blade and then relaxed as he realized who they were. Beyond him, some distance away, a dark blot in midstream, bathed in dark shadows; it was already twilight, with a pale moon riding a sky still bright with traces of sunset.
    He’d glanced up with a smile, some crack at the ready, but before he had a chance to speak one of the rearguard came galloping back on his exhausted gray. “It’s too close, Kieran,” the man said as he came to a shuddering halt a handspan away from Kieran’s own horse.
    “Where’s Keval?”
    “Dead,” came the shocking response. Only now did they register the dark stain on his tunic, the way he sat with an arm folded painfully against his ribs. “There were six this time. We did for four, and I think we wounded number five, but Keval paid for that—and number six is on his way back to Sif even now. I hadn’t a hope of catching him, not even if I’d taken one of his friends’ horses. Whatever you’re planning Kieran, do it now. My guess is that you have perhaps an hour before Sif falls upon us.”
    Kieran slid off his horse, tossing the reins to Adamo. “You take care of him for me,” he said. “Come, Anghara. It’s time we were away.”
    It looked as though he’d simply gone over to help her down from her own beast, but it was painfully obvious to Adamo, who was watching closely, that he lifted her bodily off the horse, and that if he had not she would have fallen. Kieran supported her firmly but unobtrusively the few paces to the boat, and lifted her inside.
    “I’ll be right back,” he said.
    “Kieran…” She’d reached out and caught the edge of his sleeve, eyes wide and ringed with bruised purple circles, shocking against the pallor of her face.
    “What is it?” he asked, turning back.
    She’d glanced back past him at the three who waited beyond, her gray eyes filled with tears. “Kieran…don’t let anything happen to them…”
    She might have turned seventeen, but Kieran suddenly, heartbreakingly, saw the nine-year-old Brynna Kelen in her face, and something in him rose now, as then, to stand over her and shield her from harm. Unexpectedly, surprising even himself, he bent forward to kiss her lightly on the