Exile's Challenge by Angus Wells

had seen the armies of the Levan face the forces of Evander. He had been an officer of cavalry, and seen the squadrons of Evander’s horsemen attack; but not like this. These people—these Matawaye—seemed at one with their mounts, as if they grew on horseback. He envied them their control, and shouted over the thunder of the hooves, “Yes! They are!” And could not resist urging his gray horse to a gallop.
    Flysse matched him, stride for stride, on her roan, the two of them racing down the slope of the valley’s mouth with Rannach and Yazte and Kanseah anxious beside, fearful their refugee guests fall off and harm themselves as horsemen came like grounded thunder all around them, screaming encouragement. Arcole felt his heart beat faster and whooped in response as he and Flysse heeled their horses to greater effort, looking to outrun their escort. Which, of course, was pure ambition and quite impossible; but it seemed to earn themrespect—as if the Matawaye recognized kindred spirits—and they came swift and escorted into the camp.
    Davyd saw his friends go charging off and wished he might match them. Almost, he tried, but sense prevailed and he came on slower, not daring more than a trot for fear he tumble again and again become the butt of laughter. Morrhyn and Kahteney rode to either side, and the one called Tekah hovered about, nervous. Davyd guessed some reprimand had been delivered the man—and thought, as Tekah watched him solicitously, that should he slip, then Tekah would likely come charging in to catch him. He wondered if the wakanishas would have joined in that mad gallop, were he not there, and what Rannach had said to Tekah.
    But it seemed as if the man appointed himself guardian, for as they came down onto the flat and halted amongst the tents, it was Tekah sprang first to the ground and took the buckskin’s bridle, holding the animal still as Davyd clambered awkwardly from off its back. He spoke—Davyd could not understand, but his tone was amiable—and Davyd smiled in answer, and then Morrhyn spoke and Tekah nodded dutifully and led the buckskin away; and then for a while all was confusion.
    Folk milled around, staring, all speaking at once, with Morrhyn and Rannach and the others of the escort answering, so that the noonday was filled up with sound and Davyd felt his ears battered by the noise. Arcole and Flysse came to stand beside him, smiling and bewildered.
    â€œWhat in God’s name are they saying?”
    Davyd shook his head in answer to Arcole’s question. “I don’t know. I think they welcome us.”
    â€œLike a pack of baying hounds.” Arcole grinned and shaped an elegant bow as a man tapped the scar on his cheek. “Shall I ever understand them?”
    Davyd began to say, “Yes,” but then a figure wormed through the throng and stared at him with such … He was not sure;
anger
was the word that came to mind, or even
hatred
. But how could a stranger hate him, what could he have done to anger someone he had never met? He smiledtentatively and saw the other’s lips thin furiously, the dark eyes smolder.
    It was a youth of about, he estimated, his own age. They were of a height and similar build, save for the slight bowing of the other’s legs. He was dressed in breeches and shirt, and his raven hair swung loose about his vexed face, backdrop to the anger there. He spoke, stabbing a dark finger at Davyd’s chest and then at his own. The only words Davyd understood were “wakanisha,” his own name, and that of … it seemed his accusor: Taza.
    Taza spat on the ground between Davyd’s feet.
    Kahteney and Morrhyn spoke together then, sharply, and Taza scowled and turned away, disappearing back into the crowd. Davyd noticed that he limped.
    Arcole said, “I know not why, but you’ve an enemy there: best watch him.”
    â€œHow?” Davyd tried to find Taza through