Knight's Valor by Ronald Coleborn Page B

to his man and spoke his first words in nearly a full day. “Eastern Plain is no place to tarry. I shouldn’t have to remind you, Ellerick, that we’re being pursued by relentless killers.”
    â€œSir, I assure you, they’re yet a day’s ride or more behind us. Their massive destriers’ll make certain of that. Surely you can allow us to stop for a wee bite, and a drink besides.” He was a slender fellow, Ellerick, but strong and able enough for his slight size, as he had proven in many a mock battle and more recently on the fields of Aklon. As thin as he was, Ellerick bore his armor like an ill-fitting cloak, unlike Jerreb, whose breastplate and segmented shoulder armor snugged against his massive form as though he’d been born into them.
    Jerreb directed his gaze toward the misty blue-gray mountains in the distance while tightening his grip on the reins. He gave a long sigh and again set eyes on Ellerick. “We’ve been slaughtered very nearly to the last man, from our Knight Master Shield down to the least foot soldier. I refuse to lose another man among us six, least of all myself. We’ve no time for food or drink. The horses will have their fill in Heth. It’s time we press on.”
    Ellerick fixed him with such a pathetic expression that he was forced to add, “But if you insist …”
    The young Usigiian watched as Jerreb dug into his saddlebag of fine leatherwork and withdrew a stale piece of rye bread that had been cut from a dark loaf. The bread went sailing through the air toward him. He caught it sure and began devouring the hard chunk with abandon.
    â€œHave your fill,” Jerreb said, eyeing Ellerick with not a little contempt. “But make it quick, for as to your notion that we’re a day’s ride or more ahead of them, take thought that their accursed Ivull dogs will trail our scent to the very castle gate regardless of the distance we’ve put between us. Of that I’m certain.”
    â€œAnd the Riders of the Dread Order of that bloody tyrant Farisin are not likely to let up in the hunt,” added Knight Commander Sendin of Livlee, who was walking his horse to the two men.
    â€œTrue enough,” Jerreb replied, turning his courser toward the approaching knight. “We’ve already seen what they’re capable of. Feats of savagery that seem to have been aided by one form of sorcery or another.”
    â€œAye,” Sendin put in, stroking his full red beard. “Sorcery indeed. Why else would many of our men begin to clutch at their throats as their eyes popped like crushed grapes in their sockets, or the hot blood came pouring from their very ears with nary a hand or weapon put against them? I tell you I have seen nothing like it, but surely I have heard tales of such things in mi boyhood.”
    â€œWe face a new kind of enemy, Sendin,” said Jerreb. “An enemy bent on numbering us among the Glyssian corpses that now dot the fields of Aklon.” His eyes were as blue as the violent waters of the Nelms Sea beyond Ryseland and just as frigid. He set them on Ellerick. “Now, Ellerick, unless you intend to see us off to the netherworld by tarrying here, we’d better be on our way. Are you through?”
    Ellerick gave a sour belch and thumped his chest twice. “Quite through, sir. Quite through.”
    Jerreb pointed his horse east, dug his heels into its flanks, and sprinted toward the Village of Heth. The others followed, each rider urging his horse forward until they rode six abreast once more, a neat line of gilt armor and white coursers making its way across a vast plain that would soon be enveloped by the dark of night.

T he high vassor stared through the council room window and watched the clouds of a distant gathering storm roil against the purple twilight sky. Behind him, Primus Vayjun rubbed his pale thumb over the ruby stone that was set in the platinum ring of his