enough?”
Vallyn nodded hurriedly.
“Mirelle, you stay clear, with the horses.”
The girl’s bright eyes fastened upon the knight. But then, she had been watching the knight since her rescue the night before. He was not an especially good-looking man, owing in part to his broken nose, but his ease at command had exerted a powerful effect on the pretty teenager. Elyana was not sure why this bothered her, as Stelan had shown Mirelle nothing but appropriate kindness, and she supposed that it tied directly into her certainty that she, as an elf, would eventually lose her human lover one way or another.
“I hesitate to advise another spellcaster,” Arcil was saying to Vallyn, “but remember that charm spells will not work upon the dead.”
“They don’t?” Vallyn sounded almost as if he wished to complain about the fairness of the issue.
“They don’t,” Elyana confirmed. “Stelan, it’s nearly time.”
“Stand ready, everyone. Mirelle, it’s time to move. Back near the picket lines, please.”
The girl obligingly obeyed.
“Elyana,” Vallyn asked quietly, “how far away do you think the rest of the Galtans are?”
He had asked her that several times since they had stopped. Only Elyana’s eyesight was keen enough to occasionally detect the distant pursuers, though all of them had known they would be followed. The bard had been all for pushing on for the border, no matter that the others told him the Galtans could hardly be expected to stop pursuit there. Even if they reached a Taldan fortress, it would most likely be abandoned, and border patrols in the northeast were a rarity. So there would be no outside aid short of a miracle. They’d have to deal with the Galtan posse themselves. Somehow.
Elyana lifted her bow and arrow and studied the onrushing hounds. Their hides were a uniform dark brown, flecked with white and crimson. They did not vie for first position or race with one another; they maintained precise order and formation. “Three dozen,” she said. And then, scanning the dry, rolling plain for a cloud raised by horsemen, she answered Vallyn. “We have at most three-quarters of an hour.”
“At the least?”
“Just over a quarter-hour.”
She heard the dry grass rustle as the bard stepped away, and then she centered the whole of her attention upon the targets. She’d elected to use the diminished stock of her own arrows first, for the greater distance shots, as she had crafted them herself and knew their capabilities. Those they’d lifted from the bodies of the Galtan guards were a little longer than she used with her own pull, and were hastily, if efficiently, made.
Vallyn had recently described an attack by her as a storm of arrows. This time, though, she took careful aim before launching. The opening arrow arced up and out, then slammed straight through the shoulder blade of the leading hound. The impact spun it into the one on its right, breaking the formation. In the brief moment when she paused to set her next arrow, order was restored, and the struck hound ran on, the arrow sticking up like a decorative flag. She was glad Vallyn couldn’t see that. The young man was still quite green, and prone to panic. Her second shot caught the creature near the same place, and this time it stumbled and rolled. It struggled to rise for a time as its companions ran straight over it, then lay motionless as their repeated footfalls flattened its chest cavity.
She accounted for seven more before the things closed to medium range. She left three of her own arrows in reserve and shifted over to the Galtan supply as her love lifted his own bow. She and Stelan kept up a steady barrage, whittling down the numbers.
“They’re hideous,” Vallyn said. He had climbed to the top of the rounded boulder.
He was right; from closer on she could see the gaps in their flesh where ribs showed through, and the missing ears and rotted noses. Elyana saw now that their uniform appearance was deceptive.
Vallyn nodded hurriedly.
“Mirelle, you stay clear, with the horses.”
The girl’s bright eyes fastened upon the knight. But then, she had been watching the knight since her rescue the night before. He was not an especially good-looking man, owing in part to his broken nose, but his ease at command had exerted a powerful effect on the pretty teenager. Elyana was not sure why this bothered her, as Stelan had shown Mirelle nothing but appropriate kindness, and she supposed that it tied directly into her certainty that she, as an elf, would eventually lose her human lover one way or another.
“I hesitate to advise another spellcaster,” Arcil was saying to Vallyn, “but remember that charm spells will not work upon the dead.”
“They don’t?” Vallyn sounded almost as if he wished to complain about the fairness of the issue.
“They don’t,” Elyana confirmed. “Stelan, it’s nearly time.”
“Stand ready, everyone. Mirelle, it’s time to move. Back near the picket lines, please.”
The girl obligingly obeyed.
“Elyana,” Vallyn asked quietly, “how far away do you think the rest of the Galtans are?”
He had asked her that several times since they had stopped. Only Elyana’s eyesight was keen enough to occasionally detect the distant pursuers, though all of them had known they would be followed. The bard had been all for pushing on for the border, no matter that the others told him the Galtans could hardly be expected to stop pursuit there. Even if they reached a Taldan fortress, it would most likely be abandoned, and border patrols in the northeast were a rarity. So there would be no outside aid short of a miracle. They’d have to deal with the Galtan posse themselves. Somehow.
Elyana lifted her bow and arrow and studied the onrushing hounds. Their hides were a uniform dark brown, flecked with white and crimson. They did not vie for first position or race with one another; they maintained precise order and formation. “Three dozen,” she said. And then, scanning the dry, rolling plain for a cloud raised by horsemen, she answered Vallyn. “We have at most three-quarters of an hour.”
“At the least?”
“Just over a quarter-hour.”
She heard the dry grass rustle as the bard stepped away, and then she centered the whole of her attention upon the targets. She’d elected to use the diminished stock of her own arrows first, for the greater distance shots, as she had crafted them herself and knew their capabilities. Those they’d lifted from the bodies of the Galtan guards were a little longer than she used with her own pull, and were hastily, if efficiently, made.
Vallyn had recently described an attack by her as a storm of arrows. This time, though, she took careful aim before launching. The opening arrow arced up and out, then slammed straight through the shoulder blade of the leading hound. The impact spun it into the one on its right, breaking the formation. In the brief moment when she paused to set her next arrow, order was restored, and the struck hound ran on, the arrow sticking up like a decorative flag. She was glad Vallyn couldn’t see that. The young man was still quite green, and prone to panic. Her second shot caught the creature near the same place, and this time it stumbled and rolled. It struggled to rise for a time as its companions ran straight over it, then lay motionless as their repeated footfalls flattened its chest cavity.
She accounted for seven more before the things closed to medium range. She left three of her own arrows in reserve and shifted over to the Galtan supply as her love lifted his own bow. She and Stelan kept up a steady barrage, whittling down the numbers.
“They’re hideous,” Vallyn said. He had climbed to the top of the rounded boulder.
He was right; from closer on she could see the gaps in their flesh where ribs showed through, and the missing ears and rotted noses. Elyana saw now that their uniform appearance was deceptive.
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