Jo Clayton Duel of Sorcery 01 Moonscatter

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great scarp that lay before them as a ragged black line like a heavy brush
stroke across rough paper, but each time they were forced back after losing a
worrying amount of time searching for places narrow enough to jump the
gullies. Behind them Serroi felt the fury of their pursuers like the
effluvium from a stink shell, choking her, sickening her. Then the road
swung almost straight north. She pointed at the Scarp. Hern nodded.
For the third time they left the road and tried cutting across the broken
lands.
Dawn found them riding at a fast walk along the rim of a broad
wash, moving almost directly south, hunting for place where they could
jump their weary mounts across. The scarp lay less than a quarter mile away on
the far side.
Hern was sullen, tired, angry, impatient. He wanted to stop and ambush the
Sleykynin. Serroi refused. Her arrows, she told him, wouldn't pierce velater
hide unless she was almost nose to nose with the wearer and the Sleykynin
wouldn't let either of them get that close. He wouldn't do much better with
the spears he'd picked up at the well. Hern wanted her to prod the macain into
attack again. She couldn't force herself to do that, not again, never again.
She tried to tell him that but he couldn't or wouldn't understand. This was
life or death and as far as he was concerned you fought with what weapons
you had. Through persistence and shouting, she convinced him it was a weapon
she no longer had.
The band of assassins kicked up dust behind them, the men visible as black
dots like seed in a cottony white fruit.
They were leaving the chini behind, pushing their mounts now that Serroi and
Hern were in sight, closing the gap faster than was comfortable in
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Serroi's eyes. And the wash stubbornly refused to narrow, though it did begin
to curve toward the east just a little.
"Serroi," Hem called suddenly, bringing her head back around. His words spaced
by short silences as he spat out the churning dust, he continued, "Look ahead.
Am I dreaming or is that a neck a couple lengths ahead?"
Serroi rubbed at her eyes, squinted ahead. "I think so. Doesn't look much
better than the last two we passed, could be it's enough. Want to take the
chance?"
"We got a choice?"
"No."
_ They angled out from the wash to give their macain run-ning room.
Behind them they heard shouts from their pur-suers, screams from the
Sleykyn macain as their riders tried to whip speed they didn't have from the
tired beasts.
Bent low over macain necks, whispering encouragement to them, Serroi
and Hern sent them racing at the wash.
Powerful hind legs kicked against the earth; the macain flew in shallow arcs
across the chasm. Serroi's mount landed a safe distance from the lip, claws
out, digging into the hard soil; he pranced a few strides farther, halted as
she tugged him to a stop and turned to watch Hern's struggles. His mount had
landed on the very rim of the wash, brought down early by Hern's weight.
He flung himself up over the neck of the macai as the beast
scrabbled frantically at the crumbling rim, the shift of his weight finally
enough to turn the balance. The macai scrambled to safety and minced
delicately up to Serroi, Hern settling himself back in the saddle. Across the
wash they heard a roar of frustration. There was no way the Sleykynin could
emulate their feat, their mounts were exhausted and their full armor made them
heavier even than Hern.
A short spear hummed past Serroi, plunking into the crusty earth. Hern patted
his trembling mount on the shoulder and set him into an easy lope, frowning at
the ragged breathing of the beast. Serroi, startled, looked over her shoulder
at the Sleykynin. Two of them were on the ground, throwing sticks in hand. As
she looked, the second whipped his arm down. The spear hissed through the air
at Hern, faster, it seemed to her, than any arrow. She kicked her macai to the
side, heard the spear slice past her, heard a grunt from Hern. When she
looked, he was crumpling from his mount, a spear shaft pro-truding from his
back. She only had time for a glimpse of this before there was a terrible
burning pain in her back and she was falling too.
Mordant bite of dust in her nose and mouth. A yielding hard bulk under her
body. She blinks, sits up, pushing against a resistance that is sticky [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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