Once more the Duke ordered a halt. Turning to Gardan, he said, “Skirmishers! Find out how close they follow. We must have rest.” Gardan indicated three men, who quickly leapt from their horses and ran back along the route of their retreat. A single clash of steel and a strangled cry heralded their encounter with the closest Dark Brother tracker.
“Damn them!” said the Duke. “They’re herding us in a circle, seeking to bring us back into their main strength. Already we’re moving more north than east.”
Pug took the opportunity to move next to Tomas. The horses were panting and shivering as perspiration steamed off them in the cold. Tomas managed a feeble smile, but said nothing.
Men moved quickly among the horses, checking for injury. In a few minutes the skirmishers returned at a run. Panting, one said, “Lord, they are close behind, fifty, sixty at least.”
“How long?”
The man stood with perspiration pouring down his face as he answered, “Five minutes, my lord.” With grim humor he said, “The two we killed will make them pause, but no more time than that.”
Borric said to the company, “We rest a moment, then we ride.”
Arutha said, “A moment or an hour, what does it matter? The horses are done. We should stand before more Brothers come to the call.”
Borric shook his head. “I must get through to Erland. He must know of the coming of the Tsurani.”
An arrow, quickly followed by a second, flew from the nearby trees, and another rider fell. Borric shouted, “Ride!”
They cantered the exhausted horses deeper into the woods, then slowed to a walk, while they kept watch for the coming attack. The Duke used hand signals to deploy the line of soldiers so they might swing to either flank and charge on command. Horses blew foam as their nostrils distended, and Pug knew they were close to dropping.
“Why don’t they attack?” whispered Tomas.
“I don’t know,” answered Pug. “They just harry us from the sides and behind.”
The Duke raised his hand and the column halted. No sounds of pursuit could be heard. He turned and spoke in a low tone. “They may have lost us. Pass the word to inspect your mounts—” An arrow sped past his head, missing him by inches “Forward!” he shouted, and they began a ragged trot along the path they had been following.
Gardan snouted, “My lord, it seems they wish us to keep moving.”
In a harsh whisper Borric swore, then asked, “Kulgan, which way lies east?”
The magician closed his eyes again, and Pug knew he was tiring himself with this particular spell. Not difficult if one was standing calmly, it had to be fatiguing him under these conditions. Kulgan’s eyes opened and he pointed to the right. The column was heading northward.
Arutha said, “Again they slowly turn us, Father, back into their main strength.”
Raising his voice, Borric said, “Only fools or children would keep to this route. On my command, wheel to the right and charge.” He waited as every man readied weapons and made silent prayers to their gods that the horses could withstand one more gallop. Then the Duke shouted, “Now!” As a body, the column wheeled to the right, and riders spurred their flagging mounts. Arrows came pouring from the trees, and men and horses screamed.
Pug ducked under a branch, desperately holding on to the reins while he fumbled with sword and shield. He felt the shield slipping and, as he struggled with it, sensed his horse slowing. He couldn’t exercise the needed control over the animal and manage the weapons at the same time.
Pug reined in, risking a momentary stop to put his equipment right. A noise made him look to the right. Standing less than five yards away was a bowman of the Brotherhood of the Dark Path. Pug stayed rooted for a moment, as did the bowman. Pug was struck by his resemblance to the Elf Prince, Calin. There was little to distinguish the two races, nearly the same in height and build, save hair and eyes. The creature’s bowstring had snapped, and he stood with dark eyes fixed upon Pug while calmly setting about restnnging his bow.
Pug’s astonishment at finding the Dark Brother standing so close to him momentarily caused him to forget the reason he had halted. He sat numbly watching the bowman repairing his weapon, entranced by the dark elf’s coolly efficient manner.
Then he was pulling an arrow from his quiver in a fluid motion and fitting the shaft to the bowstring. Sudden alarm made Pug act. His staggering horse answered his frantic kicks and was off again. He didn’t see the bowman’s arrow, but heard and felt it speed past his ear, then he was back to a gallop, the bowman lost behind as Pug overtook the Duke’s company.
Noise from ahead made Pug urge his horse on, though the poor animal was giving every indication it was moving as fast as possible. Pug wove through the forest, the gloom making it difficult to negotiate.