A Cavern of Black Ice (60 page)

Marafice Eye was clearly visible now,
his gloved hands like twin ravens at a kill as he reined in his
stallion for the descent to the stream. As Ash sawed at the pannier
harness to release the bags, she noticed that one man in the sept had
broken formation and was now straggling behind. Although he wore a
black cloak like the others, he held no weapon and obviously needed
both hands for his horse. As his cloak tails caught the wind and
ripped behind him, the white colors of a cleric or anchorite were
revealed at his chest. Ash felt a small thrill of remembrance. She
had seen the man before. She recognized his pale skin and the sharp
set of his shoulders. He was one of Penthero Iss' creatures, one of
those special people whom Caydis Zerbina brought to his chambers
after dark.

"Sarga Veys." Angus plucked
the name from Ash's tongue, making it sound like one of Marafice
Eye's curses. For a moment his copper eyes turned red, as if the
metal there had been heated by a burst of flame. "Raif. Hand me
the bow. Now."

Raif, who had cut his saddlebags
moments earlier, unbuckled the bowcase and quiver and handed them to
his uncle. Angus did not take his eyes from the sept as he hooked the
quiver to his belt. "We must part now," he said. "All
of us. There are seven of them and three of us, and our only hope is
to split them. Raif. You will follow the shoreline north. Fight only
if you must. Better to flee and be safe. If you are pursued by many,
cross onto the ice. Moose is less laden than the sept's horses and
will be more readily borne. Do not venture farther from shore than
the length of four horses." Angus waited for Raif to nod.
"Good." The sound of the small word was nearly drowned out
by the noise of Marafice Eye's horse fracturing ice as it entered the
stream. Others followed, and the slim body of water became alive with
dark, pitching forms driving toward the bank.

Angus ran a finger over the bowstring,
warming. "Ash. You must go directly onto the lake ice. You're
the lightest among us—"

"No," hissed Raif. "She'll
be killed. There's no telling how thick that ice is past the shore—"

"Do you not think I know the
dangers, Raif Sevrance?" Angus asked quietly, a muscle pumping
in his cheek. "I know the Spill better than you know the graze
around the roundhouse, and the bay knows ice better still. He will
lead her safely across." Angus turned to Ash. "You cannot
fight, lass. You have only my belt knife as a weapon. The best way I
can protect you is to lead you to a safe place. No man can follow you
deep onto the ice—the Maker help them if they do. The frost
smoke will shield you from arrows. You must trust the bay. Old Blood
runs in his heart. He will deliver you from harm. I would not let him
take you if I did not believe this wholly."

Ash looked into Angus' eyes. He was
shaking slightly; the force of his words still upon him. She believed
what he said absolutely. She had seen for herself the bay's knowledge
of ice as they crossed the stream, and if Angus had wanted to kill
her, he could have done so a dozen times before now. No. He wanted
her alive and safe… the truth of that was in his eyes.
But
why
? What made him shake? What emotion was he controlling within
himself when he spoke? Did he fear her? Thrusting that thought aside,
she glanced across the lake. The Black Spill. It never froze
completely, not even in deepest winter. Sorissina of the Elms had
taken that truth with her to her death.

Left outside Vaingate to die
.
The words came to Ash, as they always did, as a kind of prayer. They
were her life, those words. They made her who she was. She took the
reins.

Angus breathed heavily, showing no sign
of relief. His eyes flicked to the stream. Marafice Eye's spurs
claimed horseflesh as he forced the beast through the last of the
ice. His small mouth was clearly visible now, pale and twisted like
butcher's string around a roast.

"
Go
!
Both of you."
Angus smacked Moose's rump as he spoke. "Raif. Watch Ash as far
as you can, but do not follow where the bay leads. Moose is a good
horse, but he's no skater. Don't test him. Ten leagues north of here,
where the lake bends inward like a quarter moon, you'll find a grove
of white oaks above the shore. If I don't find you before then, I'll
meet you there after dark."

Raif nodded. He did not look pleased.
Ash could tell he wasn't happy about leaving her to ride on the ice.
Their gazes met, and Ash watched as he raised his hand to his throat
and touched the piece of horn that hung there. Unsettled, but not
sure why, she looked away.

Angus had hold of the bay's bridle.
"
Tharra dan mis
," he murmured. Then quickly to
Ash: "Trust him. He'll lead you a fine dance. When all is quiet
I'll call you back."

Ash jerked her head in something she
hoped was close to a nod. She could not speak. She wanted to ask him
what he would do on foot, out there were only seconds left between
them, and she feared to detain him with thoughtless speech. Sliding
her feet into the stirrups, she took control of the horse.

"Go," he said. "Hold
your mind in the now."

Ash turned the bay and let the gelding
find his own way down the slope. Already she could hear the whip of
leather and horse tails as the sept sloughed off water from the
stream and reformed themselves into a V. When she glanced over her
shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Angus running down the slope away
from her, making for the cover of a dense island of spruces.

"Maker save him," she
whispered, suddenly wishing she had spoken up after all. She should
have told him to keep himself safe, asked him the true name of the
bay, found out why he'd taken the bow from Raif the moment he'd spied
Sarga Veys.

"
There she is! On the bay!
Shoot the horse from under her
!" All thoughts were expelled
from Ash's mind at the sound of Marafice Eye's voice. She felt as if
she had been punched in the stomach. Her child's terror of him
bubbled up from the past. Clutching at the reins, she kicked the bay
hard—harder than she knew she should. A salvo of orders
followed her down the slope. Marafice Eye was screaming at the top of
his voice. "
Thray, Stagro, with me. Malharic, Hood, after
the clansman. Crosshead, to the trees. Stagro, flank Veys
."
He wanted her to hear him. He knew the quality of her fear.

The bay cantered down the slope toward
the hard-froze mud that formed the lakeshore. An arrow shot past his
hocks, a second sailed wide of his head. Ash ground her teeth
together. The world around her was a blur of trees and harsh,
ice-reflected light. Which way had Raif gone? North? She looked that
way but could not spot him.
The clansman
, she had heard
Marafice Eye call him. Some small part of her had known that all
along, recognizing the rough, almost barbaric manner of his dress
from descriptions she'd read in books. Yet he'd never once mentioned
his clan.

The bay slowed his pace as he hit the
lake ice. Tugging his head forward, he demanded more rein. It was
against all Ash's instincts as a rider to allow him the freedom to
choose his own path in such a place. Trust
him
, Angus had
said. Ash frowned, slid her hands a small way down the reins. She was
just beginning to realize how hard such a thing would be.

The bay's iron-shod hooves made the
shore-fast ice ring like a bell.

The water was frozen solid, offering no
give, and Ash was jolted around in the saddle as they entered the
wall of mist. The temperature dropped immediately, making her cheeks
smart as if burned. The light changed texture, and suddenly there
were no shadows or highlights—no structure for judging distance
or depth. Frightened, Ash looked down. The surface of the lake shone
beneath her: wind scratched, snow encrusted, the color of diamonds
and salt.

"
Follow me! Don't lose her
!"
Marafice Eye's voice carried perfectly through the mist. Seconds
later the lake ice began to vibrate as other horses gained the shore.
Ash heard Marafice Eye spit a curse at the mist. Softly he said, "Do
your business, Halfman. She must not be lost."

Ash shivered. The mist surrounding her
was as ragged as rotten linen. Could Marafice Eye see her? She didn't
want to risk looking back.

The bay's huge liquid eyes were fixed
upon the ice, his entire being bent upon the path ahead. Ash could
feel the blood humming along his spine, see the rigid set of the
muscles in his withers and neck. Abruptly he changed his course.
Straightaway his hooves began to make a flatter tone when they hit
the ice, and Ash caught his ears twitching accordingly.
He's
listening
, she thought. The revelation filled her with wonder.
Where had such a creature come from?

Behind her she was aware of other
horses slowing. They were close now. Even the sound of their breaths
carried.

Ash gave the bay more rein, squeezed
his ribs with her thighs. She thought she smelled something familiar,
like copper or the stench of lightning during a storm. The sensation
passed as the bay altered his course once more, turning into the
wind. They were very far out on the ice now. Ash looked ahead into
the peaks and plains of frost smoke. Was this what Sorissina of the
Elms had seen before she died? This world of white, captured light?

Something prickled the back of Ash's
neck, like an insect's touch or a fingernail scored down her spine.
Fear came alive in her chest. Everything was quiet.
When did I
last hear the sept's horses
? She found she could not remember.
She didn't want to turn and look behind her. Didn't want to see what
was there.

"Stop where you are, Asarhia
March," came a voice from close behind. "Or we'll shoot the
horse."

Ash looked back. Four men rode on the
ice thirty paces behind her. Marafice Eye, Sarga Veys, a watch
brother with a thin face and a nose made ugly by scar tissue, and a
fourth man farther behind. Thin Face had a cranked and loaded
crossbow resting in the crook of his arm. Marafice Eye was hunched
low on his horse, his arms drawn close to his body, his gloved hands
knotted at the reins. Beneath the wire of his bird helm, his eyes
glinted like lenses of ice. Sarga Veys rode in the middle, his pale
and unprotected head rising from the leather plumage of the Rive
Watch cloak like something already dead. He was breathing hard, and a
film of gray sweat shone on his nose and brow.

Then it struck her. There was no mist
between them. She shouldn't be able to see them at all; the mist was
too thick for that. Ahead she could barely see five paces, yet behind
her a tunnel of clear air had been created.

She swallowed hard. It was an
aberration, wrong in every way, like water running upstream or the
sun coming out at midnight. The mist had been held back, molded,
forced to do the bidding of one man. It made Ash's flesh crawl. So
this is what sorcery is
? Not
gaudy tricks and flashing
lights; control over nature
.

Tht
. An arrow shot over the
heads of the three men. Even as Ash recognized the crude shape of the
shaft and the horsehair fletchings at its tail, she kicked the bay
into a gallop. Angus must have fired high because he couldn't be sure
where she was and didn't want to risk hurting her. It wasn't much,
but it was a distraction. As she lowered her body over the bay's
neck, she heard the crisp
thuc
of the crossbow discharging.
The bay was in the process of switching its path, and the crossbolt
scraped along his rump, taking hair and skin with it.

Ash pressed her lips together to stop
herself from crying out. Horse blood spilled over her boots. Beneath
the gelding's hooves, the ice began to creak. Horses charged after
them, tracing the bay's path. Marafice Eye shouted an obscenity at
Sarga Veys. Ash heard metal rattle as Thin Face cranked the bow for a
second shot.

The bay galloped faster and faster.
Looking down, Ash saw where the ice had grown darker as the deep,
lightless water began to shine through. Her foster father had once
told her that a man could stand on freshwater ice as thin as a hen's
egg. But what about a girl on a horse? She could recall no wisdom to
cover that.

Ash felt the ice
move
beneath
her. The bay veered keenly to the left.

One of his hooves broke the surface
with a sharp, wet snap. Crack lines began to appear in the ice,
running through the bay's legs like fast little ants. Lather foamed
along the gelding's neck as he danced across the fracturing plates.
Ash felt freezing water spit against her face. Behind her, ice
snapped with the force of a felled tree. Someone screamed. A horse
squealed, high and terrible like something being slaughtered. Ice
pitched and rolled, causing the lake water to swell. The shelf of ice
the bay ran across bobbed like a raft in a storm.

Ash risked a glance over her shoulder.
Frost smoke spewed from the surface in a shower of blue sparks.
Horses and men plunged through the erupting ice field, arms flung
outward, eyes wide with terror, fingers clutching air. Marafice Eye's
horse plummeted into the lake, its forelegs kicking wildly, its rider
clawing at its neck. The last thing she saw before turning her back
was a pair of gloved hands struggling for a handhold in the cold
black water.

Ash rode across the ice, dancing with
the bay.

Strike upon Bannen

The Dog Lord stood in silence as his
fifth son, Thrago, fastened his armor to him. The plate was thirty
years old, bashed in places, its many punctures packed with solder,
and its pot-black finish scratched to hell. Vaylo almost smiled to
see it. Two stone of case-hardened iron… and it had been with
him longer than any friend.