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we could get a good look at him?"
"I didn't see him, sir," Captain Watson answered. Colonel Biffle shrugged to
show he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, either.
Wheep!Ned's sword came free from its scabbard. "I'm going to have a look," he
said. "If thatis a southron, I don't aim to let him get back and tell his pals
he's seen us." He spurred his unicorn forward.
Most commanders would have sent out scouts to hunt down an enemy. Ned didn't
think like that, and never had. He was as good a fighting man as any he led.
He'd been wounded several times, and had close to a dozen unicorns killed
under him. As he rode toward the woods now, he leaned forward and a little to
one side, using this mount's body as a shield in case that southron had a
crossbow aimed at him.
Ned laughed softly. If the fellow did see him and tried shooting at him, he
might not have much luck. In weather like this, bowstrings soon turned soggy
and useless.
When Ned reached the woods, he slid down off the unicorn and tethered it to
the branch of an oak. He could move more quietly and less conspicuously on
foot. That southron if there had been a southron, if Ned hadn't been imagining
things had gone in a couple of hundred yards from where Ned was now. Ned
hurried forward, flitting from tree trunk to tree trunk like one of the ghosts
the blonds believed to haunt the wilderness. Ned didn't believe in those
ghosts, though he did want to send that southron's spirit down to the hells.
A flash of white was that the enemy soldier's unicorn? Ned of the Forest
drifted closer. Yes, that was the unicorn, and there sat the southron, still
mounted.Fool , Ned thought.You'll pay for that . The gray-clad soldier had
sword in hand, and no doubt felt very safe, very secure. What he felt and what
was real were two different things, as he'd soon find out.
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With a wordless bellow making do for a battle cry, Ned rushed him. The
southron cried out, too, in horror. He had to twist his body awkwardly to meet
Ned's attack, for the northern commander of unicorn-riders approached on his
left side, and he, like most men, used his right hand.
Swords clashed. The southron managed to turn Ned's first stroke. The second
laid open his thigh. The third tore into his belly. He shrieked. His blood
poured down the unicorn's white, white flank. Ned of the Forest pulled him out
of the saddle and finished him with a thrust through the throat.
That done, Ned sprang onto the unicorn's back. It snorted fearfully and tried
to rear. He used his weight and the reins and the pressure of his knees to
force it down again. Then he rode it back toward his own men, pausing to
reclaim the animal he'd tethered before going hunting for the scout.
The troopers cheered when he emerged from the rain riding one unicorn and
leading another. They knew what that had to mean. "Scratch one southron,"
somebody called, and the rest of the riders took up the cry. Ned waved,
pleased with them and pleased with himself.
"Looks like you were right, sir," Colonel Biffle said.
Ned shrugged. "He got careless. The gods won't help you if you don't give 'em
a chance."
"I expect you're right," Biffle agreed.
"You bet I am." But then Ned started thinking about some of the things King
Geoffrey had done, most notably leaving Count Thraxton in command much too
long, till far too much of the east was lost.The gods won't help you if you
don't give 'em a chance . He wished he hadn't put it quite like that.
* * *
Captain Gremio squelched through mud that threatened to pull off his shoes
with every step he took. The road would have been bad any which way. It was
even worse because Ned of the Forest's unicorns had chewed it into a quagmire
before any of General Bell's footsoldiers marched down it.
"Come on! Keep it up! We can do it!" Gremio called to the soldiers of the
company he commanded. The men from Palmetto Province slogged along in no
particular order. But they did keep moving. Gremio didn't suppose he could ask
for more than that.
One of the soldiers grinned a wet, muddy grin at him. "You going to send us
to jail if we don't?" he asked.
Back in Karlsburg, Gremio had been a barrister. That made him unusual among
northern officers, most of whom came from the ranks of the nobility. Baron
Ormerod, whom he'd replaced, had owned an estate outside Karlsburg. But
Ormerod was a year dead now, killed in the disastrous battle of Proselytizers'
Rise. Gremio had led the company since he fell.
He knew he couldn't be too sensitive when soldiers teased him. If he were,
they'd never give him any peace. He managed a grin of his own as he answered,
"Not likely, Landels. My job back there was keeping people out of jail, not
putting them in. Of course"  he stroked his bearded chin "for you I might
make an exception."
Landels laughed. He had to, for the men around him were laughing, too. Show
you had a thin skin and you would pay and pay and pay.
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Colonel Florizel, the regimental commander, rode up on a unicorn. No one held
that against him; he had a wounded foot that had never healed the way it
should have. "How are things, Captain?" he called.
"As well as can be expected, sir," Gremio answered.
Florizel nodded, apparently satisfied, and rode on. He hadn't asked the
question that most needed asking, at least to Gremio:how well can things be [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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