The eastern horizon was beginning to brighten with predawn light when Vangerdahast heard the pair murmuring quietly. He slumped forward and allowed his chin to drop onto his chest, then urged his horse slowly forward until he was close enough to hear their conversation. His eavesdropping spells were far more effective and convenient, but with the ghazneth flying about, he had no choice except to resort to conventional methods.
“…led you to worship the Mother?” Tanalasta was asking. “Chauntea is hardly a popular goddess among the nobility.”
“Until Gaspar dishonored us, we Cormaerils were less a family of polities than of land,” Rowen explained. “Chauntea saw fit to bless our farms with her bounty, and we venerated her in return.”
“I see,” said Tanalasta. “You still worship her, though you have lost your lands?”
“I do.” Rowen looked away, then added, “After I have redeemed my name in Princess Alusair’s service, it is my hope that the king will someday grant me a small holding.”
Tanalasta reached across to grasp the ranger’s hand. “Have faith, Rowen. Chauntea rewards those who serve her.”
“Aye, those who serve the Mother flourish in her bounty.” The exchange sent a shudder down Vangerdahast’s spine. He urged his horse forward between theirs, forcing the princess to withdraw her hand.
“What is it?” the wizard asked, feigning a yawn. He saw now that Rowen would be more dangerous as a lover than as a husband. “Is something wrong?”
Tanalasta scowled. “Nothing a little consideration couldn’t cure.”
Vangerdahast blinked groggily. “Am I interrupting something?” There was just enough of an edge in his voice to hint that it had better not be so, and he looked from the princess to Rowen. “Have you been sizing up the crown jewels again?”
“Vangerdahast!” Tanalasta raised her hand as though she might slap the wizard, then shook her head in frustration. “You are the only one here who has been behaving poorly-and I’m quite sure you know it!”
Vangerdahast continued to glare at Rowen. “Well?”
The ranger’s face darkened. “It would be a crime for me to respond as you deserve, Lord Magician, but you must know you are assailing my honor. I have only pure thoughts for the princess.”
“Good.” Vangerdahast glanced at Tanalasta just long enough to wince at the fury in her eyes, then looked back to Rowen. “Because you know how unfortunate it would be if she were to become, ah, attached to you.”
Rowen looked confused. “Attached? To me?”
“Pay him no mind,” said Tanalasta. “Vangerdahast has a notoriously tawdry mind.”
Rowen’s posture grew tense. “I see. Well, there is no danger of that. Roosters do not pursue swans.”
“No, they don’t,” agreed Vangerdahast. “They keep their distance, lest people start mistaking the swan for a hen.”
“I am not a poultry bird.” Tanalasta raised her chin and slapped the reins against her weary horse’s neck, goading it into a trot. “I will thank you both to-“
Her sentence was cut short by the pained shriek of a horse.
Fearing Tanalasta’s mount had broken a leg, Vangerdahast sank his heels into Cadimus’s flanks and shot after the princess. As he approached, she wheeled around and sprang past in the opposite direction, leaning out of her saddle to grab for something on the ground. A cacophony of snarling and snorting arose from the rim of the plain, and it finally dawned on the wizard that the horse’s cry had been caused by something more serious than a broken leg.
Vangerdahast spun Cadimus toward the sound and saw a wall of orc silhouettes clambering over the rim of the plain. The swiners were no more than a hundred paces distant, with thick snouts and pointy ears outlined in black against the purple horizon. Closer by, a dozen hunch-shouldered shapes were rising from a line of shallow camouflage pits not far behind Rowen, who lay struggling to drag himself free of his thrashing horse. The poor beast had four crooked spears lodged in its rib cage, and every time it tried to roll to its knees, its breath would wheeze out around the shafts.
Tanalasta brought her mount to a stop beside the fallen horse and stretched down toward Rowen. He reached up to grasp her hand, then his horse screeched again as its abdomen was pierced by a rough-hewn spear. Another shaft hissed through the air above the princess’s back, and two more clattered into the stones around the hooves of her horse. The ranger looked back toward the camouflage pits, then quickly pulled his arm away-the first twelve orcs were only ten paces away.
“There’s no time, Princess. Go!”
“And leave you here? What kind of lady would that make me?” Tanalasta swung out of the saddle and glanced back at Vangerdahast. “Do something!”
The command was hardly necessary. Vangerdahast was already holding one of his favorite wands. As soon as Tanalasta stooped down to shove Rowen’s fallen horse off him, he shouted his command word and whipped the tip at the closest orc. The brute cried out in shock and went tumbling across the ground backward, limbs flailing and head cracking against the rocky ground. The wizard repeated the gesture three more times before the princess rocked the horse high enough for Rowen to pull out of his stirrup. The ranger dragged himself free and stood, blocking Vangerdahast’s angle to the remaining orcs.
“By the Purple Dragon!” Vangerdahast moved forward to get a better angle, then sent another ore flying. The rest of the horde was fast coming in from the side, and they would soon be within spear-throwing range. “Tanalasta, get that fool out of the way!”
“Watch your manners, Vangerdahast.” Tanalasta swung back into her saddle, then reached for her throat clasp. “See to your horse Rowen, then it’s time for us to leave.”
Vangerdahast stopped on the other side of Rowen’s horse and cleared the area with three quick shakes of his wand, then jammed it back into its sleeve and reached into his cloak. It seemed to take forever to find the component he needed, perhaps because his eyes were already scanning the brightening sky for the ghazneth’s dark wings.
Rowen brought his sword down across the back of his horse’s neck, then grabbed the princess’s outstretched hand and swung into the saddle behind her. He slashed at something on the other side of Tanalasta’s horse, and an orc squealed in pain. Tanalasta slapped her bracer and blasted another with four golden bolts of magic. Then, finally, she wheeled her mount around and shoved her hand into the weathercloak’s escape pocket. There was a nearly inaudible pop, and Vangerdahast found himself staring across Rowen’s dead horse at three stunned orcs.
The wizard dropped his reins and gestured with his free hand, blasting two of them apart with magic bolts, then finally found a small bar of iron. He pointed this at the third trembling orc and rattled off a quick spell, then commanded, “Move nothing.”
The orc’s arms dropped to its sides, and Vangerdahast spun in his saddle to find the largest part of the horde only thirty paces away. He fished a small vial from his cloak pocket and quickly unstoppered it, then pointed his hand at a spot about fifteen paces away. The wizard started a long incantation and began to pour a stream of white grains from the small flask. As the granules fell, they flashed into smoke, and a tiny flame flickered to life where he was pointing.
By the time he finished, the orcs had begun to hurl their spears in his direction. The range was still too great for the crooked weapons to have any accuracy, but Vangerdahast did not feel like taking chances. He circled around Rowen’s dead horse and waited for the leading swiners to reach the line of tiny flames he had created on the ground, then spoke the command word.
A searing curtain of flame sprang to life, rising more than twenty feet into the air and stretching three hundred paces in each direction. The air filled instantly with the wail of dying orcs, and the stench of charred flesh grew overwhelming. Scarecrows of flame separated from the fiery wall and stumbled around blindly for a few minutes, then collapsed to the ground to burn themselves out.