“If we survive this, I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” she snarled at him. She leaned over the side and called, “Lady Aquitaine! We’ve got to move faster!”
“She can’t hear you!” Aldrick called back, voice tight with pain. “It’s all the both of them can do to keep the coach in the air!”
Red lightning flashed, and a shadow fell across the back of the coach.
Amara looked back to see Kalarus descending toward them. His cloak had been torn in a dozen places by the same tree branches that had slashed the left side of his face to bloody, swollen meat. His teeth were gnashed in hate and rage, and when he met Amara’s eyes, the blade of his sword suddenly began to glow like iron on the forge, red, then orange, then white-hot. The metal shrieked in anguished protest.
Bernard moved, hands blurring, and let fly two arrows as Kalarus closed in. The High Lord of Kalare flicked them aside with his burning blade, shattering them with armor-piercing heads. Kalarus came on, murder in his eyes. Amara hurled Cirrus against him, but she might as well have tried to stop a charging gargant with a silk thread. The High Lord powered through Cirrus as though the fury had not been there.
She wanted to scream in frustration and terror, in helpless protest that this scum, this, this… creature was going to kill her, kill her husband, kill everyone in the coach, and drag Alera into total chaos. She turned to Bernard, eyes searching for his. She wanted to be looking at him when Kalare’s blade took her life. Not at the animal who had killed her.
Bernard’s face was pale, but his eyes held no trace of defeat, no hint of surrender. He looked down at Amara, a single, fleeting glance-and winked at her.
Then he set his last arrow to string and loosed it as Kalare closed to within ten feet of the coach. Once more, Kalare sneered, blade moving with sinuous grace to strike the arrow before it could reach him. Its shaft shattered into splinters.
But the arrow’s head, a shaped, translucent crystal of rock salt like the ones he’d loosed against the windmanes in Calderon, exploded into powder.
It tore into Kalarus’s wind furies, blanketing him, ripping his windstream to shreds, murdering the power that kept him aloft.
Kalarus had time for one brief, mystified expression of shock and disbelief.
And then he screamed as he fell like a stone into the trees below.
Then there was silence, but for the surf-thunder of steady wind.
Bernard lowered his bow slowly and let out a long breath. He nodded his head pensively, and said, “I think I’ll write Tavi and thank him for that idea.”
Amara stared at her husband, speechless.
She needed to tell the bearers to keep going for as long as they could before setting down to rest beneath the canopy of the forest, somewhere near a large stream or small river, so that she could send word to the First Lord. But that could come in a moment. For now, the need to look at his face, to realize that they were alive, that they were together, was far more important than mere realms.
Bernard slung his bow over his shoulder and knelt beside Amara, reaching gently for her arm. “Easy. Let’s see what you’ve done to it.”
“One of your salt arrows,” she said quietly, shaking her head.
He smiled at her, his eyes alight with green, brown, and flecks of gold; colors of life and growth and warmth. “It’s always the little things that are important,” he said. “Isn’t it.”
“Yes,” she said, and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Excellent,” said the water figure of Gaius, a translucent form that lacked the solid-color enhancement the First Lord used to favor. “Well done, Countess. What is the status of the rescuees?”
She stood beside a large, swift stream that rolled down from the hills many miles from Kalare. The forest here was particularly thick, and they’d barely managed to get the coach down through it in one piece. The bearers had all but collapsed into sleep, without even unhooking their flight harnesses. Bernard went around to each man, gently freeing them from the coach and letting them stretch out on the ground. The High Ladies were in a similar state, though Lady Aquitaine managed to seat herself primly at the base of a tree before leaning her head back against it and watching Odiana help Aldrick to the stream to tend to his wound.
Lady Placida hardly seemed strong enough to keep her head held up, but she insisted on staying with Atticus Elania, who had been injured during the flight-not by a weapon, but when the wounded Aldrick had half fallen back into the coach. He’d fallen hard against one of the crowded seats and broken the girl’s ankle. Lady Placida had managed to ease Elania’s pain, then promptly fallen back onto the grass to sleep.
Rook stepped out of the coach with her eyes closed, holding her daughter’s hand. She found a patch of ground near the stream bank, where the sunlight reached the warm earth. She sat in the light, holding her daughter, her face weary and sagging with something rather like shock.
“Countess?” prodded Gaius gently.
Amara looked back to the water-image. “My apologies, sire.” She took a deep breath, and said, “Atticus Elania Minora was injured during the escape, but not seriously. A broken ankle. Well have it crafted well again soon.”
Gaius nodded. “And Lady Placida?”
“Exhausted but otherwise well, sire.”
Gaius raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
Amara explained. “She and Lady Aquitaine spent themselves in an effort to speed our escape and hinder the pursuit. Only a bit more than a score of nearly a hundred Knights Aeris managed to catch up to us, and without the ladies’ efforts I am certain we would have been overpowered and killed.”
“Where are you now?” Gaius asked. Then immediately raised a hand. “No, best not say. This communication could be observed by others. In general, what is your situation?”
“We pressed on for as long as we could after Kalarus fell, sire, but we didn’t make it terribly far. It’s possible that a follow-up search could find us, so we’ll only rest here for an hour or two, then move on.”
Gaius lifted both eyebrows. “Kalarus fell?”
Amara smiled and inclined her head. “Courtesy of the good count Calderon, sire. I am not certain he is dead, but if he did survive it, I doubt he will be in any condition to run a revolution.”
Gaius’s teeth showed in a sudden, wolfish smile. “I’ll want details in person as soon as you can manage it, Countess. Please convey my thanks to His Excellency of Calderon,” the First Lord said, “and to the Ladies and their retainers as well.”
“I’ll try to keep a straight face when I do, sire.”
Gaius threw back his head and laughed, and when he did the water-image changed. For a moment, there was color in it, greater detail, and more animation. Then he shook his head, and said, “I will leave you to your rest and travel then, Cursor.”
“Sire?” Amara asked. “Were we in time?”
Gaius nodded once. “I think so. But I must move quickly.” The image met Amara’s eyes, then Gaius bowed, ever so slightly, to her. “Well done, Amara.”
Amara drew in a deep breath as she felt a flash of ferocious pride and satisfaction. “Thank you, sire.”
The image descended back into the stream, and Amara slumped wearily down onto its banks, her arm throbbing dully, but with slowly increasing discomfort. She glanced aside at Bernard, who stood near Lady Aquitaine, in the shade of the same tree, his eyes distant as, through his connections with furies of earth and wood, he kept watch for anyone approaching.
“Hello, Amara,” said Odiana cheerfully.
Despite her weariness and discomfort, Amara twitched in surprise, and pain shot in burning silver lines from her shoulder to the base of her neck. The water witch had approached in total silence and spoken to her from a foot away.
“I’m sorry,” Odiana said, a quiet laugh hidden in the words. “I didn’t mean to scare you that way. That must have hurt awfully, jumping like that, poor darling.”
“What do you want?” Amara said quietly.
Her dark eyes glittered. “Why, to repair your poor shoulder, little peregrine. You’ll be as useful to your lord as a falcon with one wing. We can’t have that.”
“I’m fine,” Amara said quietly. “Thank you anyway.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Odiana said, waggling a finger. “Lying that way. I promise you that I’ll make it stop hurting.”