"Your pardon, I beg—" he said aloud, cautiously, as all the stories of White Demons rose again in his mind, no longer tales to frighten a child into obedience, but very tangible. "Intrude, I did not intend."
His words had no effect; none at all. These creatures were so full of deadly malice that he could feel it where he stood. He didn't know what they intended to do to him, but their eyes glittered anger at him, and he felt exactly as he had at the moment that the Sunpriest denounced him....
Like the Sunpriest, these creatures looked at him and condemned him. Like the Sunpriest, they fully intended to wipe him from the earth.
Sunlord, shield me—Suddenly he heard the angry trumpet of a stallion and the thunder of hooves behind him, and dropped instinctively to his knees, knowing it would do no good, but trying to make himself less of a target anyway. The trumpet turned to a scream, and as he winced away, a new Companion pounded out of the night, hooves throwing up clods of sod as it pounded toward him. But the new one charged through the enclosing circle and brutally smashed his full weight into the shoulder of the nearest Companion threatening Alberich. Knocking it half off of its feet, whirling to lash at another with flailing hooves, snaking his neck around to snap at the neck of a third, the new Companion skidded to a halt beside him—And Kantor stood with his Chosen, snorting defiantly, pawing the torn earth in challenge.
Instantly, Alberich rose to his feet, taking his stance at Kantor's shoulder.
:What did I do? What do they think I did?: he asked as the other Companions laid back their ears and tore the ground with their own hooves. :Why are they so angry at me?:
:It's nothing you did,: Kantor replied shortly, and rumbled warningly when another stepped forward a pace. His own ears were so flat to his head it looked as if they'd been cropped. :It's what you are. Karsite. Which they, young fools that they are, will not abide.:
Kantor whipped his head around, baring his teeth at all of the others, screaming defiance with voice and mind :But you are my Chosen, and they will not touch you! Nor will they reach you, except going through me!:
But the others seemed just as angry—and just as determined. And there were seven of them to Kantor's one. They snorted and added their trumpeting to Kantor's, pawing up the sod savagely.
:Come, then!: Kantor "shouted," so that Alberich winced at the strength of the voice in his mind, following the mental shout with a challenging scream. :Try and take me, if you dare, you impudent young puppies! Try—and see what fools you are!:
"Kantor, no!" he protested, knowing that, no matter how formidable his Companion was, he was still no match for the power of so many. "Don't—"
:Stop.:
The single word rang in his head like a gong, completely driving out everything else, so powerful was it. For a moment, it was as if he'd been punched in the gut, unable even to breathe. He was blinded and deafened, and when he was able to think again, he found himself on his knees, as if the Word had driven him there.
He wasn't the only one so affected; Kantor stood with head hanging and eyes glazed, and the others were shaking their heads, staggering about, looking utterly dazed. He had recovered first, and so he was the one who saw the final Companion come pacing into the meadow, striding as a king would stride across a royal carpet spread for his pleasure.
This—this newcomer was the very essence of Companion. His shining coat glowed pearly and silken in the moonlight, his mane and tail fell like waterfalls of silver, and his eyes held the wisdom of ages past and the knowledge of ages to come—and Alberich knew, in that moment when he looked into the stallion's eyes, that the knowledge held as much sorrow as joy....
The stallion swung his head about to stare at the others—all but Kantor, that is—with the kind of look that Aksel and Berthold would give pupils who had gone so far beyond merely disappointing their teachers that even the most irrepressible or arrogant of boys could not have gone unaffected.
:What is this?: the newcomer asked—no—demanded, in tones of disgust. :What do I find here? Companions—threatening someone else's Chosen? What were you thinking? How could you?:
One of Alberich's attackers raised his head and stared at the stallion; Alberich "heard" nothing, but he got the distinct impression that the other was trying to justify his actions, rather like a defiant little boy who knows very well he's in the wrong, but simply cannot bear to admit it. The others were making no such attempts; if a Companion could have flushed or paled with shame, these would have done so.
The stallion gave the defiant one short shrift. :Enough!: he said, but the effect on the other Companion was as if he'd been struck between the eyes with a hammer. He literally dropped to his knees, as the others winced. :You, Jasker,: the stallion said, more in sorrow than anger, :What you and yours have endured is no excuse. What happened to these others is no excuse either. You should have learned that by now.: The stallion swung his head around, and again Alberich felt the full force of his gaze. :You, Alberich—Chosen of Kantor—have you, yourself, ever brought harm to a single soul of Valdemar?:
"Not unless bandits they were, and with a band of brigands riding," Alberich said truthfully. "Claim I cannot, that my men and I did not make it so that others freed were, to come against your folk—but never a Valdemaran I touched, nor did any of those under my command."
:So I thought.: the stallion turned his attention back to the errant one, who had all but shrunk into a mere pony beneath that gaze. :Well.:
It was very clear that the defiant one was the target of a scathing lecture. He was not to hear what the stallion said to the other, but it made the formerly defiant one shrink even further. And if something the size and shape of a horse could have been said to "slink on its belly," then that was precisely what the Companion did—toward Alberich.
:I beg your pardon,: the young one said—whispered, rather.
:I can't hear you,: the stallion rumbled, like a storm on the horizon.
:I—most humbly beg your pardon and ask your forgiveness—: came the humiliated response. :Chosen of Kantor, I acted vilely. I am unworthy.:
:I should say so!: Kantor snorted, ears laid back, and teeth bared. :Arrogant little beast, I should —:
:Kantor!: the stallion said warningly.
But Kantor only raised his head and looked the other in the face, with no sign of the profound shame they displayed. :I only said that I should, Taver. I should thrash this little cretin around Companion's Field twice—but I won't. I won't ever. Because I'm stronger and a better fighter and it would be no contest between us, so long as it was a fair fight, and not a case of a mob against one —: