Then his world was torn apart in pain, and he heard nothing except screams that he vaguely recognized as his own.
Chapter 21
Blade knew he'd have problems soaring, even with the rising wind, unless he stayed in the updraft along the face of the cliffs. The sun hadn't been up long enough to create thermals from heated rocks on the ground. As long as he stayed close to the cliffs, though, he would be flying a thin line between stalling out at high altitude and crashing into the rock.
Blade made three complete circles in the updraft, twice skimming within a few feet of disaster. He lost only a hundred feet of altitude, but found it hard to pay attention to what was happening below. Fortunately the wind was still blowing the veil of smoke away, so when he could look down he could see fairly clearly. The Jaghdi were scurrying around frantically, but they also seemed to be getting at least some of their rolghas under control.
Then the pilots with unlighted pots started going off the cliffs and dropping their loads. Blade watched the blue flames flare up in a dozen new places every minute. The gamble of dropping the pots unlighted seemed to be paying off. The smoke rose faster than the wind could carry it away, and so did the unmistakable smell of burning flesh. Blade hoped it was rolghas rather than men.
Blade stopped looking down, and instead looked across the river. Some of the woodcutters were moving up to the ford, but not enough to hold it if the Jaghdi really tried to break out. The Elstani would need all the woodcutters and most of the refugees, formed into a battle line.
Time to go on down himself and take command on the ground. The battle was half won, but the second half was going to be much more complicated and dangerous than the first half unless the Jaghdi completely lost their nerve. So far they hadn't shown enough signs of doing that. He swung his glider into a gentle turn until its nose was pointing toward the river, then straightened out.
As Blade straightened out, he heard a distinct pop, just a little louder than the sigh of the wind or the muted uproar from the ground a thousand feet below. Blade waited until the glider was completely set on its course for the river, then cautiously turned his head from side to side. He saw that some of the cloth was pulling loose from the left-hand reed spar. The stitching must have been faulty. Fortunately the Elstani cloth was much stiffer than anything used in Home Dimension gliders. It should hold its shape well enough to keep him safely in the air for a while.
He was still on the horns of a nasty dilemma. Should he lose altitude fast and risk more strain on the stitching? Or should he let the glider descend naturally and risk its coming unstitched high in the air? He decided to risk a natural descent. Until he got over the river, it didn't matter if the glider collapsed at five hundred feet or at fifty. He'd hit the ground much too hard from either height. Blade settled down to steering the straightest course he could, to put the least strain on the stitching from any more maneuvering.
He heard several more pops as the glider bumped and jolted its way over the camp. The sun wasn't creating updrafts yet, but the fires were now hot enough to do so and getting hotter every minute.
By the time Blade was out of the updrafts, enough stitching was gone so that his glider was losing a serious amount of lift. He still had enough control to fly a straight course, but he was sinking rapidly. It was like being on an immense escalator sliding down through the sky. Before he'd covered half the distance between the camp and the river, Blade knew he was never going to reach the riverbank. That wouldn't have bothered him so much if he hadn't seen Jaghdi cavalry riding out of the camp to sweep their bank of the river clean of surviving glider pilots.
If there'd been any large band of gliders visible, Blade might have steered for it. As it was, the pilots who hadn't made it to the river were scattered across nearly two miles of ground. Once a glider was down, it was every man for himself.
So Blade kept his glider on a straight course, trying only to stay out of bowshot of the ground. He didn't entirely succeed-one Jaghd put an arrow through the right corner of the glider. In spite of this, Blade was able to bring his glider down to a safe landing at least fifty yards from the nearest enemy.
He lay down as his glider collapsed around him, then shifted position carefully. Now he could see the nearest Jaghdi and also be ready to get up in a hurry. The four riders were sitting motionless on their rolghas. The smoke was now drifting out over the flatlands thickly enough to make it hard to judge distances.
Blade took only shallow breaths to keep from coughing from the smoke. If all of the riders came over at once, he'd be in trouble. But if one or two came over, and got close enough
A rolgha neighed as its rider dug in spurs and turned its head toward Blade. The Jaghd pulled his lance out of the saddle bucket but didn't lower it all the way to striking position. Blade lay still, not even blinking as the enemy trotted toward him. The Jaghd reined in just out of lance-reach. He studied Blade, who tried to keep his eyes unfocused and take the shallowest possible breaths. Then the Jaghd made his rolgha step sideways, leaned out of the saddle, and thrust his lance down at Blade.
Instantly Blade snapped himself up to a sitting position and gripped the shaft of the lance at the same time. The Jaghd neither straightened up nor let go of his lance fast enough. Blade tightened his grip and pulled. The Jaghd lost his balance, fell headfirst out of the saddle, and broke his neck.
Blade nearly stepped on the dead man as he gripped the saddle. He swung himself up and into place so swiftly that the rolgha barely had time to realize its old rider was gone before the new one was holding the reins. Then Blade was putting in the spurs and the rolgha jumped forward, more like a kangaroo than a horse. It was cantering before any of the dead man's comrades even noticed that his rolgha had changed owners. It kept trying to work up to a gallop, but Blade fought it back to a canter. Both visibility and footing were uncertain. He'd managed to avoid breaking his neck in the glider, and didn't want to do the job now in a riding accident on the very edge of safety.
The next moment he wondered just how close he was to safety. An arrow whistled past him less than a foot away. Another struck the rolgha in the leg, but fortunately low down where there was nothing except skin and solid bone. Blade had another fight to keep the rolgha under control, and by the time he'd won, the archer was out of accurate shooting range. Now the smoke was on Blade's side.
He kept the rolgha at a canter as he headed toward the ford. He also let it drift to the right as far as he could, toward the river bank. If he couldn't break through to the ford he could always ride the rolgha off the bank into the river and swim for it.
He heard shouts and neighings around him in the smoke as he rode, but no more arrows came at him. He suspected the Jaghdi were sufficiently confused so that one odd rider more or less looked enough like a Jaghdi cavalry outfit to be deceptive at first glance.
He was more than halfway to the ford when he saw a line of mounted men emerging from the smoke ahead. He turned even more sharply to the right, and someone, thinking he was a Jaghdi, shouted, «Hey! Where do you think you're going! Join us!»
Before the man could shout again, Blade put his head down and his spurs in. There were at least sixty riders in the line ahead, and that was too many. Saving a little time in getting across the river wasn't worth the risk of not getting there at all.