Blade's gallop should have signaled «Enemy» to the Jaghdi archers. As it was, the idea of an Elstani on a rolgha penetrated too slowly to let them shoot while Blade was an easy target. Arrows whistled all around him as the smoke swallowed him up, and two struck the larger target of the rolgha. It screamed and seemed about to go out of control, but Blade once more fought the animal so that it calmed down.
Then he was out of the smoke and riding down to the riverbank. Once again the sheer novelty of a mounted Elstani helped him. It also helped that more than half the Jaghdi guarding the river were looking across to the other bank. Blade was glad to see that most of the Elstani refugees were on the march toward the ford now. Only a thin line remained along the bank, enough to help escaping glider pilots out of the water.
Some of the Jaghdi had dismounted and were standing around a body on the ground, prodding at it with lances. Blade's mouth twisted and he rode on toward the bank, hoping that the fallen man was already past feeling pain. Then he saw the man writhing, and saw that under the blood he wore a green belt.
Fador'n!
Suddenly Blade knew that what made sense and what he was going to do were different things. It wasn't in him to let Fador'n lead the gliders into action, and then leave him to be tortured to death by the Jaghdi! Before he'd finished the thought, Blade's sword was out of its scabbard and his mouth opened in a war cry that made the men around Fador'n turn. Before they could realize they were in danger, he was on them.
It would have been a thoroughly one-sided battle if Blade had dared let his rolgha use its teeth and hooves on the Jaghdi. Unfortunately he couldn't risk having Fador'n savaged or trampled. So he had to keep his distance and use his sword. He split a skull, chopped off an arm, and laid open a shoulder in four strokes, but then another man drove a spear into his rolgha's belly. Blade knew from its scream that it was not only going to die but was likely to go out of control before it did. He threw himself out of the saddle, landing so hard he nearly lost his sword. The Jaghd was more worried about the rolgha than about its rider, and didn't take advantage of Blade's moment off balance. He retreated, dropping his spear and drawing his own sword.
Then Blade regained his balance and raised his sword. The Jaghdi's mouth opened in a scream that died abruptly as Blade's sword came down. The Jaghdi's head toppled from his shoulders and his body fell almost on top of Fador'n. The Elstani tried to get to his feet, looked up at Blade, then fainted from pain and loss of blood. Blade scooped him up and ran for the riverbank. Fador'n's hundred and forty pounds was a small weight for Blade's adrenalin-driven strength.
Blade reached the bank where it was ten feet high and nearly vertical. When he saw that, he didn't even break stride but dove off as arrows started cutting through the air where he'd been. He went almost to the bottom, and lost his grip on Fador'n. The current lifted them both and drove them back together. Blade surfaced with a new grip on Fador'n's collar, just enough to keep the man's head above water. With both legs and the other hand, he struck out for the opposite bank.
Arrows splashed back into the water around them, but the smoke was now creeping out over the river, the two heads were small targets, and the river was already full of the bodies of men and rolghas. Blade finally ducked behind a dead rolgha and treaded water while he caught his breath and examined Fador'n. The man's wounds looked ghastly. But if he didn't die from shock or loss of blood, he still might survive to tell his grandchildren about the battle.
Blade stayed behind the rolgha until the current had drifted them a few hundred yards downstream. There were still Jaghdi on the bank, but the smoke was now pouring out over the river so thickly that visibility was steadily shrinking. Blade drew only a few badly aimed arrows when he struck out again for the safety of the far bank. Then he was beyond the range of the Jaghdi horsebows.
The river was only about four hundred yards wide, but to Blade it felt more like four miles. The cold ate into him and sapped his strength, the letdown after battle did more, and the constant struggle to keep Fador'n's head above water took away most of what energy he had left. He gritted his teeth and swam on, until suddenly his feet struck a gravel bottom and there were Elstani shouts in his ears.
He managed to stay on his feet until he'd seen Fador'n placed on a litter and hurried off to the doctors, and after that he stood while someone shoved a cup of spiced hot beer into his hand. Then he sat down, ignoring the shouted congratulations all around him, forcing strength back into his limbs as the warmth of the beer flowed through him. By the time Daimarz came up, his face a red mask from a scalp wound, Blade was on his feet again.
«The work of the gliders is done, Blade. Your work.»
«There were five hundred-no, more like five thousand sharing that work.»
«Have it your way, if you're going to be stubborn about it. But you'd better hurry if you want to be in on the kill. Our people are across the river, and the men from the other guilds are in sight. They finally agreed to join in our fight.»
It was about time, Blade thought, but all he said was, «I'm coming.» Blade noticed a nick in his sword, but decided it would last out the rest of the fight. He belted it on and followed the woodcutter.
The Jaghdi weren't helpless even without their rolghas, but they were certainly doomed. The Elstani had steel swords and their crossbows outranged the Jaghdi horsebows. The woodcutters were trained to work together on foot, and the refugees fought like men possessed. A third of the Jaghdi died, but there were only a few hundred Elstani casualties. The rest of the invaders were surrendering as fast as they could by the time the men of the other guilds came up.
«It's going to be the woodcutters' and the weavers' victory,» said Daimarz's father, Yishpan. Although he'd worked himself to exhaustion trying to get the rest of the Elstani to the battle in time, he didn't sound exactly unhappy about this. «The rest can-«
«Pick up the dead rolghas before they poison the river,» said Daimarz sourly. «That's all they're good for.»
They walked through the camp to the tent where Efroin lay. He'd cut his throat, and Blade was glad that he'd had the strength to do this at the last. It had spared him the lingering agony of a belly wound, or some equally harsh fate at the hands of the Estani.
That reminded Blade of a pressing question. «We've got close to five thousand prisoners here. We'd better decide what to do about them, before the refugees start cutting their throats.»
«I'd say let them,» growled Daimarz. «You can be sure that a dead Jaghd won't be coming through the forest again next year. Besides, we'd have to feed them.»
Yishpan shook his head. «That would make the Jaghdi on the Adrim desperate. If they thought we'd give them their lives, they might yield without a fight and more loss of life. Let's hold our prisoners and promise to release them if Queen Tressana gives herself up to us.»
Blade wasn't the only person staring at the Master Woodcutter. Yishpan stared back. «Why not? She is evil but not yet mad, and has much courage. If we ask her to be an honorable chief and die for those who follow her-«
«I suppose you could do that,» said Daimarz. «But I warn you, Father, I'm taking the best hundred men I can and go after the bitch queen myself. If I don't come back with her head, you can do as you see fit.»
«Daimarz-«began his father, but Blade interrupted.
«Daimarz, I'll come with you. You may need someone who can talk to the Jaghdi. You'll certainly need someone who knows their ways better than you do.»