"There is little to distinguish between leader and followers. They are crafty and wise and have been known to play tricks on would-be captors, such as placing their true leader not at the herd's head but in the middle."
"Then how will you know her?"
"I will know. I told you once that there are times when one eye can see more clearly than two. This is such a time. Leave that to me and make certain the others are ready. The more noise they can make, the more confusion we can cause, the easier it will be for me to isolate the leader."
Then there was no more time for talk, for the objects of their search suddenly appeared in the canyon. Colwyn was struck speechless by their beauty. Independence glistened in their eyes while rippling flanks and pounding legs bespoke immense strength and endurance. In size they were larger than the largest horses he'd ever seen. Truly there was much power here, for those who could make use of it.
He stared intently into the milling herd as two men rode in behind them, shouting and hooting and cracking their whips, but he could not determine which among them was the leader. It was as confusing as Rell had promised.
Was it the black one with the white markings out there in front? But according to the cyclops, position within the herd meant nothing. There—that immense older mare trotting lightly in the second rank, the one with the golden tail! Or the mottled gray nuzzling her?
Then Rell's fingers were clutching his shoulder and he rose, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Down and at them!"
As the robbers plunged down among them, ready with ropes and saddles, the herd twisted about in disarray, searching for an exit. Oswyn threw his saddle over one mare's back so quickly that she couldn't avoid him, but both rider arid saddle held their position only long enough for the mare to send both flying to the ground.
It was the same everywhere else. One man would get a noose around a powerful neck or a bridle over a bucking head for a few seconds before they were dislodged, or another would find himself riding a broad back one second and hard ground the next.
Confused and uncertain, the herd wheeled in uneven circles around the middle of the canyon. The men continued their spirited shouting, waving their arms and trying to back their quarry still farther up the steep slopes. But the delaying action could not work forever. Before long, the leader would determine that there was more noise than threat in all the activity. Then she would take to her heels and lead the escape in spite of anything mere men could do.
Even as the herd slowed and milled about, waiting for their leader to give them direction, Colwyn was whirling the rope and its heavy noose overhead. Patiently he kept it in motion as he sought to isolate the mare Rell had selected. If he'd guessed wrongly and she wasn't the herd leader, then all the carefully coordinated effort would be waste. He didn't dwell on the possibility.
He flung the loop. It soared cleanly between two bucking fire-mares to settle around a piebald neck. The mare whinnied loudly, loud enough so that her cry rose above the echoes of falling rocks and shouting men. She kicked and turned even as Rell grabbed hold of the rope, pulling both men flat and dragging them across the rough ground. Colwyn had the rope looped several times around his right arm. The mare might pull the arm out of its socket, but he was determined she would not separate it from the rope.
Gravel and sand pitted his skin and stung his eyes as she pulled them across the canyon floor, but he clung grimly to the rope, trying to get to his feet and dig in. Torquil tried to help but was too far behind to reach them.
All around the bandit leader, his men were being thrown aside, and they were good riders, too. The cyclops was wrong. Mere men couldn't ride these cursed creatures! In his mind's eye he recalled the difficulties they'd already overcome to get this far. Now it seemed they were to be defeated for taking the word of a one-eye.
But even as he began to despair, Rell struggled to his feet. His weight and strength slowed the leader. Then Colwyn was on his feet next to him, fighting his way along the line toward the great beast. She snorted and reared angrily before him and he had to dodge hooves and teeth.
Rell slid sideways until he stood behind a rock firmly anchored to the earth. With his feet thus braced and muscles straining, he managed to keep the fire-mare under control.
"Hurry!" he urged Colwyn. "I will not break, but I can't vouch for the rope, and if she thinks to snap at it she may bite it through."
Colwyn kept the Cyclops's warning in mind as he approached the bucking mare with saddle and bridle in hand. His eyes stayed on those flying hooves and he was mindful not to approach too quickly. The herd milled nervously around them, perhaps aware now of the way out of the trap, but unwilling to try it without direction from their leader.
"Easy, my beauty, stand easy," Colwyn murmured consolingly as he drew near. "Temper your impatience. A day's ride and then you'll be free again."
By the time he came alongside, she'd relaxed a little, winded by her fight with thepe. Rell kept it taut as Colwyn slipped onto the fire-mare's back. Then he was safely in place.
Making sure of his seat, he nodded to Rell. The cyclops let loose of the rope and backed clear as the mare immediately galloped off. The herd began to flank her, whinnying their concern.
For an instant Colwyn feared she'd bolt for the exit, but a touch of his heels and a tug leftward on the reins changed her mind. By the time he directed her back toward his friends, he felt he had her fairly well under control. Still, he did not relax. It would be presumptuous to think he knew her. A flick of massive back muscles could still send him flying.
The longer he rode her, however, the less likely that seemed. She had turned into a model of equine decorum.
"Gentle as a baby," he said to Torquil, who watched him approach warily, ready to retreat if the mare charged. He eyed those pacing hooves uneasily.
"Some baby." He turned, shouted commands. "Saddle the others! Quickly!"
Some of the chosen fire-mares still resisted, but most did no more than canter nervously around their docile leader. They were not broken, but the fight had gone out of them. As long as their leader stood placidly in their midst, there seemed no more reason for alarm, not even when strange things like saddles and surcingles were placed on their backs.
As the last mounts were being chosen, Rell walked up to Colwyn. "I must remain here."
This was not expected. "Why? We'll need you when we assault the Fortress. You're worth any half dozen in a fight, Rell. Why withdraw your support now that—" He broke off, remembering what Ynyr had told him about the one-eyes and their bad bargain of ancient times.
"Forgive me, Rell. I've been so involved with my own problems that I tend to forget other men have their own. Is it time, then?"
Rell nodded somberly. "Before night falls again, my night will come for me."
Colwyn leaned down to grip the Cyclops's shoulder. "You've done enough. More than enough. More than could be asked of any man. Stay here. In peace." He straightened in the saddle and looked around the canyon. "This is a quiet place.
A good place. None should disturb you here, not even Slayers."
"Each to his fate," Rell murmured, adding a gentle smile.
"Each to his fate. Yours to stay, mine to go on. If not for Lyssa I'd be tempted to give up. But while she suffers, I suffer."
"Not to waste any more time, then," Rell advised him. He nodded toward the open end of the canyon. "Your way is clear, as is mine."
Colwyn nodded, urged his mount toward the opening. The others followed, still settling themselves on their strange but willing mounts, talking steadily to them to show they meant no harm. Torquil rode alongside Colwyn. As they passed Rell, he glanced curiously from the unmounted cyclops to Colwyn, who said nothing but explained all with a single, eloquent shake of his head.