resorted to soft reproach in an attempt to silence the man. ‘Lie still now. Look at the mess you're making of my bed.'
The older of the two men moved to the other side of the bed and sat down on it. ‘Lie down, trooper,’ he said, gently but firmly, putting his hands on the man's shoulders. ‘Nothing pursues you here, you're safe among friends and I'll take your message in a moment. Be still.'
The young soldier's eyes widened further and he seized his comforter's arm. ‘It tore the ground up … tore it up … raced after me … burst my horse … burst it … like a rotten fruit…’ His voice disappeared into a fearful wail, and he began shaking violently.
The man frowned and glanced at his companion whose brow furrowed in response. ‘Enough, trooper,’ he said, this time sternly. ‘You're still on duty and this is no way for a Duke's man to behave. Lie down and be still. That's an order.'
His tone seemed to reach through to the soldier in the man and he became a little quieter. Hesitantly he lay back, though his eyes were fixed on his new commander.
'Who is he? Where's he from?’ the man asked the woman.
'I don't know,’ she replied. ‘He sounds as if he might be from Rendd…’ She gestured vaguely over her shoulder, adding, ‘Up north, I found him sprawled in the field just outside, his horse dead … dying anyway … beside him. He'd ridden it to death. It was foaming and sweating something awful. I managed to drag him in, but he needs proper help, and I can't…'
The man raised a hand to stop her. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘We'll help you.’ He laid his hand on the distressed soldier's forehead and frowned again. ‘Get me the medicine pouch,’ he said to his companion.
The younger man left the room and returned shortly with a leather case which he handed across the bed.
The woman followed the two men's actions anxiously. ‘Are you physicians?’ she asked.
'No,’ replied the older man, with a faint smile as he carefully examined the contents of the pouch. ‘Just travellers. We know enough to look after ourselves, and this was given to us by a … most … remarkable healer.'
Her immediate concerns now transferred to the charge of others, the woman examined her two saviours. Almost immediately, her hand came out to touch the cloak of the man standing beside her. Then realizing what she was doing, she snatched it away. ‘I'm sorry,’ she said, flustered. ‘But it's such lovely material. I…’ A blush lit up her already flushed face further. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, to dispel her embarrassment.
'In your language, I think you'd call me … Jadric,’ the younger man said. ‘And he's … Haster. We're just travellers come to see your great cities.'
'You've picked a sad and dangerous time, sirs,’ the woman said. ‘We'd all hoped that we'd see no more wars again, but…'
'Ah!’ Haster's voice cut through her lament as he held up a small ornately carved stone jar. He removed its lid and shook some tablets into his hand. Picking one up he touched it gingerly with his tongue and pulled a wry face.
'Feverfew?’ the woman asked.
'Similar, I think,’ Haster replied. ‘Fetch him some water to take these with, would you.'
Happy to be doing something, the woman scuttled out of the room.
Haster bent forward and, putting an arm around the young man's shoulders, eased him into a sitting position. The woman returned with an earthenware cup.
Haster placed one of the tablets in the man's mouth and offered the cup to him. ‘Swallow this,’ he said. ‘It'll help ease your fever.'
His eyes still fastened to Haster's face, the man did as he was bidden, then lay back.
'Now, tell me your message,’ Haster said after a moment. The young man's agitation threatened to return, but a raised eyebrow from Haster stilled it.
'We were attacked,’ the man began, rapidly.
'We? Who?’ Haster intervened quietly but firmly. The young man looked bewildered for a moment as if the simple question had driven all memories out of his head. ‘The reservists,’ he managed eventually. ‘From Rendd … companies one to five … under Captain Larnss … from Serenstad.’ Haster nodded and motioned him to continue. ‘We were on routine border patrol…’ His eyes widened suddenly and he reached out and clutched Haster's arm. ‘Then they attacked us…'
He fell suddenly silent.
'Who attacked you?’ Haster asked after a moment, laying his hand over the soldier's comfortingly.
Bewilderment returned to the man's face again, but this time it was different. He shook his head. ‘Bethlarii, I suppose,’ he said. ‘But … they didn't look like Bethlarii … and I've never seen so many horses. There were thousands of them…'
'How many, trooper?’ Haster asked, stern again. The man met his gaze. ‘Thousands,’ he repeated unequivocally. ‘Thousands and thousands. The hillside was black with them. Coming and coming.’ His calm slipped away from him again. ‘And they killed everyone … We were in bad order, but we managed to form squares … but they broke … I saw it. All five companies destroyed, wiped out. Everyone.’ His face began to distort as grief started to assert itself. ‘All my friends. I…'
'Later, trooper,’ Haster said quickly. ‘Tears later. Tell us how you escaped and what your message was.'
Words spilling over one another, the young soldier told of Larnss capturing the horse and saving his life in the stream.
'Where am I?’ he said abruptly, breaking into his own narrative, his face shocked. ‘I was supposed to go to Rendd … to warn them … then go to Viernce…’ Agitated, he tried to sit up again but Haster held him. ‘Where am I?'
'You're in a farm house near Viernce,’ Haster said reassuringly. ‘You rode your horse to death, and almost killed yourself in the process. But you're safe here. Tell me what killed your other horse. It tore up the ground, you said.'
The young man's agitation increased violently and his face became white with terror. The woman stepped back in alarm and Jadric moved forward hastily to help Haster hold him down if need arose.
It was some time before the soldier was quiet enough to speak coherently again. ‘It came after me.’ He lifted his arms over his head as if to protect himself.
'What did?'
'I don't know … I could feel it … full of hatred and evil … but I couldn't see anything … the ground heaved and lurched underneath it … soil and shrubs were thrown up into the air…’ His eyes looked upwards as if he were still watching the destruction. Then he looked at Haster and seized his arm again. Haster winced at the force of the grip and with a deceptively gentle movement, pulled his arm free. ‘I jumped off my horse … rolled down the hill. My horse … burst … burst … a great shower of … blood and … bits. Terrible sound…'
Haster and Jadric looked at one another over the distraught storyteller. Both of them were pale.
'I must have caught the other horse … I suppose … I don't know … I just remember … pounding, pounding … fleeing … and the hatred … the horror … following me…’ He began shaking violently again.
Haster nodded to Jadric to hold the man down while he began searching through the medicine pouch again. Retrieving another small stone jar he hastily pushed a second tablet into the man's mouth and then held it shut. After a moment, the man's trembling diminished and his eyes closed.
The two men stood up as he relaxed. ‘He'll sleep for some time now,’ Haster said to the woman. His face was strained and, as if to reassure himself about something, he drew his hand across his forehead.
'Where's his horse?’ he asked.
'It's out in the field at the back. Where it fell,’ she replied. ‘I'll show you.'
A little later, the two men rode into the nearby village and sought out the local Liktor.
'I'll send someone up to the cottage to tend the man straight away,’ the official said after they had recounted the young messenger's tale, omitting only his telling about the destruction of his horse. ‘But all this business about an attack by horsemen on Rendd and then the city…’ He shook his head and pulled a knowing face. ‘Everyone knows the Bethlarii don't have that kind of cavalry. And they certainly wouldn't attack Viernce with it if they had; it's fortified. I think perhaps…'
There was a brief flash of impatience on Jadric's face, but a quick, almost imperceptible, gesture from Haster
