Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(153)

Istril frowned, but did not ride out with the three, instead spurring her mount back toward the stables, as Ydrall rode down leading three more mounts.

Nylan nodded. Fierral, or someone, had figured out how to get the kitchen and the field details into the saddle quickly. They were still fortunate that the timber detail was involved in expanding the stables, rather than working down in the woods.

Ydrall's mounts included Ryba's roan, Fierral's mount, and a horse taken by Berlis.

The engineer had just reached the front of the smithy when Istril rode back down with another set of three mounts. Behind her and the riderless three mounts rode Llyselle, Jaseen, and Murkassa. Murkassa's face was pale.

At the tower, three more guards were waiting-Saryn, Selitra, and Hryessa.

"Move it!" Saryn's voice carried as she vaulted into the saddle, leading the six riders up toward the watch tower.

Nylan paused as Istril turned and headed her mount back uphill. He waited outside the smithy for the silent silver-haired guard.

She reined up and looked down. "With Ellysia dead, until the little ones are old enough to eat solid food, I'm ordered away from battle, unless attackers reach the tower itself." Istril glanced toward the tower. "Siret has them now."

"You don't have to explain to me, Istril. You've put your life on the line plenty." Nylan gave the silver-haired guard a ragged smile. "You don't see me charging out there, either."

"That's different. If anything happens to you . . ." She turned her mount uphill. "I've got to get more mounts ready."

Nylan watched her for a moment before entering the smithy. Huldran was forging arrowheads, letting Desain, one of the newer guards, hold the tongs.

"Over now. Easy."

When the triangle rang a third time, Nylan looked at Huldran. "We'd better get moving, too."

"The forge?"

"Let it burn." Nylan turned to Desain. "Find your blade, and then go down to the tower. Listen to Istril or the guards there."

At her puzzled look, Nylan repeated himself in Old Anglorat to her before turning to Huldran. "We'll head up to the stables."

They didn't have to go that far. Istril met them with two more mounts at the opening to the small canyon where Nylan climbed onto a brown mare he'd never ridden before. She seemed responsive enough and not ready to throw him every which way.

"Take care, ser," Istril said. "Don't lead the charge."

"I won't."

"That one cares for you, ser," Huldran said quietly.

"I know. She's good, and she works hard." He glanced toward the tower, where Fierral and Ryba, already mounted, waited for them just beyond the end of the causeway. "I worry about her."

"You worry about a lot of people."

"One of my undoings," quipped Nylan.

"Come on!" Ryba waved a blade, and Nylan urged the mare into a trot, wincing at the jolting, and then feeling guilty as he thought about how much harder that kind of jolting had to be on Ryba or Istril.

As the four rode two by two across the narrow bridge over the tower outfall drainageway, Ryba said, "The bridge is solid, and the paved part feels that way, too."

"I wish we had time to pave more."

"Once we get the new ones more settled, maybe we can have a stone-paving crew. It's good exercise."

"That's true," agreed Fierral, "but let's worry about what's over the hill right now. There's another group of mounted brigands coming up the ridge. They're wearing purple, but it's not that light purple of Lornth. It's darker."

"Darker purple? Who could that be?" asked Nylan.

"Does it matter?" retorted Ryba. "How many?"

"A little less than twoscore."

"Any archers or bows?"

"No. But this group carries round shields that look pretty thick."

"Arrows are faster than shields," Ryba pointed out.

"We don't even have a score of guards up there."

"Use the arrows first," said Ryba.

"I'd planned to." Fierral glanced at Nylan. "Now that we have some, I told Saryn to make them count, but not to worry if a few shafts fall by the way so long as most of them hit something."

When Nylan looked back toward the tower, he saw one more rider, Ayrlyn, following, with several large saddlebags. Medical supplies, such as they had remaining, he guessed.

More than a dozen guards, all mounted and bearing bows and blades, forged by Nylan, waited at the ridge top, facing downhill and to the west.

"They seem to be waiting for us," Saryn announced. "But they can wait a long time. I'd rather hold the heights."

"Idiots," murmured Ryba as she saw the darker purple banners drawn up on the flat below the ridge. "They should have just attacked." Beyond the banners, almost out of sight, were tethered what appeared to be packhorses.

"Don't put down male chivalry too much," cautioned Nylan. "If they hadn't waited to set up a formal battle, it would have been a mess."

Both Fierral and Ryba looked sideways at the engineer.

"You keep up the direct and brutal business," added Nylan, "and they'll do the same. At least, after word gets around, they will."