Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

ASWORD crashed against Elvida’s with a force that nearly unseated her from Raynor’s saddle. Trusting the Companion to tend to balance, she put her full concentration into harmlessly redirecting the strike. Her riposte followed naturally, training drummed into habit by Weaponsmaster Altorin. Her blade struck flesh with a sickening tear. Pain thrummed through her hands, her enemy a target more solid than mock combat had prepared her to expect. Blood splashed, throwing red spots and squiggles across Raynor’s snowy neck and her own silvery gray uniform. The man collapsed, and a bitter thread of bile clawed its way up Elvida’s throat.

Cursing the dark curls that obscured her vision, Elvida wasted a motion tossing them from her eyes. She followed the sound of bridle bells to find the other two Companions, Tabnar and Leahleh, together. Surrounded by a mass of unmounted enemies, Herald Sharylle and her partner Anthea flailed wildly through the press. Scarlet splattered their Herald Whites and their faces, and the warriors bayed at them like blood-sick hounds.

Open for the moment, Elvida suffered a moment of terror. Her first mission was supposed to be routine, a leisurely ride through the Holdings, hauling a single cart. They would plant soaproot and blue bells, help organize the restocking of Waystations, and gather information to assure nothing troublesome was brewing just beyond the kingdom. Instead, danger had found them, in the form of a small and, as yet, unidentified army. One that clearly hated Heralds.

Sharylle screamed in clear agony. Her Companion plummeted, and both disappeared beneath the wild mass of warriors.

“No!” Elvida shouted, her cry lost beneath Anthea’s louder one, raw with a pain so desperate and primeval it stopped the assault long enough for her to disengage as well.

“This way!” Anthea called out, and her Companion wheeled suddenly toward Elvida. “The cave.”

Elvida remembered the dark hole they had passed earlier that day. Dank and jagged, it had seemed to radiate a chill that spiraled through her marrow, so unlike the myriad welcoming Waystations that had brought the three women and their Companions through so many warm, safe nights. Elvida had relished the camaraderie, opening up to the Heralds in ways she had never dared to in the past. For the first time in her life, she had felt as if she had real sisters, though she also found herself envying the bond the Heralds shared.

Raynor reared, spun, and galloped toward the cave. The suddenness of the movement added to Elvida’s gastric distress. Mentally, she suffered her own terror, the rage of the enemies, and the deep, hellish agony of Anthea together. The mixture made her desperately ill. Leaning forward, she vomited, trying not to further soil Raynor or herself. It felt silly to concern herself with hygiene at a time when it seemed abundantly clear: They were all going to die.

Raynor’s slender, muscular legs carried them at a speed the unmounted warriors could never hope to match. Apparently reading her terror, her Companion sent waves of encouragement that did not fool Elvida. Without the magical strength to Mindspeak, his Herald-in-training was limited to empathic communication, but she had learned that well. Raynor could try, but he would never wholly hide that his own courage was a thin veneer masking a fear nearly as strong as her own.

Leahleh loosed a frantic whinny, followed by a cry from Anthea. Raynor whirled in time to show Elvida that the Herald had fallen. Leahleh stomped and snorted, her empty stirrups flying, attempting to hold a band of men with waving swords at bay. Elvida saw no sign of Anthea. Where is she? Where is she?

Raynor nickered in question.

Elvida glanced around frantically, knowing every moment wasted meant one less in flight. She knew Sharylle and Tabnar were dead; Anthea would never have abandoned her partner if any hope remained. Now, Elvida searched for some radiating emotion that would assure her the remaining Herald still lived. Nothing came to Elvida’s mental senses, but her wildly leaping gaze did eventually land on Anthea. The woman lay among the stones, blood trickling from one ear. Though clearly unconscious, her chest still rose and fell in obvious, living breaths.

Leahleh whinnied in agony.

“She’s alive!” Elvida jerked Raynor’s left rein. “We have to save her.”

Raynor did not hesitate, speeding back toward the fray while Elvida wrestled her own decision. Magically Giftless, she had honed her weapons and Empathy skills, but she had little hope of standing against even two armed men, let alone several dozen. Nevertheless, while a Herald lived, she had no choice but to attempt a rescue.