Soul of the Fire

Just as it looked as if the end was near for the valiant, avenging raven, a riderless horse charged into the square. Blocked by the mob, it reared wildly, knocking people aside. It spun and kicked, injuring people, snapping bones, breaking heads. People fell back as the golden chestnut-colored horse, ears pinned back, snorting with an angry scream, charged into the center of the crowd. Frightened people, trying to fall back, were unable to make way for the press of other people behind them.

The horse, seeming to have gone insane with anger, trampled anyone in its way to get to the center of the square. Dalton had never heard of a horse running toward a fire.

As it reached the middle of the melee, the raven, with a last desperate effort, flapped its great black wings and made it up onto the horse's back. When the horse wheeled, Dalton thought for a moment that it had another bird on it, as if there were two black ravens, but then he realized the second was just a splotch of black color on the horse's rump.

With the raven's claws clutching the horse's mane just above the withers, the horse reared up one last time before coming down and charging off in a dead run. The people who could, leaped out of the way. Those unable to do so were trampled by the enraged beast.

Alone on the steps, Franca's screams thankfully ended, Dalton saluted the golden chestnut mare and avenging raven as they fled at a full gallop from the city center.

CHAPTER 63

Beata squinted out over the plains in the dawn light. It was good to see that the sun was going to shine, once it reached the horizon. The rain of the last few days had been wearing. Now there were only a few dark purple clouds, like a child's charcoal scribbles, across the golden eastern sky. From up on the stone base of the Dominie Dirtch, beneath that immense sweep of sky overhead, she could see forever, it seemed, out onto the vast plains of the wilds.

Beata saw that Estelle Ruffin was right in calling her up top. In the distance a rider was coming. He was taking the dry ground, right toward them. The rider was still a goodly distance, but by the way he was running his horse, he didn't look like he intended to stop. Beata waited until he was a little closer, and then cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled.

"Halt! Halt where you are!"

Still he came on. He was probably still too far away to hear her. The plains were deceptive; sometimes it took a rider much longer to reach them than it seemed it should.

"What should we do?" Estelle asked, having never had a rider approach so fast before, looking like he didn't intend to stop.

Beata was finally used to Anders relying on her and asking her for instructions. She was not only getting used to her authority, she had come to delight in it.

It was ironic. Bertrand Chanboor had made the laws that enabled Beata to join the army and command Anders, and Bertrand Chanboor had caused her to avail herself of the laws. She hated him, and at the same time he was her unwitting benefactor. Now that he was Sovereign, she tried, as was her duty and hard as it was, to feel only love for him.

Just the night before, Captain Tolbert had come by with some D'Haran soldiers. They were riding down the line of Dominie Dirtch to take the votes of the squads stationed at each weapon. They'd all talked about it, and though Beata didn't see their votes, she knew her squad all marked an X.

Beata had a strong feeling about Lord Rahl, having met and talked to him, that he was a good man. The Mother Confessor, too, seemed much kinder than Beata had expected. Still, Beata and her squad were proud to be in the Anderith army, the best army in the world, Captain Tolbert told them, an army undefeated since the creation of the land, and invincible now.

Beata had responsibility. She was a soldier who commanded respect, now, just as Bertrand Chanboor's law said. She didn't want anything to change.

Even though it was for Bertrand Chanboor, their new Sovereign, and against Lord Rahl, Beata had proudly marked an X.

Emmeline had her hand on the striker, and Karl stood close to it, too, anticipating Beata ordering it out. Beata, instead, motioned the two away from the thing.

"There's only one rider," Beata said in a calm voice of authority, settling their nerves.

Estelle heaved a sigh in frustration. "But Sergeant-"

"We are trained soldiers. One man is no threat. We know how to fight. We've been trained in combat."

Karl shifted his sword on his weapons belt, eager for the responsibility of doing some real soldiering. Beata snapped her fingers, pointing to the steps.

"Go, Karl. Get Morris and Annette. The three of you meet me down at the front line. Emmeline, you stay up here with Estelle, but I want both of you to stand away from the striker. I'll not have you ringing this weapon for no more threat than a lone rider. We'll handle it. Just stay at your post and keep watch."