He fell to the ground and lay there, moaning. The woman drew her horse up beside him and looked down, her face impassive, as the man struggled to rise. But he could not, for he was wounded too deeply. At last he raised himself to his knees and looked up at the woman. For a moment they stared at each other. There were tears on the man’s handsome face but none on the woman’s. The man nodded his head as though something had been proven beyond a doubt then fell forward, dead.
The woman dismounted and reached out to the dead man’s neck, snapping off the massive torque of silver and sapphire and placing it around her own neck.
The woman remounted, turned her horse and sped to the knot of fighting men without a backward glance at the dead man on the plain. The fight on the shores was brief and fierce, and when the band of horsemen in blue and brown were done, there were none left standing of the group on the banks save the screaming woman and the little girl.
The woman on horseback dismounted and came to stand before the other woman and the little girl. The little girl was a beautiful child with hair of gold and tear-filled eyes of sky blue. The little girl’s mother was also beautiful and she, too, was golden-haired. But her eyes were a hard, emerald green and her mouth was set in a sneer, as she looked at the auburn-haired woman with the sapphire torque.
The golden-haired woman’s face was contorted as she called what were clearly deadly insults at the auburn-haired woman. The men that surrounded them both put their hands to their weapons but at a gesture from the auburn-haired woman they subsided.
The auburn-haired woman gestured at the little girl, offering something. But the golden-haired woman, a smile of triumph on her beautiful, mad face snatched up the child. She backed away from the men, her child in her arms, her back to the river. Step by step she retreated to the rock that overhung the water. The auburn-haired woman cautiously advanced, her hand outstretched, speaking what were perhaps soothing words.
But the golden-haired woman, with a triumphant look on her face, whirled away and leapt over the water, her screaming child in her arms. The two hit the water with a mighty splash. The auburn-haired woman gestured and a number of her warriors leapt into the water, clearly bent on saving the two. But the golden-haired women’s head was swiftly drawn under the water. The men dove again and again, searching for the two, but came up empty-handed.
Then the scene changed. He could tell by the lengthening shadows that some hours had passed. But the auburn-haired woman still stood on the banks, looking into the water. On the plain behind her a bonfire burned, consuming the bodies of the men who had died that day. A smaller fire burned next to the larger one but the auburn-haired woman did not even turn around as the body of the golden-haired man was thrown into the roaring flames.
Someone hailed the woman and she turned from river. Five warriors came to her from the south. Four men carried the body of the golden-haired woman, while one man cradled the dead child in his arms. The auburn-haired woman wept at the sight, her hand reaching out to the little girl, grief etched on her beautiful face.
Again the scene changed. The fires were gone—indeed, Cai could not even tell where they had been, for clover once again grew thickly on the ground. A single horseman descended the hills toward the river. He wore a tunic and trousers of black. Around his neck a massive torque of gold and opals glittered with a fiery light. His hair was rich auburn and secured at the nape of his neck with an opal clasp.
The man dismounted at the riverbank and stood still for a moment, looking at the rock from which the woman had leapt. At last he turned and made his way to the willow tree closest to the rock. He took something from his saddlebag wrapped in a black cloth. He laid his hand on the tree and the bark split beneath his fingers, showing a shallow hollow within the trunk. The man placed the bundle in the tree then again laid his hand over the gap. The bark drew tightly together over the hollow, sewing itself up as though the fissure had never been.
The man nodded, satisfied, and turned to mount his horse. But as he did, he stopped for a moment, and looked Cai full in the face. The man’s silvery gray eyes bore into Cai with a power that Cai shivered to see. But the man smiled a sad and wise smile.
Then the darkness descended again, and Cai knew no more.
HE REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS slowly. At first he could not understand why he was laying full length on the ground or why his companions were kneeling beside him, anxiously scanning his face as he opened his eyes.
“Are you all right?” Amatheon asked, his blue eyes dark with concern.
“I hope to be,” Cai said hoarsely. He sat up, aided by Trystan and Gwydion. He did not feel that it was wise to rise to his feet just yet—not with his head splitting in two the way it was. In addition he felt a low ringing in his ears and his stomach was queasy.