Pensworth grinned most proudly, saluted her, and trotted away toward the west ridge, and disappeared beyond the roiling flames of the pyre.
Turning back to the apparition, she said, “I don’t have time for you.”
Karigan was weary. She was weary from the traveling. Weary from her climb up Watch Hill. Weary at being forced to exist in a place and time neither here nor there. And she was weary of trying to communicate with Lil Ambrioth, and when finally they connected, the First Rider brushed her aside.
This had been a terrible night. Crossing the battlefield with its carnage left her gasping. Witnessing the pyre and inhaling its acrid stench of burning human flesh sickened her. She just wanted to sit down and weep.
How could Lil and her Riders stand it? Were they simply used to it? She thanked the heavens that she lived in the times she did, times of peace. Otherwise, this could be her life. Battle and the burning of dead comrades.
Now as she faced the First Rider on the summit of Watch Hill, she understood why the legends of her heroics endured. Here was a leader with the wit to meet a trap with a counter trap, and carry off Mornhavon the Black’s closest friend. Here was one who could lead her Riders in mourning. And here was the leader who was about to divert the minions of Varadgrim so her Riders could escape in safety.
Lil glanced across the summit at the whooping and hollering silhouettes—another wonder among many—and nodded in satisfaction. She touched her brooch to fade out.
The force of it acted on Karigan. It absorbed her into the body of Lil Ambrioth with such suddenness that she could do nothing to prevent it. Lil’s rage at the intrusion crackled at her like bursts of lightning.
Within Lil, Karigan could feel the reins of the horse in her hands as though she held them herself. The beat of Lil’s heart and the pulse of her blood became Karigan’s too.
“Get out!”
Karigan heard it both through Lil’s ears and in her mind.
I would if I could, Karigan informed her. I think it’s because our brooches are linked.
“Linked?”
We wear the same brooch. It seemed idiotic to be telling her the same information she had once told Karigan.
“I’ve told you no such thing,” Lil countered. “I have never seen you before. Now get out! I’ve got to go.”
I can’t! Do what you need to. I will not interfere.
“You’ve done that enough, I’ll wager,” Lil grumbled. “I don’t trust you.”
I am a Rider. I will not interfere.
Lil growled and mounted her horse, apparently accepting the inevitable, and kicked her horse between obscenity-shouting silhouettes. As Lil caught her thoughts, Karigan was privy to all the thoughts streaming through Lil’s mind: Were her Riders all right? What if Varadgrim had the west ridge guarded? Where was Varadgrim? Had he become powerful enough to detect her even when she used her gift?
Lil’s senses heightened as she guided her horse down the south ridge at a walk. No sense of flying down it when she was virtually invisible, and at a walk, her horse—also under the spell of fading—would be less likely to make a noise that would endanger her. She gazed into shadows and sniffed the air, seeking some tell-tale sign of Varadgrim and his troops.
Karigan was amazed at how effortlessly Lil wielded her ability. There was no headache, no veiling of gray over her sight. There was a wave of nausea, but it had nothing to do with the use of magic. Surprised, Karigan felt yet another life within Lil. She was pregnant.
Lil glanced over her shoulder at the summit as her horse ambled down the south ridge. The pyre continued to rage, and the silhouettes bounded about, hurling their mockery at the empire. They were thoroughly convincing. Lil grinned, and pulled her horn to her lips. Her lungs expanded, and she blew the Rider charge.
When she was done, Karigan became aware of movement down the slope. Orders were shouted and arrows shooshed into the air, but they flew wide, clattering into rocks far away from Lil. The moon glinted on a blade or two, and Lil attempted to discern the path of least resistance. It was too difficult to tell, really, and with a shrug, she kicked her horse into a headlong gallop, blowing the charge again as she went. Dropping her horn, she unsheathed the saber she wore at her hip.
The ride was terrifying. The big horse leaped down the slope, his hooves skidding down the solid granite ledge, almost convincing Karigan his legs would fly right out from beneath him. He jumped crevices in the rocky slope and almost stumbled to his knees a number of times on loose scree. Lil jolted sickeningly in the saddle, unfazed, while the headlong dash frayed Karigan’s nerves.
Soon they came upon the enemy. Bewildered by the sounds of the charge and the silhouettes on the summit, they weren’t sure of what to shoot. They heard Lil’s horse upon them, but saw nothing. They died beneath her blade.
Leaning close to the horse’s neck, they leaped a downed log and the two soldiers who’d been crouched behind it. A large hoof smashed a head, and they kept running.
Lil left more and more bodies behind her, clearing a swath through the troops, driving the enemy into confusion. They were unsure of where the attack was coming from, or where it would go next.
Sweat drenched her face, but her arm did not tire. She killed with a routineness that stunned Karigan. Lil was not bothered by the killing, but not triumphant either.
The enemy randomly fired arrows, trying to take out the unseen menace by chance. One arrow skittered across the horse’s rump. He bucked and whinnied, but Lil dug her spurs into his sides so he’d keep galloping.