'Bloody hell,' the man said, and stepped backwards out of the circle. Not again, Poldarn thought; the man was staring at him, as he swung the halberd single-handed overarm and back, getting ready to throw it javelin fashion. The horseman stopped thrashing about; just for a moment, nobody was paying him any attention.
'It can't be,' one of the halberdiers said, as the halberd left the first man's hand and sailed slowly, spinning, through the air. 'He's dead.' Very nearly true; Poldarn was so mesmerised, so thoroughly sick of the same thing happening, over and over again, that he left ducking to the last moment and was nearly pinned to the tree by his neck. As it was his left foot slipped off the branch and there was an awkward moment when he almost lost his balance. As he was wavering, scrabbling at the bark with the fingernails of his right hand for a grip to steady himself by, he heard someone else shout, 'You three, get after him, we'll deal with-' He didn't hear the rest; it was drowned out by the sound of splintering wood as the branch he was standing on gave way.
Hell of a time to fall out of a tree, so it was just as well he had sharp reflexes and was able to get a hand round a branch on the way down. He wasn't able to hang on long enough to pull himself back up, but at least he managed to make a controlled landing, with only about four feet to drop before his feet touched down. He stumbled immediately-he'd landed on a tree root, which did something painful to his ankle-but managed to shift his weight on to his back foot in time to swing round and face the closest halberdier in some semblance of good order.
Luckily the first man to reach him was the one who'd just thrown away his halberd; he also had a sword, but only a rather vague idea of what to do with it, and in the end he proved more of a help than a threat, since he fell straight backwards as soon as Poldarn made his draw, and the man behind him had to sidestep in order to get out of the way. Unluckily for him, this manoeuvre opened up his left side, giving Poldarn a brief but clear opportunity for a second-rib-level thrust that he didn't neglect. Number Two dropped unhelpfully to his knees, but the speed with which his two colleagues had been killed clearly stunned the third man to such an extent that he stopped dead in his tracks, thereby losing the initiative. Poldarn feinted at him low and left, then, as the halberdier executed a slow and clumsy block, he stepped neatly past him, kicking in the back of his right knee as he went, and sprinted for the spare horse, which was waiting obligingly for him with a vacant expression on its face.
The horseman who'd been the centre of attention a few moments ago must've had enough intelligence to know a good thing when he saw it, because as soon as Poldarn's foot touched the stirrup the ring of halberdiers appeared to collapse in on itself, and he caught a brief glimpse of another horse moving off in the opposite direction just as he'd got control of the reins. He didn't have time to see what happened to the other rider (a halberdier materialised suddenly on his left and had to be kicked hard in the face before he'd go away), but when he looked round again the man was nowhere to be seen.
I know him, Poldarn thought. Tazencius?
Poldarn's own situation was far from ideal, as the only way he could get clear of the soldiers was to ride down the road towards the battle. But it wasn't as if he had a choice (just this once, a choice would've been welcome), so he kicked the horse smartly on and ducked low on to its mane to avoid an overhanging branch. He was congratulating himself on having strolled unscathed out of yet another desperate encounter when two men jumped up at him out of a clump of brambles, waving their arms. The horse shied and reared, and the last thing he remembered seeing was a blurred snap of a dead and rotten tree branch growing larger in front of his eyes at an alarmingly high rate.
Chapter Fifteen
'I thought I'd told you to go away.'
Poldarn opened his eyes, and saw half his face reflected in water. It was a familiar image, though not a reassuring one. He closed his eyes again, and immediately he realised his mistake; he wasn't the body slumped in the water at the river's edge, he was (of course) the ragged black crow circling overhead, looking warily at that same body and speculating as to whether it was safe or not (you couldn't be too careful, especially with humans; each of them a nasty little mind of its own, and all of them treacherous).
He listened to what the human was saying, though it took him a moment to figure out who it was talking to, since there was no other living human nearby. Apparently, though, it was talking to its own reflection in the water. He thought about that, and laughed. He (the greater He) had seen literally millions of humans over the years, and nothing they did surprised him any more.
'For God's sake stop following me,' the human said to its image in the water. 'I thought I made it perfectly clear, so even you could understand. I want nothing more to do with you.'
'Sure,' replied the image ironically. 'Sure you don't; at least, not till something happens; someone pulls a sword on you, or you run in with some soldiers. Then it's a different story altogether, of course. You expect me to drop everything and come running and save you, like the big, strong, brave hero I am. You know what? You want to make your mind up sometime.'
'I already did,' said the human angrily. 'And what the hell makes you think I wanted you to come barging in like that, killing people, making everything horrible?'
'Oh, right. Now you're going to say you were managing perfectly well without me.'
'I was.'
The reflection laughed. 'Like hell you were. I can't leave you alone for two minutes and you're in trouble again.'
'That's a lie,' yelled the human. 'Any trouble I get into, it's always you that causes it.'
'You want to think that, be my guest.' The reflection was calm and still, maddeningly so. 'I'd just like to see how you'd make out if I really wasn't there when you need me. Which is pretty much all the time. You want to try that? Really?'
'Yes.'
'Don't believe you. Fortunately I know you better than you do. I've accepted responsibility for you and I'm going to see you right. Whether you want me to or not.'
'Go to hell.'
'That's really sweet of you. And typical. Oh, and while I think of it, what's all this about you seeing other people while I'm not there?'
'So what if I am? Absolutely nothing to do with you. And besides, they're family. People I share in. Part of me. Which is a damn sight more than you are, now.'
'You think. We'll see. We'll see if they'll come and dig you out of the next mess you get yourself in. But,' the reflection went on, 'you needn't worry, I don't mean that. Like I said, I'm responsible for you. I happen to take these things seriously-you know, vows, obligations. And I gave up expecting gratitude long ago.'
'Gratitude!'
'Yes, gratitude. Like, remembering me when I've gone. Staying awake. Of course, I know you still care about me.'
'Care about you…!'
'Of course. Else why do you keep looking for me when you think I'm not watching? And all these other people you've had in your mind, the ones you won't admit to, even to yourself. It's all just because, deep down, you're trying to make me come back.'
'The hell with you!' screamed the human -And, as Poldarn opened his eyes, he realised that he'd got it right the first time; he was the body lying in the river, and the crow up above him was just another crow. More to the point, he was looking square into the face of an extremely ugly old woman with one of those ground-down faces that could be anywhere between fifty and seventy, wearing a stiff black shawl like a crow's hood. She was strong, too; she'd hauled him over on to his back and was tugging the sword out of his sash. When she realised he was awake, she let go of the scabbard and drew the blade, pushing down on his chest with her left hand, the thumb crushing his windpipe. He managed to reach up and get the palm of his left hand under her chin; she bit his thumb with sharp, jagged teeth and he let go quickly, but he'd done enough to make her ease off the pressure on his throat. She had the sword out of the scabbard now but she was holding it awkwardly, it was too long for a straightforward underarm stab; for a moment she wasn't sure how to proceed, and the moment was long enough for Poldarn to shift hard to his left, tip her off balance and bring his right fist up hard against the side of her jaw. Something brittle gave way; she clucked with pain, dropped the sword and jumped up. Poldarn reached forward, but she kicked his hand hard and accurately, then stepped back a few paces and turned her back on him. Moaning at the pain in her jaw, she knelt down beside another body and started to search it, ignoring Poldarn as if he didn't exist.