Lord of Mountains: A Novel of the Change by S. M. Stirling Read Free Book Online

would have come out
my
allowance for the next three million years. And then I had to confess it to Father Lailard and got this
unbelievable
penance. And I didn’t even
get
that far! I just had my hand under her outer tunic! And Dad…my lord my father…he killed himself laughing.”
    Huon laughed himself, but slapped the younger squire on the shoulder to show it wasn’t unkindly meant.
    “They probably think embarrassing you is the best way to keep you on the straight and narrow,” he said.
    Lioncel laughed too after a moment. They fell silent as they turned off the rural lane and through a gap in the row of trees onto a trail that meandered through rocky grassland northward. The mountains were much closer now, and they were leaving the settled zone where people were omnipresent. Which meant…
    “Time to arm up,” Huon said.
    They both stuffed their hats in the saddlebags and put on their helmets, coalscuttle sallets with flared neck-guards, but the lighter open-face type without visors. The felt and leather pads closed around his head. He’d adjusted them carefully, but you still got a headache if you wore it all day; though that was better than getting your brains spattered by a mace. The chin-cup and straps had to be just right too, so he swiveled and tossed his head to make sure everything was firm without being too tight. They half-drew their swords and daggers and re-seated them with a slight hiss of steel on wood and leather greased with neatsfoot oil. Lioncel slipped the crossbow off his back, worked the lever set in the forestock to cock it and clipped a quarrel in the firing groove. Huon preferred a saddlebow, and he pulled the horn-and-sinew recurve out of the boiled-leather scabbard at his knee and set an arrow on the string.
    They were coming up through meadows to the Little Klickitat River and a thick scattering of trees along it, big cottonwoods and willows, pale-barked white alder, the odd elm or beech someone had planted since the Change and a thick understory of bush and saplings. Their trail led down to the water and up the other side, and from the tracks was mademostly by cattle and sheep. The water was shallow, gravel and riffles showing as often as pools, but the rainy season had started in the Simcoes to the north and it was rising from its summer lows.
    “You first,” Huon said; it was his mission, so he was in charge. “Cover! Move!”
    Lioncel crossed as Huon brought up his bow and covered him, eyes flickering along the edge of the riverside woods for any telltale sign of movement. There wasn’t any, save for a badger trundling off with a ground squirrel in its jaws, and the usual birds, including a bald eagle perching on a lightning-killed pine and ignoring them. Once he was across the blond boy turned his horse right and dropped the reins on the mount’s neck. The well-trained animal stood stock-still, not even bending its head to crop at the green grass that grew in clumps by the river’s side.
    “Cover!” Lioncel called, bringing the crossbow up to his shoulder. “Move!”
    It was a heavy weapon for someone the young squire’s age, but he kept it steady. Huon let his weight shift forward slightly, and Dancer walked into the water, placing his feet carefully and raising his knees high. He wasn’t using a knight’s saddle, which cut you off from contact with the horse for the sake of locking you into a standing position. This was a light pad type, and of course he’d trained in all the equestrian arts under experts since he was old enough to walk.
    The water was still low; at the deepest spot it came up to the bottom of his stirrups, and he could feel cool wet on his woolen trews where splashed drops hit. He smiled as the horse muscled its way up the slope on the other side. This
was
a lot more fun than waiting around the tent.
    Beyond was a savannah with scattered lodgepole pine and rather shrubby Garry oaks, probably stinted communal common-pasture for whatever manor held