horses that should have been on it were gone.
“Sweet Goddess,” she breathed. Downstream she glimpsed the terrified animals trying hopelessly to fight the current. Her own cream-colored mare submerged and did not reappear. Sioned unwisely attempted to stand, failed, and furiously tried again. This time she gained her feet and dug her nails into her palms. Staggering to the riverbank, she fell; the icy shock of the water and cut of stones into her knees and hands combined to clear her head. She gulped down water, choked, and lifted her head to the river.
She saw at once what had happened. The cables on the opposite shore had broken, and upon their snapping the raft was at the river’s mercy. The lurch had sent the horses against the rails, their weight breaking the wood. The cables on this side were the only reason the raft had not hurtled downstream, for those on board hung on tight, trying to pull the raft to safety. Sioned cried out as she looked around to the moorings. The cables, straining against the four massive posts that anchored them, had began to fray.
Sioned pushed herself upright and stumbled over to where Mardeem lay face down on the grass. She rolled him over and slapped him, yelling his name, then hauled him by the ankles down to the river. She repeated this treatment on Meath and Antoun, and the snow-cold water did its work.
“Mardeem!” Sioned cried, and he winced at the sound of her voice. “Wake the others, quickly! Antoun, Meath, get up and come with me. Hurry!”
She tugged the two men to their feet and led them to the cables, where they wrapped their hands around the taut cords and began to pull. The work of three people against the surging river was hopeless, and Sioned knew it. Pain tore through her shoulder muscles and she grunted with effort, hearing Mardeem’s chanted curses just behind her. Part of her wanted to laugh hysterically, for he was as poetic in his oaths as he was in his songs.
Eldskon and Ostvel lashed the cables around the iron ring, for to pull would be to negate Sioned’s plan. More hands were helping now. She looked around and saw Camigwen bringing two horses. Ostvel yelled encouragement as the ropes were secured on saddles, and with the added power the raft began to move more surely to the bank. But as the distance narrowed, Sioned saw that the ring was pulling free of the splintering boards around it. Those on board grabbed hold of the cables to ease the strain.
At last the river let go of the raft and it was hauled into the shallows. Its shaken occupants leaped off as faradh’im collapsed like felled trees. Sioned had no memory of toppling over into the sand, nor of being carried once more to soft, warm grass. It was past midday before she knew anything at all, and her first sensations were decidedly pleasant. She lay wrapped in a blanket of shadows and sunlight, and there was a taste of fresh mossberries on her lips, sweet and spicy. She sighed luxuriously, turning her head to look at the smiling blue eyes she knew would be watching her, framed in sunsilk hair.
“Well,” said a voice nearby. “It’s nice of you to wake up so we can thank you, Sioned.”
Disappointment pierced her. This was not the voice she had thought to hear. Memory rushed back and she opened her eyes, propping herself on her elbows to peer up at Ostvel. In the next instant every muscle in her body seemed to twist, and she sank back onto the grass with her lower lip caught between her teeth. The prince would not appreciate giving welcome to a cripple.
“Stay there. Everything’s all right now—or at least mostly all right.” Ostvel held a cup to her lips. “Have some water. It’s a thimbleful compared to what I would have swallowed if you and Cami hadn’t thought so fast. I’m in your debt, Sioned.”
The water tasted of mossberries, and regret sliced through her again. “What happened?” she mumbled.
“Nothing that makes tragic hearing, except for the loss of the horses. The twenty of us are all safe on this side. But we only have twelve mounts left. A somewhat unequal balance, one might say.”
She sat up again, stretched carefully, and winced. “So twelve of us will have to go on. The rest can stay here with our friend of the ‘soft crossing,’ ” she said with a faint smile.