“Had I the men, I’d roll out the bridge, sally forth, and hit them before they could marshal their forces. Murmandamus pitches his command post far too close to the front, and without apparent thought a company of goblins has been moved down the line, leaving an almost clear path to his pavilion. Lead with mounted archers and with luck you could have several of his captains dead before they could organize resistance. By the time they were roused, I’d be back inside the city.”
Amos grinned. “Well, what a bright lad you are, Highness. If you want, you can come play with us.”
Arutha regarded Amos questioningly, and the seaman inclined his head. Arutha looked past him to the bailey and saw horsemen riding into position before the inner gate of the barbican. “Come along. I’ve an extra horse for you.”
Arutha followed Amos down the stairs to the waiting mounts. “And what if Murmandamus has another magic trick to toss at us?”
“Then we will all die and Guy will be sad for having lost the best company he’s had in the last twenty years: me.” Amos mounted. “You worry too much, lad. Have I told you that?”
Arutha smiled his crooked half-smile as he mounted. Guy, waiting by the gates, said, “Be doubly careful. If you can hurt them, fine, but no heroic suicide assaults just on the chance to get at Murmandamus. We need you back.”
Amos laughed. “One-eye, I’m the last candidate for hero you’re ever likely to meet.” He signalled and the inner gate was opened. The rumble of the bridge being run out could be heard as the inner gate closed. Suddenly the outer gate swung open and Amos was leading the company out. Quickly outriders took their position on the flanks as the main element of Amos’s force advanced upon the besieging army. At first it was as if the enemy didn’t understand that a sally was being undertaken, for no alarm was given. They were almost upon the first elements of Murmandamus’s army when a trumpet sounded. By the time the goblins and trolls were scrambling for weapons, Amos and his raiders were racing by them.
Arutha rode straight for the hill where Murmandamus’s commanders were in conference, three Armengarian archers at his side. He didn’t know what drove him, but suddenly he was filled with a need to meet this dark lord. A squad of riders, those closest to the raiders, galloped to intercept the Armengarians with Arutha. Arutha found himself facing a human renegade, who grinned as he slashed at Arutha. Arutha killed him quickly and efficiently. Then the fight was fully joined.
Arutha looked toward the command pavilion and saw Murmandamus standing in plain view, his snake companion at his side. The moredhel leader seemed indifferent to the carnage being visited upon his forces. Several Armengarians attempted to close upon the pavilion, but they were intercepted by renegade and moredhel horsemen. One archer pulled up his mount and coolly sent bow shafts at the pavilion. Having learned the lesson of Murmandamus’s invulnerability, he chose other targets. He was quickly joined by another bowman and suddenly two of Murmandamus’s chieftains were down, one clearly dead from an arrow in the eye. Another company of foot soldiers ran toward the spot where Arutha laid about with his sword, cutting down goblins, trolls, and moredhel, attempting to protect the archers while they attacked the chieftains. For some endless time the ringing of steel and the pounding of blood in his ears were all Arutha heard. Then Amos shouted, “Begin the withdrawal!- The cry was taken up by other horsemen, until every raider had heard the call.
Arutha cast a glance past where Amos sat his horse and saw another company of riders was headed toward them. Arutha slashed out with his sword, unseating another renegade, and headed toward Trask. The newly arriving renegades struck Amos’s raiders, halting their movement. Then the raiders wheeled as a body and attacked Murmandamus’s cavalry. Slowly the raiders began to fight their way out of the camp, killing everyone who stood between them and escape. A break appeared in the mass around them, a clear path back to the gates. Arutha spurred his mount forward and joined with the others in headlong flight back to the city. He glanced over his shoulder. A company of black-clad riders sped past Murmandamus’s pavilion, following in hot pursuit. To Amos he shouted, “Black Slayers!”
Amos signalled and several riders peeled off to turn and engage the Black Slayers. They charged and met with a ringing clash of steel, and several riders from both sides were unhorsed. Then the melee dissolved as the Armengarians disengaged, while another company of moredhel advanced upon the conflict. Most of the Armengarians who fell regained their saddles, but not all. A full dozen soldiers lay upon the sandy soil of the plain.
The gates were open when Amos’s company reached the wall, and they spun in place once inside the barbican. Behind, the rear guard was hurrying, engaged in a running fight with the Black Slayers and other moredhel. A dozen Armengarians sought to escape from more than thirty pursuers.