“Now!” William shouted, pointing to the tree-line. As one, his men spurred on their horses and charged the riders who were thundering out of the woods. It had taken nearly an hour for Bear to run out of patience and now William felt he had a chance, since they were fighting on open ground. He might be outnumbered, but he knew his men were better armed and trained. As the Krondorians charged across the road, William prayed silently that his eight raiders at the rear of Bear’s men were distracting them enough to divide their forces.
“Keep the line! Watch your flanks!” shouted Sergeant Hartag, and the Krondorians pointed their swords, keeping their bucklers ready to block, their reins lashing the necks of their mounts, as they urged their horses on.
William’s world turned to a blur of images. As it always did in combat, he found his attention focused on one thing and one thing only: the man before him. A rider came in, rising up in his stirrups, his sword high to come down hard at William’s head or shoulders.
In a fluid motion, William leaned to the right, raised his left arm above his head, and let his buckler deflect the blow, while his own short-sword slashed at the rider’s right leg. The man cried out and then William was past him.
William didn’t know if the man had kept his seat or fallen, and he didn’t look to see. For in front of him another rider was charging toward him, and in an instant the first rider was forgotten. This man came in from William’s left side, giving the young officer an easy block, but making a counter-strike with the short-sword difficult. For an instant, William appreciated the Keshian’s use of the scimitar, with its long curved blade, or even the Eastern Kingdoms’ saber for fighting on horseback. A longer, lighter blade would serve better now.
William let the thought slip away as he timed his response. At the last instant, he ducked under the blow, instead of blocking it, and wheeled his horse about, then spurred it on after the rider who had just passed. The man was bearing down on a dismounted Krondorian soldier when William overtook him. A single blow from behind and the man was unseated, tumbling hard to the ground and rolling to his death at the hands of the soldier he had been attempting to ride down just seconds before.
Suddenly William’s luck took a turn for the worse. His horse screamed and he felt it going out from under him. Without thinking, he kicked loose of his stirrups and let the horse’s momentum throw him from the saddle. He let go of his short-sword, but gripped his buckler tightly. He tucked in his chin and tried to roll on his left shoulder, using the buckler as a point of leverage, unable to use his shoulders because of the long-sword in the sheath across his back.
The roll brought him to his feet behind a mercenary who was fighting one of William’s men. William bashed the man with his buckler, letting the other soldier kill him. In a flash he secured his buckler to his belt, then reached over his shoulder and drew his long-sword, ignoring the sting from his protesting, bruised muscles.
William laid about him with two-handed efficiency. As always, the world contracted around him as he concentrated on staying alive. But through it all he still had a sense of the flow of battle and he knew things were not going well.
A squad of Bear’s horsemen emerged from the woods, bloodied and looking over their shoulders. The eight raiders at the rear of the struggle had obviously done some damage, but now the battle was about to swing Bear’s way.
William cut down a mercenary before him, and then stood still for a second. He sent one image with all his strength at the charging horses: Lion!
He attempted to mimic the loud roar of the great lions of the northern forest and suggested the scent of the hunter on the wind.
The horses went crazy, bucking and snorting, several throwing their riders.
William turned and started hacking at another opponent. Moments later, he realized that the mercenaries were fleeing.
William spun full circle and saw his men either chasing those who were running or converging on the single knot of Bear’s men who held fast and continued to fight. William felt a rush of exultation. The battle was on the verge of being won. And he now knew where his enemy stood. He ran forward, eager to engage Talia’s murderer, to dispense vengeance.
As he closed on him, something caused his hair to stand on end, and he recognized that magic was in play. He recalled his experience as a boy at Stardock and instantly knew that his anticipation of victory had been premature.