He drew the first arrow and let fly. The rider on Tal’s right ducked, as he had expected, so he had aimed low. The arrow struck him in the thigh, up near the hip joint. The man screamed as he fell from the saddle. It was not a killing wound, but he wouldn’t be up fighting any time soon.
Tal used his leg pressure to veer away from Raven and the other man while he nocked his second arrow. The rider who had circled to Tal’s left was by then right behind him, riding straight at his back.
Still standing high in the saddle, Tal twisted to his right and brought his mount around in a circle. He turned his body as far as he could until he was almost facing backward. He could see the surprise in the second man’s eyes as he let loose his arrow.
The man took the arrow right in the joint between his neck and shoulder, which was unprotected by his chain-mail shirt. He came out of his saddle, rolling over backward and dropping behind his horse. He was obviously dead before he struck the ground.
Raven charged.
He could not afford to give Tal the chance to reach around behind and draw another arrow, having seen what he was capable of and having no doubt he would die if he didn’t close instantly.
Tal threw away his bow and drew his sword, turning to meet the charge at the last moment. Raven’s horse slammed into Tal’s, and the mare almost fell. As it was, she stumbled sideways from the blow.
Tal reined her around hard, his sword slashing through the air at the point where he hoped Raven’s head would be. He realized his error and tried to pull up. The effort was a moment too late; pain ripped across his left shoulder, as Raven’s sword point sliced through the skin, scraping across the shoulder bone.
Tal grimaced in pain but kept his wits about him. He urged his horse on, resisting the urge to clutch at his left shoulder with his right hand, instead bringing his sword overhead to block another blow from Raven.
Tal blinked away tears and forced the pain in his shoulder to fade, for it was clear that on horseback, Raven was the more practiced swordsman. Still, bladework was bladework, and Tal knew he had never been in a more important fight.
Rondar had drilled into him how to control his horse with one or no hands, relying on his legs to instruct the animal, so he tried to make the horse an extension of his own body and tried to think as if the horse’s legs were his own.
He blocked out the pain in his left shoulder, although he knew that had Raven’s blow been mere inches lower, he’d be a dead man. The wound would have severed tendons or even cut off the arm entirely, and the blood loss would have doomed him. As it was, the superficial cut was soaking his shirt with blood at the shoulder, but he would live if he could end this fight quickly.
Tal worked his horse around to keep Raven on his right, lest he risk further injury to his damaged arm. Raven attempted to use his horse to bully Tal’s and perhaps throw its rider. He moved right in next to Tal and Tal saw his enemy up close for the first time since he had sacked Village Kulaam.
The once neatly trimmed beard was ragged and unkempt, and the man’s angular face was haggard and worn. Raven’s skin had a grey complexion, and his dark, deep-set eyes were rimmed with red, with deep circles of darkness below.
Yet there was an iron will in his face that told Tal that Raven was as dangerous a man as he would ever meet. A man didn’t rise to run as ruthless a company as Raven had without such a will. Tal knew he had to match that will with his own. It didn’t matter if he stayed alive; Raven must die. He must atone for the wrong visited on Tal’s people.
They circled and traded blows, steel ringing on steel, but neither man gained the advantage. Raven was more deft at moving his horse, but within striking range, Tal was the better swordsman.
For long minutes they rode around one another thus, trading blows and parries, with neither gaining the upper hand. Raven tried three times to charge Tal, but both horses were on the verge of exhaustion, and the third time, Raven retreated with a slash across his cheek. Blood flowed down the right side of his face, and now Tal saw something else. The determination in Raven’s face was gone! He seemed suddenly to be a man fearful of dying.
Tal charged. He shouted at the top of his lungs, and rose up in his stirrups, slashing downward with all his strength. Raven’s years of mounted swordplay served him well, for what Tal didn’t expect was that instead of turning away, sword raised to take Tal’s blow, Raven leaned forward, hanging by his left hand from the saddle, to slash at Tal’s right leg.
Tal felt the pain as Raven’s blade cut deep into his calf muscle, and the leg collapsed. His own momentum from the downward slash carried him headfirst off his horse.
Tal tucked his shoulder and tried to roll, but the impact stunned him. His fatigued and frantic mount trotted away, leaving Tal lying unprotected on the ground. The mercenary captain turned his animal and urged it on for one more attack, intending to trample Tal underfoot.