“I am done, Girton. Run.” She took her blades from their scabbards and pushed herself up to a kneeling position. “They will find us. It is only a matter of time. I will buy you as much time as I can when they do.”
“No.” I pulled her up. “Listen, Master.” She cocked her head to better hear the voices in the mist. “They are moving away from us, I am sure of it.”
“Girton…”
“And Rufra will come.”
“You cannot be—”
“He will come!”
She stared at me, long and hard, then nodded, too tired to argue and, knowing I would not leave her, she put her blades away and struggled up. I picked up the pike, put it in her hands then glanced over my shoulder into the mist. We forced ourselves on. Somewhere in front of us I thought I heard fighting.
“Girton,” said my master. She was near to finished—I could hear it in her voice—and I was not much better. “Listen to me, Girton…”
“Look!” I pointed into the mist. Mounted figures were approaching. “Rufra!” We staggered on a few steps. “It is Rufra, Master.”
“There are only two mounts,” she said.
The Riders approaching from the mist were armoured for war, holding shields and lances. Razor-sharp gilding glinted on their mount’s antlers.
“Rufra has sent them for us!” I shouted. The knights put down their visors, lowered their lances.
“Girton, that isn’t Rufra.”
“But—”
“It isn’t Rufra!” she shouted in my face
The mounts screamed as their Riders put in the spur. Then they charged forward, heads coming down to impale us on the points of their antlers. I tried to run and pull my master with me.
“No,” she shouted, gripping tightly onto my arm, holding me still against all good sense while my mind screamed, Run!
The two mounts raced towards us, growing until they filled my vision and the sound of their galloping feet filled my ears. I was sure my master intended us to die together on their antlers and I closed my eyes. Then she shouted, “Now!” From somewhere she mustered up the energy to shove me out of the way. Fourteenth iteration—cartwheeling out of the path of the rampaging mounts. I slipped in the mud as I landed, falling to all fours. The moment I had my feet under me I heard my master shout.
“Girton! Pike!” I turned. My master threw me the weapon and I plucked it from the air. Then, to try and draw the Riders away from my master, I ran as fast as I could away from her until I heard galloping feet behind me. A glance back. Dead gods! Only one followed. I counted the animal’s footsteps as it gained, trying to feel the rhythm of its run. Duh-duh-duhduh, duh-duh-duhduh, duh-duh-duhduh. When it was near enough to gore me I clasped the staff of the pike tight and dropped, rolling under the animal’s feet, hoping the Rider wasn’t well trained enough to change his animal’s gait and trample me—he wasn’t. I heard him swear as I rolled under the galloping mount unscathed and came to my feet behind him with the pike extended. The mount screamed as its Rider pulled hard on the rein and it skidded to a halt on its haunches. To my left, almost lost in the mist, my master was limping in a tight circle, making it hard for the other Rider to get at her, but it was a desperate move and she was tiring quickly. Both Riders rode black mounts and I knew they must be Borniya and Hallin, though I had no idea which of them I faced. My attacker came round again, this time keeping his mount’s head low to stop me going under his animal. He spurred the mount on and I brought the pike down. The animal started to sweep its head back and forth to knock the weapon away. As it closed on me I dived to the side, throwing the pike between the mount’s legs. With an audible crack and a scream of agony, the animal and Rider went down in a tangle of broken legs and broken wood. Had I been lucky, the fall would have killed the Rider but I was not. He dragged himself to his feet and, taking the shield from his back, unhooked a warhammer from his belt. He used his weapon to kill the screaming mount before turning to me and lifting his visor to reveal a misshapen face. Borniya, which meant the Rider trying to skewer my master must be Hallin.
“We were disturbed in Calfey, mage-bent, but this time I’m going to kill you. I swear it.” He hefted his warhammer and brought his shield round in front of him.
“I didn’t kill your friend Kyril, Borniya.”
“I don’t really care.” He grinned at me.
I attacked first, my long sword flickering out. I expected him to take the blow on his shield but he danced back out of my reach and I stumbled forward two paces before catching myself. My breath came in great gasps.
“You’ve had a long day.” He let the shield slip from his arm and drew his stabsword. “You’re tired, mage-bent.” He lunged at me with the stabsword, and I jumped back, sliding in the mud and fighting to keep my balance. Ordinarily I would have walked over Borniya, but he was fully armoured and fresh to the fight where exhaustion had robbed me of my skill and the pattern cut into my chest stopped me using any assassin tricks.
“If you’re expecting your friend Rufra to save you then I’m sorry. He ran into a little surprise in the stables. I don’t think he’ll be coming.” He feigned coming forward and I staggered backwards again. Making him laugh. “Oh dear, mage-bent, oh dear.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my master fall—Hallin’s mount sweeping its head backwards and forwards, catching my master a glancing blow that sent her stumbling away to fall in the mud. While I was distracted, Borniya attacked. He brought his stabsword down and I brought my blades up—sixth iteration—to block his attack. He’d been waiting for me to block and followed the blow from his stabsword with a blow from his warhammer. I tried to move but wasn’t quick enough, and the longsword was ripped from my hand by the impact. Before he could follow up I lunged with my stabsword, aiming for his eye. He was quick to dodge but the blade still scored his cheek. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it was enough to make him back off a little. He wiped at the blood running down his face then stared at the stain on his gauntlet.
“Hallin!” he shouted. “Kill the woman quickly. I don’t want you to miss out on killing the cripple.”
“Am I too much for you, Borniya?” I said. He licked his lips where blood running from his cheek had stained them red. “Are you scared of me?”
I threw myself at Borniya. It was the last thing he expected and the last thing I should have done. I hit him hard, pushing us both down into the freezing mud, but he was armoured and physically bigger than me. I tried to bring my knee up into his groin, but the rods of iron laced into his kilt protected him. I tried to find the edge of his armour with the point of my stabsword, scraping the tip across the metal squares
He stank of old sweat.