The runehelm that had knocked her down pivoted smoothly and raised its halberd for an overhand blow that she could never hope to avoid. Kara saw her death ahead of her, and raised an arm to fend it off … but as the gray monster’s halberd started down on its final arc, it suddenly shuddered violently. The magical glyphs inscribed in its flesh all flashed with purple fire, and a wisp of smoke escaped from its iron visor. The thing uttered a high-pitched, metallic scream-the first sound Kara had ever heard one of the runehelms make-and sank to its knees, its halberd falling beside it. As she watched in amazement, the glyphs marking it blurred and faded, vanishing like ink washed away in water.
“Geran’s done it,” she said aloud. “Geran’s done it! He’s destroyed the runehelms’ master stone!”
The runehelm that had almost killed her started to fumble its way to its feet, but a brawny Shieldsworn stepped up beside it and buried his battle-axe in the back of its neck. The monster collapsed to the ground and didn’t move again. Kara picked herself up and looked around; all along the hilltop, her soldiers were hacking the crippled runehelms to pieces and throwing back the Council Guard’s assault.
“Are you hurt, Lady Kara?” Vossen asked urgently.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Kara answered. That wasn’t entirely true; she suspected she’d have quite a bruise to show later. Around her, Wester’s shield was quickly clearing the bluff of the enemies who’d managed to reach the top.
“There’s something wrong with the gray guardians,” the banner-sergeant said. He pointed. “Look, they can hardly stand.”
Kara followed Merrith’s arm. She could make out dozens of the runehelms no longer fighting their way up the hillside. Some leaned on their halberds, some kneeled on the damp moorgrass, and others were simply motionless on the ground. Without the hulking monsters to lead the way, the Council Guards were already falling back in disorder. Marstel’s banner wavered on the lower hillside, and a disorganized knot of Council Guards and merchant company mercenaries dashed back and forth in panic as they realized that their mighty allies were unresponsive. The banner’s not that far, Kara decided. And she still had a couple of companies that were more or less intact …
“Sergeant Kolton, my horse!” she shouted. “Captain Wester! Form your shield on me! Vossen, signal the Icehammers and Third Shield to follow our charge! We’re going after the standard!”
Nils Wester nodded at once. “With pleasure, Lady Kara! Come on, lads-there sits that fat old arse Marstel himself! Let’s go give him our opinion of his reign!” The First Shield quickly settled into ranks on either side of Kara, the soldiers clashing blades to their shields and shouting insults at the Council Guard forces.
Sergeant Kolton’s men brought their mounts forward from where they’d been picketed, and Kara swung herself up into Dancer’s saddle. The big mare snorted eagerly, sensing Kara’s mood, and the rest of Kolton’s guards horsed themselves as well.
Kara waited a few moments to let Wester’s soldiers find their places, then waved her sword over her head. “Charge!” she cried, and spurred Dancer out ahead of her soldiers. In a lurching, skittering slide, she rode down the rocky incline, her guards following after her.
Wester’s Shieldsworn roared in battle fury and ran after her, slipping and sliding down the wet stone as they dropped over the bluff’s edge to the corpse-strewn ground below. Kara aimed straight for Marstel, steering nimbly around the clumsy runehelms and knots of Council Guards who turned to stand in her path; she trusted Wester’s soldiers to deal with them soon enough. The surging Shieldsworn crashed through the disorganized sellswords and the constructs both, sweeping the line of battle fifty yards downslope in a great, confused mass of shouting warriors and silent runehelms. Even as Wester’s men left their places, the Third Shield and the Icehammers appeared at the bluff and streamed over to follow. With Marstel’s captains spread out to ring the hillside, Kara’s charge brought almost all of her strength against only a portion of her enemy’s.
Kara galloped closer to Marstel’s standard, Kolton and his men guarding her back. Ahead of her she spied the old lord in his half-plate, ringed by his own bodyguards and captains. She drew back her arm, readying a murderous saber slash for the false harmach, but only five yards short of her goal Marstel glanced away from the main press and noticed her closing in on his standard. “Guards!” he shouted, backing his horse away. “To me! To me!”
A Council Guard spurred his horse into Kara’s path, blocking her way. With a quick nudge of her knees, she crouched low in the saddle and let the big mare strike the soldier’s mount chest-to-flank and overturn the other horse. The guard fell under his mount and vanished, but the impact spun Dancer half around and carried her several strides away. By the time Kara recovered and righted herself, Marstel was out of reach, and the mercenary captain Edelmark stood in her way, mounted on a heavy charger with his sword bared.
“Come on, you spellscarred bitch!” he shouted at her. “I want to see if you’re as good as they say!”
Kara narrowed her eyes. Six months earlier Edelmark had led the surprise assault that carried Griffonwatch with the aid of Rhovann’s magic, and she’d heard plenty of tales of his brutality as the leader of Marstel’s soldiers. He had much to answer for. “Good,” she replied. “I was afraid you might surrender.”
With a shout, she spurred Dancer to meet him. He parried her first cut, countered with a cut at her face that she passed over her head, and recovered in time to block as she cut at the back of his neck. Then she was by him, wheeling Dancer around to make another pass while he struggled to turn his own horse to meet her again. Kara spurred up behind him on his left, and Edelmark twisted in his saddle with a vile curse to guard his back. His mail shirt saved him from a wicked slash across the shoulder blades, and before Kara could land a better-aimed blow he spurred his horse out of her reach. Once again Kara and Dancer darted up behind him on left, and this time Edelmark turned left in front of her and stood up in his stirrups. He hacked down at her with fury in his eyes as their mounts tangled together in the middle of the press. The Mulmasterite mercenary was stronger than she was; instead of trying to halt his attacks with pure strength of arm she deflected them to one side or the other, ducking away from each in turn.
“Stand still, damn you!” he snarled. Again he hacked down at her, and Kara met his heavy cut with a turn of her wrist, deflecting it to her left. Before he could recover, she flicked her saber’s point out in a quick, deadly arc that gashed him across the eyes. Edelmark shrieked and clutched at his face; she leaned forward and ran him through the armpit as blood streamed down his face. The captain slumped slowly over his saddlehorn as his charger bolted away from her.
“Well fought, m’lady!” Kendurkkel Ironthane called. The dwarf stood astride a dismembered runehelm a few yards away, a heavy axe in his fist. “I never had much likin’ for that one!”
Kara grinned at Ironthane, and paused to take stock of the fighting. She noticed that she had the taste of blood in her mouth, and her jaw ached; somewhere in the furious play of swords she’d had her own gauntlet bashed back into her mouth and hadn’t even noticed. The sky to the east was definitely growing lighter, and the rain had slackened to a gray morning drizzle. All around her, the Council Guard was breaking apart and fleeing in disorder, pursued here and there by shouting bands of Shieldsworn. Without the runehelms to back them up, Marstel’s thugs were no match for her own soldiers; the Shieldsworn were better armed, better trained, and buoyed by the sudden reversal. “I didn’t think they’d break so soon,” she muttered aloud.