The Emperor's banner no longer waved against the sky at the head of the pass. Blade could not even make out the silvered armor of the Emperor's bodyguard in the chaos of fighting men that stretched for miles up the pass. Was Jores VII already dead? If he died here in the pass along with the Guardians of his throne, there would be ten kinds of hell to pay in Karan!
A moment later Blade saw a particularly solid mass of Guardians moving toward him along the edge of the woods. Then he noticed that their armor glinted silver. At least the Emperor's bodyguard was trying to make its retreat in some sort of order.
A few yards at a time, the bodyguard crept down the pass toward Blade, making its way past the dead and the dying, skirting the stray horses wandering about. Blade took cover behind a dead horse, restocked his quiver from the dead bodies sprawled all around him, and waited. He wasn't at all sure he was going to get out of the pass alive. But his chances would be better if he went with the bodyguard.
Slowly but surely, the bodyguard approached. But the Scadori were getting bolder. Every few yards another Guardian was left sprawled or writhing on the ground. The Scadori closed in behind, cutting the throats of the wounded. Sometimes they ran off holding the blood-dripping genitals of the dead men on the points of their swords and spears. The bodyguard closed ranks to fill in the gaps left by the fallen and moved on.
They were only fifty yards away when Blade saw a tall, lanky figure in torn and filthy robes moving among the soldiers. About the last thing he had expected to see was Jores VII alive and on his feet. A thought flashed into Blade's mind. He would be doing the rest of his day's fighting under the eye of the Emperor himself. If they both survived to return to Karan, the Emperor would have cause to remember. Perhaps he would even be grateful, although Blade didn't have much faith in the gratitude of princes and potentates.
The leading rank of the bodyguards was only a stone's throw away when Blade slung his bow, drew his sword, and rose from cover. He took a few steps toward the safety of the square around the Emperor. Then the woods erupted in Scadori war-cries and Scadori warriors swarmed out from behind every tree.
Their onrush panicked a score of the stray horses. All of them bolted and several crashed into the rear of the square. Soldiers went down under the trampling hooves and the solid ranks around the Emperor suddenly gaped open in several places. Scadori leaders shouted and waved spears and swords, then led a wild charge toward the weak spots. Blade saw the Emperor stiffen and draw a long curved sword. Its jeweled hilt blazed even in the fading light.
Blade ran toward the bodyguard, both swords drawn. Scadori arrows whistled about his ears as he ran, yelling war-cries and curses. He came up with the first Guardians just as the Scadori pushed through the last of the Emperor's defenders and swarmed around him.
Jores recoiled only a few steps from the charge. Then he stopped and his sword whirled through the air in front of him. Guardians moved up on either flank, some holding out their lances like pikes while others thrust and slashed with their swords.
Blade pushed his way through the bodyguard into the front rank, to the left of the Emperor. Jores recognized Blade and gave him a quick, almost cat-like wave with his left hand. Then he picked up a shield from the ground and continued his fight. Jores VII was not a swordsman whose skill would inspire songs and poems down through the ages. But he was far above the average, as a good many Scadori warriors found out.
One by one the attacking Scadori sprawled on the blood-soaked ground, limped and staggered away, or simply drew back to a safe distance. Blade started to see the grim resignation fading from the faces around him. Some of the men were grinning, teeth startlingly white in faces darkened by dirt and drying blood.
Blade couldn't feel so hopeful. There was too much of the pass still to cover, then long miles of marching in darkness through a land barely known. Long before they could reach safety, the Scadori would regroup, discover that the richest prize of all was slipping out of their grasp, and launch an irresistible attack. It was too much to hope for that the Scadori army had fallen apart in its moment of victory.
The Guardians of the bodyguard reformed around their Emperor, and began to march down the pass at almost a trot. There were less than fifty of them now, but the Scadori seemed to have entirely broken up into twos and threes and half-dozens. A few showed fight and were promptly cut down. Most took cover in the woods.
The Guardians and the Emperor covered half a mile this way. They passed thousands of bodies of men and horses. More and more of the men had been castrated or otherwise mutilated. The smiles vanished from the faces around Blade. Now it was clear to everyone that they would be almost the only ones to win clear. In less than an hour, most of the Guardians of the Coral Throne had been erased from the rolls of the army of the Empire of Karan.
Three-quarters of a mile. A full mile. Scadori archers were opening up again with random arrows. Two more Guardians went down, others staggered along with blood dripping from shoulders or thighs. But they were now more than halfway to the lower end of the pass. The land beyond looked clear of Scadori. Jores VII sheathed his sword, slung his shield, and marched with his head held higher than Blade had ever seen it. There was a warrior's pride in the young Emperor now. That might mean a great deal for the future, if Jores ever saw Karanopolis again.
Then once more Scadori war-cries struck Blade's ears. Running figures poured out of the forest to form a solid wall in front of the Emperor's handful of Guardians. Many of the enemy now wore looted Guardians' armor and waved captured swords and lances. Jores drew his sword again and yelled, «Charge! Charge them before they form! It is our only chance!»
The Emperor and his forty unwounded Guardians charged downhill at the massing Scadori. Arrows whistled about their ears, but they were moving at a dead run, too fast to make good targets in the twilight. Blade drew his short sword and held his lance out in front of him as if he was charging on horseback. On either side of him the Guardians did the same. They dashed at the Scadori with their lances bristling around them like the quills of a porcupine.
Now Blade heard another explosion of noise behind him. The harsh bray of Scadori trumpets echoed up and down the darkening pass. Then came the sound of dozens of fast-moving horses. The Guardians crashed into the Scadori in front of them. Blade thrust one enemy in the groin with his lance and chopped half through the man's neck as he screamed and crumpled forward. Then Blade turned to look behind him.
Thirty-odd Scadori were charging downhill on captured Karani horses. As they broke into a gallop they howled their war-cries. Several of the horses shied at the noise and sent their riders sprawling, to scream out their lives as hooves pounded them to bloody rags. But the rest came on, waving swords and clumsily brandishing lances. In the lead was a tall Scadori warrior Blade recognized as Chudo. Chudo of Ukush, once Blade's follower and comrade in battle. Chudo of Ukush, leading a wild charge that in a few more seconds would sweep Blade and the last of the Guardians away or trample them into the blood-soaked earth.
Blade hurled his lance straight at Chudo's horse. It took the unlucky animal in the chest. It reared with a bubbling scream, and Chudo threw himself out of the saddle. By a miracle he landed on his feet, and by another miracle managed to avoid being trampled by his own men. But several of them piled up behind his dying horse. Those who didn't fall had to struggle frantically to control their rearing, plunging, panic-stricken mounts.