The Pendari were lined up now. Blade could see the horses pawing at the ground as the riders' excitement communicated itself to their mounts. Then the senior man barked a single word, and all six men plunged forward. At the same moment Blade kicked his horse into motion, charging down on the Lanyri.
It almost worked. Blade saw the line of spears waver for a moment, but then it steadied. The first line of Lanyri dropped to their knees, still holding their spears out. In a single precise sequence of motions, the second line dropped their shields, drew back their right arms, and threw their spears over the heads of the first line. At the same moment the volley of spears struck the charging Pendari, Blade struck the other side of the Lanyri lines.
If the soldiers facing him had been two seconds slower raising their spears, Blade would have plowed straight into their unprotected ranks. But the gleaming metal points flashed up. Blade sawed frantically on the reins, trying to turn or slow his horse. But it was moving too fast. Still at a gallop, it impaled itself on half a dozen points.
Even so the shock nearly broke the Lanyri line. Half the soldiers in the rank facing Blade went down like bowling pins, helmets and shields flying in all directions. Even some of the ones in the rank behind reeled backward. But Blade's horse also went down, dead before it hit the ground, blood gushing from its wounds.
Blade managed to leap to one side as his horse toppled, and to land on his feet, sword swinging. He knew his only chance was to plunge straight at the Lanyri. Perhaps he could cut his way through their ranks before they recovered from the shock. He charged.
He sprang into the gap in the line his horse had broken. His sword lashed out to either side and ahead in a deadly pattern. His blows clanged uselessly, jarringly, off Lanyri helmets and shields. He had to leap backward to avoid their sword thrusts. Lanyri swords were short, less than two feet long, which made them deadly for thrusting, deadly in this type of close fighting.
Blade came in again, and this time one of his sword slashes was deflected by the top of a shield into an enemy throat. Blade snatched the man's sword from his sagging hand and used it to thrust into a second man's thigh. Now there was a wider gap in the Lanyri line facing him and he hurled himself into it, both swords flashing. Two more men in front of him went down, and a third on his left. But from both sides other Lanyri were crowding around him. He could not fight so many on all sides, not with those deadly, thrusting, short swords. If he stayed in close, sooner or later someone was going to get a thrust into him. Whether or not they planned to take him prisoner, there could always be mistakes.
Again he backed away. As he did so, a man whose steel breast plate was silvered stepped out into the open.
«Ho, Pendarnoth!»
Blade frowned. So they did know his name. «What is this hailing me as the Pendarnoth?»
The officer threw his head back and laughed. «Don't play the fool, friend. You are indeed the man hailed by those dirty Pendari as their Father, the Pendarnoth. If we weren't sure you were the Pendarnoth, you'd have been dead ten minutes ago. My men have strict orders from General Ornilan to take you alive. How much alive he didn't say though. You'll be better off if you surrender now. Most of your men have run off and we've killed the ones who didn't.» He pointed behind him, and Blade saw that all six of the guardsmen lay dead on the ground, drilled through by Lanyri spears. So did five of their horses. «Well?» the officer barked.
Blade thought fast. He didn't know what reason the Lanyri had to keep him alive. But if they were going to do so, for whatever reason, he'd be better off than continuing the fight against this kind of odds. If he surrendered unwounded, there was a better chance of escape.
«Very well,» he said. «I submit.»
The Lanyri officer grinned, and his men ran forward to surround Blade.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
General Ornilan was a large and beefy specimen of a normally rather small people. His breastplate and helmet were not only gilded but jeweled, and so was the hilt of his sword. He wore a dark red cloak and a red plume on his helmet. Both swirled and waved as he strode up and down inside his headquarters, without taking his eyes off Blade. Blade, unarmed but unbound, was seated on a stool in the middle of the room.
Neither did Blade take his eyes off the general. Every little bit he could learn or guess about Ornilan was something he might be able to use. He had learned that early in his career as an agent and followed it ever since. It had meant the difference between success and failure a dozen times, and had saved his life four times. So he watched Ornilan continuously, and mentally noted down every word the man spoke, every gesture he made.
Ornilan finally stopped in front of Blade and stared down at him. «You are a sensible man,» said the general. «And you are not one of those dirty Pendari savages. That's obvious to anyone who looks at you. What do you think you have to gain by showing loyalty to them?»
Blade tried to pick the answer most in keeping with the image he was projecting. He wanted the Lanyri to think that he was really a cynical adventurer who was playing the role of the Pendarnoth for what he could get out of it. He wanted to come across as a man who might be bought, but who had enough of an opinion of himself to set a high price. That way he could spin on the bargaining as long as possible. In the process he could find out as much as possible about the Lanyri, and in the end win himself as much freedom as possible. Then all that would be left after that was to use the freedom to escape. All? That would be enough.
He shrugged. «You haven't convinced me I have much to gain by abandoning that loyalty to the Pendari.» He waited for Ornilan to say something like «Except your life,» and gave the general due credit when those words didn't come. Ornilan was not a blusterer who hurled wild threats like his soldier's javelins.
«There isn't much you could gain by simply joining us as another warrior, I agree. We already have more than enough auxiliary fighters, with the Rojags and the mercenaries. And even if we didn't have those, we could still win. Our soldiers are the best in the world.» That was not said as a boast but a fact. Blade was more than willing to admit that the Lanyri were very good, even if not that good. He said so.
Ornilan beamed at the compliment. «I said you were a reasonable man. Do you really think then that the Pendari rabble can stand against our infantry?»
The Pendari had done so once before and could do so again, but that would not be the right thing to say. «They can certainly put up a long and stubborn fight. And they will be as stubborn as the rocks of their own mountains against a foreign invader who seeks to conquer and hold their land. I have been among them more than any Lanyri. I know the way their minds work better than you do.» A blunt statement, every word of it perfectly true. And every word of it was intended to remind Ornilan that Blade was a precious mine of information.
Ornilan got the message and rose to the bait. The man was not a good negotiator. He was much too eager to win Blade over, and inclined to be careless about the price he paid for it. The general's reputation was at stake in this campaign. And the Pendarnoth could make the difference between success and failure. So it was not surprising that Ornilan was reaching out with both hands to grab at any chance of winning Blade's support.