The Pendari thundered past the ruins on toward the looming walls of Vilesh. Blade looked back. The Rojags were coming on in a wild dense mass, whatever discipline they had utterly gone. But the lead ranks of the Rojags were opening out a trifle now, and some of their archers were trying shots at the elusive Pendarnoth. Blade heard arrows whistle past. One glanced off his helmet with a metallic tack!
As he galloped past the ruins, Blade saw green smoke puffing up behind stretches of broken wall. The green flares were the signal to the crews of the siege-engines. Then the air seemed to be torn apart as the siege engines' first salvo came down on the Rojags.
Even the noise of the stones and spears coming down could not drown out the noise that rose when they struck: shrill screams, bubbling screams, screams of rage and terror and agony from both men and horses; the crash of stones hitting the rocky ground, bursting apart like bombs, and spraying chunks in all directions; the meaty whunk of catapult bolts pinning men to their saddles.
Fifty Rojags died from the stones and spears. Another hundred died or fell in screaming tangles of men and horses. Those who didn't lose their lives or their saddles soon lost their courage. By the hundreds they reined in, piling up into still more tangles. Those who still managed to stay in their saddles formed a great solid milling mass. Blade kept riding, and he was almost up with the Pendari when the second salvo came down. The massed Rojags could not have made a better target if they had been taking orders from the commander of the siege engines.
How many Rojags died as stones and spears plowed through their ranks, Blade never knew or even tried to guess. Hundreds, perhaps a thousand. And the survivors lost the last remnants of their courage. The Rojags became a churning mob. Every man tried to turn his horse around and plunge wildly away from the death striking down from the skies. In their panic they only jammed together more tightly than before. They were still jammed together when a third salvo landed. The screams from its impact had not died away when Blade saw black smoke spout from the tops of every tower along the walls of the city. Every gate large enough to let a mounted man through flew open, and out at a full gallop came ten thousand horsemen. All the picked troops of Pendar were riding in a single charge. The air split apart again from war cries and the whistle of so many arrows. For a moment the sky seemed to turn black above Blade.
Once again Blade had the sick feeling he was going to be shot down or ridden down by his own side. The Pendari were coming on as if the devil were at their heels, and shooting arrows like firemen pouring water on a fire. The arrows sliced down out of the sky all around Blade, hitting dead Rojags, live Rojags, the bare ground, and a few Pendari, a great many horses, and anything else in their path. One sliced across his upper arm, leaving a bloody oozing gash but not sinking in. Then the Rojags finally broke and ran. They could run now-so many had been killed that the survivors at last had room to turn their horses.
Blade saw Guroth ride up to him with a broad grin on his dust-caked face. He was leading the Golden Steed. Blade hastily dismounted his Rojag prize and remounted the Golden Steed.
Guroth looked across the plain at the vanishing enemy. «So much for the Rojags. I do not think they will stop running until they are back in their own mountains.»
«Perhaps not. But the Lanyri will not run. We will have to beat them.»
«I hope they will not run. Like you, I do not want them to escape.»
They turned their horses and spurred away after the Rojags. They made no effort to keep up with the headlong charge of the ten thousand Pendari who were riding fresh horses. They passed the ruins and the litter of dead Rojag warriors and horses at a trot. Then they were swallowed up in another swirling curtain of dust, this one raised by the Pendari charge. It was so thick they could barely see twenty feet ahead. Blade found himself navigating more by sound than by sight.
There were plenty of sounds all around. Men and horses screaming, Pendari and Rojag war cries, the snap of bows, the whistle of arrows, the pounding of thousands of hoofs. The Pendari were no longer sounding their trumpets. The enemy was in sight and there was nothing to do but chase him. It was every man for himself.
Then a new sound tore through the dust and rose above all the rest of the noise: Lanyri battle horns, sounding the alarm. Blade fought back an urge to spur the Golden Steed up to a gallop; he did not want to throw away its last strength.
Pendari trumpets now joined the booming Lanyri horns. Then Blade and Guroth and the Pendarnoth's Guard rode out of the dust and saw the battle that was raging before them. Sixty thousand Lanyri infantry were formed in five massive squares, each with its baggage wagons and civilian camp followers inside. The sun made a blinding glare on the acres of armor and glinted on the deadly accurate spears the Lanyri threw at any Pendari who rode within range. A good many Pendari horses were already running about with empty saddles, and a fringe of Pendari bodies was spreading around each square. Any Pendari who tried to ride in and use his lance had only a slim chance of riding out again alive.
The Rojags had kept right on going, the sight of their allies apparently having done nothing to cure their panic. It looked as if they were going to be out of the battle for good. So most of the Pendari were riding around the massed Lanyri squares, shooting arrows from a distance beyond spear range. That kept the Pendari safe but did little harm to the Lanyri. Except for those in the two outer ranks, they kept their shields over their heads. The Pendari arrows came down in black clouds but stuck in the tough, leather-covered wood.
Blade led his guard in until they were just beyond spear range and let them try a few arrows anyway. For the moment he could think of nothing better to do. In fact he was not even sure there was anything to do, for the moment. Once more the Pendari were outnumbered five to one or more. When the main army came up…
There was a particularly deafening blast of the heavy toned war horns. Then the ranks of one of the squares began to open from the inside, as a force of mounted men began to push its way out into the open field. Blade peered through the dust and the glare and made out the red-cloaked figure of General Ornilan leading the horsemen. Behind him rode some five hundred heavily armored men. These must be the mercenaries he had mentioned.
Ornilan led the mercenaries through the last ranks of the Lanyri infantry and out into the open. They shifted from column into line, and Blade saw them checking their weapons and armor. His own guardsmen began dropping arrows among them, but heavy armor covered both men and horses and few were hurt. Then the line of mercenaries began to roll toward Blade.
Blade realized what Ornilan's game was. He was throwing his heavy cavalry straight at the Pendarnoth, seeking to kill or capture him and so break the spirits of the Pendari. It was a desperate venture, even if it was Ornilan's last chance of a decisive victory. Blade admired Ornilan's courage in risking himself along with the mercenaries. Such courage deserved to be met on its own terms.
For a moment Blade toyed with the idea of deliberately meeting Ornilan with only equal force-five hundred of his guardsmen. There was another moment of shock as he realized how close he had come to such a chivalrous-and foolish-gesture. He ordered his trumpeter to sound the charge. The Pendari swept forward, and with the eyes of both armies on them, the two lines met.
They met with a crash and a shock that threw both lightly armored Pendari and heavily armored mercenaries out of their saddles. But the mercenaries were riding heavier horses than the Pendari, and they stood the shock better. Their heavy lances drove through Pendari leather, while their mail kept out Pendari arrows and their shields blocked the lighter Pendari lances.