They began at a canter, and already the sound of hooves was deafening. The canter stretched to a slow gallop, as the front rank made to spread the formation for those riding behind. Sasha left her sword in its sheath, trying to figure the best way to steer with this weight on her left arm, concentrating solely on keeping her mare’s path straight. If she were jostled in this crush, and fell, the hooves behind would smash her to pulp.
A low wall approached, potential catastrophe if any horse refused the jump and blocked others behind… Sasha’s mare cleared it easily, across a dirt road, a farmhouse approaching on the right, and a thin line of trees…
Sasha heard a whistle and looked about, as a horse abruptly vanished from the corner of her vision. She risked a fast look behind, to see a horse rolling, two others falling in collision, others rearing aside in panic…what the hells had happened? She saw other riders staring up and ahead, as they approached the foot of the long, gentle incline toward the Steel cavalry. There were dark shapes streaking through the air, fast against the broken cloud. Surely they were not in range already?
She ducked reflexively as a bolt zipped overhead, and risked another look to see a horse fall, and more riders evading desperately behind. How the hells were the furthest flank of cavalry under fire from artillery that should only have been positioned behind protective infantry? And so far out?
Faras waved his sword and with a roar they accelerated up the slight incline, racing at full gallop. Suddenly the air was thick with incoming fire, and Sasha saw at least five coming low as though they might hit her. A noble to her left simply disappeared from his saddle as though he’d ridden into an invisible low branch. Horses were upended, legs folding beneath them, riders catapulted into the turf at breakneck speed. Faster horses were getting ahead of her, and Sasha wove to find a better approach…and saw for the first time the Enoran cavalry, a spiked ridge of steel lances, big shields and ridged helms. Dear spirits, there were thousands. The charging Isfayen line was fragmented at the front, where it mattered. The terrible line of lances was lowered, and the Enoran cavalry charged down the incline.
That was it, Sasha realised. The front rank of Isfayen were finished, and she was dead. But she could not stop, for the torrent of riders coming up behind, nor for her honour.
The Enorans were nearly upon them when Sasha realised there were in fact more gaps in their formation than was apparent from a distance. She headed for one, and saw two Enoran lances swinging toward her. She slowed to a fast, high-stepping canter, and her mare, knowing well the lagand field, read her right-feint, then left-dash, as she snapped abruptly across the oncoming Enoran’s path. The lance swivelled to track her, but the Enoran rider pulled the reins to miss her, and abruptly he’d passed, and there were horses, riders and lances flashing by to all sides. She nearly died three more times, as fast-adjusting Enorans tried to impale her, but luck and a fast duck saved her. She swung at one man, but struck only shield, and swung about now to find more space than expected, and Isfayen riders fighting clear behind.
The rear Enoran ranks bore swords rather than lances, and laid about them furiously… Sasha threw her shield up to a blow that nearly broke her arm, hauling at the rein and applying heels with wild reflex to lurch past that rider’s nose, lengthening his reach, then parrying right as one swung from the other side. Far from annihilated, the Isfayen were everywhere, roaring and swinging with crazed fury, hammering Enoran shields, ramming horses, severing limbs with their huge, curved swords.
Suddenly the Enorans were leaving, a high trumpet sounding, cavalry simply breaking off the fight and sprinting for higher ground. Isfayen flag bearers waved their banners, and nobles stood in their stirrups, calling to regroup. Sasha rode toward one of them, and abruptly there were ballista bolts falling, and that noble’s horse took a bolt through the ribs. She saw the bolt simply disappear inside the horse, ripples of impact contorting the huge body like a rock striking the water, and the animal fell as a bag of broken bones. It shocked Sasha as much as anything she’d seen. This was not warfare as she knew it. This was unfair.
She pulled alongside the now dismounted noble, and gave him a hand up to sit behind, searching for a riderless horse…but under ballista fire, horses were falling faster than riders. More commotion sounded from the far flank, and Sasha applied heels, the big man behind clutching her with little regard for her modesty. Weaving through the massed, wheeling horses, Sasha found enough vantage to regard the entire far flank of Isfayen riders now racing away from the fight, further to the flanks, in pursuit of light horse. Talmaad.
Sasha put her heels in hard, and the mare tore off after them, more Isfayen riders joining her. “Wall!” she yelled for her passenger’s benefit, and they cleared the next wall without difficulty. Ahead, she saw serrin riders closing from the left, paralleling Isfayen riders, bows pulled. Arrows fired, and two Isfayen tumbled from their saddles. Another raised his shield high, leaving little exposed flesh to fire at, so the serrin shot his horse instead. It stumbled, reeling, its rider pulling it to a halt.
“Shields up!” Sasha screamed at the riders coming up on her flanks. “Shields up! Archers, archers!”
Those serrin were now falling back, inviting her to chase them. That was death… Sasha waved her sword to the right, where other riders had gone, and wheeled that way. Behind her, perhaps fifty Isfayen had formed, having recognised her. Several ignored her evasion and pursued the serrin.
“Get back here!” Sasha yelled at them, but they either couldn’t hear or ignored her. The serrin waited until they were close enough, then accelerated once more to equal their speed. Turning in their saddles, they drew arrows, and fired straight back over their horses’ flanks. One Isfayen fell, another clutched his arm, and a third’s horse ploughed a nose first furrow in the field.
Sasha skirted a small village, and two serrin barely cantering in the near fields, again inviting pursuit. Sasha waved half of her formation left about the village, herself heading right, and the two serrin took off at fast gallop, realising they were about to be trapped. Others played cat and mouse with Isfayen riders across nearby fields, reluctant to engage directly, seeking only enough running space at close range to fire a lethal arrow at horse or rider.
On the far side of the village, maybe thirty serrin emerged from a line of trees to send long range arrows hurtling toward Sasha’s riders. Several clutched at strikes, and the rest charged. The serrin reloaded, cut several more Isfayen off their horses, then split in every direction. Bewildered Isfayen tried to intercept one or another, more arrows coming at odd angles, catching them past their shield alignment. Sasha saw one cut a racing serrin from her horse, only to lose his head to a second with a breathtakingly beautiful overhead… Sasha angled to intercept, but with a passenger she was too heavy, and the serrin darted from range, sheathing sword and recovering his bow. Sasha saw his eyes as he flashed her a stare in passing, green like emerald, hair red like flame.
This, she decided as fast serrin horses scattered away from slower Isfayen riders, was pointless. She reined to a halt, waving her sword for a recall. Eventually the Isfayen came back to her, short another six or seven of their number. Sasha wheeled about and set off back to the Lenay lines.
“We can’t fight as light cavalry against talmaad!” she yelled at the Isfayen village headman who came up on her right. “They make us look stupid!”
The headman did not disagree, and gave the man riding at Sasha’s back a grim look. Only when Sasha returned to the line and dismounted at a small stream by an oak did she see why. Instead of dismounting, her passenger remained astride, clutching the saddle to keep from falling. From his back protruded a serrin arrow. Sasha dumped her shield and with the aid of two men helped him from the horse. They tended to him by the stream, while Sasha watered her horse, and checked her for injuries.