Sasha smiled. She knew just who to send to make that work. “Brother-in-law,” she murmured, “your size is great, yet your stance is weak. If we can reach the Ipshaal, we cut you in half.”
The artillery captain indicated to her that the ballistas were ready.
“Fire!” she yelled.
Koenyg was becoming alarmed at the lack of opposition in the Dhemerhill Valley when he saw the mass of horses charging from the trees ahead. Immediately captains were yelling, men deploying wide, others shouting to bring the rear ranks forward as fast as possible, all without the king having to utter a word. Koenyg tore clear his sword and steadied his snorting warhorse.
This time the serrin were coming all at once. He'd expected them to change tactics when their initial ambushes hadn't worked, but he hadn't expected it quite this soon. Forest made a break in the fields ahead on either side of the Dhemerhill River, but only the formation on this side of the river seemed to be under attack. They were racing now, leaping fences and weaving about obstacles, spreading to widen their line.
“Look to me!” Koenyg yelled, standing in his stirrups and holding his sword aloft. “Look to me, charge on my signal!”
He wanted to hit them head-on, so they had no time to fire. If he charged too soon, they might halt, gaining them an extra shot or more. If he charged too late, they'd get their extra shot anyway. The first serrin were approaching another fenceline, and he half expected them to stop short, but they leaped over without slowing, readying arrows on their bowstrings even now. Such horsemanship could only be admired.
“Now!” cried the king, and kicked his heels. The Lenay formation sprang forward, thousands strong, with a roar like an avalanche. The serrin fired, and halted, and for a moment the air was filled with zipping arrows. Men and horses fell left and right, and Koenyg covered with his shield, confident enough that at this range he might lose his horse, but nothing more. But his horse remained unscathed, and ahead the serrin were turning and running.
A poor predicament for him, given how the serrin loved to cut down those who chased by shooting behind them, but in the confusion of the turn, these serrin had misjudged their approach and turned too late. Koenyg's heart pounded with excitement as he saw how fast he and his men were closing. The horses of Northern Lenayin were swift, and the serrin struggled to get back up to speed after turning around. Koenyg urged his horse faster, grinning as he selected a target, unarmoured as all serrin were unarmoured, and too busy trying to gather speed to turn and fire his bow….
And suddenly the serrin were evading, gaps appearing in their formation as new horsemen came rushing through, a second rank of men in gleaming armour, and these men were not stopping. Steel cavalry, with lances lowered.
They hit with fatal power, bodies flying, lances snapping, and horses careening, and suddenly Koenyg's world was filled with racing enemies. He deflected a lance with his shield, yanked the reins to dodge another, then manoeuvred to slash at a third. He wheeled about to pursue the last of them, but now the serrin were firing into the backs of those exposed Lenays. Men were hit through the back as they turned, falling with screams and thuds as powerful arrows punched holes through armour. He needed his enemies around him and fast, for cover.
He tore back in amongst the Steel, lances dropped and now swinging with swords. He crashed in on one unawares, reeling him in the saddle with a blow. And then it was chaos, crashing swords and yells and jostling, shrieking horses. He hit another Rhodaani hard, took repeated blows to his own shield, then had a kill robbed from him by a Banneryd warrior he did not recognise. The Steel men fought with skill and bravery, yet there were little tricks of horsemanship in such close quarters that Lenays seemed to know that these men did not.
Koenyg gave one man a jostle at just the right moment, upsetting his balance right before a swing, then thumped him with his shield. The man grabbed for his reins to rebalance, and Koenyg killed him with a downswing before he could recover. He manoeuvred in tight space toward a new target, but that man died before he could reach him, the Ranash warrior responsible joining his king's side to hunt for more.
All about the pattern seemed the same: Steel fighting with skill enough to best most cavalry forces, but not those of Northern Lenayin. Soon the survivors were breaking to run, pursued everywhere by howling Lenay warriors, eager for more blood. Only now as they chased, serrin arrows cut them down, or pierced horses through their necks, as talmaad took advantage of the confusion to dart in at truly affronting range, and shoot Lenay men and horses from close enough to throw a boot.
Koenyg yelled at his men to leave the Steel and get the serrin-one dead talmaad was surely worth three Steel-and his men complied. Serrin evaded with breathtaking cheek, yet some were not fast enough and were cut flying from the saddle. Others abandoned bows for swords, and slashed at Lenays in passing, yet had little luck getting past the Lenay shields.
Koenyg chased several, had a partner struck point-blank by an arrow to the face, then two serrin he chased were cut off and killed by intercepting Hadryn men. The remaining serrin fled, and Koenyg urged his horse to join the chase, yet it did not respond. In fact, his horse was slowing, and seemed unsteady. Koenyg pulled the stallion to a halt, sensing something wrong, and no sooner had the horse come to a stop than it collapsed.
Koenyg jumped off before the rolling animal could trap his leg and strode about until he saw the expected-an arrow, protruding from the horse's throat.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I liked that one.” He pulled his blade and ended the horse's struggles, then waited for one of his comrades to find a replacement from amongst the hundreds of milling, riderless horses. The animal they did find was a dun-coloured mare-Koenyg preferred stallions but the animal looked like quality, so he mounted and surveyed the battle.
Serrin were now running, scattering wide across the valley. Lenays were reluctantly not pursuing; those who forgot that most basic serrin tactic soon died for it, or their horses did.
“We may have taken as many as a quarter of the Steel,” said a Hadryn lord. “A good fight, our losses are light.”
“The Steel cavalry will think twice before charging us again,” Koenyg agreed. “But I wanted more talmaad dead-we took only a handful, while they took quite a few of us.”
“It was only the sacrifice of the Steel cavalry that presented the demons with such easy targets,” another lord protested. “A few more engagements like that and the Steel cavalry shall be no more. Without them the demons' archery shall be less effective.”
Koenyg frowned. “That wasn't their whole force-they're holding a lot back. I want to lure them out. We stand aside for now, let the Kazeri have some fun.”
The lords looked shocked. “Stand aside for barbarian Kazeri? And cede the honour to them?”
“We wear the serrin down,” Koenyg explained. “We keep them harried, we water our horses, we take some food, while allowing the serrin and Steel cavalry none of these things. Then after the Kazeri are half-dead, as I expect they soon will be, we resume the lead once more.”
The lords did not like it, but knew better than to argue. “What of the prisoners?” another asked.
“Keep them,” said Koenyg. “These defences are clever; no doubt there is more cleverness to come, considering who commands them. I would know more, if they will tell us.”
“Oh, they'll tell us,” said another lord, grimly.
“A good horse,” Koenyg complimented the man who had found his new mount. “Whose was she?”
“Lord Talryd's,” came the reply. “He was killed.”
“Commendable,” said Koenyg, with a fisted salute to his chest. The others echoed it. “Most commendable.”