"Forrin cannot be far from Saerb, then," Regg said. "Two days away, maybe three."
Abelar nodded. "Get the standards up and sound a blast. Let them know we are here."
Regg issued the order and the two standard bearers unfurled their pennons. Each showed a field of white adorned with a red rose for faith, a sun for light, and a boar rampant for strength. When the standards were up, the company's trumpets sounded and their clarion carried over the plains.
Heads and horses in Ordulin's company wheeled around. Fingers and blades pointed back at Abelar's forces. Ordulin's commanders put their boot heels into their mounts and moved briskly among the squads, pointing and shouting. Their shouts carried faintly over the plains. Men and horses reversed formation and began to form up into an arc concave to Abelar's men.
"They see us, I think," Regg said with a grin.
"That they do."
Regg said, "All medium cavalry. I see crossbows but no massed archers."
"Nor I," Abelar said. The battle would be fought with blades, up close. He pointed to a pair of unarmored men among the forces. "But see there? Wizards. They probably have a few priests in their number as well."
"Agreed. The wizards are to their advantage. But battles are won by flesh and steel, not spells. So it has been ever."
Abelar nodded. "Put us into a loose line. We advance with flanks lagging."
"Advance?"
Abelar nodded, his eyes on his enemy.
Regg shouted the order and the company moved into position. Sergeants shouted commands; horses neighed; men adjusted armor and shields.
Abelar watched his foes as they took formation. They moved with discipline, even skill. He figured many of them to be onetime members of Forrin's Blades, experienced men, but dark hearted from all he'd heard.
He called his cadre of six priests to him. Each wore a breastplate over mail and bore a round steel shield enameled with Lathander's rose. Led by Roen, they formed a semicircle around Abelar as Ordulin's trumpets blared below. He looked each of them in the eye. Despite their limited experience, he saw only resolve there. The Light was in them.
"They have spellcasters in their force," he said. "We will advance loose, flanks lagging. The casters will try to hit us as we close. Stay in the pocket behind us and watch for their casters."
"Not hard for Roen to look over the line," Jiiris said, grinning. "He sits the saddle as tall as an ogre."
The priests laughed. Abelar smiled and continued. "Do whatever you can to disrupt their spells. Once we're engaged, the casters will matter little."
"We will counter them, Commander," Roen said, and the others nodded.
"I know," Abelar said, and meant it. "Stay in the light."
He clasped each of their forearms in turn, holding Jiiris's a beat longer than the others, and they rode off to take their positions behind the line.
Abelar took a final glance at Ordulin's forces. Regg rode up beside him.
"I wonder if Forrin is among them?" Regg asked.
"Doubtful," Abelar answered.
Regg nodded agreement. He said, "The men are ready. They should hear from you."
Abelar took his eyes off Ordulin's forces. The time had come to rally his men. He held up his shield so it caught the sunlight and shimmered. Regg did the same. As one, they offered a supplication to Lathander. When they completed their spells, their shields held the sun's glow and hummed with power. They clasped forearms.
"Stay in the light," Regg said, and grinned.
"And you," Abelar answered, and did not grin.
Ordulin's forces sounded a series of trumpet blasts and the cavalrymen gave a great shout.
Regg rode along behind the line of Abelar's men, shield blazing. He thumped men and women on the back and offered quiet words of encouragement. Abelar took position before the line and faced the company.
A wall of flesh and steel extended to either side of him for three hundred paces. He saw Roen's head in the rear, flanked by his fellow priests. Helms and blades caught the sun and glittered in the light. But for Regg's soft words and the flapping of the standards in the wind, silence fell.
All eyes were on Abelar, hard eyes, but eyes filled with faith. He had chosen the men and women of his company well. They were good soldiers. More importantly, they were good men and women.
For a time he said nothing. He simply rode along the line, making eye contact with the men and women who had chosen to trust him with their lives. He wanted them to see his strength of faith, his conviction of purpose.
They did. Some saluted; some nodded. None looked away. He returned to the center of the line and said, "The Morninglord's light shine on you all."
"And on you," they boomed as one.
Abelar turned Swiftdawn and gestured with his shield at Ordulin's forces. "Look out on them. See their souls. Know them for what they are."
He stared down for a moment at Ordulin's cavalry, which was finalizing its formation, before turning back to his own company.
"Know that their purpose was to cut off retreat from Saerb, to murder families as they fled another army that approaches from the east."
Looks hardened. Men shifted in their saddles. Horses whinnied.
"This day, right now, they fail of that purpose."
As one, the company shouted assent.
Behind Abelar, Ordulin's trumpets blared. The men of Forrin's army let up a shout of their own and Abelar heard them start forward. Abelar kept his eyes on his own warriors. They kept their eyes on him.
"To a man, they are in service to a base cause, an evil cause, whereas we…" he paused and looked up at the sunlit sky before looking back at his command. "We serve a noble purpose, a higher calling, and the Light is in every man and woman in this company."
He held up his blade and willed it to flare. It luminesced white hot, overwhelming even the glow of his shield, casting the entire company in its radiance.
His men cheered, raised their own blades.
Abelar turned Swiftdawn to look at the advancing enemy. Ordulin's forces were moving at a hustle, and slowly gathering speed. They advanced in a concave formation, flanks curved and leading. A few crossbows twanged. A dozen bolts slit the air and rained down on the company. Shields and armor turned them all.
Abelar turned to face his men.
"Regg observes that they are many, while we are but few. To that I say, aye. The many are always willing to do evil. The few make a stand in the light." He looked up and down his line. "Today we, all of us, make our stand in the light."
His company again shouted assent, but Abelar was not done. "So, aye," he said. "They are many. And we are few. Aye."
He urged Swiftdawn into a trot and paced the line, repeating the phrase, giving it a rhythm. He thumped his glowing blade on his glowing shield. "They are many, we are few. They are many, we are few."
Regg echoed his gesture and took up the chant. Roen and the priests in the rear did the same. Soon the entire company was thundering the words, rhythmically beating sword to shield.
"They are many! We are few! They are many! We are few!"
Abelar inhaled deeply as the fire rooted in his gut, as his hands transformed from those of a healer to those of a warrior, as a surge of righteous wrath filled his breast so strongly it felt as if it would lift him from his saddle and propel him to the heavens. He turned to face Ordulin's forces, raised his blade, and shouted defiance.
His wrath spread like contagion to his men and they echoed his shout.
Ordulin's cavalry moved from a trot to a full gallop. They bore down on Abelar's company, blades and shields ready, blood on their minds.
Abelar intoned a prayer to Lathander and channeled the strength of his soul into his blade, which glowed still brighter. He was bathed in light. His company moved restlessly behind him, eager to receive the order. He held his blade up.