The point of the spear glanced off the plates of the armor but slipped up into the articulation on his side, barely piercing the cloth underneath.
Herzer grunted at the blow but slashed downward again, cutting the shaft off just below the spearhead. He then jumped back at the axeman who was still muzzy from the shield bash and finished him off with a slash across the throat. That left only the spearman who turned away to run.
Herzer picked up the axe and weighed it in his hand, then shrugged and as carefully as possible hurled it at the spearman. More by luck than training the weapon caught him between the shoulder blades and dropped him writhing in the dust.
Which would have been the end of it if the six cavalrymen hadn’t crested the rise at almost the same moment.
Herzer sighed, tiredly, and took up a stance. This was just another drill. The cavalrymen didn’t have lances, just swords. They would try to ride him down or cut him with the swords. He was heavily armored to a downward strike so the technique was to step to the left of one of the charging horses and slash it across the side, taking the blow of the sword on his armor and helmet.
The problem in this case was the six were crowding each other to get to him and there wasn’t so much as a decimeter between them. For that matter the horses were either very well or very badly trained because instead of avoiding the injured spearman they pounded him into the ground. Which, Herzer figured, was what was just about to happen to him.
As they approached, therefore, he ran to the side of the defile and actually up onto the side, using the force of his run to lift himself into the air and up over the shoulder of the startled horse on the farthest left.
He didn’t try anything fancy like staying on the horse or slashing at anything, he simply let a hundred plus kilos of body and another twenty of armor smash into the rider.
He couldn’t tell if the rider was dead on the way down nor did he really care. But if he wasn’t he assuredly was when Herzer landed on top of him and used the rider’s body to break his own fall.
The landing, just about flat out on his face, still drove the air out of his lungs, and his helmet slammed face down quite painfully. But he stumbled to his feet, making sure of the enemy by lifting himself up on his swordpoint, which went through the cavalryman’s chest and out the other side.
He got to his feet and took a deep breath, swishing the sword through the air and shaking his head at the last five riders. “Come on you bastards!” he called. “It’s a long damned walk to town, I’ve got a headache and it’s going to get dark soon! I want to be drinking ale before midnight.”
The horsemen gathered together to charge forward again but one of them held up his hand and reached down to open up the bow case at his knee.
Herzer went cold as the composite bow came out and the horseman reached down to flick out an arrow. The bow would go right through his armor and might just go through armor and shield. Furthermore, the bastard could keep out of range even if he charged.
It still was the only choice and he raised his shield up before his eyes and started running. “HOW MANY OF THEM CAN WE MAKE DIE!”
The other horsemen closed on him, hacking downward, but he was straitly concentrated on the bowman who was trying to settle his horse. At this range it was a clap shot and Herzer was looking right at the arrow pointed at his visor when there was a twang of a bowstring.
And the rider tumbled sideways out of his saddle.
The arrow went he knew not where and he turned to the side slashing at one of the other mounts as there was a rapid “Thwang, thwang, thwang” and the remaining riders tumbled to the ground, arrows in chest, neck, and eye.
He looked up at the rise above the defile as a light clad archer dropped to the ground and smiled at him naughtily.
“Hi there, lover boy,” Bast said, hand on one outshot hip. “Sorry to ruin your fun, but I wasn’t willing to break in a new boy-toy.”
Herzer and Bast met Kane and a group of militia a kilometer short of the town border. The two were holding hands, Herzer riding a sorely lame and chagrined Diablo and Bast riding a bay Arab that had been one of the pack horses. They were trailing a string of horses, some of which had dead bodies thrown over their backs.
“I heard you were dead,” Kane said with a grin.
“Not hardly,” Herzer grinned back then sobered. “Barsten didn’t make it, though. He’s over his horse.”
“Yeah,” Kane said. “How many?”
“Six in the second ambush and six riders. I don’t know how many in the first ambush, though. Lots. Bast saw more.”
“As he said, lots,” Bast said. “The rest I think should be shared with Edmund.”
“Well, he will want to see you. I’ll take the horses.”
“Don’t wait here, we don’t know what’s coming,” Herzer said, looking up at the last of the light. “I doubt that it’s going to come tonight, though.”
“I’ll follow you back, but you’d better hurry ahead,” Kane said. “Move it, Triari.”
“I lost that slot,” Herzer said with a grimace.
“I don’t think you’ll be worrying about it for long,” Kane said with an ambiguous expression.
Soon Diablo was up to a canter and Herzer didn’t want to push him more than that. When they approached the town he could see torches moving into the stockaded area and somewhere a bell was ringing.
“I see the rest of the scouts made it back,” Herzer said.
“Yes,” Bast said, shaking her head. “And now the sheep huddle behind the walls of the paddock in fear of the wolves.”
“These sheep have teeth,” Herzer said as they cantered up to the gate. “And sheep dogs. Ho, Cruz, open the hell up. I’ve got the mother’s own saddle sores and I want to get off this beast.”
“HERZER!” Cruz yelled, jumping down off the stockade wall and shouting for help to open the gates.
As Herzer walked the horses through the gates he heard other people calling his name and suddenly the whole triari was gathered around him, crowding closely enough to make Diablo nervous.
“Back off!” He laughed, dismounting and then clutching at his shoulder. After the battle he had found that at least one of the horsemen had dented his armor hard enough to cause a bone bruise but other than that and the tag in his side he had come through his first battle well enough.
“You’re alive,” Cruz said, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Ow!” Herzer said. “Yes, I am. People keep saying that. And watch the shoulder.”
“Your armor is a sight.” Deann chuckled. It was, in fact, splashed over with blood. “You’d better not let Gunny see you.”
“There wasn’t much clean to wipe it with,” Herzer admitted, swallowing as he remembered the remnants of the skirmish. “Kane’s bringing the other horses and the bodies in. I’m supposed to report to Mayor Talbot.”
“It’s Baron Edmund,” Deann said. “They passed the Constitution of the Free States while you were gone. And guess who one of the first nobles chosen by acclaim was?”
“Oh,” Herzer said, working the name around. “I think… that fits. Somehow.”
“Demoted to baron has he been?” Bast said with a laugh. “Fits him not, methinks. Duke, aye, King even, Baron? I think not.”
“Well, time to report to the baron anyway,” Herzer said, walking towards the town hall.
The guards at the doors were holding back a crowd but they passed him through with a nod of recognition and surprise. “I thought you was dead?” one of the guards said as Herzer heard his name muttered in the crowd. Something about that made his blood run cold.