For so long he had allowed his shame and fright to render him helpless. Not anymore. Casting his lot with the Qirsi had been the greatest mistake of his life, a desperate gambit born of grief and rage and drunken foolishness. He would pay for that error until his death, and long after he was gone his family would continue to pay. But maybe he could mitigate some of the harm he had done by making a hero of himself in the coming war. Not this one with Aneira and Braedon, but the real war against the Qirsi renegades, the one that would decide the fate of all the Forelands. That was the hope that drove him onward, that left him unmoved by the dismay of his captains. They couldn’t possibly understand. Up until a few days ago, he hadn’t either, though he should have. It remained to be seen if the realization had come to him too late.
True to his word, Gershon kept the army moving well past sundown, stopping only long enough to feed and water the horses, allow the soldiers to eat, and light their torches. The Solkarans didn’t stop for long either, but they could not increase their lead on the Eibitharians. When the two moons finally rose high enough into the star-filled sky to illuminate the grasses and boulders of the moor, Eibithar’s men doused their torches and quickened their pace, but it seemed the Solkarans did the same, for the enemy’s torch fire had vanished.
Their first indication that the Aneirans had halted was the barrage of arrows that pelted down just in front of the column. Aindreas’s horse reared, more because of the duke’s startled response than because of the arrows themselves, but Aindreas managed to keep himself from falling.
“Damn!” Gershon spat, fighting to control his mount as well. More arrows struck the ground before them, but all of them fell short.
“We were fortunate,” Lathrop said.
“We were careless. I was careless,” Gershon corrected. He peered ahead, eyes narrowed, trying to see the enemy in the dim glow of Ilias and Panya. Then he beckoned to one of his captains, who was marching a short distance behind the dukes and swordmaster. Immediately the man hurried forward. “Call our archers forward,” he said quietly.
The man nodded and ran back toward the king’s soldiers.
Lathrop frowned. “Do you think they mean to fight us here?”
“I’m not certain what they have in mind. But they’ve loosed two volleys now to no avail. I expect they’ll move their bowmen closer and try again. I want to be ready when they do.”
It didn’t take long for Kearney’s archers, three hundred strong, to reach the front of the column.
“I’d suggest you move back, my lords,” Gershon said. “I don’t want a chance dart to strike one of you.”
Caius shook his head. “I have a better idea.” He waved Gershon’s captain to his side. “Please, Captain, have my bowmen brought forward as well.”
The captain glanced at Trasker, who, after a moment’s pause, nodded.
“Mine as well, Captain,” Lathrop said.
Aindreas twisted his mouth for just an instant. “Better call for mine as well.” The others regarded him silently. “Well, I can’t let it be said that Kentigern shied from a fight, can I?”
“Thank you, my lords,” Gershon said, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Though I’d still feel better if the three of you moved back a bit.”
Lathrop glanced briefly at Aindreas and the duke of Labruinn before looking at Gershon again. “It would seem, swordmaster, that your authority over us only goes so far.”
Gershon’s smile broadened. “Yes, my lord. May I at least ask that you dismount and ready your shields?”
This the dukes did.
Soon the king’s archers were joined by six hundred more from the dukes’ armies. Moments later, another swarm of arrows descended upon them, and this time many of them struck true. Eibithar’s bowmen had brought shields as well as their bows and quivers, but still a number of them fell, their screams making Aindreas flinch beneath his shield.
“Loose your arrows at will!” Gershon called.
And a moment later the moor seemed to sing with the thrumming of so many bows. Cries of pain rose from the Aneiran army, like a distant echo of those that had come from Eibithar’s sons a few seconds before.
More darts fell around Aindreas, and more were sent hurtling toward the enemy.
“This is madness,” the duke muttered.
“I quite agree.”
Gershon was closer than Aindreas had known.
“I didn’t mean-”
“It’s all right, my lord. I believe I understand. But I’m at a loss as to what to do. It’s too dark and too dangerous to send the swordsmen forward, particularly with both armies loosing arrows blindly at one another.”
“What if we set one volley aflame?”
“My lord?”
“We wouldn’t even have to light all of them. We wouldn’t want to, because it would make them too easy to avoid. But if we light some of them, we might be able to see where the enemy is.”
“A fine idea, my lord,” Gershon said, sounding as if he thought Aindreas a genius. “I’ll speak with the captains right away.”
It took some time to get the arrows wrapped in oilcloth and lit, and in the meantime the armies traded volley after volley. Finally Eibithar’s archers loosed the flaming arrows and the duke followed their arcing flight wondering what their fires would reveal.
Only when they struck, though, did he understand how badly he and the others had miscalculated. Several of Aneira’s bowmen lay dead on the ground and perhaps two hundred others could be seen dodging the arrows that continued to fall. But the rest of the army was gone.
“Demons and fire!” Gershon rasped. “They’ve gone on. It was all a ruse.”
The Aneiran archers turned and ran, and after a moment’s hesitation, the swordmaster called for his men to attack. Instantly the king’s army surged forward, followed closely by the soldiers of Labruinn, Tremain, and Kentigern.
“How far ahead do you think they are?” Caius asked, as the soldiers overran Aneira’s men.
Gershon had already remounted. “They could have gained an hour on us. Maybe more.” He spat a curse. “I’m a fool!” He rubbed a hand over his face. “We’ll have to drive the men even harder now, keep them at a trot for as long as we can.”
The dukes climbed onto their horses, and Eibithar’s army resumed its pursuit of the Solkarans. There were fewer of the enemy ahead of them now, but still enough to make a difference in Kearney’s battle with the empire. The soldiers, heartened by their easy victory over the archers, maintained a remarkably brisk pace for some time before finally flagging as the night wore on. As dawn approached, Gershon was forced to call a respite. The soldiers seemed utterly spent, and Aindreas felt what little hope he had left wither and die.
But when the sky began to brighten at last, revealing the Solkaran army, the duke’s spirits lifted. It seemed that the Aneiran swordsmen had not left their bowmen as early as Aindreas had feared. Or perhaps they too had taken some time to rest during the night. The Aneirans had increased their advantage, but not so much that they could not still be caught. He sensed that the soldiers behind him realized this as well and he felt the lethargy of a long night being lifted from Eibithar’s army.
Looking past the enemy, the duke saw far in the distance several thin plumes of pale smoke rising into the morning sky. He thought he could see tents as well, and a great host of men. The battle plain. It would still be several hours before the Aneirans reached the other armies gathered there-he could only assume that Kearney’s forces held the southern ground-but that made the morning’s pursuit even more urgent.
“It seems the king has held them,” Lathrop said, already mounted and ready to ride on.
Gershon gave a curt nod, his expression grim. “All the more reason to keep moving.”
Lathrop eyed him in the dim grey light. “I quite agree, swordmaster,” he said pointedly. “I was merely observing what I suppose was already obvious to you.”