“On Korin’s right. Don’t you see them?”
Tamír shaded her eyes and looked. “Shit!”
Even at this distance, she recognized the golden-haired rider.
It was Caliel. And there, between him and Korin, was Tanil.
“Lutha, you and Barieus have my leave not to fight him, or Tanil,” Tamír told them. “I won’t ask that of you.”
Lutha shook his head grimly. “We’ll do what we must, when the time comes.”
Korin’s herald cantered down to the base of the hill, and Tamír’s went out to meet him. They spoke briefly, exchanging intentions, then rode back to their lines.
“King Korin requires that you surrender or fight, Majesty. I gave him the same message to carry back as you instructed.”
Tamír had expected nothing less. “You may withdraw.”
“Illior give you victory, Majesty.” The herald saluted her and rode off down the line. Heralds were sacred in battle, as well, and would observe the combat and carry word of the outcome.
Caliel sat his borrowed horse in his ill-fitting armor, his torn back sore under the rough shirt he’d been given. He cared nothing for the discomfort, though, as he gazed down at the opposing line with a heavy heart. He found Tamír at the center, just as he’d expected, and on foot. There were Ki and Lynx, too. Hoping against hope, he searched the other faces close to her, and his heart sank as he found Lutha.
Closing his eyes, he sent up a silent prayer to Sakor, Keep me from them on the field.
He owed Korin his loyalty, but he owed Lutha and Barieus his life, and Tanil owed his to Tamír, though he still did not grasp that they were facing her. Korin had tried to leave him behind with the baggage train, and even considered tying him up, but Tanil had wept and pleaded, thinking it was because he’d been disgraced.
“Let him come,” Caliel said at last. “He’s strong enough to fight. And if he falls? That’s kinder than leaving him as he is now. At least he’ll die a man again.”
Looking at Tanil now, he knew Korin had been right to agree. He looked more alert and alive than he had since Caliel had found him again.
As he watched Tamír’s banner fluttering below, however, his own doubts warred with duty, making him vaguely ill. Korin would not hear the truth about Tamír, and Caliel’s oath kept him silent. But what if she is a true queen? His conscience spoke with Lutha’s voice. What does it mean for us if we go against the true queen?
He looked at Korin again and sighed. No, he’d made his choice. He would stand by it, come what may.
Standing at Tamír’s right hand, Ki’s heart swelled as he looked around. Lynx, Una, Nikides, and their squires formed a square around them, every one of them fearless and ready. He saw the same determination in the faces of the soldiers. Grannia and the women of her guard gazed fiercely up at the other army—an army they would not have been welcome in. He wondered where Tharin was, and if he’d been victorious. Only the thought of Caliel and Porion in that other line gave him pause, but he pushed regret aside. They’d all made their choices.
A hush fell over the field. He could hear men talking in Korin’s ranks, the sound of coughing from their own. The rising sun was a faint white disk behind the clouds. In the forest, birds were waking up, their songs mixing with the measured sigh of the sea against the cliffs. It was strangely peaceful.
An hour passed, then two as Tamír and Korin waited for the other to make the first move. In his lessons on battle, their old teacher Raven had said that this was one of the hardest parts of a battle, the waiting. Ki had to agree. The day was turning heavy, making him sweat in his damp clothing. His empty belly rumbled under his belt and his throat felt sore.
Another hour passed, and the two sides began to trade taunts. But Tamír stood silently, gaze fixed on Korin, who’d dismounted to consult with some of his generals.
Nyanis walked up the line to join them. “He’s not going to move.”
“Then we’ll just have to make him,” Tamír replied. “Ready your archers. Grannia, pass the word down to Kyman’s wing.”
The shout went down the line, and was answered by the rattle of quivers being made ready. Ki unshouldered his and set an arrow to the shaft.
Tamír drew her sword and held it up, shouting, “Archers forward!”
The entire front line rippled as the archers ran to close the margin of flight with the enemy line. The rear ranks had moved up, too, keeping the stakes hidden.
The archers let fly, aiming high and sending a deadly hail of arrows down on the heads and upraised shields of Korin’s line. The enemy’s taunts turned to curses and cries of pain, mingled with the screams of wounded horses.
Tamír stood with her standard-bearer as the Companions and archers loosed shaft after shaft. Arrows fell like dark rain and continued for several minutes, as the archers loosed at will, then retreated to their original positions.
On the hill, horses were rearing and bolting. Korin’s banner wavered but did not fall. The line remained firm and, just as she’d hoped, the first attack began.
Korin saw Tobin advance on foot. That blue banner mocked him as he huddled under his shield and Caliel’s, fending off the whistling onslaught of arrows. Three struck his shield, jolting his arm, and another glanced off his mail-covered thigh.
Porion’s horse and Garol’s were hit and threw them. Urmanis threw out his shield arm to protect his fallen squire, then tumbled backward out of the saddle with an arrow jutting from his throat. Garol crawled to him, and held him as he clawed at the shaft.
“Get him to the rear,” Korin ordered, wondering if this, too, was a bad omen. Another taken from me!
“Look, Majesty, they’ve fallen back,” said Ursaris. “You must answer with a charge before they shoot again. Now’s your moment, Majesty!”
Korin drew his sword and brandished it, signaling Syrus and Wethring’s cavalry to charge from the wings.
With blood-chilling war cries, they booted their horses and flew down the hill, bearing down like a great wave on Tobin’s line. The front line of men-at-arms followed at a run.
“Look, they’re already breaking!” Alben whooped as Tobin’s smaller force immediately pulled back.
But the ranks didn’t break and run, they only fell back to expose a bristling hedge of angled stakes that the charging riders saw too late. Meanwhile, another thick volley of arrows rose from the rear, falling with deadly certainty among the charging riders. Men were knocked from the saddle or went down with their horses. Others in the forward ranks, unable to halt in time, were thrown as their mounts impaled themselves on the stakes, or reared and bolted. Others foundered inexplicably or fell over the downed ones and were trampled by those still charging.
The charge held, even so, and clashed against Tobin’s front line. The center bowed and Korin had a moment’s hope as Tobin’s standard veered wildly. But her line held and surged forward again, catching Korin’s cavalry between the press of his own men-at-arms as their line caught up. Boxed in between the forest, cliffs, and Tobin’s strong line, his own fighters were packed tight as a cork in a bottle. Another volley of arrows rose from Tobin’s rear ranks, arching over Tobin’s line to rain death among Korin’s stymied forces.
Just as Tamír had hoped, Korin’s advance force was crowded together as they charged, and their headlong rush made it impossible for the frontmost to avoid the stakes, mud, and holes they’d prepared to catch them. As the Aurënfaie archers loosed their second volley, the carnage increased and the air was filled with the screams of wounded horses and the cries of their riders. It did not stop the charge, only slowed it a little and created confusion.
“Defend the queen!” Ki yelled, and the Companions closed in around her as enemy riders came on.
Her archers dropped their bows and fought with swords or the mallets they’d used to drive the stakes. The blocks of men-at-arms surged forward, unseating riders with their pole arms or pulling them from the saddle to be dispatched with swords and clubs. Already at a disadvantage, Korin’
s own charging line of foot caught his riders even tighter.
“For Skala!” Tamír cried, rushing into the fray.
There was no question of holding back. Ki kept close to Tamír as he met the enemy with drawn sword.
It was like hacking at a wall of flesh, and for a while it seemed they were going to be driven back. The clamor of battle was deafening.
Tamír stood fast, yelling encouragement and urging them all forward as she laid about with her sword. Her blade caught the light with a red gleam. Trapped in the press, her standard-bearer fell, but Hylia caught the pole as it wavered, and held it high.
It seemed to go on forever; but at last the enemy fell back, making a ragged retreat across the stream, leaving hundreds of their own dead or dying on the trampled ground. Aurënfaie arrows followed them, slaughtering the hindmost as they tried to scale the hill again.
Korin cursed aloud as his advance line fell into confusion and retreated. Tobin’s banner still held fast, and he was certain he could see Tobin still boldly at the fore.
“Damn him!” he snarled, furious. “Porion, have the charge sounded again. And this time I will lead! We’ll strike them before they can regroup. Wethring, I want a flanking force sent through the forest to engage the rear lines.”
“Majesty, at least wait until the others have come back,” Porion urged quietly. “Otherwise, you’ll be riding down your own men!”
Gritting his teeth, Korin lowered his sword, aware of the many eyes upon him. As he waited, the fear came back, gnawing at him as he surveyed the dead littering the field.
No, I won’t fail this time, he swore silently. By the Sword of Ghërilain and my father’s name, I will act as a king today!
He glanced sidelong at Caliel, who sat on his horse so calmly beside him, watching the field with impassive eyes.
Korin drew strength from his friend’s presence. I will not shame myself before you.
As soon as Korin’s first wave retreated Tamír sent people out to collect the wounded and carry them back behind their lines. By her order, enemy wounded were to be treated with the same courtesy rather than being dispatched on the field, unless they appeared to be mortally wounded.
She remained in position, already bloody and winded. The Companions were equally bloody, but it was all the enemy’s so far rather than their own.
Nikides gave her a wry grin as he wiped his face on the sleeve of his tabard and only succeeded in making both bloodier. Gone was the soft, shy boy he’d been. After days of hard marching and rough living, he was as unshaven and dirty as any of the others, and looked proud of himself.
“You don’t need to find yourself an new chronicler just yet,” he observed, chuckling.
“See that I don’t.” She was more concerned with Lutha and Barieus. They were both pale under their helms.
“Don’t worry about us,” Lutha told her. “We mean to get our own back on Korin today.”
The mist had burned off, and the rain was clearing. The sun stood at noon. Ki handed her a waterskin and she drank deeply as she stood watching Korin consult with his nobles. Just then there was a stir among the soldiers behind her. Arengil pushed through, his arms filled with cheese and sausages.
“Our baggage train caught up at last,” he told her, handing her a sausage. “Hiril took the liberty of having food distributed after he learned how hungry you’ve been.”
Tamír bit into the sausage with a grateful groan. It was tough and spicy. Her mouth watered so hard it hurt.
“Now I’m even more glad you showed up!” Ki exclaimed around a mouthful of cheese. “I was afraid we’d be eating horse meat tonight. I don’t suppose you brought any wine?”
“That, too.” Arengil pulled a clay flask from his belt and handed it to him. Ki took a pull and passed it to Tamír.
She took a sip and handed it on to Lynx. “Bilairy’s balls, that’s good!”
All around them her people were laughing and cheering as the provisions were passed through the ranks.
Their respite was a short one. Trumpets sounded from Korin’s side of the field and she saw that he was massing for another charge.
Tamír and the Companions sent for horses and she called up what cavalry she had, placing them at the center and setting deep ranks of archers to either side of them.
Korin was no fool. Having been caught on the quills of her hedgehog once already, he angled his new assault against their right flank, skirting the forest to come at them from the side. Reaching the stream, some of the horses foundered in the soft ground and holes, as Tamír had hoped, but not enough to make a difference.
“Kyman isn’t turning!” Ki shouted, looking back to see the old general’s line advancing parallel to the cliffs.
Korin’s line was bowing. Those riders closest to the forest’s edge had rougher ground and did not come on as fast as the outer end of the line. Kyman was making for the laggards, putting himself in danger of being pushed back to the cliff.
Tamír marked Korin’s standard as he rode down the hill and led her cavalry to engage him. As the two forces closed she spotted him, mounted and closely surrounded by his guard. Caliel and Alben were still with him, and someone else wearing the baldric of a King’s Companion.
“That’s Moriel!” Lutha shouted.
“So he got his wish as last,” said Ki. “Let’s see how he likes the duty.”
“Please, Tamír, leave the Toad to me if we get close enough,” Lutha asked. “I have a score to settle.”
“If it’s Sakor’s will, he’s yours,” Tamír replied.
Ki had to kick his horse hard to keep up with Tamír as she charged. On foot it had been easy to stay with her. This time Korin was leading the charge and Tamír was bent on reaching him. As usual, it was up to Ki and the rest of the Companions to keep up as the battle lust took her. Lynx was riding on her left with Una. Nikides and Lutha were on Ki’s side, grinning grimly under their steel helmets.
The two lines collided like waves, each one stemming the other’s momentum. One moment they were in a rough formation, the next it was chaos.
The foot soldiers came boiling in behind the horses soon enough, too, thrusting at the riders with pikes and spears. Ki saw a spearman making for Tamír, meaning to come up under her guard. He kicked his horse forward and rode the man down, then cut down two more who sprang forward to drag him from his horse. When he looked up again arrows were raining down on Korin’s massed ranks. Judging by the arc, the Aurënfaie were shooting over their heads. Praying that they could tell friend from foe, he urged his horse on.
* * *
Korin had assumed Tamír’s line would angle out to meet him, but the far wing stayed back, not letting themselves be drawn. Instead, they waited, and came out at his center like a clenched fist, forcing part of his cavalry to turn and meet them.
Korin pressed on, keeping Tobin’s banner in sight. His cousin was mounted this time, and seemed to be trying to reach him, too.
Always in the lead, aren’t you?
The two armies surged back and forth, churning the soft wet ground to a deadly slick mess for man and horse. Korin rode with sword drawn, but he was hemmed in by his guard, unable to do more at the moment than yell commands.
In the distance he could hear a new outcry as Wethring’s flanking force burst from the trees behind Tobin’s line. Just as he’d hoped, those lines had to turn to meet the raiders, thus dividing Tobin’s force as his had been.
Even so, Tobin’s front line held and Korin found himself being pressed back toward the forest.
Arkoniel and the others had stationed themselves just behind the Aurënfaie, mounted and ready to act if things took a dire turn. Saruel had been the first to notice the riders in the woods.
“Look there!” she shouted in her own language. “Solun, Hiril, turn. You must turn to meet them!”
The Bôkthersan ranks were closest to the forest and they sent a deadly flight of arrows into the pack of riders as they burst from the cover of the trees. They c
ontinued to shoot as the horsemen bore down on them.
Hiril and the Gedre were farther back, and had more time to brace as Solun’s men took the brunt of the charge.
“Are we really going to just sit and watch?” Malkanus cried out in frustration.
“We gave Tamír our word,” Arkoniel replied, not liking it any better than the others.
“Only not to work magic against Korin’s army,” Saruel said. She closed her eyes, muttered a spell, and clapped her hands. Across the field, the trees at the edge of the forest where riders were still emerging burst into flame. Wildfire flames licked up ancient trunks, spread down branches, and leaped to neighboring boughs.
From where Arkoniel was sitting, it did not appear that men or horses were catching fire, but beasts maddened by the heat and smoke threw their riders, or bore them into the midst of the Aurënfaie as they tried to flee. Arkoniel sent a wizard eye beyond the flames and saw many more riders trying to control their mounts and find a way around the spreading blaze.
“If she takes me to task over this, shall I tell her you attacked the trees?”
“We had no treaty with the forest,” Saruel replied serenely.
Any semblance of order was gone as the battle devolved into a close melee. Still mounted, Korin could see Tobin’s standard a few hundred tantalizing yards away, beyond a solid press of men and horses.
Fighting his way forward, he caught a glimpse of Tobin’s helmet in the chaos, and a few moments later, his face. Tobin was on foot now and making straight for Korin, his face twisted in that same taunting smile Korin had seen in his dreams.
“There!” Korin yelled to Caliel and the others. “Prince Tobin! We must reach him!”
“Where, my lord?” Caliel called back.
Korin looked back, but there was no sign of him. Tobin’s standard was some way off, swaying over the press near the standard of Lord Nyanis. In the distance beyond, white smoke was billowing up against the sky, shot through with red sparks.
“They’ve set fire to the woods!” Porion shouted.
“Korin, look out!” Caliel cried.
Korin turned in time to see a woman with a spear breaking through his guard and coming at him on the left. He tried to rein his horse around to meet her, but the damn beast chose that moment to step in a hole. The horse lurched under him and went down, throwing Korin at the woman’s feet. She thrust at him, but Caliel caught her at the back of the neck with a downward sword stroke, killing her with a blow that took her head half-off. Blood burst from the wound, drenching Korin’s face.