Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(141)

"I'd say that means a Suthyan force holds the ford," Gethen says.

"Probably."

They continue to ride toward the messenger.

"Suthyans, Lord Sillek," announces the rider in the purple tunic.

"How many?"

"Not more than score twenty, I'd say. Two- to threescore mounted, and none are archers."

Sillek nods. "Stay back on the hill. Don't let them see you. We'll be there presently."

"Yes, ser." The messenger heads back toward the five other scouts.

"What do you plan, Lord?" asks Gethen.

"To destroy them," answers Sillek.

"You have more than enough forces to make them retreat." Gethen turns in the saddle to survey the more than two thousand troops following.

"If I let them escape, then I'll have to fight them later."

"They are outnumbered, and will fight desperately, and that will cost you disproportionately," advises Gethen.

"In a head-to-head battle, yes."

The older man waits. "I await your orders, Lord."

"With the option to disengage if I plan something too stupid, Ser Gethen?" asks Sillek with a smile.

"You are both your father's and your mother's son, I think."

They proceed to the grassy back side of the hill overlooking the ford-and the Suthyans-where Sillek gathers in the chief armsmen and the two wizards.

"Hold the body of the troops just below the hill crest on this side," Sillek orders the chief armsmen. "Keep them still. About half the mounted troopers will come with me. We'll hold the hill crest in full view of the Suthyans."

Gethen frowns, but says nothing.

Sillek turns to Terek and continues with his instructions. "You and Jissek will be with us, and when I give the order, you're to start casting those firebolts into their ranks. We'll start downhill, slowly, but stay short of really effective bow range. They don't have any Bleyani bowmen, thank the light."

Sillek pauses and scans the faces, then bites back the words he might have said, instead adding, "We'll be showing less force than they have, and by coming downhill, we're also showing that I'm young and inexperienced. The firebolts will get them angry, because that's not fighting fair, and they'll come charging after us-"

"If they don't?" asks Gethen.

Sillek shrugs. "Then we stop a third of the way down the hill and let Terek and Jissek fry as many of them as we can. I'm not in this for honor. The idea is to take the river and Rulyarth as effectively as possible. If you would, Ser Gethen, I'd like you to arrange the forces here so as to trap the Suthyans once they cross the hill crest. Could we set the pikes so their horse couldn't stop in time?"

Gethen purses his lips. Then his lips twist. "You have a nasty turn of thought, Lord Sillek. Nasty ... but it should work."

The chief armsmen nod in agreement.

Sillek looks to the armsmen. "Don't let anyone charge down that hill. If anyone tries it, I'll have Terek turn him into charred bacon. Let them all know that, if you have to."

The grizzle-bearded armsman on the right coughs and spits from his saddle and onto the damp grass. "Isn't that being a mite hard, ser? Especially when it's an easy fight, us havin' so many more than them?"

"No. We'll need every man we have alive and well when we reach Rulyarth. I'm not interested in glory hounds. You can tell them that, too. I want to win with the fewest lives lost."

The slightest nod from the oldest armsman greets his statement.

Shortly, Sillek leads more than twoscore mounted troops over the hill crest and slowly downhill under a pair of purpled banners. To the right of the hill is the river, and from farther east comes the muted rumbling of rapids above the point where the two rivers meet.

A trumpet sounds from the Suthyan forces, and the Suthyan horse, numbering nearly twice those Sillek leads, form up on the flat before the long gentle slope that leads up toward the banners of Lornth.

The Suthyans wait as Sillek's troop descends. In time, Sillek gestures, and his troopers rein up.

The Suthyans continue to wait.

Sillek shrugs and says, "Make ready, Wizards."

"We are ready, Lord," answers Terek.

"Now!" orders Sillek.

Terek concentrates, almost wavering in his saddle, but a white-red bolt of fire arcs downhill and into the mounted Suthyans.

A single horse rears, flame rising from where the rider had been, and screams as only a horse in pain and agony can.

Jissek follows with a second firebolt, then Terek with a third.

By the time a half-dozen Suthyans have been brought down with wizard fire, some of the horse troopers trot uphill. Then, the trumpet sounds, and all the Suthyans begin the charge toward the apparently outnumbered Lornians.

"A few more firebolts," orders Sillek, before turning to the armsman mounted on the horse beside him. "Let them get within a hundred cubits."

"That's too close, ser. They'll chase if they get to two hundred."

"Two hundred, then. Would you suggest a flat gallop, or a quick trot?"

The other grins. "A good commander would order a gallop, get you clear, then a walk. A dumb one always orders a quick trot, then a gallop, and your mount's got nothing left."