Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(155)

Nylan looked over at Ayrlyn, who had just reined up beside him, and they exchanged glances. The healer nodded sadly.

As Ryba had predicted, several armsmen led the dozen mounts to the once-hidden archers. The archers mounted and began to ride farther uphill. At the same time, the main mounted force began to walk up the center of the ridge, slowly.

As the archers dismounted, Ryba said quietly, "Fire. Try to make each shaft count."

Since he had no bow, Nylan watched. So did Ayrlyn.

Within moments, half the Gallosian archers were down or wounded.

The horn sounded, and the nearly rwoscore mounted armsmen urged their mounts uphill.

"You three at the end, keep working on the archers. The rest of you take the mounted!" snapped Ryba.

Nylan touched his blade, then drew it, waiting as the Gallosians rumbled up the gentle, but barren, slope.

Despite the shields, the purple-clad armsmen began to fall more than two hundred cubits from the Westwind forces.

Nylan couldn't see how many made it to the ridge top, because two of them were headed toward the left end of the Westwind line, where he and Ayrlyn had reined up.

The engineer swallowed, then urged the mare forward, hoping he could stay in the saddle, but knowing that he would be dead meat if he sat rock-still.

The oncoming rider carried a long blade, not so long as the monster Gerlich used, but long enough that Nylan felt his black blade was less than a toothpick in comparison.

All the engineer could do was to slide the other's blade past him, then tighten his knees and try to turn the mare.

His senses, rather than his eyes, warned him of the next Gallosian, and Nylan just slashed, nearly wildly, but successfully enough, his arm propelled by something akin to pure terror, to drive the other's blade down almost into the Gallosian's mount.

Struggling to recover control of both mount and blade, Nylan plunged after the two as they bore down on Ayrlyn. She had the first, on her left, held off, but the second raised his blade on her unprotected side.

Nylan, with few options, hurled the black blade, again reaching for the air, the sense of smooth flow.

The Gallosian crumpled across his mount, Nylan's blade through his body.

Nylan winced, his head splitting as though his blade had cloven his own skull, and he clutched the mare's mane with his now-free sword hand, eyes filled with blinding white and unable to see.

He blinked, slowly able to catch glimpses of the ground ahead and the horse bearing the dead Gallosian. As the engineer trotted after the dead Gallosian, and his blade, his vision slowly returned, but his head continued to feel as though someone had driven an arrow or a blade through his skull. Each time he opened his eyes, knives stabbed through them. A quick look back reassured him that the guards had matters in hand, and he could see that Saryn had come to Ayrlyn's aid, and dispatched the other attacker.

Nylan rode nearly a kay before managing to catch and calm the skittish horse that still bore the dead man. By the time he recovered his blade and rode back, there were no Gallosians left standing. Two of the archers had reclaimed mounts and rode furiously down the lower part of the ridge, followed by a single armsman.

Nearly a dozen horses lay across the battle site.

Fierral looked sourly at Nylan as he rode up. "We'll need more arrows." Her eyes took in the dead body. "Yours?"

The engineer nodded.

"You must be surprising with that blade."

"He threw it through him," Ayrlyn said tiredly, rubbing her forehead, as she stood by her mount and began to unload medical supplies.

"Through him?"

Fierral rode closer and lifted the corpse half off the saddle, then levered the inert form out of the saddle. The corpse hit the ground with a dull thud. "You're as bad as the marshal."

Except she doesn't get splitting headaches that almost knock her off her horse, thought Nylan.

Murkassa rode up, holding her arm, and slowly dismounted.

Ayrlyn looked at the slash on the newer guard's arm. "It's only a little more than skin-deep. Get that grime washed out good, and then see me or the engineer." She looked toward Nylan.

He nodded. "That I can do."

Ryba rode over, shaking her head.

"What?" asked Ayrlyn.

"I just told her to stay back. She shouldn't have been in the front row. Ryllya, she's dead," added the marshal. "The newest ones aren't ready for this."

Ayrlyn walked across the rocky ground to where Hryessa looked down at a handsome brown-bearded man. Blood welled out from his left shoulder and above the breastplate.

"He's dying, and I killed him."

"He would have killed you," Ayrlyn said gently. "That's what happens when people fight. They could have left us alone. They didn't."

"Lyntar ... said ... beautiful women . . . golds ... there for the taking . . ." The brown-bearded man forced a smile, then tried to hold back a cough. His face paled, and the strangled cough brought up only blood-bright blood."... wrong ... he was ... about the taking ..." He looked at Hryessa. "So slender ... like ... dagger ..." His lips moved, but no sound issued forth, and his eyes glazed over.

Beyond the dead Gallosian was another ... of more than a score strewn across the slope.

"Nistayna!" ordered Ryba. "You and Cessya bring back the carts. We've got a lot of hauling to do."