Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(191)

"We could wait."

"Every day we'd lose another hundred troops. How long would they stand it? How long before I had no army?" He raises the sabre for emphasis.

Koric nods reluctantly, then summons a messenger, who rides around the main body and to the vanguard.

Halfway up the long slope another squad of angels darts from the woods, slashing at the left flank of the lancers. Two squads of purple tunics race after them, catching one trailing rider, and slashing her from her mount.

The lancers slow, but do not stop as they near the trees, then vanish.

No one else attacks while the main force slogs another three hundred cubits uphill, while Viendros rejoins Sillek and Koric. Then a single mount staggers out of the trees, a purple figure sagging in the saddle. No other lancers return.

"Demons!" mutters Koric. 'They're worse than the Jeranyi."

"Far worse," agrees Viendros.

"Keep moving! Do the same thing if they attack from the flank again. One more attack, and we'll have the crest." Sillek turns to Terek. "Is the crest still clear, Ser Wizard? No pits in the ground?"

Terek bounces in the saddle, then answers. "No pits. I can sense that. The ground is solid, and clear except for some posts. They look like they started to build some fences. I saw them working on the fences days ago, but they're gone now. All that's left are the posts. Can your horsemen avoid them?"

"How big are they?"

"Like a tree trunk, shoulder-high. I would say ten cubits apart."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Sillek nods to Koric.

"We need to charge them, to cut them off," says Viendros.

Another squad of angel riders flashes down to less than a hundred cubits from the advancing lancers, reins up, where the riders draw short bows. The two dozen arrows almost wipe out the front row of horsemen, and the advance slows. A second angel squad appears on the right quarter, and also lets loose their arrows.

"Shit . . ." mutters someone. "No one shoots that hard from horseback."

Sillek wants to agree, but looks at Koric, then turns to Terek. "Are there any foot, any pikes, anything like that on the hill crest or beyond?

"Just the posts, ser."

"Koric," Sillek orders, "send all our lancers right after those riders. Clear the hill crest!"

"Yes, ser!" Koric nods, and beside him the trumpet sounds, and sounds again.

"Mine too, I think!" snaps Viendros, and he spurs his horse uphill.

Almost in insolence as nearly two hundred lancers begin to trot forward, sabres at the ready, the angels wait, and loose another horseback volley. Only a dozen riders stagger in their saddles or fall, and the angels fall back. In fact, they gallop away as though demons were pursuing them, and the lancers charge over the hill crest, pressing their mounts.

The hill seems to shiver, ever so slightly. Then, a wave of screams, mostly horse screams, echoes down the hillside.

"What?" Sillek turns to Terek.

"A terrible hidden thing ..." stammers the wizard.

"You said that there were no pits, and that they had ridden over the entire hillside!" Sillek rides around his own forces, ignoring the wizard and heading over the hill crest, ignoring Koric and his own guards.

As he crosses the crest, he reins in, staring at the mangled remains of more than fifty horse impaled on the line of pikes that had appeared from nowhere, suspended on heavy cross poles from the so-called fence posts.

Arrows start to fall once more, centered on the foot trying to hack through or climb or slip through the pike wall. Behind the pikes, those foot levies not struggling to chop the wooden pikes clear of the stout frames are dragging bodies away from the pike line. Yet the arrows, the demon-damned arrows, sleet down from everywhere.

Sillek waves to the first rank of the foot. "Clear those pikes. Now! Clear them!"

Viendros, from the western side of the field, echoes the orders.

Koric, riding hard, has caught up with his lord, and he repeats the command.

By standing in the saddle, Sillek can make out a second line of posts, almost concealed in the high meadow grasses beyond the lower grass of the ridge crest.

"Stand down," hisses Koric. "You're making yourself a target."

Sillek lowers himself into the saddle.

"Charge again!" demands Koric.

"No! Not yet." Sillek twists in the saddle. "Terek! That second line of posts down the hill. Burn down the post on the end. The last one. Turn it into cinders."

The white wizard frowns.

"Do it. There are more of those demonish pikes attached there. You burn it, and we can sweep around those defenses on the left side away from the tower and the road."

"There are archers on that side," points out Koric.

"There are archers everywhere, it seems."

As Sillek and Koric talk, the two wizards concentrate. Then one firebolt and another flash toward the big squat post. The post remains standing.

"Well?" asks Sillek.

"It's green wood, ser, and it's infused with order."

Another volley of the deadly arrows sheets into the front ranks, and horses and men fall.

"You sure they are only score two?" rasps Koric.

"They're angels, remember?" counters Sillek. "Do you want to fight them when they've built up to score twenty?"