Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

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 continued 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.

Caliel dismounted and pulled him to his feet, then turned to fend off the enemy. “Are you hurt, Kor?”

“No!” Korin quickly wiped the blood from his eyes. In the distance he could see Ursaris still mounted, trying to reach him but stymied by the crush of fighting. As Korin watched, a pikeman caught the man in the chest and he disappeared from sight.

Strangely, now that Korin was in the thick of the battle, his fear had disappeared completely. He’d held it at bay during the charge, but faced with all-out fighting, long years of training took over, and he found himself easily cutting down one foe after another.

Another woman wearing the colors of Atyion came at him, screaming a battle cry as she swung her sword. He lunged forward and caught her under the chin with the point of his blade. As she fell he caught sight of movement just behind her and saw Tobin again, this time no more than a few yards away. He glared at Korin and disappeared.

“There!” Korin cried, trying again to follow.

“What are you talking about?” Caliel cried.

Suddenly another storm of arrows hissed down on them again. Mago screamed and fell, clawing at a feathered shaft protruding from his chest. Alben seized him by the arm, trying to cover them both under his upraised shield. An arrow took him through the thigh, piercing the front of his hauberk, and he staggered. Korin reached down and snapped off the long end of the shaft. It was fletched with three vanes rather than four.

“Aurënfaie. That must be the reinforcements we saw. Alben, can you stand?”

“Yes. It’s not deep.” But he remained kneeling by Mago, holding his squire’s hand as the young man writhed in pain and the battle surged around them. Bloody foam flecked Mago’s lips and his breathing was labored and desperate. Air and blood bubbled from the sucking wound in his chest.

There was no question of getting him off the field, and if they left him, he would surely be trampled. With a sob, Alben stood and dispatched his squire mercifully with his sword. Korin turned his face away, wondering if he’d have to do the same before this day was over. Tanil was still beside him, wild-eyed and bloody. His mind might be weak, but his arm was not. He’d fought well.

The battle raged on as the afternoon lengthened. It was impossible to tell where Korin’s other generals were, except when he got a glimpse of them or their colors.

Tobin’s standard appeared and disappeared like a tantalizing apparition, and so did the young prince. Korin would make for him, only to look over his shoulder and find Tobin had somehow gotten away through the press. It was maddening how fast he moved.

“I want his head!” Korin yelled, catching another glimpse of him near the distant tree line. “After him! He’s making for the forest.”

Tamír tried to reach Korin but, try as she might, she couldn’t fight her way through the throng to his standard. Every time she got close it seemed to melt away.

“Korin’s outflanked us!” Lynx shouted to her. “And he’s set fire to the woods.”