John Flanagan: Oakleaf bearers

"Left left! Position two," he called. Evanlyn's call told him that the men had reloaded.

"Draw:shoot!"

And now he heard the first sounds of close combat as the leading ranks of horsemen made contact with the Skandian lines. It would be too risky to try to shoot into the Temujai front ranks now, but he could still interdict the ranks behind them.

"Left half left!" he called, and the archers swung their aim point back to the right by twenty degrees. Then suddenly, the air around him was alive with the hissing sound of arrows and all along the line his archers were falling, some crying out in pain and shock and others, more ominously, silent.

"Shields! Shields!" Horace was yelling and the shield bearers moved into position-but not before more archers went down. Desperately, Will swung around and saw, for the first time, the smaller group that had moved forward to attack his position while he had been busy engaging the main force. There were about fifty archers, he estimated, all mounted, pouring steady, accurate shots into his position. Behind them rode another, larger group armed with lance and saber.

"Target front!" he called, and muttered an aside to Horace: "Be quick with those shields when we need them."

The warrior apprentice nodded, watching anxiously as the fifty riders continued to shoot. Now arrows were thudding into his own shield, and into the earth rampart in front of them.

"Position one!" Will called. This was straight and level-point-blank range. "Draw!"

"Ready!" he heard Evanlyn call. Then Horace yelled for the shields to open and Will, almost on top of him, called for the release.

As the volley hissed on its way, Horace was already calling for the shields to come back into position again. But even in that short time, another half dozen of their men went down to the Temujai arrows.

Now Will noticed the red insignia on the Temujai shoulders and he realized why the standard of enemy archery had picked up in accuracy and rate of fire.

"They're all Kaijin!" he said to Horace. As he spoke, he raised his own bow and, shooting rapidly, emptied three saddles before Horace dragged him behind the shelter of his shield again. Half a dozen shafts slammed into it as he did so.

"Are you mad?" Horace cried, but Will's eyes were wild with pain as he looked up at his friend.

"They're killing my men!" he replied, and went to lunge out into the open once more, obsessed with the idea of stopping the Temujai specialists from picking his men off one at a time. Horace's big hand stopped him.

"It won't help if they kill you!" he yelled and, slowly, the sense of it all sank into Will's brain.

"Ready!" called Evanlyn. He realized that it was the third time she had given the call. She was prompting him to action. Still covered by Horace's shield, he assessed the position.

The lancers and swordsmen, unhampered by any harassing fire from the archers, were already closing with the Skandians in front of his position. Hand-to-hand fighting was breaking out along the line. Farther to his left, the main body of Temujai were engaged in a savage battle with the center of the Skandian line. The position was too confused to see who was winning if, indeed, anyone was.

Meanwhile, to his front, the Temujai marksmen, gathered by Haz'kam into a special unit, were cantering parallel to the Skandian defensive line, widely dispersed so as not to offer a massed target to his volleys, and engaging his archers with accurate, aimed shots as they were exposed. He knew that if he attempted to direct another volley at the Temujai, he would lose half his men in the exchange. There was only one solution now, he realized. He leaned over his parapet, yelling to the line of archers below him-a line that was now severely depleted, he saw.

"Individual shots!" he yelled, pointing to the cantering lines of Temujai Kaijin. "Shoot whenever you're ready and aim for their bowmen!"

It was the best he could do. At least this way the Temujai would not be presented with an open line of shields as his men fired. They would have to react to individuals firing irregularly. It would give his men a better chance of survival. It would also lessen the effectiveness of their shooting, he knew. Without central direction, their accuracy would fall away.

There was, however, one more thing he could do. He glanced down to make sure that the arrow bin in front of him was fully charged and quickly plucked four shafts out, nocking one and holding the others ready between the fingers of his bow hand.

"Keep that shield up and ready," he said to Horace, and stepped forward to the parapet, still concealed by his friend's large shield. He took a deep breath, then stood clear and let the four shafts go in rapid succession, spinning back behind the cover of the shield as the first Temujai shafts whistled around their ears in reply. Horace, watching, saw two of the shooters go down to Will's arrows. A third took an arrow in the fleshy part of his calf and the fourth arrow missed entirely. He whistled in admiration. It was remarkable shooting. He was about to say something to that effect when he noticed the look of total concentration on his friend's face and decided to say nothing. Again, Will took a deep breath, nocking another arrow, then spun out into the open, loosed again and lunged back into cover.

Now Horace began to truly appreciate the uncanny accuracy that had been drilled into his friend in the woods and fields around Castle Redmont, as Will spun in and out of cover, loosing off shots-sometimes one, sometimes two or three-and hitting mark after mark. The other archers in the Skandian force added their contributions as well, but none of them possessed the speed and accuracy of the apprentice Ranger. And as more of them were struck by counterfire from the patrolling Kaijin, the survivors became more and more nervous and arrow-shy, more likely to shoot without aiming, then dive back behind cover again.

"Change sides," Will ordered him briefly, gesturing for Horace, who had been standing to his left, to step across to the right. Horace shifted the shield to his right arm and Will ducked below the breastworks level and moved to Horace's left side. He had been varying his shooting pattern, sometimes shooting just one arrow, and at others letting go a rapid volley, to keep the Temujai guessing. Now he decided that they were accustomed to seeing him appearing to the right of the big shield. He selected another four arrows and stepped to his left, shooting as he came clear. Two more saddles emptied and he darted back into cover again. The change in sides had worked for him. Not a single arrow had come near him in reply.

He stepped left again, snapped off another shot and then, not knowing what instinct prompted him do it, dropped immediately to his hands and knees behind the earthworks. A vicious hiss split the air directly above him as he did so and he felt his mouth go dry with fear. Horace, seeing him drop, thought he was hit and went to his knees beside him.

"Are you all right?" he asked urgently. Will tried a weak grin but didn't really think it came off.

"I'm fine," he managed to croak around the dryness in his mouth. "Just scared to death is all."

They stood again, sheltering behind the shield and feeling the rattle of Temujai arrows against it. Will realized that the pattern had changed once more and the majority of the Temujai archers were concentrating on his position. It was a chance for his men to release another massed volley, he realized. But if the Temujai saw or heard him preparing them for it, the element of surprise would be lost.

"Evanlyn!" he called to the girl, sheltering in her covered position below him. She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes, and he continued: "Relay my directions! We'll get in another volley!"

She waved her hand, indicating that she understood.