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consolation of knowing that he would have his answer within a few weeks.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
«^»
Less than a mile behind Blade rose the walls of Vilesh. Two miles ahead rose a
cloud of dust marking the advancing Rojags. Invisible behind that dust curtain
was the Lanyri army invisible, but there, where they were supposed to be.
Scouts had been bringing in reports at ten-minute intervals all morning.
Behind a cavalry screen thrown out by their Rojag allies, the Lanyri were
advancing straight toward Vilesh.
Ornilan was throwing his entire army straight at the Pendari capital. Perhaps
he did not know that the main Pendari army was lurking off to his right rear.
Most of its fifty thousand men and horses were hidden in groves of fruit trees
and fields of ripening grain. Most of the men were dismounted, saving their
horses.
Only a few thousand were mounted, enough to keep the Rojag scouts pushed back.
Or perhaps Ornilan knew and didn't care. Perhaps he couldn't resist this
opportunity to get his army within striking distance of the walls of Vilesh
without fighting a battle. If Ornilan was that sort of headlong fighter,
perhaps there was no need to lure him into the trap prepared for him?
Blade very much wanted to believe that. Around him was only the Pendarnoth's
Guard and two army regiments barely two thousand horsemen in all. He wanted
very much to believe that he didn't really have to sit out here on the Golden
Steed and wait while five times that many Rojag cavalry advanced on him. But
he couldn't let himself be that optimistic. He simply had to wait and see.
Around him also stood ruined cottages, the souvenirs of a Rojag raid two weeks
ago. A thousand enemy horsemen had pushed right up to the walls of Vilesh. But
when the smoke had cleared away, Blade realized that the Rojags had given him
a valuable gift.
He scanned the ground around the ruins, narrowing his eyes against the glare
of the sun. He would have traded five hundred horsemen for a pair of
sunglasses, and a thousand for a pair of binoculars. But even his naked eyes
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could make out furrows and dents on the ground. During those two weeks, the
long-range siege engines lurking behind the walls of Vilesh had been ranging
in on the ruins. Now they could drop a salvo of two hundred stones and spears
within a hundred-yard radius of the ruins. Blade had seen them do it. The next
time they did it, those stones and bolts would be coming down on a mass of
Rojag cavalry. Or so Blade planned. Part of the plan was for him to ride out
in the face of ten thousand Rojags with his two thousand Pendari to wave the
bait in their faces.
If he was going to be bait, he was going to be tempting bait: Not only was he
riding the Golden
Steed, he was wearing the ceremonial war garb of the Pendarnoth. There had
been no such thing until the night before, when a regiment of craftsmen urged
on by Princess Harima had finished their work. Now
Blade gleamed and sparkled all over as he sat in the saddle. His high-crested
helmet was gilded and burnished, and the metal clasps of his leather armor
shone golden. A massive gold buckle set with diamonds held a blue cloak
encrusted with gold embroidery around his shoulders. His belt was made of
gilded links of fine steel, with a gold buckle almost large enough to armor
his stomach and groin. A
scabbard of gilded leather held together with gold-headed rivets carried a
sword with a jeweled and gilded hilt and gold engraving on the blued
steel blade. The inscription read: "THAT THE
PENDARNOTH MAY STRIKE DOWN THE ENEMIES OF PENDAR."
Gilded greaves on his calves, gilded spurs on his boots, gilded bit and bridle
and stirrups, gilded rivets holding the high-peaked saddle together-the gold
and gilding went on and on. Neither Blade nor the Golden Steed could so much
as twitch a muscle without making sun blaze from something golden.
Blade hoped he and his mount looked both impressive and tempting. But he had a
private, nagging feeling that he merely looked ridiculous.
He would find out shortly. The wall of dust was moving towards him faster now.
He could see a dark line more than a mile wide taking shape at its base. The
first rank of the Rojag cavalry was coming into sight. They seemed to be
heading straight toward him, but there was only one way to make sure they
would keep on coming. He nodded to his trumpeter.
Once more the harsh call of Pendari trumpets hammered at Blade's ears. He
could never call it a beautiful sound, but it was impressive and inspiring
when you were waiting for a battle to begin. All along the line of horses
there were flickers of movement and flashes of metal, as two thousand men
scrambled into their saddles. At the far end of the line, red smoke mushroomed
into the air as a signal flare went off.
That told the watchers in Vilesh that the "bait force" was on the move.
More trumpet calls, and the Pendari began to move. Blade urged the Golden
Steed forward to keep ahead of the advancing line. He had to show himself in
the open, to give the finishing touch to the bait.
Now the Pendari were clear of the ruins and picking up speed. A mile away the
dust cloud was slowing down and widening. The Rojags were not coming straight
in. They were reforming and extending their flanks. Blade shook his head. He
couldn't let them do that. They had to be kept bunched and coming on.
Again Blade turned to the trumpeter. "Blow the charge." More blarings, and
then the sun glinted off lance points as the Pendari swung their lances down
into position. The Golden Steed neighed loudly and tossed its head as it
gained speed.
Ideally the Pendari should have covered most of the mile to the Rojag lines at
a trot, breaking into a gallop only in the last few hundred yards. But none of
the men cared about sparing their horses, or anything except getting at the
Rojags. They were up to a full gallop within the first few hundred yards, and
went thundering toward the enemy. To Blade, it seemed as if a solid wall of
hoofbeats and war cries were rolling along just behind him.
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As the Pendari charge came down on them, the Rojags stopped and began to bunch
together. By the time Blade could make out individual horsemen in the dark
line ahead, they were massed solidly, many ranks deep. Then the Pendari charge
struck home. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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