Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [49]
In a chaos of thudding hooves, snorting horses, and shouting men, she swiftly got the formation in place. "Is anyone known to be dead?" Alusair called, not taking her eyes from the mouth of the valley.
"Dagh Illance," someone in scorched armor muttered. His helm was gone, and his hair was mostly ashes. He rode past her almost in a daze. "Perhaps one or two others that caught the brunt of the blast."
"Good riddance to Illance, the idiot. Foolishness must run in the family," Alusair replied, her voice low enough that none but she could hear. She drew a dagger from her left boot and reversed it, so that the large blue-green gem in its pommel pointed foremost, and called, "Go in fast, split up, and ride around each side of the valley, don't trample our fallen comrades! Throw daggers and spears at orcs on the upper flanks of the vale, and knock them to our level-we can ride them down at that point! If there's any cave or cleft at the back, keep clear of it! Ye hear? Right, then-ride!"
And with her shrill bellow echoing in their ears, the noble knights broke into a gallop. The cheerful hooting and war cries of their earlier ride were absent now. They were injured and angry at their foe, and every man rode with the fresh, chill jolt of seeing comrades fall in death. If the princess had not been the warrior she was, half of them would be riding for the lowlands now, leaving the other half dying on the battlefield. As it was, they rode grimly, wondering what would prevent another lightning bolt from snapping down their throats as they rode into the valley.
They thundered on, fear rising in their mouths. They were close enough now to see orcs, looking up with tusked snarls as they went about the grisly business of slitting the throats of their fallen friends. The humanoids hadn't expected the mage-blasted knights to return.
Then the Cormyrean knights were between the rocks and into the vale itself. There was a sudden flash of light near where Alusair's unbound hair streamed back over her shoulders, followed by a roar of flame.
A huge burst of red, roiling fire blazed up in front of them, and someone in the wedge of horsemen gave a frightened shout, but Alusair did not hesitate. The fire flared, then melted away as if it were a wisp of illusion, parted by their commander as she rode. She still held the jewel-pommeled dagger out in front of her, and a few of the men saw smoke streaming away from the gem. Doubtless it was some enchantment to fight the magical power of the enemy and turn aside its energies.
Then there was no time for such thoughts, for orcs were everywhere, and there was something to strike out at, at last! The knights parted to ride along the sides of the vale, cutting down everything in their path.
Brace Skatterhawk caught a glimpse of a snarling, gray-green face. He slashed out with his blade, struck something thick and soft, and rode on, never knowing whether he'd felled his foe. Short grunts and screams rose all around them amid the thunder of the hooves, and then fresh fire blossomed ahead.
The princess had been right. There was a cavern at the back of the vale, and from it was rolling an angry red sphere of flames, cartwheeling toward them. Alusair barked a command directing the knights to move to either side of the rolling fire. Then she charged the rolling fireball. Again the ball of flame evaporated at the touch of Alusair's bejeweled dagger.
With new respect, her warriors obeyed and reined in along both sides of the valley, watching a few surviving orcs cowering out in the open. Others of their goblinoid foes moaned and twisted feebly where they fell. The rest lay still and quiet. There was no further resistance save from the cavern itself.
"What's in the cave, Princess?" Brace asked. Threldryn Imbranneth was close behind him.
Alusair was winded and gasping, and the noblemen, romantics both, thought they'd never seen her look more beautiful than now, helmless in her armor. She shot them a quick glance and then swung her gaze back to the cavern.
"A dark naga,