Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [133]
“We have to get out of here,” Tristan told him. “The knights will open a path to the castle. I want your militia to serve as a rear guard.”
The mayor’s eyes widened in surprise, but he thought for a moment before responding, and seemed to realize that this was their only hope. “As you wish,” he agreed, looking at the prince with his watery eyes. “Tell me when to go.”
“We’ll charge out of the north gate in five minutes.
Gavin will follow, protecting the weaker citizens. As soon as everyone’s out, you follow, holding the raiders away from the rear of the column.”
“Excellent plan!” said the mayor enthusiastically.
Avalon next carried Tristan to the north gate. He found the sister knights already assembled in a long column, ready to charge through the portal the moment it opened. Seizing a lance, the prince took a place beside Brigit at the front of the column.
“Are you ready, my prince?” Gavin asked, standing to the side with his heavy hammer resting easily upon his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” Tristan answered.
Gavin raised his hammer, and a hundred archers sprang from cover to send a shower of arrows into the northmen gathered at the north gate. He had stripped bowmen from every other portion of the perimeter to raise this concentration, but it proved effective.
The raiders’ attack on the north gate, already listless, broke into panic as dozens of raiders fell dead from the rain of missiles. Those that remained could find no shelter, and as their companions continued to fall, they turned and bolted for the safety of their own lines.
“They’re running,” called Gavin, after leaping to the wall. “Go!”
Eager hands pushed the wide oaken gates apart, and the column of knights raced from the town. Tristan and Brigit slowed after they emerged, allowing the others to fill out the line to either side. In line abreast, the Sisters of Synnoria charged.
The area immediately before the gates had been cleared by the archers, and they raced among the bodies of many dead northmen. As they reached the limits of bow range, small bands of raiders stood to oppose them. The lances of the knights, and the hooves of the steeds, turned each of these groups into piles of bloody corpses.
Quickly, the northmen realized that they could not stand against the charge of the heavy cavalry, and they began to flee from the sisters’ path. Tristan risked a quick look behind and saw Gavin leading his company from the gate to protect the ground captured in the charge. His heart soared with excitement as he saw the raiders fleeing in panic before them, opening the path to the castle.
He did not see disaster approaching from the right until it was too late.
*****
Laric had been waiting many days for just such an opportunity. The black and threatening skies of this day had seemed a fitting omen. Patiently, standing with the Bloodriders, he waited through the morning hours in the shelter of a small grove of trees north of the town. If the Ffolk attempted to break out, as seemed very likely given the battle in the town, he knew that the silver knights would lead the charge.
And the Bloodriders would be waiting.
Finally they got their chance. The sweeping charge of the white horses sent raiders scurrying before them, or falling dead in their tracks. Closer they rumbled, but still Laric delayed. He wanted his attack to surprise, and would not advertise the presence of his company by breaking from the trees prematurely.
But now the time was right, and he spurred the great black horse forward. Behind him thundered the rest of his troop, racing toward the right wing of the sisters’ line. The knights passed so close to the trees that the Bloodriders struck them before any of them saw the threat.
Laric saw one Bloodrider strike the head from a sister knight, and felt the resulting rush of power infuse the troop. One of the white horses fell heavily, knocked to the ground by the crush of the attacking Riders. In