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Forty-Three

Salme Elass’s tactical problem now was that her entire force, including all the peasant levy and footmen, could not reliably keep up with the fleeing brigands. A large force was always slower, trailing its supplies and its unwilling conscripts. If she mustered her strength in one place, she might never catch her enemies.

She had taken the only step she could, by sending her followers out in detachments at varying speeds, trusting to the fastest to bring her quarry to bay so that the rest of her strength could regroup and finish the business once and for all.

At first the bandits faced only airborne opposition, the fleetest of the Dragonfly-kinden – nobles and their retinues in light armour. They were few in number, for their strength had been spread wide to locate the fugitives, and the wiser of them simply waited high over the chase, signalling by their very presence the whereabouts of the enemy.

The rasher of the scouts, those keen to make a name for themselves, tried to harry the brigands on the ground, stooping on them with spears or loosing arrows as they dived past overhead. They soon found, however, that Dal Arche and Soul Je were both easily capable of hitting a mark whilst still running, twisting back and up to follow the flight of a passing warrior and then letting fly without ever stumbling or slowing. The scouts had minimal armour, the better to fly far and fast, and after the brigands’ shafts had brought several down the rest kept their distance.

The column of scouts, circling like some bizarre localized weather, would serve its purpose, though. Soon enough, Avaris the Spider called out, ‘Riders!’ as the first elements of the Salmae cavalry came in sight, still distant but gaining.

A handful still, but they would be harder to turn away than the scouts. Dal wordlessly changed his direction, striking out against the rise of the land. It was not clear to anyone if he had an actual destination in mind, and so Tynisa exerted herself to fetch up alongside him.

‘We can get under cover before they reach us?’ she got out.

He shook his head, saving his breath. Aware of her exasperated look, he grimaced and rasped, ‘These we kill. The next? Depends how soon, how fast.’

Tynisa nodded, dropping back. ‘Thalric, Mordrec,’ she snapped. ‘Rearguard.’

They both glared at her, neither of them happy to be taking orders from her. Thalric was supporting Che, who was still slowing them all with her injured leg. Wordlessly he passed her to Maure, who did her best to lend some strength to the toiling Beetle girl.

‘I count six,’ Tynisa stated. ‘Your stings, my blade.’

‘They could just go round us,’ Mordrec pointed out, half-breathless.

‘Then the archers must take them,’ Tynisa declared.

‘Let me take the lead,’ Thalric put in. ‘We need a horse kept alive for Che.’

The riders were closing swiftly, thrashing their horses to make up the distance, each one of them wanting to win the favour of Salme Elass. When they saw who awaited them, however, they faltered a little, two reining in and the rest swerving away. They fear us, Tynisa thought with satisfaction, and then she was rushing towards the nearest rider, even as he tried to haul his mount aside. He had ventured too close, though, and Thalric’s sting struck him against his breastplate. The scintillating mail turned most of the heat away, but the blow still sent the rider reeling back in his saddle, and before he could regain control of the reins Tynisa had lunged up, her blade piercing the chitin shell of his armour and running itself to the hilt into his side. She saw the man’s golden skin turn suddenly pale, and he toppled from his mount.

‘Maure!’ Thalric shouted. ‘Take the beast!’

The magician rushed forward but the panicking horse shied away from her, and as she stumbled after it, another rider charged her with lance levelled. Her wings lifted her from under the hoofs, but not fast enough to evade the weapon’s point. An arrow flowered in the rider’s neck, though, between pauldron and helm, throwing him sideways, jerking