Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [141]
"Indeed I do," Hanrald remarked wryly. He stopped and raised his sword, staring at the leading rider, a huge black-armored man with a longsword and great metal shield. "Halt!" cried the third son of Blackstone.
Ignoring the command, the rider spurred his horse to a trot. His company followed, and the ground in the vale rumbled under the heavy impact of hooves.
"He said halt!" Newt snapped, darting ahead of his two compatriots. "That means you're supposed to stop!"
As the dragon spoke, a massive chasm appeared in the earth before the startled riders. Horses screamed and kicked, rearing back in the moment before their forehooves plunged into blackness.
"Sorcery!" cried one of the mounted warriors.
"Around it, then!" shouted another, spurring his horse toward the edge of the chasm, coming around the corner and breaking into a charge toward Hanrald and his companions.
But the knight of Blackstone stepped forward and raised his sword. He felt supremely confident now-the power of the goddess flowed within him. As the charger lumbered forward, Hanrald suddenly dodged to the side. The rider tried to pull his horse around, but the knight saw a potentially fatal gap in the man's armor.
Hanrald thrust for that opening, between the breastplate and armored back. The sliver of steel that was his blade sliced into flesh. With a shriek of agony, the mortally injured rider tumbled from his saddle. Hanrald seized the reins, pulling the steed to a halt by sheer strength. The rest of the riders raced toward him, intent on following the fallen warrior, as the knight swung into the saddle.
"Go this way!" shouted Newt, gleefully flying past. As the faerie dragon darted toward the yawning gap, the chasm suddenly vanished, as Hanrald had suspected it might.
Instantly the mounted knight urged his horse across solid ground. Hanrald's charge carried him into the last two riders of the long file, who like the rest of their company, had been riding along the edge of a barrier that no longer existed. The knight's sword cleaved the head from one, while the other's horse tumbled, throwing its armored rider to the jagged, rock-strewn ground with bone-crushing force.
Cries of consternation and rage burst from the mounted company as they whirled, trying to close with the lone knight. Exploiting his momentum, Hanrald rode full into the midst of them, hacking to his right and left. Shieldless, he relied upon quickness and audacity for protection, and as he fought, these traits served him better than steel plate.
The mass of horsemen milled and lunged about as one after another they tried to strike at the swordsman, only to find that Hanrald had broken away. One hulking rider wearing black plate slashed at the Blackstone knight, striking a ringing blow against his chest and then evading Hanrald's return thrust. The man bellowed commands at his fellows.
Moments later, Hanrald burst from the other side of the band, but his seconds of savagery had left no fewer than five more of the riders groaning or bleeding on the ground. He spurred his horse along the shore, back toward the druid.
Danrak, meanwhile, drew another of his talismans, a tiny piece of charcoal that had been coated with phosphorus, from his pouch. The druid ran toward the fight, watching as Hanrald evaded his enemies by leading them on a long, curving ride around the fringe of the well. Half the attackers broke off, reversing direction, charging around the opposite side of the circular pool so that Hanrald would be caught in a deadly pincer.
The latter group, some ten riders, thundered past Danrak, ignoring the unarmored and apparently unarmed footman. As the first horse reached Danrak, however, the druid threw the coated coal onto the ground, directly in the mount's path.
Immediately red tongues of flame exploded upward from the earth, searing the legs and belly of the first horse and then surging higher, a fiery wall of