Three riders tried to cut him off, but he swerved towards them, killing the first, then cutting left and onto open ground.
Kicking the grey into a gallop he raced towards the royal chariot. As he rode he could hear horsemen close behind him. Risking a glance back he saw a lance-wielding warrior no more than half a length back. The man was riding a powerful chestnut, and he was gaining. Behind him was a second rider, this one a swordsman. Transferring his sword to his left hand Conn undipped his cloak brooch and pulled the garment clear. Throwing out his right arm he let the cloak fly free, then swung his horse sharply to the right. The black cloak billowed out in front of the lancer’s mount, frightening it and causing it to swerve. Dragging on the reins, Conn charged the lancer. The man was an expert horseman: he reared his mount just as Conn closed in and the two horses crashed together. The grey went down. Conn fell heavily, losing his grip on the Seidh blade. The lancer bore down on him. Conn drew his dagger and hurled it. The blade took the lancer in the throat, and he tumbled from the back of his horse. The second rider closed in. Conn ran towards his sword, but the Perdii warrior cut him off. Conn let out a battle cry and charged the man’s horse, waving his arms furiously. The horse reared. Conn dived past it, grabbing his sword and rolling to his feet just in time to block a vicious downward cut. Three times their blades clashed, and on the fourth Conn’s sword slid clear, opening a huge cut in the rider’s thigh. The man cried out, and tried to swing his horse. Conn sprinted forward, plunging his sword under the man’s ribs. The Seidh blade buried itself deep in the Perdii’s body. The rider fell forward over the neck of his mount then slid to the ground. Conn glanced back. More riders were galloping towards him.
They were some way back. Mounting the dead man’s horse Conn kicked him into a run. He was close to the royal chariot now, close enough to see the charioteer take up the reins and whip the horses into a gallop. The Perdii king was standing alongside the charioteer. He had three spears close to hand and drew one of them, hefting the weight. Conn raced after the chariot, closing fast. A spear flew by him, then another. The third came straight at him. Throwing up his sword, he deflected the spear. The haft struck him side on. Grabbing at it with his left hand he caught the weapon. His horse was tiring, but he was close enough to the fleeing chariot now to see the face of the Perdii king. Hatred roared through him, burning like fire. With his left hand he flung the spear back towards the chariot. It missed the king, but slammed into the back of the charioteer, who fell, dragging on the reins. The two ponies swerved. The chariot tipped, then went over, throwing the king clear.
Conn leapt from his horse and ran at the fallen man. Carac rose, drawing his sword. He was both powerful and fast, and the speed of his attack surprised the younger man. Their blades met time and again, and Conn was forced back by the ferocity of the onslaught. But in his mind’s eye Conn saw again the body of his friend, hanging on a hook in the Perdii capital. A score of the king’s riders galloped past the fallen chariot and formed a circle around the fighting men. ‘He’s mine!’ shouted Carac. ‘Leave him. I’ll cut his heart out.’
Again he attacked. Conn blocked and sent a savage riposte that opened a wound in the king’s shoulder. Carac grunted and fell back. Now it was Conn pushing forward, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunshine as he hacked and cut. Carac parried each stroke, but the older man was tiring. Conn felt a fresh surge of energy flow through him and moved in for the kill. Expecting the king to fall back again, Conn was surprised when Carac hurled himself forward. Their blades met. The king stepped in and sent a left hook into Conn’s unprotected face. The blow was powerful and Conn staggered back. The king’s sword swept towards Conn’s neck. The younger man dropped to his knees – and lunged, the Seidh blade lancing into the king’s belly. Conn surged upright, driving his sword in to the hilt, the blade bursting clear of Carac’s back. ‘Just like I promised, you miserable whoreson!’ hissed Conn. ‘May your spirit burn in lakes of fire!’