Four Rigante emerged from the trees to the south and loped to where Kaelin, Rayster and Korrin were talking. One of them was Korrin’s brother, Fada. ‘Potter is dead,’ he said. Throat cut. They sent assassins into the woods. The whole of their army is marching on us from the north.’
They were caught in a vice.
‘We need to head east,’ said Korrin. ‘There’s open ground there. We could make it around them and scatter. Meet up later with Macon at Wishing Tree.’
‘Did you see any cavalry?’ Kaelin asked Fada.
‘No. Just infantry.’
‘The cavalry will be east of us, waiting for just such a move. They’ll hammer into us as we make the break. West is no option. That will take us down onto the valley floor, with nowhere to escape to. No. We have to fight.’
Then fight it is,’ said Korrin.
Take half the men north and hold the slope,’ said Kaelin. ‘I’ll deal with those in the south, then come to your aid.’
Three hundred and fifty against four thousand. Well, don’t take your time, cousin. Those odds are steep – even for the Rigante.’
Kaelin ran back among the clansmen. ‘Every second man follow me!’ he shouted, then headed back towards the south. By the time the Rigante reached the crest of the ridge the enemy musketeers were halfway up.
‘Volley line!’ yelled Kaelin. The Rigante instantly spread out along the crest and, kneeling, brought their own muskets to bear.
‘Fire!’ A murderous volley tore into the advancing ranks. The front line was scythed down, but the second returned fire, then charged up the slope. Coolly the Rigante reloaded, then sent a second volley into them. ‘Down muskets!’ yelled Kaelin. ‘Charge!’
With a terrifying battle cry the Rigante drew their sabres and pistols and hurled themselves down the slope into the startled musketeers. They had been told they outnumbered the enemy, and they had expected their attack to be a surprise. Now they themselves were being attacked. At point blank range the Rigante fired their pistols into the enemy. Then they tore into them with sabres and knives. The Varlish musketeers were tough men, but they had never faced a foe as savage and remorseless as the Rigante.
Even so, they tried to hold to their formation and fight back. They had the advantage of superior numbers, and they were armed with bayoneted muskets. But they had advanced in skirmish lines and were not closely ordered. The Rigante tore into them. Even those clansmen stabbed by the bayonets lashed out, killing the wielders, and, bleeding heavily, rushed forward to kill again and again until they were cut down.
Kaelin Ring, with sword and hunting knife, cut his way through the first line. Sidestepping a bayonet lunge he stabbed the musketeer in the chest with his knife, then spun to slice his sabre across the throat of another. Rayster was close by, hacking and slashing with two sabres.
Panic spread through the musketeers like windblown flames through dry brush. They turned and fled, throwing aside their muskets. The Rigante surged after them, cutting them down in their scores.
Kaelin Ring lifted the horn at his side and blew it three times. The Rigante halted and loped back to where he stood. ‘Our comrades need us,’ he said. ‘Let the rest go. Reload your weapons.’
As they ran back up to the crest of the ridge Kaelin looked back. Of the fifteen hundred musketeers who had made the charge less than two hundred had escaped. The slope was littered with the dead and the dying. Many Rigante were among them.
Back at the north end of the woods Korrin Talis had fallen back, and the enemy were into the trees and pursuing the clansmen. Kaelin’s men swarmed into the fray. For a while the battle ebbed and flowed, but the sheer ferocity of the Rigante began to tell. They drove the enemy back from the trees and out onto open ground. The fighting was fierce, hand to hand, toe to toe. On the valley floor below the enemy cavalry rode in from the east and began to advance up the slope. The foot soldiers fell back, streaming through the lines of advancing Lancers.