Outside, Finn had dropped his bow and now held two bloodstained hunting-knives. Beside him lay two Nadren warriors and the body of Maggrig. Eight raiders circled him. ‘Come on, my boys,’ he snarled. ‘Come in and die!’
Beltzer strolled out into the open with his axe on his shoulder and saw Finn surrounded. ‘Bel-azar!’ he screamed. The circle around Finn broke as the giant charged, and the slashing axe scattered the attackers. A warrior carrying a short stabbing spear rushed at Finn, but he sidestepped and rammed his hunting-knife into the man’s belly.
*
Inside the tavern all was chaos. The raiders had forced their way in and hacked and slashed at the defenceless workers. Several were dead, others wounded. The survivors cowered on the floor, eyes averted from the warriors who stood guard over them. One Nadren warrior had climbed over the counter and was holding Naza’s wife, Mael, by the throat. A knife-blade hovered over her right eye. Naza lay in a pool of blood by the man’s feet.
‘Where is it, you fat cow?’ hissed the warrior, but suddenly a movement at the back of the room caused him to twist, his eyes narrowing. A door had opened and a tall man stepped into view carrying a shining sabre. Behind him came a second man, younger but also armed. The Nadren’s eyes flickered back to the first man; he was no youngster, but he moved well. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ the Nadren told the warriors. ‘Take them!’
The farm workers scrambled back to form a pathway and several of the Nadren ran at the newcomers. Swords flashed and the clash of steel was punctuated by the screams of the dying. The Nadren holding Mael watched as his men were butchered by the tall swordsman. Hurling Mael aside, he vaulted the counter and ran to the door, shouting for aid.
But he stopped in the doorway – and cursed, for galloping from the woods to the north were twenty lancers. He leapt down and stepped into the saddle of the nearest horse, dragging the reins clear of the post round which they had been loosely tied.
‘To horse! To horse!’ he shouted. Then the lancers were upon them. The raiders, most of them on foot, scattered before the charge, but the lancers wheeled their mounts and bore down on the fleeing Nadren. A dozen of the raiders, mounted now, counter-attacked, trying to cut a path to the south.
Inside the tavern Chareos stumbled. A sword flashed for his head and he hurled himself to his right, landing on the massed forms of the labourers. The last Nadren loomed over him with sword raised, but Kiall slashed his sabre across the man’s throat. Chareos regained his feet and moved to the doorway. On the open ground beyond he saw Salida and his lancers battling desperately against the raiders. The Nadren, realising now that they outnumbered the soldiers, were attacking with renewed frenzy. Chareos sheathed his sabre and drew his hunting-knife. He ran among the milling horsemen and dragged a Nadren from the saddle, plunging his knife between the rider’s ribs. Vaulting to the horse’s back, he drew his sabre and battled his way towards Salida.
Inside the tavern, Kiall glared at the workmen. ‘Is this what you will brag about to your children?’ he shouted. ‘How you cringed in the face of danger? Get up! Arm yourselves!’
Seven of the men pushed themselves to their feet, but most of them remained where they were. The seven took weapons from the dead Nadren and followed Kiall out into the open. ‘At them!’ yelled the young villager, running forward and plunging his sabre deep into the back of a horseman.
By the barn Beltzer knelt by Finn, who sat with Mag-grig’s head in his lap. The blond hunter was bleeding from a wound to the scalp.
Beltzer reached for Maggrig’s wrist. ‘He’s not dead,’ he said, but Finn ignored him. Beltzer cursed and stood, pushing Finn aside and grabbing Maggrig by his shirt. He dragged the unconscious hunter back into the barn, away from the slashing, stamping hooves of the milling horses.
Finn blinked and followed him. ‘Not dead?’ he whispered.
‘Stay with him,’ said Beltzer, hefting his axe.