I tried, he thought, squinting his eyes against the glare that the morning sun threw from his brilliant armor and shield. Gods, but I tried. Nothing is wrong with me, I have no trouble at all with a clean, beautiful boy, but sex with a filthy, incessantly yapping woman is something that a man of my refined sensibilities just cannot perform. And in thirty-odd years that slimy whore has put more horns on my head than a hundred flocks of goats could sport! She flaunts her lovers before me and, when I slew one of them, what did she do but seduce my favorite lover, ruined the poor boy for life, she did. He’d fathered three or four children on some clanswoman before he died at the intaking of Eeleeoheepolis . . . and it served the faithless pig right—he should have been tortured to death.
And when my armies took the field against the northern barbarians and the western barbarians, and during the years it took to win back the north half of Karaleenos, they made a mere puppet of me. Oh, yes, a figurehead, that’s all I was! Parading the army before me, calling me captain of commanders, while they gave every meaningful order.
As his mount crossed the midpoint of the bridge, Demetrics smiled and, straightening in the saddle, stuck a heroic pose, head high and right fist on armored right thigh. Well, I bided my tune, I did; now, I’ve done it Now I’m in southern Karaleenos, and / will wrest it from Zenos, or every man in this army will die in the attempt! Then they’ll all know that Demetrios is a man to be reckoned with. They’ll…
But there was no more time for quiet thought. A sleet of arrows fell upon the head of the column and Demetrios was hard put to control his screaming, wounded horse. None of the men were injured, for the bone-tipped hunting shafts shattered on armor and would not even pierce leather. But the horses were not so well protected; two were down, hampering the column, and several more were hurt.
Captain Helluh spotted the first stone coming and instinctively raised his shield, but the foot-thick boulder was short, splashing into the river yards from the bridge downstream. The second raised a brown geyser about the same distance upstream.
“Bracketed,” groaned Herbuht Mai. “The next stone will draw blood unless that ninny has the brains to retreat.”
The third stone took out a yard of bridge railing and some of the flying splinters peppered Demetrios’ stallion, at which the tortured horse surged forward, bit in teeth, nearly unseating his rider. Despite many misgivings, the column followed as best they could.
While his companions drew swords or readied lances or uncased darts, Mai unslung his horn and winded the signal upon which he and his lieutenants had agreed. Once, twice, thrice he blew the code, then slung the horn and drew his steel.
Seeing where he was being borne, Demetrios drew his sword—no mean feat at a full, jarring gallop—and waved it first over his head, then pointed it at the forest, meanwhile hoping that his horse would stop before he reached the border of the Witch Kingdom, three hundred miles to the south. But he need not have worried; the commander of the ambush knew well the vulnerability of dismounted archers and catapult men to cavalry attack.
Within the forest, drums rolled and, before the runaway had reached the southern end of the bridge, a mixed lot of lancers and irregular cavalry debouched from hidden trails onto the roadway. No sooner were half a hundred of the enemy on the road than they launched a countercharge.
Captain Helluh smiled grimly. Those posturing courtiers would take the brunt of the attack. It would be most interesting to see how well the amateurs received it.
They received it well enough. Any species will fight if cornered; besides, they feared Demetrios more than the enemy horsemen.
Almost before he knew it, Demetrios was in among Zenos’ cavalry. His pain-maddened stallion completely bowled over the smaller, lighter mount of an irregular axman. Then the well-trained war horse went to work with teeth and hooves, savaging horseflesh or manflesh impartially. Demetrios turned a lance with his shield and throat-thrust its wielder. A dart clanged off his breastplate, then an unarmored mountain irregular—wild-eyed and bearded—was raining blow after blow with a woodsman’s ax. Demetrios was able to deflect each blow with his battered shield, but found himself unable to use his sword until the stallion sunk big, yellow teeth into his opponent’s unprotected thigh. The ax split the stallion’s skull, but half the length of the sword had already penetrated the axman’s abdomen.