The hound’s angry growling panicked the horses. They reared, and – save for one gelding – bolted.
Free of the spell, Senta brought up his sabre, barely blocking the blade thrusting for his throat. He parried a second cut and, twisting his wrist, sent a vicious return that clanged against the knight’s neck gorget of reinforced chain mail. Senta shoulder-charged the warrior, spinning him from his feet. A second man attacked, but this time Senta swayed aside from the killing thrust and rammed his sabre up under the man’s helmet, the point slicing through the soft skin beneath the chin, and on up through his mouth. The knight fell back. Senta lost hold of the sabre and drew his second blade.
Angel, his back to the cabin wall, was battling against two knights, the former gladiator desperately blocking and parrying. Waylander sent a bolt through the thigh of the first assailant. The man grunted in pain and half-turned. Angel’s sword smashed against the knight’s helm, cutting through the chinstrap. The helm fell loose. Waylander’s
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sword clove through the man’s skull. Angel sidestepped a lunge from the second knight, grabbed the man’s arm and hauled him, head-first, into the wall. Dropping to the man’s back Angel took hold of the helm, dragging it back and sharply to the left. The knight’s neck snapped with a stomach-wrenching crack.
‘Look out!’ yelled Senta. Waylander dropped to one knee. A sword-blade sliced the air above him. Waylander flung himself backwards, hammering into his attacker and hurling the man from his feet. Senta leapt at the man. His opponent reared to his feet, then lunged. Senta swayed aside, ramming his elbow into the man’s helm. The knight staggered. Senta leaned back and kicked out, his booted foot cracking against the knight’s knee. The joint gave way. The knight screamed in pain as he fell. Belash threw himself on the fallen warrior, pulling back the neck-guard and driving his knife deep into the knight’s throat.
Miriel, the crossbow loaded once more, stepped from the cabin. The last knight ran to the one horse that had not bolted and leapt for the saddle, grabbing the pommel. The horse reared and began to run, dragging the knight with it. The hound bounded after it. Miriel brought the crossbow to her shoulder and sighted the weapon. The bolt sang clear and flashed across the clearing to punch home into the knight’s helm. For several seconds he clung to the pommel, but as the horse reached the rise the man’s fingers loosened and he fell to the earth. Instantly the dog was upon him, fangs ripping at the dead man’s throat, but unable to pierce the chain mail. Waylander called to the hound and it loped back across the clearing, standing close, its flanks pressing against Waylander’s leg.
Slowly the swirling dust in the clearing settled back to the earth.
One knight moaned, but Belash sprang upon him, ripping the man’s helmet clear and cutting his throat. Another – the first to attack Senta – reared up and ran for the trees. The hound set off in pursuit, but Waylander called out to it and it paused, staring back at its master.
Miriel slowly turned the winding arms of the crossbow
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then, with the weapon strung, walked back into the cabin to fetch a bolt.
‘He’s getting away!’ shouted Senta.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Waylander softly.
Miriel reappeared and offered the bow to Waylander. He shook his head. The knight had reached the rise and was scrambling up the slope.
‘Allow for the fact that you are shooting uphill,’ advised Waylander.
Miriel nodded. The bow came up and, apparently without sighting, she loosed the bolt. It took the knight low in the back. He arched up, then tumbled down the slope. Belash, his bloody knife in hand, ran across to the fallen man, wrenching off the helm and preparing for the killing thrust.
‘Dead!’ he called back.
‘Nicely done,’ said Waylander.
‘What in Hell’s name were they?’ asked Angel.
The Brotherhood,’ Waylander told him. ‘They have hunted me before. Sorceror knights.’
Belash strolled back to where the others stood. He glanced at Miriel. ‘One damn fine archer,’ he said. ‘For a kol-isha,’ he added, after a pause. ‘I’ll fetch the horses.’ Sheathing his knife he strolled away to the south.