hit and upended like saplings before a spring river flood, men cut from horses, animals shrieking as they tumbled, hooves flailing the air. The defensive line roared, men desperately trying to form a strong line, some astride dussieh that had no business challenging that formidable downhill rush head on. They charged together with a horrific crash of bodies, blades, armour and flesh. Horses collided, riders catapulted through the air, bodies fell cleaved from the saddle in a bloody spray.
The line disintegrated, and then the northerners were through, still spurring hard, though there were wide gaps in their ranks, some men fallen, others entangled and seeking a less direct path. Sasha headed straight for one such hole…the nearest man saw her—a clutch of rein, a change of direction, massive hooves pounding the turf as he sought to bring his momentum to bear. Another horse might have struggled, but Peg accelerated with an explosive burst of raw muscle, with no regard for the slope. That closing speed seemed to surprise her opponent, who swung a fraction late, and Sasha, swaying away and under his stroke as she had learned playing lagand, slashed his arm in passing.
Then she wheeled, racing back down the hill, despairing even now of getting close enough as the Banneryd line hurtled onward…and directly in line ahead, with heart in mouth, she saw a little knot of riders with Jaryd shielding Sofy's pony with his larger horse. But riders further back in the column were arriving now, pouring in from the left and flying between the trees, blocking the approach toward Sofy's position.
The Banneryd line wheeled right, those riders furthest left making sharp turns across the oncoming line, slashing blows at those who came close enough. Sasha's previous target, riding fast with his arm clutched to his chest, managed to get his signals confused and slammed into a tree with a horrendous crash.
The Banneryd line then raced across the road, ahead of Sofy's position, continuing downhill, their formation now more line-astern than abreast as the left flank fell in behind the right, fighting off pursuers who tried to cut them from behind. A northerner fell, then another cut a Goeren-yai from his horse…Sasha saw she had a line on that one, aiming to a single point ahead of him through the racing trees. He hurtled across the road, her following, and as great as his speed was, Peglyrion on a downhill run, with a weight as little as hers on his back, was quite possibly the fastest horse in Lenayin. She was on him from the left before he even saw her, and she cut him left-handed from the saddle.
She was too fast, in fact, for she overtook another on his left. He saw her, blade in hand, and she knew that was not a fair contest on horseback…whipped a short blade from her belt and threw…thud! It impaled itself in an intervening tree trunk. Which was enough, she decided, and pulled hard on Peg's reins. The other rider thundered onward, the entire Banneryd line racing downhill where the trees became thicker. Sasha circled in a wide turn, heading back upslope…and realised she'd outdistanced nearly everyone. Only now were several pursuit riders thundering by, hot on the Banneryd's tracks, more to harass and make sure they did not come back than to seriously challenge.
Sasha held Peg to a calmer trot back up the slope, plucked her knife from the tree trunk in passing, and spared the fallen northerner a cold glance. He'd tumbled into the base of a tree, head mostly but not entirely severed…a weak, left-handed backhand it had been, glancing off the armoured shoulder. Sasha knew she would never be half the swordsman in a saddle she was on two legs. But then, she fancied her horsemanship against even the dreaded northern cavalry, especially on Peg.
A flash of light upon the needles nearby caught her eye. A Verenthane star, its chain severed, spattered in blood. She recalled the similar star and chain upon the pedestal in the Saint Ambellion Temple. Krystoff's star. And she shivered, making the spirit sign with her sword hand still wrapped around the hilt.
On the road the scene was of semiorganised confusion. Sofy, the Udalyn children, Jaryd and Captain Tyrun marked the head of the column, and what was left of the vanguard formed ahead. Other men collected bodies, tended to wounded and yelled at wandering warriors to get back in formation.
Sasha rode straight to Sofy and Jaryd…Sofy seemed ready to cry with