moment to study her dispositions from the front as they rode back. The tents and wagons of the Hulmaster encampment lay within the wide expanse of ruins that adjoined Rosestone, but all three shields of her army, and the Icehammers as well, now stood to arms along the remnants of the wall that had once encircled the abbey’s large outer bailey. The ruined walls weren’t much of an obstacle, but they offered some amount of cover, and the attacking force would be channeled toward the open spaces between the remaining wall sections. The old abbey building itself anchored their right flank; the Icehammers held that end of the Hulmaster line. Captain Wester’s First Shield waited in the center of their lines, and Captain Merrith’s Third Shield in a tangle of ruined outbuildings at the left flank. Larken’s Second Shield guarded the rearward approaches to the old bailey. The Amaunatori friars who still lived in the abbey’s intact portions had retreated to their chapel, hoping to stay out of the way.
The Shieldsworn cheered as they passed back into the lines. Kara nodded to Sarth, who slid down from his mount and hurried back out of sight in the abbey ruins again, and signaled for the shield-captains to join her. In a moment, Wester, Brother Larken, Merrith, and Kolton gathered around.
“I take it Marstel refused to kiss his own fat arse when you told him to?” Wester asked.
“No, he politely declined.” Kara smiled, but her eyes were fixed on the field in front of her. She studied distances, imagined maneuvers, and considered countermoves, all in the space of a few moments. “Larken, I want your shield to stand back off the line. You’re my reserve. As for the rest, we’ll stand our ground and let them come to us. We’ve got more bows than they do, and we’ll make them pay in the open ground.” She glanced around behind her, studying the lay of the land behind the Hulmaster camp. “I don’t think it’s likely, but if for some reason we’re driven out of the camp, fall back on the round hill there. That will be our rallying point.”
“Aye, Lady-Captain,” her captains answered.
“All right, get to your shields. No one’s to move from our lines without my signal. May Tempus favor you all.” Kara waited as the captains galloped off to their own companies, and quickly set their ranks in order. She rode over to take up a place near Brother Larken’s company, where she could keep an eye on the whole battle and choose the right time and place to commit the reserve.
Across the space between the armies, she could see the standards of the various merchant detachments riding away from Marstel’s banner, returning to their own companies. It seemed that the false harmach’s forces had finished with their own deliberations and were ready to advance. Several trumpets sounded from Marstel’s banner; the Council Guard ranks murmured and stirred, marching forward. The wind rose, making their banners ripple and snap in the breeze; the distance between the armies began to shrink.
“The enemy cavalry’s on the move,” Sergeant Kolton said from beside her. The old veteran was in charge of the small knot of bodyguards who stayed close to Kara and Sarth.
“I see them,” Kara replied. Between the Jannarsks, the Iron Ring, and the Verunas, there were close to two hundred enemy horsemen to keep an eye on; they rode out from behind the enemy left and positioned themselves to harass her right flank, where the Icehammers were posted. “Kendurkkel can hold them at bay.”
“Shall we open fire?” Larken asked her.
Kara shook her head, waiting for Marstel’s soldiers to march closer. She didn’t want her soldiers wasting arrows, and more importantly she wanted her enemies well within the killing ground when the first blows began to fall. When the distance between the ranks was half a bowshot, she nodded to her standard-bearer. “Vossen, signal the shield-captains: volley fire!”
The Hulmaster banner dipped and straightened; Shieldsworn trumpeters sounded the signal for Kara’s command. As one, the archers in each of the shields on the line bent their bows, held a moment, and then loosed their arrows. Almost a third of the Hulmaster soldiers carried heavy bows, and hundreds of arrows streaked through the gray skies. Council Guards reeled and fell beneath the deadly rain; distant screams echoed across the open moorland, and the approaching ranks seemed to ripple and writhe like a great, wounded serpent. Ten heartbeats later, a second volley took flight, and