Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga #7) - Page 45

Something felt wrong to Pony as she came ashore that midsummer day. All of this desperate plan didn't seem to fit well in her designs for the kingdom of Honce-the-Bear. She had gone out spiritually with the soul stone even as Saudi Jacintha had rounded the peninsula's tip, and everything she had been able to discern had seemed confirmation of the conclusions of Juraviel's scouts.

And yet, something just didn't feel right to her. It was more than her remorse at not being able to run right off to free Roger Lockless, she knew, and she was not the only one feeling this unease. Even Symphony, freed at last from his confinement aboard Saudi ]acintha, snorted and shook his head nervously, and seemed to jump at every touch.

"The great stallion fears this move," Pony remarked to Bradwarden. "I feel it as well, a sense of dread."

"I'm not for arguin' with ye, girl," the centaur replied. "But I'd be thinkin' ye were daft if ye weren't feeling that way. We're taking a mighty gamble here and puttin' all our money on the table."

Pony listened and absorbed the truth of his words. This sortie was different, and more dangerous than anything they had previously attempted. When they had struck at Pireth Tulme and at St. Gwendolyn, even when they had gone to Jacintha to oppose Abbot Olin, they had never moved inland more than a couple of hours' march from their ships and the safety of the Mirianic. Now, though, they were soon to be hard-marching away from the coast for three long days, opening more than fifty miles of ground between themselves and their boats.

"And now we're to face him," Bradwarden remarked a moment later, drawing the woman from her thoughts. "Yer son. Ye're to go against him directly for the first time since he chased ye from Ursal. That's got ye afraid, and rightly so."

"So you believe that we must simply trust in Juraviel's scouts?" Pony asked.

"I'm thinking that if they're right, we've got ourselfs a better chance now than we might ever be seein' again. If yer son's grown too confident and has made a mistake, then we'd be fools not to charge in now." The centaur gave a little chuckle, looking down at her from his full height, and finished, "How dark's the world to be if St.-Mere-Abelle falls to him and to De'Unnero?"

His words were true enough, Pony knew, so she simply nodded and swallowed her uneasiness.

Soon after, she was right beside Prince Midalis, Bruinhelde, and Andacanavar, leading the march across the peninsula.

They charged up the coast with a single purpose: to find the place where Prince Midalis had come ashore. Led by Sir Blaxson of the Allhearts, this splinter group of three thousand warriors knew that they would not be a part of the glorious battle that would soon occur at St.-Mere-Abelle. But they knew, too, and to a man, that their mission here was vital to their king's success.

There must be no escape! Sir Blaxson understood the great risks involved – his force was in many ways in more peril than Aydrian's own army. Duke Kalas has explained the plans to him, and Sir Blaxson was a seasoned enough warrior to understand that in good part the strategy pivoted on timing and a guess.

Would Prince Midalis really take the bait King Aydrian had offered? Would the prince come ashore as predicted, and in the time period predicted? For if that was not the case, Sir Blaxson and his soldiers might find themselves face-to-face with Midalis himself, along with an army larger than Blaxson's own, and one that included Jilseponie Wyndon! Sir Blaxson had warned his men of the potential battle they faced, and his pride had only multiplied ten times over and more when the warriors under his command had taken up the call of King Aydrian and had pressed on more urgently, double-timing their march throughout the day, from long before the dawn until long after the sunset.

They found their reward on the second day after they had splintered from Duke Kalas, their fifth day away from St.-Mere-Abelle. In a sheltered cove only a short distance up the western shore of the All Saints Peninsula, they found the fleet of Prince Midalis.

Alpinadoran longboats had been drawn up onto the shore, while the greater sailing vessels sat at anchor in the distance.

Nearly three hundred men, hardy Alpinadoran warriors all, guarded the beached boats.

When his scouts returned to report the sighting, Sir Blaxson didn't hesitate, forming his line.

"Our duty is here and now before us," he told his men, riding his To-gai pony up and down the length of that line. "The former prince has brought an invader to our fair shores: an Alpinadoran foreigner. A barbaric invader! These northmen know no quarter, no mercy, and no decency. They will kill our people indiscriminately; they will take our women back to their cold wasteland to serve as bed warmers! "We must turn them now!" Sir Blaxson cried. "We must kill the barbarians and destroy their vessels. Damnation awaits Prince Midalis for bringing these murderers to the fair shores of Honce-the-Bear! And King Aydrian will deliver him to that damnation, alongside all the traitorous rabble who have joined him!"

The warriors cheered his every word, their excitement building, the sense of righteousness overflowing.

"Death to the barbarians who dare come south to spoil our lands, our women, our children!" Sir Blaxson cried, and he turned his pony to the north, drew forth his sword, and pointed the way.

The charge of three thousand warriors flowed over the high bluffs just south of the sheltered cove, descending fast upon the surprised Alpinadoran guards. Kingsmen archers filled the air with deadly missiles.

Sir Blaxson sent his infantry down first, the soldiers breaking left and right as they neared the barbarian line, for through the center came the cavalry charge.

To their credit, the Alpinadorans did not break ranks and flee. In concert with their proud heritage, in agreement with the tenets that guided their warrior existence, they took up their weapons and joined in a song to Dane Thorrson, their god of battle. Side by side, they met the attack with a wave of thrown hammers, then with their own muscle.

Against the infantry, the great warriors of the northern lands killed two Bearmen for their every loss, but strong as they were, the Alpinadorans had no answer for the heavy Kingsman and Allheart cavalry. Even to the sides of the devastating cavalry charge, the Alpinadorans were swarmed and brought down, for the army of Sir Blaxson outnumbered them ten to one.

Few of the Alpinadorans fell wounded, for they fought until all life had left their tall, muscular frames. Those wounded few were shown no mercy by Sir Blaxson, nor did a single Alpinadoran ask for such.

They were put to the sword, joining the dead on the blood-soaked beach.

The task was not finished, however, and Sir Blaxson ordered his men to destroy half of the forty longboats. The other half were dragged back into the surf, manned by Bearmen warriors.

Out they went for the anchored, and barely crewed, warships.

A couple, including Saudi Jaantha, raised their sails and headed out. One even managed to begin firing its catapult at the approaching armada, though to no effect.

One by one, the great ships of Honce-the-Bear were reclaimed in the name of King Aydrian.

Watching from the beach, Sir Blaxson puffed his old chest out in pride every time the flag of Ursal was brought down and the bear and tiger of King Aydrian was run up. Those two or three that managed to get away would be of no consequence, he understood. He had served his king and his duke to perfection.

Now Prince Midalis had no retreat.

"Just as Juraviel informed us," Prince Midalis remarked to the others when they came in sight of the high ground north of St.-Mere-Abelle.

There in the distance loomed the unmistakable forms of catapults, and even as they watched, the massive war engines were being turned about.

"It would seem that they have noted our approach," Pony said.

"They'll not turn them in time," Prince Midalis assured her, and he lifted his arm into the air. "Ride on and run on, my warriors!" he cried.

"Now is the hour of my ascent!"

Beside him, Bradwarden took up a rousing tune on his pipes. Behind him, Bruinhelde and Andacanavar led the Alpinadorans in a song to Dane Thorrson.

But then they all paused in awe, for before them, a great winged shape loomed up over the distant cliffs and rushed at the artillery emplacement. Bearing Brynn and Pagonel, the dragon soared past the terrified Bearmen, his fiery breath igniting one catapult, his great claws overturning a second.

Bradwarden resumed his song; Bruinhelde began to sing.

On came the prince's charge.

Few of Aydrian's men remained to oppose them, with most fleeing to the south and west. A second pass by Agradeleous set yet another catapult ablaze, and this time, with the prince's army closing fast, Brynn and Pagonel leaped down amidst the terrified and scattering soldiers.

Symphony and Pony were the first to join them, the erstwhile queen wasting no time in flashing off a devastating lightning stroke that splintered the wood of the one remaining catapult. The concussion of the blast dropped a dozen men to the ground; and as one, as they recovered their wits, they threw aside their weapons and begged for mercy.

Pony linked with Brynn and Pagonel, and Agradeleous set down beside them.

The devastating group overwhelmed another pocket of defense.

And then Midalis and the hordes were there, tearing through the meager force. The high ground was theirs! From that vantage point, they could clearly see the northern walls of St.-Mere-Abelle. From that vantage point, they could see the dark swarm of Aydrian's army, west of the main, western gate. The path to Aydrian was at hand.

But then a very shaken Belli'mar Juraviel stepped as if from nowhere into the midst of the leaders, wagging his head in distress. "We have been deceived," the elf wailed. "Duke Kalas has turned!"

All heads swung farther to the west, and soon enough they saw the cloud of dust rising into the air, the approach of a great army.

"How is this possible?" Prince Midalis asked the elf. "Why did your scouts not detect…"

"Aydrian," came the elf's simple answer. "Aydrian and his gemstones. We have been deceived."

"We cannot fight them all," Pony remarked.

"If we turn now, St.-Mere-Abelle is doomed," the prince replied.

"St.-Mere-Abelle is doomed in any case," Juraviel noted. "Duke Kalas' army is huge."

Prince Midalis looked all around, searching for answers. He seemed to grow more desperate by the moment, but then Pony put her hand on his arm, forcing him to calm himself and to look at her.

"We have nowhere to run," the woman told him.

Prince Midalis nodded his agreement. "Then let us fight," he replied, his voice full of determination.

"So it begins," Aydrian announced, sitting astride his horse before the gates of St.-Mere-Abelle. He turned to a young monk standing beside him.

"You have brought the items as I instructed?"

"Yes, my lord," the man sheepishly replied, and he handed Aydrian a quiver of arrows.

Smiling widely, Aydrian calmly told Marcalo De'Unnero to order the catapults to pound at the door, and to begin the charge for the main gates. Then the young king drew one of the arrows from the quiver and held it up before his eyes, marveling at the small ruby that had been secured to its shaft, just below the arrowhead.

He was still staring at it when De'Unnero returned to his side. "You cannot think to…" the monk began, but Aydrian merely laughed, stopping him.

The young king took out a soul stone and pulled his great bow, the bow of his father, from the side of his saddle, and, with a fluid movement, strung Hawkwing.

"I have not practiced my archery as much as I should have," he lamented, as the catapults fired and his warriors took up the charge. With a shrug, Aydrian set the ruby-imbued arrow to the bowstring. "Still, I expect that I can place the arrow close enough to the gate towers to cause a bit of discomfort."

Inside the uppermost open rooms in the gate towers flanking the main door of the great monastery, the brothers of St.-Mere-Abelle responded to the assault with blasts of magical lightning, like blue-white arms reaching down to sting and slam the front ranks of the charging warriors.

In the left-hand tower room, flanking Father Abbot Fio Bou-raiy, Bishop Braumin cheered his brothers on, imploring them to throw every ounce of energy they could muster into their initial blasts. Braumin had seen Aydrian quiet the magical response in Palmaris, after all, and he could only assume that the young king would similarly cover his attackers here.

Father Abbot Bou-raiy also implored the brothers, yelling out to them, reminding them that St.-Mere-Abelle had never fallen and telling them that it would not do so now! From both towers and all along the walls at the front of the monastery came a thunderous response. With gemstones and crossbows, with boiling oil and heavy stones, the brothers and the peasant army fought hard against the crush.

Bishop Braumin did notice the group of figures across the field, watching it all, and he knew that Aydrian and De'Unnero were among them. He took little interest in them, however, for they seemed far out of his magical reach; and so he didn't even see the young king, still sitting astride his horse, lift his great feather-tipped elven bow and let fly a solitary arrow.

The missile, to any who noticed, seemed like nothing at all, a minor bolt amidst a swarm of carnage. It arced perfectly through the morning sky, descending to the open tower top room on the right-hand side of the battered gate. Nor did any of the monks notice the presence that accompanied that missile, the spirit of Aydrian, moving out of body, retaining his connection with the ruby set in the arrow's shaft.

The arrow clicked down against the stone, shattering as it hit the ledge of the great open window in the tower.

And then it exploded, a tremendous fireball blasting through the tower room, silencing the magical defenses of the monks in a burst of sudden and terrifying flame.

"By God," Braumin Herde muttered, stunned by the magical display. The man's knees went weak beneath him as he heard the screams from across the way, as he saw one man and then another leap out of the tower, flames clinging to every part of their bodies. "By God."

"Sunstone shields!" Fio Bou-raiy cried desperately, for when he looked across the field, he could see Aydrian lifting his bow yet again. The monks scrambled to produce the proper stones, but they were not in time.

A second arrow came down from on high, arcing into the courtyard behind the gate itself. The ensuing fireball had the peasant force gathered there in defense of the gate screaming and running, many of them with flames leaping from their clothing, their hair, their skin. Even worse for the integrity of the defense, the flames caught on the great beams holding the door, as well.

"Get some serpentine down there!" Fio Bou-raiy cried. "Get some water down there!"

Braumin Herde, his body glowing blue-white now from a serpentine shield he had enacted, fell over Fio Bou-raiy, and worked feverishly to include the man within the shield, even as the third magical fireball went off, this one blasting through the room that contained the leader.

Braumin flew back from the force of the blow, but held stubbornly on to Bou-raiy, even when they crashed against the back wall. Still holding tight, the bishop climbed to his feet and pulled the Father Abbot up with him, then ushered the man from the burning room, down the tower's spiral staircase, and out of the structure altogether.

"Hold as long as you can, then organize a retreat to the cellars," he instructed Master Machuso out in the courtyard. "We must make them fight for every inch of ground. We must make them climb over the bodies of their dead comrades every step of the way!"

The old master nodded his agreement and ran off, rallying the brothers and the peasants against the unexpected devastation, making sure that the sunstone shields were being emblazed all across the battle zone. And indeed, the next ruby-set arrow that soared in from across the way crossed into an area of antimagic, where Aydrian's spirit was repulsed.

The fireball did not explode.

"A conventional battle, then," Master Machuso remarked, and he nodded grimly, certain that he and his brethren could give this enemy all that they could handle with or without magic.

His determination turned to great hope soon after, when cries echoed down from the northern stretches of the monastery wall, heralding the arrival of a second force, led by Prince Midalis.

Aydrian and De'Unnero soon heard the rumors, as well, and soon after that, saw the force of Prince Midalis, charging hard from the north.

"We'll pivot and move them out from the wall," De'Unnero reasoned.

"Then Midalis will flee inside the monastery," Aydrian reasoned. "And that, we do not want."

De'Unnero started away, but Aydrian reached down and stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Look there," the young king explained, motioning toward the west. "Duke Kalas will see to the army of Prince Midalis."

De'Unnero settled immediately as yet another army made its appearance on the field, charging in hard from the west. Duke Kalas had returned, with a force three times the size of the one Midalis had brought. A quick glance to the north and then back to the west showed the young king and the fierce monk the truth of it. Prince Midalis would not make the gate before Duke Kalas.

"Duke Kalas will have the fight without well in hand," Aydrian assured the monk. "Come, let us go to the gate and see to the fight within."

Aydrian had to walk his horse in a zigzag course to avoid the carnage before the gate and walls of St.-Mere-Abelle. He figured that more than a third of his force of five thousand were down, but he didn't care – for the gate had been weakened, and the defenses were tiring. Connected through his hematite, he could tell that there was some sunstone antimagic about, but it was nothing substantial out here, beyond the gate, and certainly nothing that would inhibit the power of King Aydrian.

Like a wave, his men parted before him, opening a line to the great portal.

Aydrian drew out Tempest and leveled the blade, then sent every bit of his strength into the graphite set within the sword, and a tremendous white bolt of lightning shot forth.

The doors shuddered inward; the great locking beams – weakened by the fires and the press – snapped apart.

The swarm flowed into the courtyard of St.-Mere-Abelle.

"Kill all who will not yield," Aydrian told his men and, flanked by Sadye and Marcalo De'Unnero, the young king walked his horse into the monastery's courtyard.

"We're too late," Prince Midalis lamented when he saw the approach of the huge army, angling to intercept him.

"Flee or fight?" Bradwarden asked.

Prince Midalis turned a steely eyed gaze the centaur's way.

"Fight well and die well!" Bradwarden roared, and he took up his pipes.

The men from Vanguard and Alpinador formed into a defensive square about Midalis and Bruinhelde and the other leaders, setting themselves against Kalas' charge.

An arm of the duke's army swung around to the north to seal off any retreat, but the prince's warriors had no intention of fleeing.

As one, the prince and his forces ducked low, as Agradeleous soared above him, Brynn and Pagonel taking the dragon out in a sudden charge. They got near to the opposing army, with Agradeleous even managing to spew forth his breath at one leading group of soldiers, but then such a hail of arrows reached up at them that Brynn was forced to turned her beast about and fly fast away.

"Well disciplined," Pony remarked to Midalis. "Let us see how they deal with me." She reached forth her arm and jolted the nearest group of infantry with a blast of lightning, all of the men falling to the ground and jerking about wildly.

"Ride with us!"

Pagonel shouted to Prince Midalis as Brynn brought the dragon down beside him. "We cannot fight our way through the whole of King Aydrian's army with any hope of stopping him!"

Prince Midalis looked around at the other leaders.

"Go!" Andacanavar shouted at him.

"Be quick!" Bruinhelde agreed. "We'll give these attackers second thoughts!" The barbarian leader turned to his men, then, and shouted, "Fight well and die well!" And that cry was echoed enthusiastically all along the Alpinadoran line.

Prince Midalis scrambled up behind Pagonel. "Find Aydrian," he bade the mystic and Brynn.

"I can smell him," came the growling response from Agradeleous, and the dragon leaped away.

"Neither is our place here," Belli'mar Juraviel said to Pony and Bradwarden. Even as he spoke, they heard Aydrian's thunder, and the cries from inside the monastery's walls. "He has found his way in!" Juraviel shouted. "We must stop him!"

Pony on Symphony and Bradwarden moved close to the elf, who lifted his open hand, showing the emerald of Andur'Blough Inninness. "You are ranger first," he said to Andacanavar.

The big man hesitated and looked nervously to Bruinhelde.

"Go and kill him in battle!" Bruinhelde said without the slightest hesitation. "I'll die singing your name, mighty Andaeanavar!"

A moment later, Belli'mar Juraviel and his four companions took a gigantic step, right past the southern edge of Duke Kalas' approaching forces, to appear near the broken gate of St.-Mere-Abelle.

They charged immediately for that gate, striking hard at the stragglers of Aydrian's force. Behind them, they heard the concussion as Duke Kalas' force collided with the warriors of Vanguard and Alpinador.

Pony tried hard not to hear those cries.

Braumin Herde left Father Abbot Bou-raiy and the others in the great hall of the main keep. The former bishop of Palmaris rushed up the wide stairway and ran along the balcony, then went up again, using a circular stair that would take him to the keep's highest level, and up again along the same stairs to the flat and defended roof of the structure.

From there, he could see the sweep of Duke Kalas' forces, locked in ferocious battle with Prince Midalis' men outside the monastery's walls.

From there, he could see the great dragon, three figures atop it, soaring about the battlefield, apparently battling on Prince Midalis' side.

Braumin Herde had no idea what the fire-breathing beast was all about, or where it had come from, or why it might be allied with the prince, but he was surely thrilled to discern that it was an ally and not an enemy! Any hope the dragon inspired could not hold for long, though, for Braumin's gaze was inevitably drawn back within the abbey, where pockets of fighting had erupted in every building and all along the wall. Men were dying by the score, Braumin knew, and there was nothing he could do.

He continued his scan, then froze in place, his gaze settling on a group making its way across the courtyard from the broken gate.

"Who is that?" one younger brother asked of him, following his lead.

Braumin Herde couldn't get the names of King Aydrian and Marcalo De'Unnero out of his mouth. "Our worst nightmare," he did manage to whisper.

"What are we to do, master?" the young monk asked, and Braumin glanced over at him, to see several others staring at him for some guidance here.

"Pray, brothers," he said. "Shoot straight and pray loudly."

With a deep breath, Braumin steadied his feet under him and headed back for the stairway and back into the keep.

"The rat has retreated to his hole, it would seem," Aydrian remarked, motioning toward the solid keep across the courtyard and overlooking All Saints Bay.

"Then let us go and kill the creature," De'Unnero agreed.

Aydrian and Sadye paused then, hearing the pop of bone from their companion. De'Unnero was wearing his monk robe, and so they couldn't see the details of the transformation. Under the folds of that robe, they did see the movement of his limbs, though, as his legs transformed into those of a mighty tiger.

"I will join with you inside," De'Unnero explained, and he leaped gracefully away, sprinting across the rest of the courtyard to the base of the keep's solid wall. With hardly an effort, it seemed, the weretiger leaped straight up, landing lightly on the sill of a second-story window.

With a glance back at Aydrian, De'Unnero slipped inside onto the balcony in the great hall. He moved across to the solid railing and peeked over, looking down upon Fio Bou-raiy, who was seated on the single throne and flanked by several of St.-Mere-Abelle's masters.

De'Unnero glanced about, noting the statues set in alcoves at the back of the balcony. The railing was high and solid, providing good cover, and the monk figured that he could get to the stairs easily enough without being seen.

Looking at the stairs, or more particularly, at the huge circular window set in the wall above them, did give him pause, though. The morning light streamed through that window, that image of Avelyn's upraised arm.

Before De'Unnero moved again, he heard the door in the room below crash open, and he knew that King Aydrian had arrived.

It pained Prince Midalis to leave his men. He wanted to stay, with the dragon and the mystic, and the woman with her devastating bow.

And Brynn was nothing short of amazing, up there on Agradeleous, flying cover for the soldiers battling below.

"I smell him!" Agradeleous cried over and over again.

"Then find him!" Pagonel demanded.

With a flap of his leathery wings, Agradeleous lifted higher into the air, then slowly turned about and fell into a dive past the northern edge of the monastery and down over the cliff facing, gathering speed as he went.

Prince Midalis watched the battle until the dragon dove low, the cliffs shutting him off from his warriors, from Liam O'Blythe and Bruinhelde and all the others.

He could still hear their battle cries, however.

He knew that he had to trust.

They plowed through the confusion at the broken gate. If two warriors trained in bi'nelle dasada weren't enough to scatter Aydrian's forces clustered there, the sheer strength of Bradwarden and the well-placed arrows of Belli'mar Juraviel surely were.

Pony rolled down from Symphony, falling into place beside the Alpinadoran ranger. As soon as they engaged a group of opponents together, it became apparent that she and Andacanavar couldn't quite find the level of harmony that the woman had once enjoyed with Elbryan. For the barbarian's sword dance had been adapted to fit his physical size and strength. When a soldier charged at him, he parried with a horizontal blade and quick- stepped back, typical of the dance. But then Andacanavar slid his back foot to the side and stepped out wide. Halting his progress, he reversed momentum, coming across with a devastating slash of his elven greatsword that laid low his foolishly pursuing opponent.

Andacanavar's sidelong step left Pony out alone for a moment against two other warriors, but the woman worked her sword quickly and accurately, turning thrust after thrust with apparent ease.

Then Bradwarden stepped up to fill the void left by the Alpinadoran ranger. The centaur stabbed his huge bow out as if it were a spear, just as one of Pony's opponents broke from her and charged at him. The tip of the bow caught the man just below his breastplate and the centaur drove ahead and up, lifting him right from the ground. Arms and legs flailing, he went tumbling back, and when he finally caught himself and tried to come back in, the centaur had that bow leveled his way, an arrow that seemed more like a heavy spear set on its bowstring! The man screamed and turned and scrambled past a comrade who was charging in to join the fight.

A slight shift put the arrow in line with this newcomer, and the centaur's arrow blasted through his metal breastplate, lifting him from his feet and throwing him back and to the ground.

Off to the side, Pony parried and retreated, then came back suddenly as her opponent lifted his sword above his shoulder. Her reversed movement, a brilliant execution of the sword dance, was too quick for her opponent even to register it. His eyes wide with sudden horror, the man could not hope to bring his sword down to deflect the thrust.

Pony struck true, her sword sliding into the Kingsman's belly, and he fell away, howling and clutching at the wound.

Another man came in fast for Pony's side, but she turned in time to parry.

He never got that close, though, stopping suddenly and grasping at the small arrow that found his throat.

Pony glanced back over her shoulder and then up, to see Juraviel perched atop one of the huge open doors, bow in hand. The elf offered a wink and a nod.

Even as Pony lowered her gaze somewhat, she saw another man fall away, creased by Andacanavar's slashing sword; then another fell to the great ranger as he came out of the slash and right into a devastating long thrust.

The four could stand there and defeat any who came against them, Pony understood. But that was hardly the point, and killing soldiers unwittingly serving Aydrian brought her no joy, and no hope.

Glancing across the courtyard, she saw a robed figure rise up in a great leap, as if magically, along the wall of the great keep, and she knew beyond any doubt that it could be only one man.

"Get me there!" the woman cried to Bradwarden and Andacanavar, and when they looked her way, she indicated the base of the wall across the way.

"Elf!" Bradwarden called, but when he looked at the open door, Juraviel was not to be found. "The hard way then!" the centaur roared, and he and Andacanavar flanked Pony and started across. Few of the soldiers wanted to face them, obviously, but in the chaos that was the courtyard of St.- Mere-Abelle, some did indeed find themselves caught before the charge of the trio.

Bradwarden simply ran one down, trampling him to the ground.

Andacanavar leaped past the centaur and felled two others with a great sidelong slash.

And Pony fell in behind the centaur, intercepted the thrusting sword of a man thinking to stab at the creature's exposed flank. The woman rolled her sword over the attacker's, then drove it down. Sensing a second attacker coming in at her back, she turned and stepped forward,