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I'm on the offensive. And furthermore, I have no way to organize any kind of defense in
this weather. Better to have the troops moving forward and catch the enemy off balance."
"I'll dispatch the scouts," Parnigar noted. "We'll inform every company that we can.
It won't be the whole army, you realize. There isn't enough time, and the weather is too
treacherous."
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"I know," Kith agreed. "The Windriders, for one, will have to stay on the ground."
He looked at Arcuballis. The great creature rested nearby, his head tucked under one
wing to protect himself from the rain.
"I'll take Kijo and leave Arcuballis here." The prospect made him feel somehow
crippled, but as the storm increased around him, he knew that flight would be too dangerous
a tactic.
He could only hope that his enemy's attack would be equally haphazard. In this wish,
he was rewarded, for even as the fight began, it moved out of the control of its commanders.
* * * * *
The two armies blundered through the rain. Each stretched along a front of several
dozen miles, and great gaps existed in their formations. The Army of Ergoth lumbered
north, and where its companies met elves, they fought them in confusing skirmishes. As
often as not, they passed right through the widely spaced formations of the Wildrunner
Army, continuing into the nameless distance of the plains.
The Wildrunners and their allies struck south. Like the humans, they encountered
their enemy occasionally, and at other times met no resistance.
Skirmishes raged along the entire distance, between whatever units happened to meet
each other in the chaos. Human horsemen rode against elven swords. Dwarven
battle-axes chopped at Ergothian archers. Because of the noise and the darkness, a
company might not know that its sister battalion fought for its life three hundred yards
away, or that a band of enemy warriors had passed across their front a bare five minutes
earlier.
But it didn't matter. The real battle took shape in the clouds themselves.
33
Niqhtfall, Midsummer
Year of the Cloud Giant
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Hail thundered through the woods, pounding trees into splinters and bruising
exposed flesh. The balls of ice, as big across as steel pieces, quickly blanketed the
ground. The roar of their impact drowned all attempts at communication.
Kith-Kanan, Vanesti, and Parnigar halted their plodding horses, seeking the minimal
shelter provided by the overhanging boughs of a small grove of elms. They were grateful
that the storm hadn't caught them on the open plains. Such a deluge could be extremely
dangerous without shelter. Their two dozen bodyguards, all veterans of the House
Protectorate, took shelter under neighboring trees. All the elves were silent, wet, and
miserable.
They hadn't seen another company of Wildrunners in several hours, nor had they
encountered any sign of the enemy. They had blundered through the storms for the whole
day, lashed by wind and rain, soaked and chilled, fruitlessly seeking sign of friend or foe.
"Do you know where we are?" Kith asked Parnigar. Around them, the pebbly residue
of the storm had covered the earth with round, white balls of ice.
"I'm afraid not," the veteran scout replied. "I think we've maintained a southerly
heading, but it's hard to tell when you can't see more than two dozen feet ahead of you!"
All of a sudden Kith held up a hand. The hailstorm, with unsettling abruptness, had
ceased.
"What is it?" hissed Vanesti, looking around them, his eyes wide.
"I don't know Kith admitted. "Something doesn't feel right."
The black horse exploded from the bushes with shocking speed, its dark rider leaning
forward along the steed's lathered neck. Sharp hooves pounded the ice-coated earth,
sending slivers of crushed hailstones flying with each step. The attacker charged past two
guards, and Parnigar saw the glint of a sword. The blade moved with stunning speed,
slaying both elven bodyguards with quick chops.
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"We're attacked!" Parnigar shouted. The veteran scout seized his sword and leaped
into his saddle, spurring the steed forward.
Kith-Kanan, followed by Vanesti, ducked around the broad tree trunk just in time to
see Parnigar collide with the attacker. The brutal impact sent the elf's mare reeling sideways
and then tumbling to the ground. The horse screamed as the elven warrior sprang
free, crouching to face the black-cloaked human on his dark war-horse.
"Giarna!" hissed Kith-Kanan, instantly recognizing the foe.
"Really?" gasped Vanesti, inching forward for a better look.
"Stay back!" growled the elven general. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]