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Asayaga, sword held high, charged for the woods, praying that he could take one of his tormentors with him.
De
Remarkably, though, the moredhel had cracked a frozen branch when he stepped out from behind the tree to shoot – he must have been a relative youngster to make so basic a blunder.
It was, at best, a second of time since De
Time distorted and slowed; he saw the tips of the fingers relaxing, releasing the taut bowstring. Pushing off from the tree, he kicked backwards, eyes still fixed on his stalker. He saw the snap of mist breaking away from the bowstring, the blur of the arrow, the stinging brush of the feathers as the shaft creased his face.
He hit the ground, rolled across the trail, slammed up against a boulder. Two seconds, maybe three, had passed. He was on his feet, saw the elf flinging back his cloak, exposing a quiver.
Instinct drove him forward. In a single bound he vaulted the narrow stream, landed hard, slipping on the icy slope, then started up the rise, reaching for the dagger at his belt. The moredhel had the arrow drawn from the quiver, was reversing it, fitting the nock to the string.
De
Snakelike he lashed out with an underhand throw of the dagger. The spin was off, the dagger striking the elf in the chest, hilt first. But the impact startled him, he lost his grip on the bowstring and the arrow snapped off, missing De
De
The two fell together in a tangled heap, De
The two rolled back and forth on the slushy ground, kicking and clawing in a primal fight for survival. He caught a glimpse of his foe's eyes – so strange, so like Tinuva's, yet different, filled with fury and murderous rage.
As if from a great distance he heard shouts, but all his world was now focused on the dark elf, who writhed like an enraged serpent as he sought to escape. They rolled again, De
They rolled down the slope and crashed into the icy creek. De
With a gurgling cry the moredhel staggered to his feet and started to run, blood pulsing out. De
Tinuva relaxed his grip on his bow and looked down at De
De
'Trap, we're in a trap!' Tinuva a
As he gained the trail he caught a glimpse of the dying moredhel collapsing and confronting him, the column of Tsurani. There had been only one Tsurani, and now there was near on a hundred and he realized that his struggle with the moredhel must have dragged out for several dangerously long minutes.
Too much was happening too quickly and he leaned over, gasping for breath. The shock of his fight and near death was having its impact and he fought down an urge to vomit. Tinuva grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back off the trail.
'The moredhel net is wide,' Tinuva said quickly. 'They are waiting on the trail, two hundred yards from here. Ambush prepared. 'They didn't know we were near and the one you killed was one of their flanking scouts. They will find us in a few minutes, crossing the trail we made in the snow. Gregory sent me back to tell you.'
At that same instant he saw that the Tsurani were turning, shying away from the trail and heading straight into the woods in the direction where his own men were concealed. The move triggered a response: a shower of arrows snapped out from the forest.
Damn! Now we are revealed.
He sprinted up the slope, Tinuva bounding forward by his side. Ground that had taken minutes to cover before he crossed in seconds. He caught a glimpse of Alwin Barry and a dozen of his men poised around the boulders firing down on the Tsurani. Several of the Tsurani had their alien short-bows out and crouching behind the stumps of trees in the clearing, were shooting back.
Horns now echoed all around them. From the east side of the clearing he saw dark-cloaked forms, a hundred or more charging, while others poured out of the fort. More were coming up from the south. It was chaos. He needed to think clearly, but the smashing blow to his head from the dark moredhel still had him stu
Looking down at the Tsurani he saw one of them barely a hundred feet away charging, sword held high. There was something vaguely familiar about him, an enemy he had faced before.
'Stop fighting!'
The booming cry echoed through the forest. It was Gregory, ru
'Stop fighting! Dark Brothers are closing in!' Gregory shouted. 'We settle our differences later!' Then he said something else and De
The Tsurani warrior leading the charge slowed, then came to a halt.
Gregory said something else and pointed back across the clearing. 'Those we call the Dark Brotherhood are upon us in strength.'
The leader turned and looked.
Gregory's words forced De
I am in command, he remembered, and he felt a flicker of anger towards Gregory overstepping his bounds yet again, and yet again being right. If we and the Tsurani fight now, we all die. He turned the anger on himself. I should have grasped this immediately; Gregory realized it. Jurgen would have too.
He turned about in a full circle, judging sound, distances, ignoring the Tsurani. He saw a line of horse-mounted warriors emerge from the trail that headed south, one of them holding a ba
A dozen or more trolls swarmed about the standard-bearer like dogs about to be unleashed for the hunt. Others on foot were pouring out of the forest from the far side of the clearing.
Main force there, he realized.
From behind, to the west and northwest he heard horns. The blocking force on the trail were spreading out and closing the net. If they delay us even for a few minutes the mounted riders and other fell creatures accompanying them will close in for the kill.
It was obvious they pla