The Golden Steed

Then the Golden Steed stumbled. Caught off balance, Blade lost his grip on the reins, over balanced, clawed at the leather of his saddle, and went sailing off. He landed with a bone-jarring crash. Only his instinctive half-roll saved him from a dozen broken bones. Still on its feet and still at a gallop, the Golden Steed vanished into the dust. So did the last of the Pendari, in spite of Blade's yells and curses. A moment later the first of the Rojags loomed out of the dust.

In the swirling yellow-grayness both men were surprised.

But Blade was less surprised than the Rojag and his reflexes were faster. The Rojag lance dipped toward his chest, but his massive arms shot out and clamped down on it. A mighty heave and a twist and the Rojag flew up out of his saddle like a shell from a mortar. He landed somewhere off in the dust with a thud and a yell. The horse slowed, just enough to let Blade lunge forward and grab the bridle. The sudden savage tug on its head slowed the horse still further, and Blade vaulted into the saddle.

The horse quivered as though Blade had given it an electric shock. For a moment he thought it was going to try to buck him off. Then as more of the Rojags came thundering past, it gathered its scrawny legs under it and joined the charge.

By some miracle Blade's sword-thong had not snapped when he fell, and he still had his sword. As the Rojag horse carried him along like a log in a fast river, he slashed and hacked to either side of him. Empty saddles began to appear around him. The Rojags seemed to be taking no notice of the figure dressed in dusty gold pounding along with them. All their attention seemed to be on pushing their charge straight ahead, to avenge the insult the Pendari had given them. At this rate the Rojags would plunge straight into the trap in their own fury.

Which was all very well, except that Blade was charging with them. If he kept on he was going to be caught in his own trap, skewered by a six-foot spear or mashed by a hundred-pound stone. If there was a sillier way to die, he couldn't think of it right now. He had to get clear of the Rojags-and soon!

He dug his spurs in unmercifully. Somewhere the gaunt Rojag horse found extra strength and speed. It began to move up through the ranks of the charge. On either side Rojags pointed and stared. Those within reach of Blade's sword died. He left a trail of writhing forms behind him as he moved forward. Those who were writhing when they hit the ground were still after their comrades had ridden over them.

Gradually Blade worked his way up among the leaders of the Rojags. Again there were some who recognized him and tried to do something about it. But none could live within reach of his sword, and the Rojags were too closely packed for any of their few archers to risk an arrow.

The dust was begi

The Pendari thundered past the ruins on toward the looming walls of Vilesh. Blade looked back. The Rojags were coming on in a wild dense mass, whatever discipline they had utterly gone. But the lead ranks of the Rojags were opening out a trifle now, and some of their archers were trying shots at the elusive Pendarnoth. Blade heard arrows whistle past. One glanced off his helmet with a metallic tack!

As he galloped past the ruins, Blade saw green smoke puffing up behind stretches of broken wall. The green flares were the signal to the crews of the siege-engines. Then the air seemed to be torn apart as the siege engines' first salvo came down on the Rojags.

Even the noise of the stones and spears coming down could not drown out the noise that rose when they struck: shrill screams, bubbling screams, screams of rage and terror and agony from both men and horses; the crash of stones hitting the rocky ground, bursting apart like bombs, and spraying chunks in all directions; the meaty whunk of catapult bolts pi

Fifty Rojags died from the stones and spears. Another hundred died or fell in screaming tangles of men and horses. Those who didn't lose their lives or their saddles soon lost their courage. By the hundreds they reined in, piling up into still more tangles. Those who still managed to stay in their saddles formed a great solid milling mass. Blade kept riding, and he was almost up with the Pendari when the second salvo came down. The massed Rojags could not have made a better target if they had been taking orders from the commander of the siege engines.

How many Rojags died as stones and spears plowed through their ranks, Blade never knew or even tried to guess. Hundreds, perhaps a thousand. And the survivors lost the last remnants of their courage. The Rojags became a churning mob. Every man tried to turn his horse around and plunge wildly away from the death striking down from the skies. In their panic they only jammed together more tightly than before. They were still jammed together when a third salvo landed. The screams from its impact had not died away when Blade saw black smoke spout from the tops of every tower along the walls of the city. Every gate large enough to let a mounted man through flew open, and out at a full gallop came ten thousand horsemen. All the picked troops of Pendar were riding in a single charge. The air split apart again from war cries and the whistle of so many arrows. For a moment the sky seemed to turn black above Blade.

Once again Blade had the sick feeling he was going to be shot down or ridden down by his own side. The Pendari were coming on as if the devil were at their heels, and shooting arrows like firemen pouring water on a fire. The arrows sliced down out of the sky all around Blade, hitting dead Rojags, live Rojags, the bare ground, and a few Pendari, a great many horses, and anything else in their path. One sliced across his upper arm, leaving a bloody oozing gash but not sinking in. Then the Rojags finally broke and ran. They could run now-so many had been killed that the survivors at last had room to turn their horses.

Blade saw Guroth ride up to him with a broad grin on his dust-caked face. He was leading the Golden Steed. Blade hastily dismounted his Rojag prize and remounted the Golden Steed.

Guroth looked across the plain at the vanishing enemy. «So much for the Rojags. I do not think they will stop ru

«Perhaps not. But the Lanyri will not run. We will have to beat them.»

«I hope they will not run. Like you, I do not want them to escape.»

They turned their horses and spurred away after the Rojags. They made no effort to keep up with the headlong charge of the ten thousand Pendari who were riding fresh horses. They passed the ruins and the litter of dead Rojag warriors and horses at a trot. Then they were swallowed up in another swirling curtain of dust, this one raised by the Pendari charge. It was so thick they could barely see twenty feet ahead. Blade found himself navigating more by sound than by sight.

There were plenty of sounds all around. Men and horses screaming, Pendari and Rojag war cries, the snap of bows, the whistle of arrows, the pounding of thousands of hoofs. The Pendari were no longer sounding their trumpets. The enemy was in sight and there was nothing to do but chase him. It was every man for himself.

Then a new sound tore through the dust and rose above all the rest of the noise: Lanyri battle horns, sounding the alarm. Blade fought back an urge to spur the Golden Steed up to a gallop; he did not want to throw away its last strength.