Guardians Of The Coral Throne

Their onrush panicked a score of the stray horses. All of them bolted and several crashed into the rear of the square. Soldiers went down under the trampling hooves and the solid ranks around the Emperor suddenly gaped open in several places. Scadori leaders shouted and waved spears and swords, then led a wild charge toward the weak spots. Blade saw the Emperor stiffen and draw a long curved sword. Its jeweled hilt blazed even in the fading light.

Blade ran toward the bodyguard, both swords drawn. Scadori arrows whistled about his ears as he ran, yelling war-cries and curses. He came up with the first Guardians just as the Scadori pushed through the last of the Emperor's defenders and swarmed around him.

Jores recoiled only a few steps from the charge. Then he stopped and his sword whirled through the air in front of him. Guardians moved up on either flank, some holding out their lances like pikes while others thrust and slashed with their swords.

Blade pushed his way through the bodyguard into the front rank, to the left of the Emperor. Jores recognized Blade and gave him a quick, almost cat-like wave with his left hand. Then he picked up a shield from the ground and continued his fight. Jores VII was not a swordsman whose skill would inspire songs and poems down through the ages. But he was far above the average, as a good many Scadori warriors found out.

One by one the attacking Scadori sprawled on the blood-soaked ground, limped and staggered away, or simply drew back to a safe distance. Blade started to see the grim resignation fading from the faces around him. Some of the men were gri

Blade couldn't feel so hopeful. There was too much of the pass still to cover, then long miles of marching in darkness through a land barely known. Long before they could reach safety, the Scadori would regroup, discover that the richest prize of all was slipping out of their grasp, and launch an irresistible attack. It was too much to hope for that the Scadori army had fallen apart in its moment of victory.

The Guardians of the bodyguard reformed around their Emperor, and began to march down the pass at almost a trot. There were less than fifty of them now, but the Scadori seemed to have entirely broken up into twos and threes and half-dozens. A few showed fight and were promptly cut down. Most took cover in the woods.

The Guardians and the Emperor covered half a mile this way. They passed thousands of bodies of men and horses. More and more of the men had been castrated or otherwise mutilated. The smiles vanished from the faces around Blade. Now it was clear to everyone that they would be almost the only ones to win clear. In less than an hour, most of the Guardians of the Coral Throne had been erased from the rolls of the army of the Empire of Karan.

Three-quarters of a mile. A full mile. Scadori archers were opening up again with random arrows. Two more Guardians went down, others staggered along with blood dripping from shoulders or thighs. But they were now more than halfway to the lower end of the pass. The land beyond looked clear of Scadori. Jores VII sheathed his sword, slung his shield, and marched with his head held higher than Blade had ever seen it. There was a warrior's pride in the young Emperor now. That might mean a great deal for the future, if Jores ever saw Karanopolis again.

Then once more Scadori war-cries struck Blade's ears. Ru

The Emperor and his forty unwounded Guardians charged downhill at the massing Scadori. Arrows whistled about their ears, but they were moving at a dead run, too fast to make good targets in the twilight. Blade drew his short sword and held his lance out in front of him as if he was charging on horseback. On either side of him the Guardians did the same. They dashed at the Scadori with their lances bristling around them like the quills of a porcupine.

Now Blade heard another explosion of noise behind him. The harsh bray of Scadori trumpets echoed up and down the darkening pass. Then came the sound of dozens of fast-moving horses. The Guardians crashed into the Scadori in front of them. Blade thrust one enemy in the groin with his lance and chopped half through the man's neck as he screamed and crumpled forward. Then Blade turned to look behind him.

Thirty-odd Scadori were charging downhill on captured Karani horses. As they broke into a gallop they howled their war-cries. Several of the horses shied at the noise and sent their riders sprawling, to scream out their lives as hooves pounded them to bloody rags. But the rest came on, waving swords and clumsily brandishing lances. In the lead was a tall Scadori warrior Blade recognized as Chudo. Chudo of Ukush, once Blade's follower and comrade in battle. Chudo of Ukush, leading a wild charge that in a few more seconds would sweep Blade and the last of the Guardians away or trample them into the blood-soaked earth.

Blade hurled his lance straight at Chudo's horse. It took the unlucky animal in the chest. It reared with a bubbling scream, and Chudo threw himself out of the saddle. By a miracle he landed on his feet, and by another miracle managed to avoid being trampled by his own men. But several of them piled up behind his dying horse. Those who didn't fall had to struggle frantically to control their rearing, plunging, panic-stricken mounts.

Some of the Guardians now managed to get off a few arrows. More of the improvised Scadori cavalrymen went headfirst out of their saddles, more of their comrades piled up behind dying horses. But more than half the Scadori were left alive and mounted, to charge straight home.

For a moment Blade was sure he was simply going to be crushed flat, like a worm under a steamroller. Horses and men pressed all around him. The smells of sweat and blood were overpowering. He stabbed, pushed, kicked, elbowed, roared curses. He would have used his teeth if he'd been able to reach anything with them. A hoof nearly came down on his foot. His short sword opened a horseman's leg to the bone. Blade grabbed the bloody leg and heaved. The man came out of the saddle with a yell.

Blade grabbed for the saddlebow without waiting for the man to land, then hurled himself into the saddle. All around him was a hideous tangle of men and horses, both men and animals fighting for their lives.

In the next moment a clear space opened in front of Blade. In the moment after that someone reeled back against Blade's horse. Blade looked down, and saw that it was the Emperor. The decision exploded in his mind. He dropped the reins, reached down with both hands, and grabbed His Sacred Majesty by the collar of his filthy purple tunic. The Emperor shot into the air with a choked-off yell of surprise. Before he could draw a full breath he was perched on the saddle behind Blade.

«In the name of whatever you worship, hold on!» Blade roared. He drew his broadsword and dug his spurs into the horse. It leaped forward, and Scadori darted out of its path.

One enemy warrior stood his ground-Chudo. Blade saw him holding a long heavy spear, ready to thrust it into the horse. Once Chudo had been Blade's comrade. Now that spear he held meant nothing but Blade's death. Blade jerked the horse to one side. Chudo's first thrust missed its mark. Before he could make another Blade's sword whistled down on Chudo's bare head. The skull split apart from crown to chin. Chudo sprawled face down among the bodies carpeting the ground, and the sword flew out of Blade's hand. The horse reached a canter, then a gallop, tore through the last thin line of Scadori, and went thundering away downhill. A few arrows sailed after Blade, but all of them went wide in the gathering darkness. Then the last sounds of battle faded away to the rear. Blade and His Sacred Majesty Jores VII of Karan were alone in the darkness, the only sound the furious pounding of the hooves of the horse under them.