“Square!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, unable to tell if anyone could hear him. “Square around the unicorns! Skirmishers!”
On the fields of Ondoladeshiron he’d seen the Elven Knights practicing their maneuvers and thought of those maneuvers as only a pretty dance, useless in the war they were about to fight.
Today Kellen learned differently.
All about him on the battlefield, a ripple seemed to move through the Elven Knights as the order was passed. They moved as the fingers of one hand, fighting through their separate retreats to execute the order Kellen had given. He urged Mindaerel down into the fray, closing up with the Knights to either side.
Slowly, bloodily, the square formed. The Knights fought for every inch of ground. The pack seemed to sense what was happening, and tried to drive through the gaps in the forming lines, but at last the monsters were fighting on the Elves’ terms. They met a wall of steel and sword and hoof, and at last the impenetrable square closed around the Unicorn Knights.
“Is everyone—” Kellen began.
“Oh, Leaf and Star.” Beside him, Duarmel’s voice was flat with despair.
Kellen looked. His heart sank.
Across the battlefield, he saw Keirasti riding toward them, her mare running flat-out. Petariel was behind her in the saddle. Limping along beside the mare on three legs, her top speed now only that of the mare’s, was Gesade.
There was no hope. Gesade must have been wounded, Keirasti had stopped to cover her retreat. And now the three of them were going to die in sight of sanctuary, because if Kellen broke the square to send out a rescue party, the cold-warg would take more of them, not just his friends.
The coldwarg circling the square saw them in the same instant.
“Archers, fire,” Kellen said, his voice rough. “Everyone, hold steady.”
He had no spells that would stop a coldwarg pack. Jermayan did, he was sure, but Jermayan wasn’t here.
But he was a Knight-Mage.
“Duarmel, take command. Hold them.” He gathered up Mindaerel’s reins.
“Take me. I’m faster.” Shalkan was suddenly at his side.
Kellen didn’t question how Shalkan knew what he was going to do, or what it cost the unicorn to stand so calmly among the knights. He flung himself from Mindaerel’s back to Shalkan’s, and with a bound, they were away.
Shalkan flew over the snow like a blast of wind. Kellen barely noticed that he had no trouble keeping his balance on Shalkan’s bare back. The Elven arrows flew all around them, but despite the wind and the snow, Kellen knew that none of the shafts would strike Shalkan.
The coldwarg were not hurrying as they loped toward their prey. The death of their victims was certain, and they would savor the fear before the kill. Though some fell to arrows, the others did not slacken. It would only take one or two to accomplish the kill.
Kellen saw Petariel push himself from Keirasti’s saddle and fall to the snow beside Gesade. He saw the Unicorn Knight rise gracefully to his feet and draw his sword.
Closer now.
There weren’t many of the pack left alive; seven, perhaps eight. Of those that had begun the attack, many had fled, many had died. Kellen and Shalkan were within reach of the stragglers now. He could attack them, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to defend Petariel, Gesade, and Keirasti.
Keirasti had turned back when she felt Petariel’s weight leave her saddle. He could hear her shouting. Gesade was shouting too. Kellen didn’t bother to listen to the words. He was focused on what he must do.
The coldwarg could have attacked him and Shalkan as they passed, but they didn’t. Kellen hadn’t thought they would. The creatures would find it far more entertaining to let them reach the others and kill them all together.
He was counting on it.
