Theodore spoke before she could say anything more.
“You should not think like that, Kara,” he said firmly. “We have fought together before, and you are as capable a warrior as I have ever known. Today is just another battle, and we will live to celebrate victory.”
“Today is different, Theodore,” she corrected him, desperate to tell him of the Emissary’s threat.
“No, Kara. It is the same as any other. Only you have changed,” he continued, drawing a curious look from her. “Do you know what the men say of you behind your back?”
Kara shook her head.
“They say you are touched by the gods. They all know your story, Kara. They have built you into a legend-and legends cannot die.”
Kara lowered her head, fighting sudden despair. The army had made her into something she wasn’t, yet she knew she had to take advantage of their fervour if they were to triumph.
She raised her head to Theodore once more and noted the bright look in his eyes.
“Then let us be about our business” she said, pushing her concerns away. “Let us save Falador.”
She signalled to Commander Blenheim, and the dwarf army began to march.
“And what are you going to do, Sir Pallas?” Finistere asked. “Falador is dying, old friend, and yet you use your last hours to confront me rather than attempting to flee.” The traitor shook his head, a mocking smile on his triumphant face. “Do you intend to kill me?”
The ancient knight stood resolute, though his sword hand continued to tremble.
“Release the prisoners first,” he said firmly. “Release them and then surrender, for I promise you I will not let you leave here alive!”
The ferocity in the old knight’s voice wiped the smile from Finistere’s face.
“Do you think you are a threat to me?” he sneered. “You are a weak old man. Whatever glory you may have had has long passed, abandoning you along with the vigour of your youth.” He drew his blade from his scabbard. “You cannot resist me.”
Sir Pallas hung his head for a moment, acknowledging that his defeat was inevitable. But then he straightened and looked his opponent in the eye.
“You might be right” he replied. “But I am willing to sacrifice everything to stop you. Are you as determined?” The old knight breathed deeply and his sword ceased to shake.
Sir Tiffy nudged Marius and whispered in the squire’s ear.
“If Sir Pallas charges him it might knock him against the gate,” he said. “If that happens then we must seize him through the bars.”
Marius nodded.
“So be it, Sir Pallas!” the traitor said. “But if we both die here, then your friends will starve-and that will be an agony slow to end.” Then, with a growl of anger, the traitor threw himself upon his enemy.
Sir Vyvin was knocked off his horse. The Kinshra pikemen pressed in against the knights, pinning them and Lord Tremene’s militia against the wall of the city. They were trapped.
A Kinshra soldier ran forward to take advantage of the situation. He put a foot on Sir Vyvin’s sword arm and raised his weapon to stab downward. Suddenly a horse neighed in challenge.
The soldier turned just in time to see Sir Amik guiding the tip of his banner toward his face. He did not have time to scream before he died.
Sir Vyvin stood and began fighting on foot next to Sir Amik, driving back the bolder warriors of the Kinshra army and giving others cause for hesitation.
Lord Tremene shouted over.
“We are ready, Sir Amik! The cavalry has been kept back behind our infantry. But we must go soon.”
The leader of the knights surveyed the situation. The Kinshra had driven them against the wall in a horseshoe shape, and the enemy advanced from all sides, leaving only trampled corpses as they closed.
But Sir Amik had foreseen this, Sir Vyvin knew. He had played a desperate gamble to lure the Kinshra army in. He had ordered his cavalry to be held back, to keep them away from the enemy so they could be used to punch a hole in the Kinshra formation that was growing ever smaller.
He was just waiting for the right moment.
Sulla watched in satisfaction as his infantry hacked their way into the mass of white-armoured knights. As long as he could keep Kara from reaching them he was confident of victory, and the goblins had been ordered north to delay her.
“Lord Sulla?” a messenger called. “Word has come from one of our scouts. The goblins are in danger, for the newcomers have hundreds of cavalry. They have hidden themselves behind our camp and are preparing to charge.”
The news stunned Sulla to silence. It was too late to warn the goblins now. A concerted cavalry charge would smash them in minutes.
Finding his voice, he cursed as he shut his visor once more, hiding his face from the uneasy looks of his men.
Kara-Meir had surprised him yet again.
The dwarf lines halted a hundred yards from the goblin rabble. A few dozen arrows had been fired half- heartedly by the enemy, yet they had failed to dent the dwarf resolve.
Kara sat on her horse at the head of the army and raised her sword. As she did so, the dwarf soldiers beat their axes upon their shields. The goblins jeered, attempting to drown the dwarf war ritual with their own. None of them knew the true purpose of the dwarf hammering.
But Theodore heard it and understood. He was at the head of the Imperial Guard, by Lord Radebaugh’s side, hidden from the enemy’s view.
The leader of the Imperial Guard turned one last time to his men.
“This is it!” he cried. “We must give Kara a quick victory! We must brush aside these goblins and move on to the city!”
The men cheered in anticipation, and from somewhere in their midst a cry was heard.
“For Falador, for Asgarnia and for honour!”
Every man shouted, raising his sword into the air, urging his horse on at a swift trot to answer Kara’s summons.
“For Falador, for Asgarnia and for honour!”
Castimir clutched at Theodore’s arm as they moved forward, and the squire turned to see tears in his friend’s eyes.
“We read histories of the heroes when we were young, Theo. To think that in years to come children will read our stories!”
Beside them, a growling voice replied.
“So long as they are not our obituaries, Castimir. Then I shall be satisfied” Doric muttered.
The friends fell silent as the command was given to increase the pace, for speed was now of utmost importance.
Kara held her lines back, ignoring the goblin soldiers who called out to her and made obscene gestures.
“Keep up the drumming!” she instructed. “Let it hide the sound of Theodore’s cavalry until it is too late for them.”
The goblin horde had spread out to mirror the deployment of her army, for they knew how important it was not to become surrounded by an enveloping line. But in so doing, they had fallen for Kara’s trap. Their formation would make Theodore’s cavalry charge far more effective.
The first they knew of the six hundred-strong cavalry was the cloud of dust that appeared to the east. A cry went up, but by that time it was too late for their commanders to do anything.
From the northeast came the Imperial Guard, driving headlong at full gallop into the spread-out goblin line and cutting them down as if they were blades of grass under a scythe.
Castimir was the first to fell an enemy. He rode on the edge of the charge, intending to break off and use his magic from a distance rather than engage in close combat. Fire arced from his fingers and spread fear and confusion throughout the enemy ranks.
Then it was the turn of Lord Radebaugh and Theodore, who led the charge into the breaking goblin horde.
