The prince scanned the forest again. This time, he could pick out a few of the archers, perched in the trees like strange birds of prey, waiting for the signal. He glanced at Oreius, who nodded confidently.
Relam made eye contact with the sergeant of squad ten and held his right hand up in a fist. Then, after a moment’s hesitation he brought it down swiftly. The sergeant turned and immediately relayed the order to his archers.
There was a slight pause, then four bows twanged in nearly perfect unison and four arrows streaked down into the bandit camp below.
Before the first arrows had even found their targets, more than thirty other shafts came streaking out of the canopy. The bandits in the open were cut down immediately, crumpling to the ground, some pierced by multiple arrows. The screams of the wounded rang through the forest and woke the other bandits, who came stumbling out of their tents, half-dressed and ill-prepared for battle.
Arrows continued to rain down from the forest, peppering the enemy camp. Relam scanned the area slowly, shaking his head at the number of bodies piling up.
“They never had a chance,” he said quietly.
Oreius nodded. “Yes. The battle goes well.”
Relam did not honor that observation with a reply. He felt if he opened his mouth again he might be sick.
Above, the archers were still loosing arrow after arrow. Every time a bandit ventured out of his tent, there would be a multiple hiss, a scream of pain, and then another still body lying on the forest floor.
“Not much for us to do,” the sergeant of squad one observed. “Bit disappointing actually. I was looking forward to a bit of a skirmish.” His men growled in agreement, shifting in their saddles and watching for the first gap in the line.
And, just like that, the forest went silent.
No more arrows flew through the camp. No more running bandits were shot down mercilessly. There was nothing to shoot at anymore. Five minutes passed, then ten. Still nothing. Relam was about to order the men forward to go through the camp on foot, when ten bandits burst out of the central pavilion, running flat out for the forest.
Instantly, the air was full of arrows again. Two bandits stumbled and fell, one of them pierced through the leg and arm, another with an arrow in his shoulder and stomach. Both men were well and truly out of the fight, writhing in agony. The rest of the small band had raised their shields overhead in an attempt to block the incoming arrows. Another man was struck a glancing blow along his left arm. He reflexively lowered his shield to examine the injury, slowing slightly as well. Immediately, he was struck by three more arrows, dead before he hit the ground.
The other seven bandits were still running, despite the withering hail of arrows. And now other bandits that had cowered in their tents were up and running, trying to use the larger band as a distraction. The individual bandits ran into the woods, right into the waiting horsemen around the perimeter. A half-dozen individual battles broke out, the clash of steel joining the cries of the wounded and dying and the constant hiss of speeding death.
“Sir, they’re coming right at us!”
Relam refocused his attention on the seven surviving bandits from the original group. They had nearly reached the forest now, and were aiming for a gap between two riders. The soldiers were hesitating, weighing the chances of success. Relam flourished his sword overhead then lowered it at the running men.
“Forward!”
The sergeant yelled and led the way, his men forming a wedge behind him. Relam and Oreius fell in behind the disciplined formation, ready to assist with any clean up required after the initial charge.
The seven bandits had just reached the safety of the forest when the first squad arrived in a wall of thundering horseflesh and yelling warriors. They actually stopped in place and looked up horrified at the sight that met their eyes. Then, the first squad swept through them, scattering bandits right and left, killing some and wounding others.
Only four of the bandits survived the initial charge. One of these was down, nursing multiple broken bones. Two others were on their feet, desperately fending off the soldier’s swords.
The fourth bandit had been thrown mostly clear of the battle, landing behind a small bush that partially hid him from the first squad’s view. From Relam and Oreius’ position though he was easily visible. As the bandit turned to make his escape, Relam clapped his heels to Buck’s sides.
“Get him!” he shouted, pointing, as he galloped after the running man. Oreius was a fraction of a second behind Relam, his own horse stretching into a gallop as well.
By sheer chance, the bandit had managed to choose a path that ran straight into a denser part of the forest. The trees grew closer here, and the running man was forced to duck around trunks regularly. Relam and Oreius had a harder time of it, sawing on the reins to bring their horses around and follow the bandit. The horses whinnied their disapproval, but continued running. The bandit, seeing the difficulties he was creating by weaving through trees, dodged about even more. Relam grimly followed, alternately slowing and accelerating, pivoting and wheeling, but always drawing a little closer to his quarry.
Out of the corner of his eye, Relam caught a flash of movement. Then, he saw Oreius drawing level with him and passing him off to the left, fencing the bandit in. The man stopped, turned, and tried to find another escape, but Relam adjusted his own course to hem him in as well.
“Surrender!” the prince shouted. “The rest of
