the other.
Esk kar nodded at his subcommander, partly from relief that his men had followed him. He handed the ropes of the captured beasts to one of the boys, then took the halter of his own mount and swung back astride.
“Hold these animals fast. We may need extra mounts.” Esk kar turned to Sisuthros and the men. “Follow me, and once in the canyon, form a line.
They won’t be expecting an attack from behind. When we charge, ride as hard as you can and kill everything in your path wearing red. Red, remember that!” Esk kar spoke rapidly, giving the men no time to think or doubt.
In a moment Esk kar was at the center of a line of ten mounted men that stretched across the canyon’s mouth. The noise of the battle sounded loud in his ears, just out of sight. “Mitrac,” he called out to the lad standing in the rocks with his bow, an arrow to the string. “Follow us in, but stay in the rocks. Kill as many as you can. Don’t let any get away.”
Esk kar glanced at the men on either side. “Remember, kill only red, or we’ll be fighting the whole lot.”
He gave them no more time to worry. “Think about all the gold they’re carrying! Use your horses and scream your heads off. I want them more scared of us than the other barbarians. Now, follow me, and do as I do!”
He kicked the horse forward and hoped his men followed. If they didn’t, he’d be dead very soon. His own fear rose up bitter in the back of his throat, as it always did at the start of a battle. Death might wait a few paces ahead, but he refused to think about the danger or his decision to fight. Esk kar took a deep breath, glad that the time for thinking had passed.
Rounding the small bend just inside the canyon’s mouth, the full sound of men and beasts fi ghting and dying hit them in all its fury. Huge clouds of dust swirled madly but Esk kar paid no mind, urging Nicar’s best horse forward with savage kicks even as he gripped the beast tightly with both knees. He reached the rear of the fight as the first Alur Meriki heard the horses behind him and turned his head.
Esk kar’s sword swept down, and he sliced through the man’s shoulder as the warrior tried to wheel his horse around. Without slowing, Esk kar urged his horse directly at the next man, letting his beast’s shoulder crash into the warrior’s horse, knocking loose the man’s grip as Esk kar followed up with another savage stroke. The fi ghting madness enveloped him, possessed him completely. Only killing mattered now.
His own men rode close beside him, yelling at the tops of their lungs and hacking away like madmen. An Alur Meriki warrior whirled his horse around and launched himself at Esk kar, swinging his sword high in the air.
Before he could strike, one of Mitrac’s arrows thudded into the barbarian’s breast and he pitched backward off his mount.
The fight turned into a melee. Horses bumped each other, screaming and biting. Warriors clung to their mounts and tried to fight at the same time. But the fresh horses of Esk kar’s men pushed the tired animals of the Alur Meriki back, and Esk kar’s long sword rose and fell again and again, spattering blood from both man and beast.
Attacked from behind by an unknown force, they had no idea how few assailed them. The shouts of Orak’s men rose up and mixed with the cries of the dying and wounded, the din resounding louder in the confined canyon, echoing off the walls and adding to the confusion.
Esk kar tried to keep track of the battle even as he struggled to master his horse and fight, but the chaos of the combat overwhelmed him as desperate men fought one on one. One moment Esk kar found himself practically surrounded by attackers. In the next, the clashing waves of men left him almost alone.
A dismounted barbarian flung himself upon Sisuthros and pulled him from his horse. The two men rolled together at Esk kar’s feet. He reached down and pushed his sword’s point into the barbarian’s back as the warrior raised his knife for the killing blow.
Then Sisuthros was forgotten as another warrior rode at Esk kar, leaning forward over his lance and screaming his war cry. Esk kar had faced lances before and knew he only had to turn the point a few inches to survive. He kicked his horse forward, hugging the animal’s neck and keeping his arm rigid and his sword low until the lance point passed over the tip of the blade. Then Esk kar pushed his sword out and up, catching the wood just behind the bronze tip and feeling it burn its way across his arm. His arm stayed locked and his blade straight as the horses crashed together.
The hilt of his weapon smashed against the man’s chest before the impact wrenched the sword from his grasp.
The collision sent Esk kar’s horse to its haunches. Esk kar pitched backward and fell, going heels over head as he hit the earth. From the ground, everything looked different and more frightening. A barbarian spotted the easy victim and twisted his horse around to head for him. But a dozen steps from Esk kar, the horse suddenly reared up, an arrow protruding under its neck, its rider suddenly fighting for control of the dying animal.
Esk kar scrambled over to the warrior he’d just killed and retrieved his sword. Grabbing the hilt with both hands, Esk kar braced one foot on the body and heaved with all his might, pulling the sword free of both earth and carcass. An arrow hissed by his head, but he didn’t know who shot it or where it went.
His horse, back on its feet, spun and twisted in panic, too confused to get free of the melee. Three quick steps and Esk kar launched himself across the back of the beast, nearly going over the other side. Struggling to regain control of the terrified mount, he called out to it so that it would recognize his voice. It took a moment to shift his weight and lock his knees on the horse as he reached forward for the halter. Another arrow hissed just beyond the horse’s neck, and this time Esk kar looked up to see another red — clad barbarian pitching off his horse a few paces away.
The moment Esk kar had the halter, the animal steadied. Looking around, he saw the Alur Meriki being pressed back, Orak’s men hacking away like fiends. He stretched his body upward in an effort to see more of the battle. Esk kar spotted six or seven warriors still pressing forward against the yellow riders. The red standard moved closer to a small knot of the unknown tribesmen.
“Follow me, Orak, follow me,” Esk kar bellowed as he urged the horse forward, aiming the beast straight at the red standard. “Orak, Orak,” he screamed as he crashed the horse against a rider, knocking the other man’s beast back and slashing down with his sword. Then Esk kar burst into their midst, hacking left and right, screaming to his men to follow. The fighting madness came over him again. No thoughts, no fear, just strike and strike again.
He’d pushed through the line of barbarians who had turned to face the men from Orak. Now he reached the backs of those Alur Meriki fighting the weakening group of yellow riders. He stabbed his sword into the haunches of one horse, then slashed at the head of another wild — eyed mount. The stricken and terrified beasts reared up, lashing out with their hooves, their screams joining the battle din.
Esk kar drove his horse between the two wounded horses, killing one man outright as he struggled to regain control of his mount. Esk kar then turned toward the other and struck downward at the man’s arm. A burst of blood and a scream erupted as the man’s hand disappeared, severed at the wrist. Esk kar whirled forward once again.
He’d nearly broken through the Alur Meriki ranks, but one of the red warriors wheeled to face him, the two horses standing shoulder to shoulder as the swords clashed. A thick — bodied warrior in the full strength of manhood, he struck down at Esk kar’s head. Esk kar blocked the blow, but the man struck again and again. The strokes pushed Esk kar’s blade back, giving him no time for a counterstroke. Esk kar fought harder, trying to overcome with sheer strength what he couldn’t do with skill. But the Alur Meriki proved as strong and determined.
Esk kar jerked at the halter, trying to disengage, but his horse was trapped from behind. He felt his sword arm growing weaker, and saw the gleam of victory in his enemy’s eyes.
That light suddenly flickered out when a heavy feathered shaft appeared as if by magic at the base of the man’s throat. The dying man’s horse felt his master’s knees relax and yielded to the pressure of Esk kar’s mount. He rode past the man, whose dying eyes turned toward him as he pushed by. Esk kar’s right arm shook with weakness, but he kicked his horse forward and struck down another man from behind.
An Alur Meriki rider appeared and crashed his horse into Esk kar’s.
Esk kar tumbled yet again to the ground, but an Orak rider arrived and cut the barbarian down almost in the same instant. Esk kar gained his feet and lurched toward the last few Alur Meriki still fighting to reach the leader of the yellow riders. Esk kar saw that the clan chief of the yellow riders had been wounded and unhorsed, with a single warrior standing in front of him for protection.
