climbed down. It was Samtu, who’d brought the dragon-man to camp not long ago.
“Take care of Appleseed,” Samtu said, handing the reins to Karada.
“No promises,” the chief replied. “Warriors, with me!”
They swung away from the main fight and galloped down the riverbank. The elven rafts had bunched together, filling the river from side to side. Without a word of explanation or warning, Karada rode to the water’s edge and urged her horse to leap. The horse sprang and landed solidly on one of the rafts. The craft bobbed hard, causing Appleseed to scramble for footing, but the animal kept his feet and Karada kept her balance too.
She speared a rafter who tried to fend her off with his pole. Two other elves tore into the bundle of javelins they’d been trying to pass, seeking to free some to use against Karada. She slid off Appleseed and killed them both before they could get weapons in their hands.
By now many elves were standing in water up to their knees. The rearmost ranks were climbing across rafts to reach the south shore. The plainsmen higher up on the bank, with no one left to fight, began throwing stones or javelins at the fleeing enemy. The last rafts in the convoy, the ones laden with the expedition’s supplies, began to retreat. Rafters poled frantically downstream, eager to escape the ferocious onslaught.
“Go!” Karada shouted after them. “Go! Come no more to our land!”
Her triumph was cut short by a blast of noise — the sound of ram’s horns. Startled, she remounted Appleseed and rode to the shore. The rumble of massed hooves filled the air.
A cry rose from the throats of the elves on the riverbank. “Balif! Balif!”
She couldn’t believe it. Balif, the elf lord who’d captured her on the beach so many years ago? She led the remaining mounted plainsmen up the draw, reining up when she reached the edge of the plain. What she saw brought a lump to her throat.
Elves, hundreds and hundreds of them, all on horseback. Sunshine glinted off their bronze lances. Two standards waved in the breeze over this magnificent host — the first was the hated emblem of Silvanos; the second, a device Karada didn’t recognize. It was a narrow pennant of bright blue, slashed with slanting red and black bars.
The band behind her milled about uncertainly. There were no more than one hundred and fifty plainsmen on horseback to receive the charge of five hundred or more elves. Samtu, now astride another horse, worked her way to Karada’s side.
“We can’t stand against that!” she cried.
Karada looked back at Pakito’s force on foot, still fighting the few elves left at the river. “If we don’t, Pakito and all those with him will die!”
She ordered her horsemen to group together in a tight circle. At a deliberate trot, they rode away from Pakito, crossing toward the approaching elf host. As Karada hoped, she drew the elven army’s attention away from the vulnerable plainsmen on foot.
“Ready?” she called to her band. “If we die, we die free!”
The plainsmen managed a cheer, but it sounded hollow. Karada took her place in the front rank of horsemen and put aside her sword in favor of her old short-handled spear, which she always carried slung on her back. She was just about to order the charge when a surprising movement among the elf riders stopped her.
The block of five hundred riders turned to the right in one simultaneous movement. It was then Karada and her followers saw that behind the mass of elf warriors was another army of equal size. This army turned their horses left on command, revealing a third contingent.
The plainsmen sat and gaped. None of them had ever seen so many elves at once, much less so many armed, mounted elves. The rear of Karada’s band fell apart, warriors galloping away as fast as they could. Karada pushed her way through the ranks, yelling and striking her own men with the shaft of her spear.
“Cowards!” she raged. “Craven dogs! Where are you going?”
“We are lost!” they cried, scattering out of her reach.
She saw Sessan, one of her best horsemen, urging his comrades to follow him, retreating to safety. Karada screamed curses at him, damning him for his treachery.
“We’ll fight another day!” Sessan whirled, declaring, “Die if you want, Karada, but don’t expect us to die for nothing!”
She reversed her grip on her spear and made ready to hurl it at Sessan. Samtu rode up beside her and tried to stay her hand. Blind with fury, Karada slashed at her comrade. Whitefaced, Samtu dropped her sword and rode away.
In scant minutes Karada was alone, facing fifteen hundred elf warriors. Her anger burned itself out, leaving her surprisingly calm in the face of imminent death. She wrapped her reins tightly around her fist and thumped her bare heels against Appleseed’s ribs, and the horse cantered through the bloody grass toward the foe. When the gap had closed to thirty paces — javelin range — Karada stopped to savor her last breath of life.
Facing her was a splendidly outfitted band of elite outriders in sky-blue mantles. Twenty strong, they wore tall bronze helmets and carried round shields, burnished until they shone like gold. The shields bore the emblem of the sun, the symbol of Silvanos’s throne.
In the midst of these magnificent warriors she spotted one elf flanked by standard bearers and another, older elf in civilian clothes. The younger elf was clad in a gilded breastplate and plumed helmet, greaves, and a brilliant blue cape. She recognized him. It was Balif, her old enemy.
From under the visor of his helmet Balif saw a lone human on horseback, confronting his entire host. Her gray chaps were streaked with blood, and a barbarous headdress of yellow teeth held down a mane of sun-bleached hair. When Balif finally realized who this human was, he couldn’t help himself. He smiled.
The line of elves stood still behind him, awaiting the order to attack. Instead of launching his whole force at Karada, Balif rode out followed only by four standard bearers.
Karada raised her spear.
“Hold!” Balif shouted. “Do not throw your life away with that spear!”
“My life is mine,” she shouted back. “I’ll do with it as I please!”
Balif reined up an arm’s length away. “Greetings, Nianki.”
“You remember me.”
“How could I forget?” He looked past her as the last of her mounted warriors disappeared over the hills. “You seem to have run out of army.”
“They were unworthy.”
“I don’t think so. Your band has wrought great havoc in the south, burning outposts. They simply know when not to fight.” Balif pulled off his helmet and cradled it in front of him. Wind caught his long blond hair. “I give you leave to withdraw, Nianki.”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Your life will be spared if you go.”
“A few elf lives too, I reckon, but I won’t live by your charity.”
“I have only to raise my hand and you’ll be trampled into the weeds.”
“So what’s stopping you?” she replied harshly. “Are you afraid to fight me in single combat?”
Balif laughed. “You’re a strange foe, Nianki!” he said. “Your bravery here today confounds the claim that humans are merely grunting savages who deserve nothing better than to be driven from the plain. You’re resourceful, gallant, and have a certain rough grace.”
“If you truly believed what you say, you would not persist in driving us from the land,” she told him.
He shrugged. “I think there is room for all. Unfortunately, mine is but one voice. There are many in my lord’s council who prefer to exterminate humans rather than live with them.” With a little shake of his head, he recalled himself to the current situation. In a loud voice he declared, “Withdraw, Nianki.”
“I offered you single combat,” she said grimly. “Do you refuse?”
“So you did. Yes, I’ll fight you, if you wish.”
One of his retainers cried out, “No, my lord, you cannot!”
“This barbarian is no honorable opponent!” said another.
“I’ll stake my life on this human’s honor,” he said curtly. “Stand back, and do not interfere.”
The unhappy standard bearers turned their animals back and rode slowly to the waiting elf host. Balif drew his sword and slung his bright golden shield over his shoulder.
