‘I cannot leave them,’ Riv grunted.
‘Explain,’ Meical snapped, as he gazed around the field.
‘My mother leads those White-Wings,’ Riv grated, nodding down towards the encircled shield wall.
Meical stared at the fighting warriors. ‘Tell me who to kill,’ he said.
‘The riders are our enemy, allied to the Kadoshim, and those with the shaven heads, they are Kadoshim acolytes, fanatics sworn to the Kadoshim’s service.’
Meical dipped his head, and then his wings were beating and he was speeding towards the Cheren riders, his sword held out straight before him.
Warriors amongst the Cheren realized they were under attack, some heads turning in her direction, seeing Meical speeding towards them.
Riv recognized one of the Cheren: a woman, shaven-haired apart from a dark warrior braid, sharp, proud eyes and intelligent features, features that Riv hated. Hot rage swept through her.
Jin.
Once-betrothed to Bleda, and now the new Queen of the Cheren since Bleda had cut her father’s throat. Jin had been due to wed Bleda. She had clearly loved him in her way, but now that love had transformed into a white-hot hatred, for both Bleda and Riv, because Jin had seen them together in a moonlit glade.
Riv saw the Queen of the Cheren shift her weight in her saddle, bow arm turning towards Meical. Riv knew how deadly Jin was with a bow.
Without thinking, Riv loosed her whole handful of arrows at Jin, reached into her quiver to snatch more. The first arrow flew over Jin’s head, the second slammed into her mount’s neck, the third into Jin’s thigh.
As her mount staggered, the arrow Jin had aimed at Meical flew wide. She snarled at the pain, gripping the arrow in her thigh and snapping its shaft. Her eyes searched the sky and met Riv’s.
Jin’s face shifted into a cold smile, a mutual hatred pulsing between them. Riv could see Jin shouting orders to her warriors, and half a dozen Cheren around her shifted in their saddles, their bows snapping towards Riv.
Uh-oh.
Cheren archers could take the eye from a hawk in flight.
I’m dead.
Then Meical slammed into the line of riders.
Cheren flew from their saddles with the impact, horses neighing and stumbling, breaking the Cheren line and flow. Meical’s wings beat, pulling him back, his longsword swinging in wide circles. Blood sprayed. Riv saw a head sail through the air, droplets of blood tracing a bloody arc.
Riv drew her wings in tight and dropped like a stone to the ground, restrapping her bow into its case. The air whistled past her cheek as another arrow flew above her head, then her wings were out and she was rushing to the ground, a pulse and shift of balance sending her skimming above the bodies of the fallen.
Jin was still upon her horse, shouting orders. Some of her warriors were replacing their bows in their cases and drawing swords to fight Meical, others further out moving to take aim at Riv.
She reached out a hand, snatched up a shield from a dead White-Wing and held it in front of her as she hurtled towards the Cheren, felt the drum of arrows thumping into the wood, one arrowhead bursting through, cutting the leather and linen of her glove to pierce flesh.
The pain just made Riv angrier.
More arrows punched into her shield, splinters of wood spraying in her face as she drew closer, the force of the arrows’ impact greater, and then she was amongst them, smashing the shield boss into a face, drawing one of her short-swords and slashing, blood spurting. Horses neighed and reared, the Cheren struggling to control their mounts. There was a glimpse of white feathers as Meical swirled amongst them, leaving death in his wake. Riv hacked her way to him, and together they fought amongst the Cheren, guarding each other’s back.
A battle roar made her look up. The sound of bodies crashing together, and the White-Wings were there, charging in perfect formation, a wall of shields carving into the Cheren.
‘RIV!’ a voice screamed, Aphra, and Riv veered towards her mother, with Meical following. The weight of the shield on Riv’s arm was like lead, but her rage carried her on, stabbing, spitting and snarling, and Cheren died before her.
And then Aphra was in front of her, dark hair close-cropped in the White-Wing style. Blood sheeted from a cut across her forehead, but her eyes were sharp and focused. They shared a fierce smile, Riv glimpsing her friends Vald and Jost in the shield wall that was reforming around Aphra.
Aphra bellowed a command and the shield wall took a step deeper amongst the Cheren riders, forcing a wedge, pressing their advantage as they stabbed with short-swords, carving bloody ruin. Horses screamed; one close to Riv reared and toppled, pinning its rider beneath it. The shield wall strode over them, swords stabbing down into the trapped warrior under their feet.
The Cheren circle broke apart. Shouted commands filtered through the roar and din of battle, and Riv saw the Cheren attempting to withdraw.
They need space for their bows to tell.
Aphra bellowed orders, trying to keep the Cheren engaged, to keep the shield wall amongst them.
Riv yelled wordlessly, leaping into the gap that was forming, dropping her splintered shield and dragging a Cheren warrior from her saddle, trying to maintain a link with their enemy, to foul their withdrawal and reformation. She punched her sword through a shirt of mail into the woman’s belly, twisted her blade as she ripped it free, throwing the warrior to the ground. But the Cheren were too good to be snared like this and, in heartbeats, a space was opening, widening. The Cheren were cantering away, their line reforming, swords slipping back into scabbards, bows emerging from their saddle-cases.
With a burst of strength, Riv flew after them and grabbed a trailing rider, dragging him from his mount, the warrior twisting, elbowing Riv in the mouth, the two of them falling to the ground as the horse galloped away. Riv spat and cursed, stabbed and punched, but the Cheren warrior avoided her blade and drew a knife. Then the man was being hauled away from her; Vald’s bulk was standing over them. His sword cut the Cheren’s throat and he cast the dying man away.
‘You can’t kill them all single-handedly,’ Vald said with a grin as he grabbed Riv’s wrist and pulled her to her feet.
A whistle of arrows and Vald turned, raising his shield over them. A drum of impact as arrows punched into wood.
‘Fly,’ Vald said to Riv.
‘I’ll not leave you like a fish in a barrel,’ she grunted.
Then more shields were slamming down around them: Aphra and her shield wall forming. Riv grinned at her mother.
‘What now?’ Jost’s voice called out.
Riv bunched her wings and launched herself skywards, rising above the shield wall, hovering to take in the field.
Below her, seventy or eighty shields were tight around Aphra, elsewhere combat still raged in smaller knots: handfuls of White-Wings trying to stand against a swarm of acolytes.
The shield wall can hold for a while against the Cheren, but it won’t be able to march and reach the East Gate. The Cheren are too accurate, will exploit the gaps in the wall that movement brings. And every moment we are held here we risk the Kadoshim and their dark creatures finding us.
Shadows flitted across the ground and Riv looked up.
Oh no.
Kadoshim and Ben-Elim, a rolling battle in the air that swept their way like wind-blown storm clouds. Some of the Ben-Elim surged down from the sky, spears and swords stabbing at the Cheren, who were turning, aiming their bows skywards.