[Arry]

As the Easterlings came at them, Brand was torn. His gaze flicked to where Meghan rode. He could see her fumbling to get her bow ready as the foe came nearer. His sight of her was lost in less than the wink of an eye as the battle rolled down the hill.

He heard Sythric calling his name . . . something about the enemy coming down from the ridge. And would he ride with him . . .

Again the sounds and crush of battle pressed in on him. Brand kicked against Lady’s side urging her after Sythric. He had no lance as did the older man, And on horse, his short sword was not that effective. Instead he grasped his long stout oaken cudgel firmly in his hand and rode hard against the advancing men.

Lady moved upon the Easterlings as she would have against the wolves that preyed on Brand’s flocks. She evaded the sharp sting of their blades when she could and when that simply was not possible she raised up and struck at them with her hooves.

Three of the foe rushed in to surround Lady and Brand as the oak cudgel sprayed one of their fellow’s brains onto the muddy ground. Two of them slashed at Lady’s hindquarters while the one in front wielded his lance against Brand. Lady’s back hooves flew out behind her, catching one of her attackers hard in the chest, knocking him away from her. The other one’s blade connected with her flank, gouging a long slash along her side. She wheeled and struck out at him with her front hooves.

As Lady made her abrupt turn, the third Easterling thrust his lance at Brand, unseating him. Brand tried desperately to regain his balance, to no effect. He fell from his horse, hitting his left shoulder hard on the ground. His cudgel flew from his grip. Brand scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword. From the corner of his eye he could see Lady still standing, her two attackers now downed. Approaching him was the Easterling with the lance. His eyes were hard on Brand as he put down the spear and drew his own blade . . .