Bloody hell. Better get out of range, quick! She gave Hellsbane her cue, and the mare reared as if spurred, screamed and slewed around on her hindquarters, and lurched into a gallop. The rest of her fighters weren’t far behind her. She bent over Hellsbane’s neck and looked back over her shoulder.

As she had expected, Ancar’s officers reacted to that apparent stampede by frantically signaling a charge. But they didn’t know the ground, and Kero and her native guides did.

Their mounted troops were on tired beasts that had just spent the last candlemark struggling through mire. And the poor things weren’t Shin‘a’in-bred. They did their best, but before they’d even gotten to firm ground, the Skybolts were well out of range of even the heaviest crossbow. Once on firm ground, they still weren’t a match for Shin‘a’in-bred speed and stamina. The lead continued to open. She grinned, ferally. Never reckoned on that, did you, m‘lord Ancar?

Kero halfway expected them to give up and turn back, but they didn’t; that meant it was time to give them another goading. She wheeled Hellsbane at the top of the slope, and raised her hand; a heartbeat later, the rest of the Skybolts joined her on the ridge, already readying another flight of arrows, and as she brought her hand down, they rained missiles down on the cavalry struggling up the slope toward them. Horses and riders alike fell screaming in pain, and as the front rank went down, they tripped the ranks behind, bringing the charge to chaos. She hated to do it, but horses were harder to replace than fighters, so horses were fair targets.

This time she only allowed time for one crossbow volley before signaling that it was time to run again.

She thought that surely they’d turn back now-but when she looked back over her shoulder as the Skybolts pounded down the other side of the hill, she saw the first of them, silhouetted against the sky, still coming.

What in hell is driving these men? What could be so bad behind them that they’d rather face this?

She debated stopping a second time and letting off another volley, but something deep inside her told her that might not be wise. In another moment, she was very glad she’d made that decision, for riding at the head of the charge, on a strange, homed creature that was not a horse, was an unarmored man dressed in brilliant scarlet.