At a word from the devotee, Suti al-Suri spread out his horse-warriors on both sides. Sending their mounts farther down, the el-Algreb hid to avoid being seen. Prince Jaspid arranged the riflemen behind the King in case some cavalryman or priest chanced to notice him.

None of the riders glanced downward. They goaded their beasts like men avid for bloodshed.

Time passed. The sun rose above the coming storm. Bifalt’s hand stung him with every beat of his pulse. And still Rile’s cavalry ran past, an immeasurable torrent. For reasons of his own, he must have committed his entire mounted force.

Through the unrelenting clamor of hooves, Suti al-Suri heard the whistling of his scouts. He reported that a mass of priests was gathering below the road. They had brought the horde with them, and the small skirmishers. There they waited to let the cavalry go by.

Then Bifalt heard the sounds of distant fighting, the unmistakable clash and ring of iron. Without thinking, he crept higher until he could see the upper stretch of the road. Squinting between boulders, he saw cavalrymen and beasts sprawl downward in swaths of blood. Their opponents were few, but the Repository’s defenders rode huge black steeds, wore full armor.

One by one, they fell as well. When they went down, they clanged on the rocks and boulders like huge bells shattering.

Yet they stopped the charge. The following cavalrymen were forced to slow, then halt. Perhaps warned by their priests, all of the riders above King Bifalt restrained their mounts.

A moment later, the characteristic booming of siege-guns echoed off the mountainsides. From somewhere above the road, the cannon sent their balls and loads of chain over the heads of the massed priests, the horde. If their shots did any damage lower down, Bifalt could not see it. But other siege-guns must have been aimed at the northward reach of the road. They must have torn the road apart. Abruptly, the rush of cavalry was cut off.

Above him, the charge collapsed in confusion. Riders wheeled their beasts, waiting for orders or looking for ways to escape. At least for the moment, they had nowhere to go.

Through the storm’s gloom, muzzle flashes suddenly appeared. Their cracking reached Bifalt an instant later. From positions scattered all over the hillsides, hundreds of rifles shredded the milling cavalry.

Klamath! The General had chosen his battleground well.

Panting with relief and excitement, Bifalt scrambled from place to place, searching for a better vantage. He found only glimpses of the dying cavalrymen and beasts, but that was enough. The ones who tried to save themselves by plunging downward were met by the blades of the el-Algreb. Those that surged up the slopes gave Klamath’s riflemen better targets. Rile’s cavalry had no escape.