The Boise cavalry were back in formation already, four blocks three men deep—risky, but it would add firepower and weight to any charge. Now they were rocking forward, but between the blocks of the enemy formation loomed squat wheeled shapes behind angled arrow-shields . . .

“For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful,” Ingolf muttered, then louder: “Mark! Drop behind me!”

Reluctantly the boy obeyed; Major Kohler was over on the left flank of the formation with the other guidon banner so that a lucky spray of shafts couldn’t decapitate the regiment, but being a commander meant you got shot at more, and that was that. You were completely useless if your men couldn’t see you, and if they could the enemy could too.

Up to a hand gallop now, the knotted reins dropped on the saddlebow, guiding the horse with weight and thighs alone. It took almost as long to train a cavalry mount as it did the rider, longer in proportion to life span, ordinary horses were useless for this . . .

TUNG! A great metallic bass throb of a sound, like the world’s biggest untuned lute, and instantly the crack as the springald’s slide hit its stops and the dart flashed free.

Something arched out from behind the onrushing body of horsemen. It seemed to go faster as it approached, a blur in a long shallow curve traveling too fast to really see. Then shunk! as it struck the dirt fifty feet ahead of him and buried half its length in the ground. He was past it immediately, close enough to see the malignant quiver of the sheet-metal fins that fletched it. Then another went by, and he could hear the whipppt of cloven air as it passed his left shoulder. Death missed by six inches; it would have torn his arm off at the shoulder if it had struck. And there was a huge scream from behind him, just an instant before it stopped sharp as an ax-cut.

Mark! he thought, then ruthlessly suppressed the wave of anger and grief.

More three-pound darts traveling hundreds of feet per second; one made a brutal wet cracking sound as it passed entirely through a trooper not far to his right in a spray of blood and broken mail-links and killed the man behind him too. Another skewered a horse, punching into its chest and disappearing entirely into its body cavity. The beast went down between one stride and other, limp as a banker’s charity, tangling the feet of the mount behind as it tried to leap the sudden obstacle. The second horse went over in a tumble of limbs and crackle of bone, the rider flying free to strike with crushing force. And they were close now, close, four hundred yards, three hundred . . .

“Shoot!” he bellowed.