They didn't rest. They didn't talk. They rode.
Elric set a punishing pace, pushing the horses over the broken terrain of the Black Reach until their flanks were slick with foam. Kael rode Cinder low, his face buried in the mare's mane to shield his eyes from the whipping branches.
The woods blurred into a tunnel of grey streaks.
"Left!" Elric shouted, veering Cinder onto a deer trail that cut through a ravine.
Kael followed, his heart hammering in rhythm with the hooves. He kept looking back. The woods behind them were empty, silent save for the wind.
"I don't see them," Kael shouted over the wind.
"Then you aren't looking," Elric shouted back. "They're tracking the noise. Scouts. Heavy cavalry."
As if the words had summoned them, an arrow hissed through the air.
It thumped into the trunk of a pine tree, inches from Kael's head. Black fletching. Iron shaft.
"RIDE!" Elric roared.
He kicked his horse, forcing the exhausted beast into a gallop. Kael slapped Cinder's neck, leaning forward.
They burst out of the ravine into a rocky clearing.
Three riders cut them off.
They weren't Wolf-kin. They were men. Big men, encased in black plate armor that swallowed the light. Their horses were barded in chainmail, their hooves thundering like avalanches.
Black Banner Mercenaries.
"Break through!" Elric drew his greatsword. "Don't stop!"
The center mercenary lowered a heavy lance. He wasn't aiming for Elric. He was aiming for Kael.
Kael froze. The lance tip looked like a needle made of death. He yanked Cinder's reins, trying to dodge to the right.
"NO!" Elric screamed.
The old Knight didn't swerve. He drove his horse straight at the lancer. At the last second, Elric dropped his shoulder and slammed into the mercenary's mount.
CRUNCH.
Horse met horse. Metal met metal. The mercenary went flying, his lance shivering into splinters against Elric's pauldron.
But the second rider was there.
He swung a falchion—a curved, vicious blade designed to open armor like a tin can. Elric caught the blow on his greatsword, but the force of it nearly unhorsed him.
"Go, Kael!" Elric shouted, parrying another strike. "Get to the fortress!"
The third rider ignored Elric. He spurred his horse toward Kael.
Kael's hand went to his own sword. The rusty blade Elric had given him. It felt pathetic against the black armor charging him.
Survival first.
The mercenary raised his mace. He was fast. Professional.
Kael didn't swing his sword. He kicked his feet out of the stirrups and threw himself out of the saddle.
He hit the ground rolling. Cinder shied away, exposing the mercenary. The rider missed his swing at the empty saddle, cursing.
Kael was on his feet in the mud. He was small. He was unarmored. He was a rat.
The mercenary turned his horse, looking down at Kael with a slit-visored helmet that showed nothing but darkness. He laughed—a hollow, metallic sound—and charged.
Kael waited. The ground shook. The massive warhorse filled his vision.
The air always wins.
Kael didn't block. He didn't run. He dropped.
He slid under the thundering hooves, slashing up with both hands. His rusty sword shrieked against the chainmail barding, sparked, and found the unprotected belly of the horse.
The beast screamed and buckled.
The mercenary went down in a tangle of limbs and steel. He hit the mud hard, the wind knocked out of him.
Kael scrambled up. He didn't wait for the man to recover. He didn't offer a duel.
He jumped onto the man's chest, grabbed his dagger, and drove it into the eye-slit of the helmet.
Once. Twice.
The man stopped struggles.
Kael gasped, his blood roaring in his ears. He looked up.
Elric had finished the second rider—cleaved him from shoulder to hip—but the old Knight wasn't cheering. He was leaning heavily on his horse's neck, one hand pressed to his side.
Blood was leaking through his fingers. Dark, arterial red.
"Elric!"
Kael ran to him.
"Get on your horse," Elric wheezed, his face grey. "The lance... glanced off. Just a scratch."
It wasn't a scratch. The chainmail at his side was torn open.
"We have to stop. I need to bind it," Kael said, reaching for the wound.
Elric slapped his hand away. "We stop, we die. There will be more."
He brutally kicked his horse into motion. "Ride, boy. If I fall off, leave me."
Kael scrambled onto Cinder. He looked at the three dead men in black armor. He looked at the blood trail Elric was leaving.
He kicked Cinder into a gallop.
He wouldn't leave him. He had sworn an Oath on the ash. And if the Ashlands had taught him anything, it was that you didn't leave your only shield behind.