Demontech: Gulf Run by David Sherman Read Free Book Online

the lancer’s short ribs, but the man’s armor blunted the strike and he retained his seat. The Jokapcul dropped his lance and drew both short swords as he spun his horse for another charge. That was a mistake—Spinner’s quarterstaff gave him a much longer reach. He thrust between the two threatening blades and caught the Jokapcul in the belly, catapulting him backward off his horse. Spinner jumped in before the Jokapcul could capture a breath and slit his throat.
    A few yards away Haft ducked under a lance and swung his mighty battle-axe into the chest of a charging horse. The falling animal wrenched the weapon out of his hands as it threw its rider into a tree. The Jokapcul crashed into the trunk face first, his neck broke with a loud crack, and he crumpled to the ground, immobile and dying. Haft risked the dying horse’s thrashing hooves to retrieve his axe, but it was buried too deeply and he couldn’t quickly dislodge it. A lance caught his cloak and jerked him off his feet, but the lancer lost his grip on his weapon when its head stayed stuck in the cloak. He drew a sword and turned his mount about to finish his opponent. But Haft still had his knife. He drew it, dropped below the swing of the Jokapcul’s sword, and swiped at the horse’s hamstring, knicking it. The animal screamed and bucked, momentarily out of control. Haft jerked the lance from its hold on his cloak and slammed its point into the small of the Jokapcul’s back as he struggled to regain control of his horse. Haft twisted the lance, the soldier fell from his mount, and Haft pinned him to the ground with his own lance.
    Others among the refugees weren’t as fortunate. Three of the fallen lancers from the head of the column scrambled to their feet and raced into the forest to confront Veduci and two nearby men. They were followed quickly by two other lancers—the remaining fallen Jokapcul were dead or dying. Three of the unhorsed Jokapcul went down, dead or badly wounded, but so did the two men with the bandit leader. Veduci managed to break away from the last two lancers before they could catch him in a pincer and ran to where two other of his men were fighting back-to-back, joining them in a defensive circle.
    A Border Warder stayed down when he dove away from one charging horse into the path of another and was trampled. Another took a lance full in the back as he gutted a lancer he’d just unhorsed. Three more of Veduci’s men were down, dead or dying. Postelmuz lay staring sightless into the treetops, the broken shaft of a lance sticking out of his chest.
    In moments of fighting, thirty of the Jokapcul were down—as were eight of the twenty-seven ambushers. The lancers who’d continued to dance in confusion when the fight began turned into the forest to join battle.
    Not all of them made it into the trees.
    Panting from their run, the rest of Haft’s Border Warder squad arrived to find enemy well within the range of their longbows. They toppled four of the lancers still on the road, then four drew their swords and raced at the Jokapcul flank. Wolf was with these last four Border Warders. He raced into the Jokapcul and quickly dispatched two of them by ripping out their throats.
    Sergeant Phard turned around in his saddle and looked back when he heard galloping hooves approaching.
    Alyline’s stallion raised a dust cloud skidding to a stop when she hauled back on the reins.
    “Golden Lady,” Phard said and gave a half bow, more graceful than one might expect from so burly a mounted man.
    “A troop of lancers behind,” Alyline gasped. “Spinner and Haft need help. Go to them.” She heeled the stallion and it bolted away, farther up the column.
    “Axes!” Phard shouted. “With me!” He twisted his horse about and kicked its flanks. It galloped toward the end of the train of nervously hurrying people more than a hundred yards away. He didn’t look for his men, he knew they’d follow with neither question nor hesitation—and