Fall of Light Read Online Free PDF Page B

expressions, filled with hate and fury, with terror. Others showed him that face in grey, clouded confusion, as they sank back, or slid from their saddles. The surprise of death was one no actor on a stage could capture, because its truth cast an inhuman shade upon the eyes, and that shade spread out to claim the skin of the face, rushing down to bleach the throat. It was silent and it was, horribly, irrefutable.
    Beloved, why are you doing this to me? Why are you here? What have I done to you, to so earn this?
    He had lost sight of Kullis, and yet longed for the man, desperate to see a visage other than those that now surrounded him. He imagined holding the man tightly in his arms, burying his face in the crook of neck and shoulder, and weeping as only an old man could.
    Was not love its own shock? A match to that of death? Did it not take the eyes first? Such reverberations as to weaken the bravest man or woman – its trembling echoes never left a mortal soul. He had fooled himself. There was no music in this, no song, no chorus of longing and regret. There was only chaos, and a lover’s face that never, ever went away.
    He killed his beloved without pause. Again and again, and again.
      *   *   *
    With a gap of only a few horse-lengths separating the two centres, Sevegg saw the lances of the enemy riders angle to one side, and only at that instant did she note that one entire half of the Wardens in the front line had anchored their weapons on their left sides – and that line was to her right.
    As the forces collided, the foremost line of riders peeled out to the sides in staggered timing, and a roar of clashing announced the rippling collision of their lance shafts with those of the pikes facing them as they swept those weapons outward, as if folding to one side blades of grass.
    Immediately behind them, and matching the staggered cadence of those before them, the second line hammered into the exposed front line of the centre, the impact rippling out to the sides.
    Sevegg shouted her astonishment. The precision of the manoeuvre was appalling, the effect devastating.
    The Legion centre buckled, as dying bodies were plucked from the ground and driven into the ranks behind them. Pikes caught on fellow soldiers, dragging weapons or snapping the shafts. Moments later swords flashed down, hacking at heads, necks and shoulders.
    Against the slope, the soldiers struggled to back up, many driven to the ground instead, and still the fist of the enemy drove deeper, churning up the slope.
    ‘Shit of the Abyss!’ Hunn Raal hissed, suddenly galvanized. ‘Commit our foot flanks!’ he shouted, rising on his stirrups. ‘Hurry, damn you all!’ He sawed his mount around. ‘Second rank centre, down the slope at the double! Form a second line and hold to save your lives!’
    And ours. Sevegg’s mouth was suddenly dry, and she felt her insides contract, as if every organ fought to retreat, to flee, only to be trapped by the cage of her bones. She closed a hand about the grip of her sword. The leather wrapping the handle was too smooth – not yet worn or roughened by sweat – and the weapon seemed to resist her grasp.
    ‘Keep it sheathed, you fool!’ her cousin snapped. ‘If you panic my soldiers I’ll see you skinned alive.’
    Below, the Wardens chopped, slashed and hacked their way ever closer. Of the six-deep line of pikes, only two remained, and the lead one was fast fragmenting.
    Then soldiers seethed over the crest to both sides of Sevegg and Hunn Raal, closing up once past and levelling their pikes.
    ‘We’ll grind them down now,’ Hunn Raal said. ‘But damn, that was well played.’
    ‘He did not imagine he was facing three entire cohorts,’ Sevegg said, her voice sounding thin to her own ears, even as relief flooded through her.
    ‘I could have done with two more.’
    Thus emptying Urusander’s camp. But that would have made Raal’s intent too clear.
    ‘Ah, see the left flank! Our cavalry is