The Sorcerer's Ascension Read Online Free PDF

The other two swept their thick black cloaks around and caught the quarrels within the heavy folds. An instant later, the blackguards were once again in their saddles, vaulting back up from where they had been clinging to their mounts’ side, the other two casting back their cloaks with the crossbow bolts dangling harmlessly from the heavy fabric.
    The blackguard charged into the ranks of ambushers, swords jabbing in and finding the vulnerable points between armor joints and visor slits with frightening speed and accuracy. The ambushers used their greater numbers to surround the blackguard and come at them from multiple angles and even that tactic was proving costly.
         The blackguard seemed to almost dance upon the backs of their mounts, opening the throat of a man to their front then spinning around backwards in their saddle to block a cut from an enemy to their rear and counterstrike, more often than not with lethal efficiency.
    General Baneford saw his men being slaughtered by an enemy he had outnumbered four or five to one. With a savage cry, he charged through his own men to get within range of these agents of death. The outcome, despite the blackguards well-earned reputation and skill, was never in question. They were mortal men despite their prowess. The only question was how many men it was going to cost him to relieve them of the artifact they carried. Right now, it looked like the answer was going to be far too many.
    Two of the blackguard were down, three counting the one that the rope had laid low, which left two still in the saddle and one afoot that was wreaking havoc on his men on the ground. The man had obviously shaken of the effects of his hard, painful dismount and was darting between the legs of the horses and ambushing the men afoot on the other side, delivering savage cuts to the legs of the riders on his way past.
    Baneford reached the fight just in time to watch one of the blackguard open the throat of another of his men only to dodge a spear thrust and a slashing sword by jumping up into the air and turning a somersault over the head of a third man from the back of his mount. The blackguard landed nimbly behind one of his men, stabbing him through the back before leaping onto a horse’s rump of another of the tightly packed riders and cutting him down.
    The general engaged the man, now fighting from the back of one of his own horses, matching steel with steel. Like all blackguard, the man fought with twin blades, his offhand, if such men could be said to have an off hand, darted about as if it were being controlled by a completely separate man. The blackguard slashed at General Baneford, his blade ringing loudly against his shield, while simultaneously parrying the blade of another man almost behind him.
    Gods, what I could do with a hundred men like these the general thought to himself as he finally broke through the defenses of the blackguard and struck him down.
    Given the side he found himself on however, he was profoundly grateful there were not a hundred such men in the entire kingdom.
    The final mounted blackguard fell with a spear thrust through his lower back, leaving only the man on the ground that still fought like a dervish despite the numerous wounds that soaked his heavy cloak and armor and spattered the ground with his blood.
    General Baneford’s trained warhorse lashed out with a fore hoof, catching the blackguard on the thigh. The crack of the man’s femur was audible even over the shouts of battling men and the cries of the wounded as he crumbled to the ground. One of Baneford’s men raced forward to finish the man off and received a sword through his chest for his enthusiasm.
    Despite the blackguard’s grievous injury, he defiantly cast one of his blades at the man that rushed towards him, knocking him backwards with the force of the impact, the blade piercing his heart and protruding from his back. The guard’s shattered leg sent waves of agony coursing through his