Page 214 of Of Iron and Moonlight

Chapter 96

Duncan

What had begun as an elegant oblique line had dissolved into a fractured snarl of desperate fighting. Cavalry units that should have been wheeling in coordinated sweeps were scattered into ragged pockets, horses stumbling through broken bodies and torn ground.

“Hold the angle!” Duncan pointed his blade at the broken line. “Do not let them split us!”

Some attempted to obey. Others were too consumed by the terror of facing what they had once dismissed as myth. A riderless horse tore through the fray. A tangle of vines dragged two men screaming into the scarred winter ground. Smoke surged through the air, thick with the smell of rotting sap and a strange metallic tang, making it impossible to see clearly.

Duncan’s mind raced through tactics old and new, aiming to stitch together a strategy from the remnants of their failed defense. But there was no sense to what he saw. No instinct born of experience to draw from.

A sudden blast of wind slammed into him from the left, fierce enough to rattle bone. He dropped low over his horse’s neck. Tiny shards of ice bit through the seams of his gorget and gloves. The mare screamed, nearly losing her footing as she skidded sideways.

Duncan hauled her steady and snapped his head toward the source. A soldier with violet eyes raised both hands. The air twisted around him as the wind gathered again.

Leaning hard in the saddle, Duncan swung and cut through the man before the second gale could form. The wind collapsed at once.

He wheeled his horse, searching for any of his commanders.

There. Osric. Just down the line. The steadfast steward fought on his feet, grappling with an amber-eyed human. Duncan cut in, driving the soldier back, and Osric finished him with a thrust to the throat.

“The line’s gone,” Duncan said, breath still rough.

“It’s madness,” Osric said, wiping blood from his cheek as he grabbed his horse’s reins. “But it seems Valdir’s soldiers do not carry the strength of true fae. Nor are they trained.”

“I’ve noticed,” Duncan said. “They can manage lesser workings. Chaos, but limited chaos. Something we can work around.” He scanned the fight briefly. “What if we shift our weight left? Let the near flank fall back slightly. Make it appear as though the line is breaking.”

Osric followed his gaze across the field. “You want them to press into the gap.”

“Draw them inward. While they surge forward, the cavalry swings around behind them.”

Osric’s eyes narrowed as he worked through it. “If the near flank withdraws two ranks and the archers hold until they step into the opening…”

“It turns their own advance against them,” Duncan finished.

“Risky,” Osric warned. “But it could work.”

“There is no winning this without risk,” Duncan said.

Osric nodded once and turned away, shouting orders down the chain.

Duncan returned to the center of the fighting, dread trailing every motion. Even with the weaknesses he had spotted, magic decisively tipped the balance. Everywhere he looked, some flare of elemental power shattered what little order his soldiers tried to hold. Everywhere he looked, his men were dying.

“Your Grace!”

Brannoc rode toward him at speed, face smeared with soot and sweat. “I know how to break them!” he yelled over the din, eyes burning with urgency. “The Norrelians directing the army from their camp. Kill one of them and surely their entire unit breaks free of compulsion.”

“No!” Duncan shouted. A vine flashed from the ground and wrapped around his horse’s neck. The mare reared as it tightened. Duncan hacked at it. “The magic these humans wield is nothing compared to what a true fae can do. We would never survive the approach.”

The vine split at last and recoiled. Duncan dragged the horse free and swung back toward Brannoc. Brannoc looked on the verge of taking off.

“That’s an order,” Duncan reinforced.

Brannoc drew a deep breath that lifted his shoulders. Then his horse wheeled sharply and launched forward. He drove straight through the bedlam toward the Norrelians, his crimson cloak streaming behind him like a streak of blood against the winter field.

“Brannoc, don’t!” Duncan shouted, instantly knowing what he intended. He gave chase, several of his Guard following. The battlefield was a deafening mass of sound. Steel rang nearby as two men crashed together. Magic cracked through the air. His voice vanished into the roar.

At the edge of his sight, he saw Osric and Cairon notice and charge after them. Brannoc still held the lead, leaning into the ride with grim resolve. Duncan drew breath to shout again.