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nvocation： Jad send us Light； and let there be Light waiting for us。 The archers fitted arrows to strings。 They waited。 Rodrigo looked back at them； nodded his approval。 Then he lifted and dropped his hand。 They rode out of the sun into the defile where men were killing each other in the cold。
Nino di Carrera knew that he was winning。 There came a moment in every battle when one could sense the rhythm changing and he had felt it now。 The outlaws had needed to defeat them quickly； with the chaos of the spear pit and the shock of their archers' ambush。 Once those had been survived…if barely…this became a clash of roughly even forces and could have only one result。 It was only a question of time before the Asharites broke and fled； he was mildly surprised they hadn't done so by now。 Even as he fought； shoulder to shoulder with his men in the ring around the gold； Nino was beginning to calculate his next course of action。
It would be pleasant to pursue this rabble when they ran； exceedingly pleasant to bur them alive for the deaths of so many men and so many purebred horses。 There was the woman； too； if she could still be found on the slopes。 A burning would go a long way towards addressing the grievances of this morning。
On the other hand； he was likely to emerge from this evil place with no more than twenty men and a long way yet to travel through hostile country with the gold of Jalona's future。 He simply could not afford to lose any more soldiers after this。 They were going to have to travel at speed； Nino realized； no rest except what was utterly necessary； riding by night as well。 They could travel with two horses； at least； for each man left； which would spare the beasts； if not the riders。
That would be the only course until they reached the tagra lands where he might assume there would be no forces large enough to trouble twenty mounted men。 There will be time for revenge； he told himself； battling。 There will be years and years for the taking of revenge。 Nino might be young； but he knew exactly what this first installment of the parias meant。 Almost contemptuously he blocked an outlaw's slash and drove the man staggering back with a counterblow。
It was all beginning here； with him and this small pany。 The men of Jalona would be ing back south once more； again and again。 The long tide of centuries was turning； and it was going to sweep all the way through Al…Rassan to the southern straits。
First； though； there was this matter of bandits in a defile。 They ought to have broken by now； Nino thought again。 Grimly he hacked and chopped； with more space to move now； and even； at moments； room to advance a few paces。 They were brave enough； these outlaws from the south； but Jaddite iron and Jaddite courage were going to prevail。
Someone fell with a grunt beside him； Nino pivoted and thrust his sword deep into the guts of the man who had just killed one of his soldiers。 The bandit shrieked； his eyes bulged。 Nino twisted his blade deliberately before hauling it free。 The fellow's hands clutched at his oozing； slippery intestines； trying to keep them from spilling out。
Nino was laughing at that； as it happened； when the fifty new riders swept into the defile。
They were Jaddites； he saw that much in the first astonished glance。 Then he saw…and tried desperately to understand…that their mounts were small； nondescript horses of Al…Rassan。 Then he realized； with a cold pressing of blackness against his heart； that they had e not to aid him but to kill。
It was in that frozen moment of revelation that Nino recognized the first of these riders by the image of an eagle on the crown of his old…fashioned helmet。
He knew that emblem。 Every fighting man in Esperana knew of that helmet and the man who wore it。 There was a paralyzing weight of disbelief in Nino's mind。 He experienced an appalling sense of the unfairness of things。 He raised his sword as the eagle…helmed horseman came straight towards him。 Nino feinted； then swung savagely for the man's ribs。 His blow was parried； casually； and then； before he could right himself； Nino saw a long； bright； final blade e scything and he left the world of living men and fell down into the dark。
Idar； fighting beside his father； had been struggling to summon the courage to suggest retreat。
It had never happened before that his father had persisted this long with what was clearly a failed assault。 They had established their name； their fortune； their castle at Arbastro； by knowing when to engage and when…as now； surely！…to withdraw and fight another time。
It was his brother's wound； Idar knew； laboring with his sword in the trammeling press。 Abir was dying on the hard ground behind them and their father was out of his head with grief。 One of their men was beside Abir on his knees； cradling his head； two others stood by； to defend him should any of the accursed Jaddites break free of their tight circle。
Their father was a wild； terrifying figure beside Idar； frenzied in his attacks on the ring of their enemies； oblivious to circumstance and need； to the devastating fact that more than half their number were dead。 There were barely thirty men doing battle now with almost as many of the dung…eating Horsemen。 Their weapons and armor were less good； their style of bat was not and never had been this kind of savage face…to…face confrontation。
The ambush had almost succeeded but it had not quite been enough。 It was time to break free； to run south； to accept that a huge risk had nearly worked； but had not。 They had a desperately long way to go to get home to Arbastro； on evil winter paths； through mud and rain； and with the wounded to slow them。 It was past time to pull out while they could； while yet some of them lived。
As if to mark the truth of his thought； Idar was forced in that moment to duck swiftly down and to one side as a burly Jaddite with a studded mace stepped forward and hammered a sideswung blow at his face。 The Jaddite was armored from head to calves； Idar wore a leather helm and a light chain breastpiece。 What were they doing fighting face to face？
Twisting under the lethal mace； Idar chopped sharply at the back of the Jaddite's ankle。 He felt his sword bite through the boot and into flesh。 The man screamed and fell to one knee。 They would say it was a coward's way to fight； Idar knew。 They had their armor and their iron。 The men of Arbastro had decades of experience in the tactics of cunning and entrapment。 When it came to killing or dying there were no rules； his father had drilled that into them from the beginning。
Idar killed the fallen giant with a slicing blow to the neck； where the helmet did not quite meet his body armor。 He thought about grabbing the mace； but decided it would be too heavy for him； especially if they had to run。
And they did have to run； or they were going to die in this defile。 He watched his father； still wild with rage； pounding his blade over and again against a Jaddite shield。 The Jaddite withdrew； one pace and then another； but the shield arm held； steady and resilient。 Just beyond his father Idar saw the Jaddite captain； the yellow…haired one； dispatch anothe