Betrayal at Falador (45 page)

“So you have come,” Kaqemeex said, smiling at Gar’rth especially, and the youth bowed his head in respect. “Many of us are here. The goblin attack was known to us beforehand and a few dozen of our older members volunteered to stay behind to satisfy the attackers’ need for violence.”

Theodore frowned in disbelief.

“They volunteered to wait for the goblins, knowing they would be killed?” Such bravery was rare, even amongst the knights.

“Yes. The goblins would have continued to hunt us if there had been no one there. Now their anger is sated and they have left Taverley, for a Kinshra messenger demanded that they head south to rejoin the army.” The old man’s eyes focused on Kara. Suddenly he looked more fraught than ever.

“Then the way to Ice Mountain is clear?” Theodore asked, hoping that another day’s journey northeast would see them safely within range of the dwarf mines.

“Not quite,” Kaqemeex said. “Supplies are being moved to the south. It will not be easy crossing the road to get to the mountain. Without my help, you are doomed to failure. Therefore I offer you my aid, and the aid of my many friends.” The druid pointed to the nearest oak, where a dozen birds perched on the heavy branches.

“Why help us, druid?” Doric said, curious. “I thought you were followers of neutrality, worshippers of Guthix.”

“We
are
neutral, but neutrality requires balance, and the balance has been upset.” Again his eyes focused on Kara. She blushed and avoided his gaze. “The gods are playing their little games again, and it is we mortals who suffer the consequences. Therefore, we must take the side of Saradomin to ensure that the balance is restored.”

No one spoke as Kaqemeex bowed to listen to the chattering of a small thrush. When he straightened again, there was a look of urgency on his face.

“We must leave now if we are to cross the road before daybreak. We haven’t much time.”

FIFTY-NINE

The ground rumbled beneath them as they charged out of the mists in the west, blue banners flying, the dawn’s eastern sun catching their polished armour. Eight hundred horsemen rode in three waves, with Sir Amik at the head of the first.

Following him in the second wave were three hundred knights, including Master Troughton, the former master-at-arms.

Behind those, in the final wave, were the city guards, the lightest of Falador’s cavalry.

A packed column of goblin archers stood directly before them, a thousand strong, caught totally by surprise. They shouted angrily amongst themselves, aware that their infantry battalions to the north and south were too far away to defend them, while to the east a steep ditch they themselves had dug cut off any escape.

The archers had nowhere to run. They were trapped.

They only had time to loose four volleys of hastily fired arrows, without any organisation. Of those, very few reached the oncoming cavalry, and those that did were not powerful enough to pierce the heavy armour of Sir Amik’s foremost line.

When the bright line of knights clad in heavy white armour ploughed into the panicking goblins, there was nothing that could prevent the onslaught. Sir Amik hacked to his right and his left, cutting through the resistance as his sword bit deep into green mottled flesh. He drove his horse onward, trampling those who were caught beneath the heavy hooves of his trained steed.

Panic overtook the goblins as each individual jostled his way over his comrades in an effort to escape. Their short daggers were of no consequence to the armoured enemy. They fled east into the steep ditch, or to the north and the south in a desperate bid to reach the infantry.

But to the north the goblin battalion lost its nerve. Upon witnessing the savagery of the knights, the nearest ranks turned and pushed back against those that stood behind. Amongst them were the five hundred goblins who had sacked Taverley, and that effort had totally exhausted them. They did not have the strength to fight such a battle.

Cutting down the last goblin archer who stood between him and the ditch, Sir Amik looked to the south, sensing victory in his heart. Sure enough, his second wave of cavalry had reached the southern goblin infantry, spreading chaos. He looked back to the north where the fleeing enemy was pursued by the city guards of Falador.

The goblins had fallen as easily as he had expected.

But where were the Kinshra?

With a roar, Sir Amik stood up in his saddle, beckoning his men south to deal the final blow against the goblin horde.

“The goblins have been defeated quicker than I could have imagined,” Sulla noted bitterly. “And the city guard are loose on the field.” He sat on his horse behind the ditch, watching the rout. The three cavalry lines of his enemy had spread themselves out to deal with the three goblin battalions. To the north a hundred guardsmen of Falador were driving over a thousand goblins before them. He hadn’t expected them to split up.

Still, it is the knights who are the real enemy. The city guard
will make the mistake of all ill-trained cavalry: they will pursue an enemy from the field and abandon the true battle.

“Send the first signal!” he ordered, watching the second line of Sir Amik’s cavalry cut their way deep into the southern goblin infantry.

A second voice repeated the command and a burning fuse was lowered. The cannon crashed backward, sending a roar across the field. Sulla turned to the northwest, toward the outlying woods less than half a mile behind Sir Amik’s cavalry.

Out of the forest shadows they came—the Kinshra cavalry. Four hundred strong, they were armed with lances that would give them a greater reach than the swords of their enemies. He watched as the black-armoured warriors rode forward, gaining speed as they closed the gap.

But still his plan wasn’t complete.

“Send the second signal!” he shouted.

Again a voice repeated his words, and a second and a third and a fourth cannon roared in quick succession, the sounds echoing off the white walls of Falador.

Sulla looked north to an area of ground just beyond his encampment. There he had positioned half of his infantry, each man concealing himself by lying down. At once the men rose up and ran to the west. Their route would move them into a position just north of where the goblin infantry had stood, and once there, they would form a line.

To the south the other half of Sulla’s infantry cut across a small bridge of land that had been left between the two defensive ditches. They raced to form a line south of the goblin infantry which currently occupied Sir Amik’s first and second waves.

Within minutes Kinshra were assembled to the north and the south. With terrifying precision, they moved to close the gap between them.

Sir Amik and his army were trapped.

The Kinshra horses went from a trot to a gallop, careening into the knights’ unprotected rear. The long steel lance tips pierced the armour of their enemies, causing the rear ranks to crush in upon those in front.

Gaius shouted, throwing his bloodied lance to the ground and drawing his sword. He understood Sulla’s plan—all he had to do was keep the knights from escaping so that the two lines of pikemen could get close enough to finish the work.

A man screamed below him. Gaius looked down to see a Knight of Falador stagger against the flank of his horse, a lance point protruding through his chest. Even in death the knight raised his sword. But Gaius was quicker, and with a savage hack the edge of his blade cut deeply into the man’s exposed face. As the knight dropped his sword, Gaius struck him again.

Now the Kinshra cavalry and the knights fought at close quarters, exchanging sword blows, while goblins ducked and assailed the knights wherever they could.

Sir Amik leant forward to decapitate a foe, and his outstretched hand was seized. Another goblin leapt onto his horse behind him, a curved dagger glancing off the knight’s visor in a desperate stab at his throat. Sir Amik heaved his sword arm back and then unexpectedly lunged forward, his blade stabbing goblin flesh. The grip on his arm slackened.

The goblin behind him cut the leather saddle, his blade biting into the horse’s flesh beneath. As the horse reared up the saddle loosened, and both goblin and knight fell to the ground.

“Sir Amik is down!” Sir Vyvin cried. At once, the knights nearby hacked their way to their leader and surrounded him in a protective circle.

“We are surrounded—we are trapped!” Master Troughton called. His old body bore the signs of several wounds. “The Kinshra cavalry have closed in behind us and there are hundreds of pikemen sandwiching us in.”

The words cut through Sir Amik’s daze and one thought above all pounded in his mind.

The Kinshra were prepared for this attack. We have been betrayed!

He could see the full extent of Sulla’s grim tactics, how the goblins had been left deliberately exposed in order to draw out the knights while the pikemen took up their positions.

And then the pike bearers began their butchery. Each line of Sulla’s pikemen was five deep, and each man was armed with a ten-foot pike. It seemed as if two walls were being pushed closer together, each lined with deadly spikes. And the knights were trapped in the middle.

Sir Amik knew it was unlikely that any of them would emerge alive from Sulla’s jaws of death.

Captain Ingrew had never ridden into battle before, but he found the experience exhilarating. The goblin infantry had broken and fled before the city guards had even reached them, and now that they were running, unarmed and scattered, they were easy prey. He had already slain fourteen of them using the same tactic, riding swiftly past them as he delivered a sweeping cut.

If the knights were doing as well as he, the captain thought, then the goblin presence was as good as removed from the enemy’s battle line.

Suddenly a call drew his attention, and he turned to see his fellow guardsmen mustering a hundred yards to the south. He cantered forward quickly, and as soon as he was within range he noted the horror-stricken expressions on the faces of his comrades.

“We have to go back” Colonel Payne insisted. “If we do not, the knights will all be killed! There should be enough of us to break through to Sir Amik’s standard. Then we can withdraw from the field.”

Captain Ingrew glanced again to the south. As far as he had been aware they had been winning. But one look was all it took to banish that illusion.

“We’re running away?” a young officer cried in disbelief.

“We are extracting Sir Amik from that butchery, and whoever else may still be alive. We will withdraw back to Falador through the swamp.”

With that, the colonel goaded his horse southward, and his men followed his example.

Hundreds of knights fell to Sulla’s pikes. Even the goblin infantry succumbed. Knights and goblins had given up fighting one another in an effort to escape the deadly trap.

Sulla looked on approvingly. The knights could do nothing.

“Send in the berserkers!” he ordered. “Let us have some sport with our enemy.”

Behind the lines of pikes, several ladders had been erected, and climbing them were savage humans. The berserkers were a chaos-worshipping people who lived in The Wilderness, practising cannibalism on any traveller who strayed into their clutches. They filed their teeth and their nails to a deadly sharpness and rarely used any weapons, for their savagery was weapon enough.

Sir Amik raised his banner at the centre of the trap, calling his men to gather around him in a last effort to break out. Then the first berserker leapt into their midst over the tops of the pikes. Others followed, leaping directly onto the horses of their enemies and dragging both man and beast down into the crimson mud.

Sir Amik turned to face one of the cannibals and was shocked to see that it was a woman. He saw a green flash leap at him from his right, and instinctively he swung his sword up, parrying the goblin’s thrust. But he could not protect himself from the frenzied woman who stepped in toward him with her teeth bared.

As he staggered back, a battle cry reached him through the confusion of the mêlée. It was Sir Vyvin, fighting at his side. Sir Vyvin hesitated before the berserker, and she took the initiative, leaping at him, her teeth finding his face, biting at him like a rabid animal. With a cry he stabbed her, finishing her off with a swift backhand swipe that cut her throat. Then he groped his way toward Sir Amik in their ever-shrinking space, his hand pressed over a wounded left eye.