The Jackal of Nar Read Online Free

of bluish smoke floated above them, bearing aloft the stink of flesh and kerosene. And past the smoke, past the infernos and the flying arrows, the birch grove was crimson with Drol.
    Crodin erected the cannon in its unsteady cradle. Lucyler stepped back and looked at their handiwork as Dinadin slipped his finger into the weapon’s trigger guard. The cannon swayed without toppling.
    “It will work,” Lucyler called to Richius. “Not for long, though.”
    “Good enough,” said Richius impatiently. “With three cannons we should be able to hold them off awhile.”
    And then what?
wondered Richius.
Throw rocks at them? We’re running out of fuel. Without the cannons …
    He stopped himself.
Not now. Work to do.
    “Dinadin,” he called. “Get ready. Give them a big blast first, then ease up on the trigger.”
    Dinadin had turned an unpleasant shade of gray. He tucked himself behind the flame cannon.
    “Take it slow,” encouraged Richius. “That cannon isn’t stable and we’re running out of fuel. If—”
    A shout from the rear trenches made Richius stop. He turned and looked behind him. Another shout rose up, high and strangely gleeful.
    “What …?”
    From out of the distance a mass of galloping horsemen was riding toward them. At their forefront, barely visible against the horizon, flew a banner of green. Though he couldn’t see it, Richius knew that a golden, charging horse was embroidered on the banner. It was the banner of Talistan, the crest of the House of Gayle.
    “The horsemen!” cried Crodin.
    Richius grimaced, a name coming to his lips like a sickness. “Gayle.”
    “Look, Richius,” exclaimed Dinadin. “We’re saved!”
    “Seems so,” replied Richius dully.
    There were scores of horsemen, enough to best even this many Drol. From his place on the deck Richius could see the Drol already reacting to the coming cavalry. The tide of red robes ebbed a little.
    “We should attack,” said Dinadin anxiously. “We could crush them with so many horsemen!”
    Richius shot Dinadin a pointed stare. “We’ll hold our position.” He turned to Lucyler and added, “I want everyone ready to defend the trenches. Let’s avoid a fight if we can.”
    “Unlikely,” said Lucyler. “Look.”
    Across the valley, a cloud of dust rose up. The horsemen were charging.
    “Oh, God,” Richius groaned. “They’re going to attack.” He quickly raised his arms over his head and signaled to his men, shouting to get their attention.
    “Listen to me!” he called. “The horsemen are attacking. But we still have a position to defend. Nobody gets out of the trenches unless I order it. Barret, make sure all of your men stay put. In the other trenches, too. Dinadin, I want you ready on that cannon. As soon as the Drol see what’s happening they might make a run for us.”
    “I’ll be ready,” Dinadin replied, settling himself behind the weapon.
    The horsemen were closing the gap quickly. In the forward trench Drol warriors squatted on the deck, gibbering and pointing toward the coming cavalry. The banner of the horsemen was clearer now, shining green and gold in the growing light, carried forward by a charging, armored gelding. Richius grinned. Rivals or not, the sight of so many fine animals was beautiful. These were among the finest horses in the Empire, and the men that rode them rivaled his own kinsmen in skill. But these were not the horsemen of Aramoor.
    The riders drew their swords. Ugly, serrated blades. On their heads were helmets forged into the likenesses of demons.
    These were the horsemen of Talistan.
    “You were right,” Lucyler whispered. “Impressive.”
    Dinadin scowled. “Not as impressive as the Aramoor Guard, right, Richius?”
    “Hardly,” Richius quipped.
    The horsemen galloped faster, shaking the air with the thunder of their attack. Splitting into two groups, they began to flank the trenches. Not even when they reached the bodies did they slow their hellish charge. With a trained