The Romance of Eowain

Chapter Ten, Scene Twenty-Seven

     Cael rode his fearsome steed of smoke and shadows back and forth across the line. His archers harassed Eowain's front lines from cover. Cries of pain and panic filled the air.

      Then the brigands came up out of the wood.

      Medyr and his acolyte rallied the men at the fore with their chants. The bandits surged up the hill at them, spears and swords thrusting. With their iron-shod blackthorn sticks raised like swords, Medyr and his acolyte met the villains not as drymyn, but as men of Droma.

      From the hill, Eowain saw Cael slip out from between the closing lines. "Hoy, the right!" He pointed. Cael's horsemen had materialized from the trees and formed up for a charge on Eowain's weak right flank. Lorcán and the horse-lieutenant shouted orders. Eowain's meager wing of cavalry spurred their mounts. Eowain on his dappled grey leaped to the van. He bore down on Cael with the spear of Findtan raised to strike.

      Cael answered Eowain's volleying challenge with sword held high and shield to the ready. The steed of smoke and shadows beneath him thundered, preternaturally silent, up the hill. Its milk-white eyes rolled.

      Eowain's horse reared and shied from the phantasmal steed. He fought for control of the beast. Cael howled through this black-plumed helmet, his sword swung at Eowain's head. Eowain's horse whinnied and bucked.

      Damn it! Eowain fell back on its rump and let Cael's sword swing over him, then parried the return slash with his spear as Cael rode by. It was a hard blow and shuddered through his arm all the way to his shoulder. His horse blew hard, kicked, then reared again.

      Annwn with this! Eowain swung loose from the saddle and let go the horse before it got him killed. Free of his command, the horse plunged away from Cael's phantom beast as fast as it could go even before Eowain's feet struck the ground.

      The horses of Droma snorted, fought their riders, and broke formation as Cael passed straight through them without the least impediment. Two men went down under his hacking broadsword. Four more were thrown from fearful mounts and trampled under plunging hooves.

      Then the two cavalry wings crashed together all around Eowain. The brigands had the better of that meeting. Confusion reigned among the Horse of Droma. Riders struggled with spooked mounts. Loose horses reared at anything in their path. And Cael's ragtag bandits put spears through many a man.

      Eowain knocked aside blades with his shield, took down two men with his father's spear. The barnyard smell of leather, horse-sweat, and dung rose in his nostrils. Everywhere was a welter of horse-flesh, and men towered over him in their saddles. Hot blood drenched him as he cut a rider's leg off.

      Then he was shouldered aside by one plunging beast, battered by the hooves of another. His mailed chest blunted a spear-strike that drove the wind from him. A sword-blow rang from his helmet. Dazed, Eowain fought and shoved himself free from the mob.

      He shook his head. Up the slope, the black-plumed Cael twirled his sword, then leveled its point at Eowain. His phantasmal steed stamped its hooves eagerly.

      Eowain flexed his neck to right and left, felt vertebrae crackle. "All right." He hefted his shield and his father's spear. "Come on then, you bastard."

      Cael's steed rose up and stamped both feet twice, then plunged down upon him. Eowain raised his shield and took the full weight of Cael's hammer-like blow upon it. He went down on one knee as Cael rode past.

      Wherever the sorcerous beast rode, horses—both the bandits' and the Droma-men's—shied, shimmied, and shunned it. Cael reined it about and charged again on Eowain.