Free Legends of the Riftwar by Raymond E. Feist

sentry.
    This time his footing held. He looked back.
    The tail end of his command were just now crossing the trail.
    Alwin had heard him, calling out half a dozen men who stood to either side of the trail, their first volley of arrows slowing the dark elves’ charge. A couple more men went down from a return volley. He caught a glimpse of Tinuva leaping the stream, landing, turning, bow drawn. He let fly, aiming back towards Brendan’s Stockade. It was a long shot, yet it dropped a horse at the head of the trail, throwing the rider. Gregory sprinted past him, dodging through the trees.
    â€˜Follow Gregory!’ Dennis shouted, pointing the way.
    He waited a few more seconds, grabbing the shoulder of a man who started to slip back down the slope, pulling him up and over. It was the priest. He shoved him forward, screaming at him to run. He was about to shout for Alwin to break but the sergeant knew his business. The six men holding the trail leapt down to the stream and bounded across. Archers to either side of Dennis gave covering fire, killing two of the moredhel who tried to follow. Tinuva raced past, his retreat clear signal enough to withdraw. Riders were on the trail. Out in the clearing hundreds of the enemy were swarming in. But what of the other enemy,the Tsurani? There was no time to think of that now. It was time to run.
    Behind him, the bloodlusting cries of the moredhel echoed in the clearing and the forest.
    The hunt was on.

THREE Moredhel
    Asayaga gasped for breath.
    â€˜Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving…’
    The words were a chant, a prayer, blanking out his own agony.
    One of his men was down, collapsed in the middle of the slushy trail. He slowed. Strike Leader Tasemu was standing over the man, struggling to pull him up.
    â€˜Keep moving,’ Asayaga snapped, slapping the fallen warrior across the shoulder blades with the flat of his sword.
    The warrior looked up. It was Sugama.
    â€˜Damn you. You are an officer!’ Asayaga hissed at him so the men wouldn’t overhear. ‘Act like one. You were suppose to run lead with the scouts!’ As much as he despised the Tondora dog, he would not undermine his authority in front of the men. Not for the first time, Asayaga cursed this war in which officers not of his own house were sent to serve with his men.
    Sugama staggered to his feet and lurched forward. Tasemu gazed at Asayaga and shook his head. Asayaga said nothing.
    He looked back over his shoulder. His command was strung out on the trail behind them. Those who were not totally preoccupied with their own pain had seen the exchange, the humiliation of an officer from one House by another. They would of course say nothing, for the behaviour of their Force Commander made it clear it was to be ignored. Yet, they would think on it, and some might mention it quietly while on guard duty or around a cook-fire to those whohad not witnessed it, and many of his men would dwell on one thing: that one whom they were expected to obey without question was obviously a flawed man, one who had been sent to the front for reasons having nothing to do with his competence as a soldier. He was either a man acting as a spy for the Minwanabi, an incompetent someone higher up in his clan wished to see conveniently dead, or both. That would give the men pause at critical moments, and Asayaga knew other men might die as a result.
    If only there had been one more Kodeko officer left alive. Only one other Kodeko son remained on the homeworld, and should Asayaga be slain, the mantle of leadership would fall to his younger brother Tacumbe, but the last son of the House would never be sent here. Again he silently cursed a cruel destiny that left his house with no other competent officers at hand, and Minwanabi machinations that placed this fool at his right hand. If they survived this nightmare, he would name Tasemu his Force Leader, even though the man’s talents were better suited for his present