Free The Storm's Own Son (Book 3) by Anthony Gillis Page A

archers, further down the line, turned to face them, but hesitated to fire amid the chaos of their own men.
    The enemy's forces on this end of their artillery line were broken in disorder. Behind, Talaos heard Adriko shout, followed by a great shout from his four thousand men. With that, the hillmen began roaring anew, and the combined force came charging at the exposed enemy flank.
    To what was now Talaos's right, back toward his own army and Avrosa, Hadrastus gave a mighty shout, and his picked force of shock troops began to advance. Further ahead of Talaos, the enemy's other force of light cavalry had come from the far end of the field to counter his advance. They now formed up before the camp of the Prophet, and prepared to charge his way.
    "Men! At the artillery!" he shouted. His Madmen and his Wolves advanced forward ahead of him amid the press of siege equipment. They dismounted to fight. The lightly armed crews retreated. Archers attempted to reposition and began firing sporadically at them. Arrows glanced off the great beams of the siege artillery. Now thought Talaos, he and his men had some cover.
    Talaos was still mounted. He went hurtling toward the next body of archers. He judged the distance, stood up in the stirrups, then climbed to the back of his horse. Few but Honor would have accepted it without surprise or panic. Then Talaos vaulted forward. He hurtled through the air. Archers fired wildly at him. He felt arrows glance off his armor and helm. One pierced his thigh, and others ripped his skin, though he paid them no heed.
    Power coursed through his body. He drew his swords in midair as power arced and crackled along the blades. He landed, whirling among the archers with scything blades. He spun and cut. A man fell without a right leg, another without his head, and a third cut clean in half at the waist. He dodged a sword and brought his own short blade up through an archer's light chain shirt and then through his ribs. He pulled the sword, spinning, and kicked the man backwards into a group of his comrades with such force that they went flying, too.
    Then he remembered the arrow in his leg and ripped it out with a spatter of blood. Behind him at a distance, Honor trotted serenely as if merely enjoying the sunshine. The Madmen slew and burned their way down the line of siege equipment. The Wolves spread out behind and around, driving the now-broken archers before them.
    The enemy light horse were bearing down on them, but now Adriko and his far more powerful force were not far away. Kurvan's men came behind Talaos's troops, roaring and howling in battle, offering surrender, and slaying all who chose to fight.
    The enemy main body, thousands of heavy infantry, took notice. They would have closed to make short work of Talaos and his little vanguard if not for two problems of their own. The first was that behind Talaos, to the south, Hadrastus had reached their right flank with his shock force. The huge, heavily armored footmen wielding great axes, mattocks, and two-handed swords, were already wreaking havoc.  The second was that the main body of Talaos's army now advanced in oblique order, with cohorts marching forward to support Hadrastus against those enemy cohorts bereft of archer and artillery support.
    Talaos smiled as archers fled before him. All was as planned, he thought. He had chosen well in Aro, and his trust in the others was being rewarded. But, from his new position on foot, in an area crowded with fighting men, siege artillery, and massed cavalry, he had no way to see what was going on further away in the battle.  The verdant green light had grown stronger over the Prophet's camp, and the slow, sonorous singing went on and on. It rose louder and grew ever closer to perfect rhythmic unison.
    Ahead was a catapult still intact, a big, long-ranged thing with a lofty crossbar. The crew had stopped working and withdrawn in good order. Talaos sheathed his swords, sprinted and leapt across the