In hot pursuit, the blue knights of Count Marus rounded the dune not far behind the wildlings. Tangard Corps, well behind, chose a different route, trying to save time by racing up and over the dune face. The black knights pounded over the ridge of sand, giving a cheer when they saw that they had gained on their quarry. But as they galloped down into the hollow on the far side, the ground shook—and split beneath them!
“Aaah!”
Men screamed as their horses’ hooves trod air.
“Stop! It’s a trap! A pit!”
Within moments the sandy hollow was echoing with the cries of knights and horses as they struggled wildly in the bottom of an enormous pit that had opened up suddenly underneath the foremost riders.
Unnoticed in the shadow of the dunes, two small groups of Sem now took cover, discarding the severed ends of bristly vine ropes that they had carried from the oasis. The ropes had served their purpose, for they had allowed the Sem to rig a concealing layer of flat stones over the recently abandoned pit of a mouth-of-the-desert. When cut, the ropes had in an instant released the stones and the sand that hid them, sending the knights and their mounts crashing down into the pit.
Trying to stay upright atop their flailing horses, the leading black knights dropped down with them into the gaping hole. Even at the edges of the pit, the sand was far too soft to give the charging horses any traction, and many of those who stopped before they fell in ended up sliding down nonetheless.
“Halt! All halt!”
The warnings and shouts shot back toward the oncoming remainder of Tangard’s men, punctuated by the panicked whinnying of the horses, the yells of the latest riders to tumble into the trap, and the death-cries of the first to fall, now being crushed by those who had followed them.
“Help!”
“The pain! I can’t move!”
“Agh! My leg… My leg!”
The pit trap filled quickly with an impossibly tangled mass of desperate men and horses weighed down by their splendid but brutally heavy armor. As they struggled, the white sand flowed in around them with a dreadful rush of sound. In moments, those lowest down were completely buried, their screams and cries for help abruptly silenced.
“Halt! All halt, it’s a trap! A Sem trap!”
Finally, Irrim’s shouting got through to his men, and the remainder of the black halted their charge.
Irrim’s messengers relayed the orders back down the line. Confusion reigned among the rearmost soldiers, who did not realize what had happened. They milled about angrily, unwilling to miss their chance to carry out the long awaited final slaughter of the Sem.
“What? Why stop? We’ve gotten no such orders!”
“Marus Corps has already gone ahead! What’s the matter? Why do we have to stop?”
“Were we not commanded to pursue them to the end?”
“What’s going on? What happened up at the front? More yidoh?”
“What? What is it? I can’t see anything!”
“Stop! Stop! Stop!”
Nearer the pit, in the bustling hornet’s nest of men and horses, Irrim shouted for his friend and fellow captain from atop his horse. “Tangard! Tangard! Are you okay?” He grabbed one of the men who had stopped just in time to avoid being dragged in with the rest. “Has Tangard fallen into the pit?”
The man shook his head uncertainly. “I do not know, sir…”
“Captain! Captain!”
The black knights from Talos Keep circled around the pit, desperately trying to save the screaming wounded and their horses from the sandy morass. It was a race against time. Like a fire spreading through dry brush, the Doal-sent sand flowed ceaselessly in from all sides, threatening to bury every horse and man alive and leave the hollow as flat and featureless as it had seemed moments before. Numerous troops were already lost beneath the smothering cascade.
“Captain Tangard!”
“Captain!”
The men around the pit called out desperately for their leader. Then a dying horse rolled away from the center of the pit, and they saw him. Tangard had been right in the middle of the formation and had fallen toward the top of the deep pile. But when the knights spotted their captain, half buried in the tangled bodies, his bearded face was pale and his eyes were shut. He did not seem to be trying to push his way out, nor did he reach for the outstretched hands of his men.
“Lord Captain! Lord Captain! Here, my hand!”
“Tangard! Are you wounded? Tangard!”
Irrim, his closest friend, with whom he had led the black at Talos Keep for many years, leapt down from his horse, pushing through the men who stood at the edge of the pit. Quickly he and several others grabbed the unconscious Tangard’s hands and pulled him from the mass of bodies, freeing him from the weight of a horse that had fallen against him. But when they lifted him up towards the edge of the pit…
“Tangard!” Irrim shouted.
Several of the men around him exclaimed in horror. When the fallen horse had crashed into the captain, one of its iron stirrups had pushed through a chink in his black armor, its sharp tip cutting deep into his abdomen. Pulling him away from the horse had tugged the stirrup loose, but at the same time it had torn open a bloody wound in his side. His guts were spilling out and steaming in the dry air.
“By Janos! What ill fortune is this?” Irrim wailed, pale as Tangard himself. Some of the men around him choked back vomit.
Tangard moaned weakly, and Irrim turned to shout to the riders atop the dune. “He’s still breathing. Medicine! Bring bandages!”