Talented as the Sem were at running across the desert, on hard ground their speed could not compare to that of the horses. On the rocky slope below the hills, the blue knights gained rapidly on their quarry. Within moments they were among the fleeing Sem, and they slashed out to right and left with their swords, cutting down wildlings with each stroke.
Some of the Sem stopped and fought back, swinging their axes wildly, or leaping past the knights’ swords to grab onto their legs, trying to pull the Mongauli off their horses. But this scattered resistance did little to slow the swift cavalry. One after another the struggling wildlings were flung into the air by the charging horses, and most of those who survived the impact were cut in two before they could pick up their weapons and defend themselves.
A few of the Sem were able to leap high enough to evade the oncoming chargers, but the knights beat them down with blade, hilt and pommel, quickly dislodging the few who managed to gain a hold on the horses’ backs. Flailing to regain their balance, the repulsed Sem tumbled down the horses’ sides, and were cruelly slashed by the knights’ spurs as they went. The chargers galloped on, trailing crimson lines across the white rocks behind them. The bodies of the wildlings fell to the ground and were trampled by succeeding knights.
“Aiiii!”
“Alphetto!”
The screams of the wildlings were filled with fear. The entrance to the dry valley had become the scene of a massacre.
The Sem have no strong leader, other than that leopard-man. They’re primitives, a race of monkeys. Before they can even think to regroup and strike back they have already fled onward in fear.
Marus paid little attention to the Sem who were running on both sides of him. He kept his gaze firmly forward, and kept his horse moving. Garanth had left his side to race further ahead, and held his sword raised, brandishing it at the fleeing Sem. This was no contest of strength between proud wildling warriors and the sturdy knights of Mongaul. This was a monkey hunt, a scouring of screeching animals by men that were now killing partly for the fun of it.
Unease had been growing for a long time in the old count’s heart, and now it spread and wrapped around him like angel hair blowing softly in the wind. But when he tried to divine its source, the unease melted just like angel hair, leaving no trace. Behind his faceplate, Marus furrowed his white brows, and sighed. How dark my mind has become! But what use is this worry, this baseless gloom? He shook his head and spurred on his horse.
“Don’t become preoccupied with hunting down your quarry!” he shouted to his knights. “Leave the difficult ones be, we are here to find their villages and strike at their very root! We will wipe the Sem from Nospherus soon. This need not be the final battle. Save your strength!” Despite his age his voice betrayed no frailty as he rode through the midst of the harrowing scene.
The white valley was stained red with blood. Furry limbs and severed heads were scattered across the stony ground, intermixed with dismembered torsos and looping strings of guts. Moans, screams, and death rattles mixed together, and the cheers of the victorious Mongauli knights rose above all. More and more small furred bodies were pummeled under the horses’ hooves, or cut in two by the Mongauli swords; wildling heads, their eyes white and staring and their teeth locked in fierce final grimaces, flew high in the air, trailing blood under them and landing with wet thumps on the valley floor.
The sight did little to stir the old, battle-weary count. Taking care that his horse did not slide on the blood, Marus rode through the hell, his tassel flowing behind his blue cloak and helm.
“Lord Captain! Lord Captain!”
A knight, gasping for breath, rode toward him from up ahead.
“What is it?”
“Lord Captain, you are here!” said the knight, short of breath. “We’ve won! We’ve won! The Sem village—”
“What?” Marus stood up straight in his saddle. “What of the Sem village?”
“I’ve found it! It lies just ahead!” The knight raised his hand and pointed back in the direction from which he had come. His mailed hand was trembling with excitement.
“What?! Are you sure?” Marus exclaimed.
“Yes, I am certain. They were trying to run into their village. It’s at the bottom of this valley.”
Marus half-turned as if to shout back to the rest of his force, then paused and looked at the knight again. “Who are you? Raise your faceplate. If what you say is true, you’re in for a major distinction.”
“It is true, by the green fields of Mos, I swear it!”
The knight’s voice was full of fervor. He raised his hand and lifted his faceplate. Marus smiled a broad smile.
“Eru of Argon!”
“M’lord!”
The youth’s eyes shone like fiery opals. His face was taut and his breathing hard as he smiled victoriously at the count.
“You have done well!” Marus was on the verge of appointing him head of his guard right then and there. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that this was better done later; there was no time to lose now. “Down that valley, you say?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Excellent. Garanth! Garanth!”
A few moments later Garanth was riding rapidly among the troops, giving hurried orders. The blue knights promptly ceased their slaying of the few Sem in the valley who remained to oppose them. “We ride on the Sem village! Leave no one alive! Spare no woman or child!”
The other officers took up the call. “Take no captives! Kill them all!”
“For Mongaul! Mongaul!”
The shouts of the knights echoed through the valley, followed by the sound of their horses’ hooves, pounding like an earthquake.
“Mongaul! Mongaul!”
Marus swung back his cloak.
“Eru! Lead us!”
“As you command.”
“To the Sem village!”
Like a blue tidal wave of death, the two thousand knights galloped through the hills, shaking the ground of Nospherus.