Beyond the Edge of Dawn by Christian Warren Freed Page A

assault. The night around her came alive with the jangle of hundreds upon hundreds of cavalry lurching forward. Infantry followed in tightly packed ranks ten across and twenty deep. Archers came next. Wearing no armor, they were able to dart through the ranks to get within bowshot and reform in loose ranks.
    Aphere watched as flight after flight of arrows sped towards the enemy. She didn’t necessarily enjoy killing, but it was a major aspect of her trade. The Gaimosian Knight spent many nights wrestling with that demon. Some of her kind admonished her weakness while others approved and took the same methodical approach. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to beat the demon, but so long as her tactics proved successful and the field was hers at the end of the day, nothing else mattered.
    The last flight of arrows hissed past, and she kicked her horse into a gallop. War cries erupted from her ranks as the cavalry charged. The thunder of so many hooves on the hard sand trembled the core of the night. Adonmeia’s forces, confused and unsure, struggled to form a ragged defense as the mass of steel and flesh neared. Thunder boomed as the cavalry struck. Horsemen plunged past the defenses in a grim wave of death. Soldiers were pierced and hacked. Others were trampled underfoot. The sheer weight of the attack pushed Aphere and others deep into the heart of the camp as catapult rounds continued to explode at random.
     
     
     
    The guard grinned cruelly as he slowly drew a rusted dagger. Pirneon instantly recognized him as the spineless corporal from the raid. He wasn’t surprised.
    “I’m going to enjoy this,” the corporal sneered.
    Pirneon said nothing. He could do no more than watch as death came for him. He didn’t flinch as the blade inched closer. The last thing he wanted was to give the coward the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Both guards leered. He judged them for what they were: weak men who took advantage of the helpless. Pirneon gave himself a last curse for taking this job in the first place.
    “We’re going to make you scream, old man,” the second guard told him. “You got a lot of my friends killed last night.”
    They shared a laugh as the corporal nicked a shallow gash below Pirneon’s right eye. He barely blinked. Hate-filled eyes stared back at the guards with contempt. He dared them on. Dared them to do their worst. He was the only one who noticed the slender figure slip into the tent.
    “Brought another of your friends to help?” Pirneon mocked and motioned towards the flap.
    The corporal turned and caught a sword across his throat. He hit the ground hard, rolling with both hands clutched to his neck in a futile attempt to survive. Blood spurted between his fingers. The second guard made a call and attacked Pirneon, knowing he wouldn’t be able to kill both. There was a slight whoosh , and the guard’s head sailed from his body. Pirneon tried to blink the blood out of his eyes.
    “I would have come sooner, but the tent was well guarded, and they’ve been searching for me since the banquet,” Barum explained as he set his sword down and began unfastening the chains.
    Pirneon eyed his squire appraisingly. Barum was dressed as a normal desert man. He was ready to become a knight. “I lost sight of Bradgen in the chaos. Whoever is attacking is doing so in force. We must escape now, while there is still time.”
    “Have you any idea who is attacking?” Pirneon asked, secretly suspecting Habrim’s plan was unfolding.
    “No one seems to know. Their numbers are great. I think we are surrounded. Adonmeia will not win this fight. Half of the camp is already in flames.”
    Pirneon grimaced. “Adonmeia was murdered at the banquet. Bradgen now commands. Where are the horses?”
    “Confiscated, along with everything else we had. Soldiers came the moment you left. Getting out of here won’t be easy.”
    Pirneon nodded. “I feared as much. We’ll have to take what we need and pray the