The Temujai riders were back in their own lines now. They would rest their horses, letting them recover their wind, while another ten Ulans took up the attack. It would be the same pattern, forcing the Skandians to cover up behind their shields, then attacking with sabers when they were blinded and, finally, pouring in volley after volley of arrows as their own men withdrew, leaving a gap in the shield wall. It was simple. It was effective. And there was a deadly inevitability about it.

Now the Ulans began their wheeling, galloping dance once again. Will fixed his attention on a troop at the middle of the line, knowing that it would curve and turn and eventually come at them on a diagonal. He muttered to Horace.

"Get those breastworks down."

He heard the muscular apprentice bellow: "Shields! Uncover!" The shield bearers rushed to shove the wicker walls down, leaving the archers behind a waist-high earth berm and with a clear field.

"Ready!" called Evanlyn, indicating that each man in the line of archers had an arrow nocked to the string. Then it was up to Will.

"Half left!" he called, and the archers all turned to the same direction.

"Position two!"

A hundred arms raised to the same angle as Will watched the approaching group of riders, seeing in his mind's eye the galloping Temujai and the flight of arrows converging to meet at the same point in time and space.

"Down a half:draw!"

The elevation corrected and one hundred arrows came back to full draw. He paused, counted to three to make sure he wasn't too soon, then yelled:

"Shoot!"

The slithering, hissing sound told him that the arrows were on their way. Already, the archers were reaching for their next shafts.

Horace, about to call for the shield bearers, waited. They were under no direct attack at the moment and there was no need to disrupt the sequence of shooting and reloading at this stage.

Then the first volley struck home.

Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was the result of the weeks of practice, hour after hour, but Will had directed that first volley almost perfectly. One hundred shafts arced down to meet the galloping Ulan and at least twenty of them found targets.

Men and horses screamed in pain as they crashed to the ground. And instantly, the disciplined, structured formation of the Ulan was shattered. Those who were unhurt by the arrows were confronted by their comrades and their horses tumbling and rolling headlong. And as each stricken man fell, he took another with him, or caused his neighbor to swerve violently, reining his horse in, sawing on the reins until the tight formation was a milling mass of plunging horses and men.

"Ready!" called Evanlyn. From her position, she couldn't see the result. Quickly, Will realized he had the chance now to deal a devastating blow to the enemy.

"Same target. Position two. Draw:" He heard the scrape of arrows against bows as the men drew back their right hands until the feathered ends of the shafts were just touching their cheeks.

"Shoot!"

Another volley hissed away at the tangle of men and horses. Already, Will was yelling for his men to reload. In their haste, some of them fumbled, dropping the arrows as they tried to nock them. Wisely, Evanlyn decided not to wait until they had recovered.

"Ready!" she called.

"Same target. Position two. Draw:"

They had the range and the direction now and the Temujai troop was stalled, caught in the one spot, losing their most valuable protection-their mobility.

"Shoot!" yelled Will, not caring that his voice cracked with excitement, and a third volley was on its way.

"Shields!" bellowed Horace, shoving his own shield forward to cover himself and his friend. He had seen that some of the other Ulans had finally noticed what was happening and were riding to return fire. A few seconds later, he felt the drumming of arrows against the shield, heard the rattle as they struck other shields along the line of archers.

There was no way that the Temujai could send a squad with sabers in toward the archers. Halt had placed Will and his men to one side and behind the Skandian main line of defense. To reach them, the Temujai would have to fight their way through the Skandian axmen.

The troop that Will had engaged had taken three carefully aimed volleys-nearly three hundred arrows-in quick succession. Barely ten men of the original Ulan remained alive. The bodies of the others littered the ground. Their riderless horses were galloping away, neighing in panic.

Now, as the other riders wheeled away toward their own lines, Will saw a further opportunity. Another two Ulans were riding in close proximity and still well within range.

"Shields down," he said to Horace, and the warrior passed the message along.

"Target: right front. And a half:Position three:draw:" Again, he made himself wait, to be sure. "Shoot!"

The arrows, dark against the clean blue of the sky, arced after the withdrawing cavalry.

"Shields!" Horace called as the arrows struck home and another dozen or so Temujai tumbled from their saddles. Behind the shelter of the big, rectangular shield, he and Will exchanged grins.

"I think that went rather well," said the apprentice Ranger.

"I think it went rather well indeed!" the apprentice warrior agreed with him.

"Ready!" called Evanlyn once more, her gaze fixed on the archers as they fitted arrows to their bowstrings. The call reminded Will, a little belatedly, that she had no way of knowing how successful their first action had been.

"Stand down!" Will called. There was no point keeping the men tensed up while the Temujai were re-forming. He gestured to Evanlyn.

"Come on up and see the results," he told her.

I T TOOK SEVERAL MINUTES FOR THE T EMUJAI COMMANDER TO realize that something had gone badly wrong-for the second time. There was a gap in his line as the riders returned, he realized. Then, as he cast his glance over the battlefield, he saw the tangled bodies of men and horses and frowned. He had been watching the overall action and had missed the four rapid volleys that had destroyed the Ulan.

He pointed with his lance at them. "What's happened there?" he demanded of his aides. But none of them had seen the destruction as it took place. His question was greeted with blank stares.

A single horseman was pounding toward them, calling his name.

"General Haz'kam! General!"

The man was swaying in the saddle and the front of his leather vest was slick with blood from several wounds. Blood stained the flanks of his horse as well, and the Temujai command staff were startled to see that the horse had been hit by at least three arrows.

Horse and rider skidded to a stop in front of the command position. For the horse, it was the final effort. Weakened by loss of blood, it sank slowly to its knees, then rolled over on its side, its injured rider only managing to escape being pinned at the last moment. Haz'kam frowned as he peered at the wounded man, then recognized Bin'zak, his former chief of intelligence. True to his word, the colonel had taken his place in the front line of one of the Ulans. It had been his incredible misfortune that he'd chosen the one destroyed by Will's archers.

"General," croaked the dying man. "They have archers:"

He staggered a few paces toward them and now they could see the broken-off stubs of arrows in two of his wounds. On the ground beside him, the horse heaved a gigantic, shuddering sigh and died.

"Archers:" he repeated, his voice barely audible, and he sank to his knees.

Haz'kam tore his gaze away from the stricken colonel and scanned the enemy ranks. There was no sign of archers there. The Skandians stretched in three ranks across the narrowest part of the valley, behind their earthworks. On the seaward side, and a little behind the main force, another group stood-also behind earthworks and holding large rectangular shields. But he could see no sign of archers.