The distinctive twang of an arbalest preceded the appearance of a bolt sailing through the air, the missile burying itself into the chest of an enemy's horse. The mount collapsed, sliding into the Weldwyn lines and smashing aside the defenders.
"To the gap," yelled Gerald, turning in the saddle, his own sword rasping free of its scabbard. The nearby Kurathians grasped the significance of the situation; they rushed in, their fleet mounts leaping over the dead.
A hail of bolts flew across the opening, dropping several, but the riders were too numerous, and the shots too few. The heavier foot formed up to charge the hole in the line, but Gerald knew they wouldn't arrive in time. He spurred his horse forward, seeking the enemy.
He careened into a Kurathian horseman, his sword stabbing with
