Krondor the Betrayal by Raymond E. Feist Page B

creature in the throat, above his metal breastplate. Locklear kept his horse circling, so he quickly faced his first attacker.
    The sizzling sensation told him Owyn was once more blinding an opponent, and Locklear hoped it was the bowman. The moredhel who had fallen back as the horse spun pressed forward with a vicious slash at Locklear’s leg.
    He barely got his sword down in time and felt the shock run up through his arm. His stiff ribs hindered his parry, and the flat of his own blade slammed into his horse’s side, causing the animal to shy.
    Locklear used his left leg and moved the animal back into a straight line, twisting his body to keep his eyes upon his foe.
    His ribs hurt from the effort, but he stayed alive as the moredhel swung at him again. He knocked that blow aside and delivered a weak counter, which slapped his opponent in the face, irritating him more than doing any real damage.
    But the blow did slow the moredhel’s advance, and Locklear got his horse turned to face his foe. Locklear remembered something his father had drilled into him and his brothers: a soldier who has a weapon and doesn’t use it is either an idiot or dead.
    His horse was a weapon, and Locklear put his legs hard against his horse’s flanks and tugged hard on the reins with his off hand. The horse picked up a canter, and to the moredhel it was as if the horse suddenly leaped at him.
    The warrior was a veteran and dodged to one side, but Locklear reined his horse in, turning hard to the left. To the moredhel, it looked as if Locklear was turning away, and the creature pressed forward.
    Locklear kept the horse turning in a tight circle, and suddenly the moredhel realized his error as the young squire completed his circle with a slashing downward blow. This was no irritating tap, but a powerful blow which smashed bone as it cut into the side of the moredhel’s skull.
    Locklear glanced toward Gorath and saw him beset by two 43

    Raymond E. Feist
    foes, then looked back to Owyn, and saw that he was on foot a hundred yards away and holding a swordsman at bay with his staff. Hoping the bowman was still blinded by Owyn’s magic, Locklear rode to Owyn’s rescue.
    He kicked hard at his horse’s flanks, and the animal leaped forward so that he was approaching at a gallop when the moredhel heard him coming. The dark elf turned to look at his second opponent, giving Owyn the opening to strike with the butt of his staff. He broke the creature’s jaw and sent him slumping to the ground.
    Locklear reined his horse in so suddenly the animal planted his hooves and almost sat. Spinning the horse around, Locklear waved to Owyn, shouting, ‘‘Keep the bowman off us!’’
    As if the Goddess of Luck had turned a deaf ear to him, Locklear was lifted out of the saddle by an arrow. He struck the ground hard, barely avoiding broken bones by rolling. The arrow in his left shoulder snapped, and the pain caused his vision to swim and took his breath away.
    For the briefest instant, Locklear fought to keep conscious, then he felt his eyes focus, and he willed away the pain in his shoulder. A strangled cry behind him made him turn. Over him reared a moredhel, sword raised to strike. Suddenly, Gorath was behind the moredhel, and he plunged his sword into the moredhel’s back.
    Owyn ran past, wheeling his staff above his head. Locklear looked up as his would-be killer fell to his knees, then keeled over. Gorath turned before Locklear could speak and ran after Owyn.
    Locklear rose slowly on wobbly legs as he saw Owyn rush forward and strike a moredhel bowman who was vainly rubbing his eyes as if trying to clear them. The bowman was clubbed to his knees and died a moment later as Gorath delivered the killing blow.
    Gorath spun around in a circle once, as if seeking another enemy, but Locklear saw the six were dead. Gorath stood with his sword in hand, frustration on his face, then he shouted in rage. ‘‘Delekhan!’’
    Locklear stumbled to the dark elf, and