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stirrups and kicked Ainhearag toward that advancing group, meaning to carve a path through them if she could—and then realized, as they grew closer and their dun-and-green tunics, the swords and bows over their shoulders, became clear, that she was looking at a Darachim patrol.
    It was a rescue .
    "Blessed gods," she whispered. She leaned down once more, pressing her face to Ainhearag's warm, wet coat. The Allaida were losing ground—nothing could be faster than this wonderful horse of hers, now that she had her head. The Darachim spread out, making room for her. Kyali got the reins in one hand and wheeled Ainhearag wide around as they met.
    "Fine company you keep, sword student," one of the rangers shouted—it was hard to tell who, as they all wore mottled green cloth over their faces. Kyali nodded grimly, heart still pounding with terror… and with something else, something she'd only felt once before, struggling with an assassin in her father's cellar. A fierce, cold anger beat in her breast, urging her forward, her and her horse and her sword, to meet the enemy. She'd heard soldiers speak of such things happening in battle, but she'd never looked to know such a thing herself.
    She wasn't sure she liked it.
    She wasn't sure she didn't, either.
    And it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was the messy charge of Allaida pelting toward them, their cavalry, such as they were, nearly running down the infantry as they rushed forward.
    "This ought to be interesting," somebody muttered—it sounded like Donel—which was when Kyali realized there were only five rangers and herself to face this onslaught. She felt a breathless terror grip her insides, and then that cold, angry part of her mind noted how spread out the Allaida were, how weak their line was.
    "Form up!" she blurted, and got several bewildered looks. The Allaida were almost on them, and she wasn't with her father's soldiers, who knew how to meet an enemy on open ground. The Fraonir fought in the trees, a quieter sort of warfare that tended toward ambush. This encounter was going to be far more like what her father's officers had taught her about.
    Oh gods, this was not how she'd imagined her first battle happening.
    "You—" Kyali pointed at the nearest ranger. "To my right and back a pace. You, on my left. You three, behind us, staggered like—yes, like that! We can break their line if we—"
    No more time.
    Kyali urged her horse forward, shuddering, trying to gain momentum before that scattered line hit. Behind her, she could hear the rangers following. Then she was in the midst of the enemy's line, horses and men screaming. She planted herself and swung her sword in a twisting arc, felt the impact of a spear rattle her all the way to the teeth, the ringing jolt of a blow on her arm. She ducked, swung, struck something that gave—and was suddenly through, with a small knot of Fraonir rangers crowding close around, their swords bloodied.
    "Left, flank them left!" Kyali barked, seeing the weak point, not allowing herself to think about what she was doing, or the fact that she could keep riding east and maybe escape this madness. She wheeled her mare left instead, heading back into the Allaida, who were beginning to turn, having realized their line had broken.
    Amazingly, the rangers came with her.
    Kyali ducked under the sweep of a blade. Ahead, a man in mismatched plate armor shouted orders and she kicked Ainhearag into a run, breathing through clenched teeth. He turned and flung his sword up just as she reached him and the impact nearly threw her from the saddle. A streak of fire raced up her cheek. She shook her head, swung her sword. His weapon slid off the angle of her blade, a perfect demonstration of Arlen's careful teaching.
    Then he pulled a second, shorter sword from a saddle sheath, and suddenly she was parrying two blades. Ainhearag stumbled, driven sideways by another horse. The Allaida leader grinned. Blood was flowing down her face.