Read Online The Ruby Knight by David Eddings - Free Book Online Page A

saddle. ‘Berit,’ he called, ‘I need you.’
    Sparhawk and the others rode on at a trot while the squire and the novice ranged out in search of clean water.
    â€˜We could just ride on, you know,’ Kalten said.
    â€˜Not unless you feel like walking before morning,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Kurik’s right. The horses don’t have very much left in them.’
    â€˜That’s true, I suppose.’
    Then Kurik and Berit came pounding down a nearby hill at a gallop. ‘Get ready!’ Kurik shouted, shaking loose his chain-mace. ‘We’ve got company!’
    â€˜Sephrenia!’ Sparhawk barked. ‘Take Flute and get backbehind those rocks. Talen, get the packhorses.’ He drew his sword and moved to the front even as the others armed themselves.
    There were fifteen or so of them, and they drove their horses over the hilltop at a run. It was an oddly assorted group, church soldiers in their red tunics, Styrics in home-spun smocks and a few peasants. Their faces were all blank, and their eyes dull. They charged on mindlessly, even though the heavily armed Church Knights were rushing to meet them.
    Sparhawk and the others spread out, preparing to meet the charge. ‘For God and the Church!’ Bevier shouted, brandishing his lochaber axe. Then he spurred his horse forward, crashing into the middle of the oncoming attackers. Sparhawk was taken off guard by the young Cyrinic’s rash move, but he quickly recovered and charged in to his companion’s aid. Bevier, however, appeared to need little in the way of help. He warded off the clumsy-looking sword strokes of the mindlessly charging ambushers with his shield, and his long-handled lochaber whistled through the air to sink deep into the bodies of his enemies. Though the wounds he inflicted were hideous, the men he struck down made no outcry as they fell from their saddles. They fought and died in an eerie silence. Sparhawk rode behind Bevier, cutting down any of the numb-faced men who tried to attack the Cyrinic from behind. His sword sheared a church soldier almost in half, but the man in the red tunic did not even flinch. He raised his sword to strike at Bevier’s back, but Sparhawk split his head open with a vast overhand stroke. The soldier toppled out of his saddle and lay twitching on the bloodstained grass.
    Kalten and Tynian had flanked the attackers on either side and were chopping their way into the mêlée, while Ulath, Kurik and Berit intercepted the few survivors whomanaged to make their way through the concerted counter-attack.
    The ground was soon littered with bodies in red tunics and bloody white Styric smocks. Riderless horses plunged away from the fight, squealing in panic. In normal circumstances, Sparhawk knew the attackers bringing up the rear would falter and then flee when they saw what had befallen their comrades. These expressionless men, however, continued their attack, and it was necessary to kill them to the last man.
    â€˜Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia shouted. ‘Up there!’ She was pointing towards the hilltop beyond which the attack had come. It was the tall, skeletal figure in the black hooded robe which Sparhawk had seen twice before. It sat its horse atop the hill with that faint green glow emanating from its concealed face.
    â€˜That thing’s starting to bore me,’ Kalten said. ‘The best way to get rid of a bug is to step on it.’ He raised his shield and thumped his heels on his horse’s flanks. He started to gallop up the hill, his blade held menacingly aloft.
    â€˜Kalten! No!’ Sephrenia’s shout was shrill with fright. But Kalten paid no attention to her warning. Sparhawk swore and started after his friend.
    Suddenly Kalten was hurled from his saddle by some unseen force as the figure atop the hill gestured contemptuously. With revulsion Sparhawk saw that what emerged from the sleeve of the black robe was not a hand, but something