The last cavalryman twisted around in the saddle and stabbed wildly with his spear at the approaching Lorist. He never dreamed of injuring Lorist; he only hoped the spear would keep this murderous fiend behind him at a distance, allowing him to hold out until help arrived from the camp.
Lorist grabbed the spear waving before him and yanked it away in one pull. Then, amid the cavalryman's horrified and despairing gaze, he swung his sword down. "Ah!..." A shriek rang out as the cavalryman lost his left hand and leg and toppled headfirst toward the ground.
Lorist caught up with another cavalryman. This one had already abandoned his spear and could only watch helplessly as Lorist came up behind him and thrust a spear straight through his heart.
After shaking the cavalryman's corpse from his spear, Lorist saw six fleeing bastards ahead. The camp in the distance had already reacted, however. Its gates stood open, and more than a dozen cavalrymen in leather armor and carrying spears charged out.
Another cavalryman fell behind the others. His mount slowed more and more before suddenly collapsing as if it had stumbled. The fallen horse's four hooves twitched in the air a few times before going still. It had evidently died from exhaustion. The cavalryman on its back was nimble enough; the instant his mount fell, he had slipped free of the stirrups. After rolling twice on the ground, he rose with his spear still gripped tightly in his hand. Seeing Lorist galloping toward him, the cavalryman wore a vicious expression. With a roar, he leveled his spear and charged—not at Lorist, but at the mount beneath him.
Lorist gave a cold laugh and met him with his spear. As the two spears clashed, a flash of delight appeared on the cavalryman's