Tales From a Thousand Worlds

The first riders out of Abas Sul met them short of the walls of the small city, a dozen men on wiry horses. They were alike in appearance, in spiked helms, and armour of silks and irons. Curved scimitars were at their sides, lances and small shields in hand and from their saddles hung quivers of arrows, as well as short composite horsebows. The riders took one look at the oncoming Aedring and drove their lances into the ground. They drew their horsebows and strung arrows to them. Riding in closer to the Aedring, they wheeled about at the last moment, sending arrows flickering through the air to rain down upon the body of the hillsmen. Few arrows there were, but they sent flight after flight, all the while guiding their horses with their legs to keep them at range. The arrows dropped into the mass of men and women, here and there defeating shield and armour to slay a man, but few they were in comparison to those they faced, some of whom carried bows of their own.

Follow this link for Part Nine of Daughter of the Windswept Hills