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before Veduci could snap it taut at fetlock level to trip the cantering horses. The men barked warning in their guttural language and yanked hard on their reins, but it didn’t matter: they were already too close to stop in time.
    Veduci pulled hard on the rope, snapping it off the ground, and finished off the knot he’d started—the rope would stay up without him holding it. He took up his bow and got ready.
    The lead horses staggered, thrown off balance with their heads jerked back and to the side. They hit the rope and tumbled, throwing their riders. The next rank wasn’t able to stop in time either, and crashed into the downed pair. The snap of breaking bones was audible through the thudding of falling horses and thrown men, the neighing of frightened and injured animals, the shouts of thrown riders, and screams of the injured. The officer instantly saw that he was too close to stop or turn away from the trap and tried to jump his horse over the pileup, but one of the horses in the scrambling pile lurched upward into his horse and he was knocked off balance and fell from the saddle. The fourth rank tumbled into the horses at the rope and more bones broke; the screams of injured horses seemed to drown out other sounds. The fifth rank stopped short, but their horses were turned to opposite sides, prancing to keep their balance as the downed horses flailed near their legs and the horses behind jostled them. In seconds the entire column was stopped, packed close together near the front, the horses facing every which way. The soldiers were confused, waiting for orders from their officer, but he was dying, drowning in his own blood—Veduci had nocked an arrow and shot him through the throat as soon as he was down. The confused soldiers didn’t immediately notice their ranks thinning from arrows that shot into them from their left flank.
    But the confusion only lasted until Haft used his demon spitter. The weapon’s thunder echoed and reverberated under the trees. Four Jokapcul milling uncertainly in the middle of the column were thrown away by the eruption of the demon’s ejecta.
    Half of the Jokapcul still mounted heard where the thunder came from; they spun their horses to charge into the forest. But they weren’t in formation and couldn’t see who they were charging until they got under the trees. Several more of them fell before they closed with their attackers. Then the forest was filled with thudding hoof beats, the harsh barks of Jokapcul war cries answering the battle cries of the ambushers, and it rang with the clangor of clashing weapons. Haft managed one more shot with the demon spitter before horsemen were on him and he had to drop it in favor of his axe. A cacophony of terrified squawks trailed birds fleeing to safer environs.
    A lancer screamed a bloodcurdling war cry, leveled his lance, and turned his horse to charge Spinner. But the trees were too tight for the horse to maneuver easily and it smashed its rider’s leg against a tree trunk, his war cry becoming a shriek of pain. Spinner let go of his crossbow and thrust his quarterstaff at the Jokapcul’s throat. The soldier’s screams abruptly cut off and he clutched his crushed larynx then slowly toppled off his horse, hitting the ground and spasming in his death throes.
    Spinner didn’t have time to finish him off, he had to swerve out of the way of another lance that darted at him from a Jokapcul whose horse galloped at him on a cleaner line. He swung his quarterstaff at the soldier as the horse went by, but was off balance and falling away, so the staff glanced off the horse’s hindquarters. The rider threw back on his reins and his mount skidded into a spin. Turned about, the mounted man plunged back at Spinner. Spinner dodged behind a tree, and a shower of bark chips sprayed from the trunk where the lance’s point struck it. This time Spinner was ready and jabbed with his quarterstaff as the rider and horse went by. He landed a solid blow on