General Santaran's warriors ran through the ranks of Attorgron archers to strengthen the hard pressed forward shield wall of the Attorgron slave warriors. On the flanks of the formation they swept through the remaining Attorgron cavalry, finishing what the spearmen had begun.
The fighting was close and intense as the Zoarinian soldiers realized that the odds were no longer on their side. The approaching militia had seemingly been forgotten in the chaos and they now swept towards the enemy's southern flank uncontested, even as the Tranquil Islanders, with a wild yell, started down the dirt work fortifications in a charge towards the western flank of the enemies battle line.
There was an opportunity to be had here and I hoped General Santaran could see it. I wheeled Flin to the side to see the remnant of warriors that had survived the earlier battle for the Shrine mounted behind me led by Nadalarkin.
Their horses shifted about nervously, as if they were eager to take part in the battle that was raging beyond us in unbridled intensity.
"To me!" I yelled, as I wheeled Flin around and plunged down the mound weaving in and around the forward facing sharpened stakes.
They followed me screaming with renewed energy from some deep well of being, as they charged up and over the mound top to plunge down over after me. Up ahead of me I could see the kicked up dirt of the Zoarinian lancers, as they charged in a full gallop at the onrushing Valley Lander cavalry ahead of them.
Flin seemed to float across the ground covering the distance with ease and I relished the feel of the powerful horse beneath me that was as committed to the battle as I was. The several hundred mounted warriors at my back were strung out in a loose line, as they urged their mounts harder to catch up with Flin. Regretfully I eased Flin back off some to let them come abreast of me. As the wind rushed past us I saw the two virtually equal cavalry contingents ahead of us connect together with a terrific force of impact.
Horses flipped over forwards and warriors were sent hurtling through the air to be crushed in the melee of pounding hooves or impaled on lowered lances. The fighting turned vicious as broken lances were dropped and swords and maces were drawn out as the two sides fought to get close in to each other.
Those fallen in the initial impact of furious contact were trampled over by the riders around them in their wild desire to kill each other and survive.
The wind whipped by my face, as we plunged toward the backs of the halted melee driven enemy ahead of us. I knew a moment of savage joy, when I saw General Santaran's mounted warriors ten thousand strong surging towards the backs of the melee engrossed enemy cavalry on their southern flank, even as we were doing on their northern flank. He had seen the opportunity presented just as I had, when the enemy had redirected their attention from the weaker militia to attack the Attorgrons.