One of the two grey riders had bypassed the Lady Vera entirely, his sword blazing in the sun as he strove to ride down his enemy. Now that they knew the measure of the force he could project, they were eager to see him dead, apparently. Barada was charging in his direction as well. A half-second to make a decision. If he tried to help the White Rider now, he'd be cut down like a dog. The only way to help her was to deal with this quickly. If he fell, all of their attention would be on her, and the royals would fall to the eager blades of dirt-smothered mercenaries. Digging in his heels, Eragos launched his horse into a gallop.
That was when he felt his horse lurch. The grey rider was too far away, wasn't he? Unless there was some power at his command that Eragos could not imagine. With hardly any warning at all the beast's legs gave out beneath him. Eragos and the princess tumbled from its back without enough time even to shout out a warning. He'd been thrown from horses before, and when he landed, he managed an awkward roll that saved him from broken bones. The princess, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He heard the hard snap before he grew very much older. Barada and the grey rider were still coming on, and the princess lay on the ground weeping between them.
His knowledge of field medicine was going to be put to the test, after this. Over his horse's dying screams Eragos plucked one of the long knives from his belt and hurled it with all of his might. That blade found the throat of a grey rider with a surprised expression, and he tumbled out of the saddle into the snow. A spray of blood announced him to the earth, trumpets blaring out his return. Where was his damn sword? In the snow he couldn't see it. Barada, meanwhile, had his - and Eragos had to drop to one knee to avoid a sweeping cut. The horse thundering past drowned out all other sound. Sweat was pouring down his face despite the cold, despite the fact that he'd lost his cloak in the exchange. Eager hands seized the reins of the grey rider's horse, and he managed to climb into the saddle despite the beast's furious pace.
More like hurl himself into the saddle. This was a proper horse, though, if not war-trained.
He could use a proper horse. When Barada wheeled around, horse stamping its hooves madly, Eragos leaned out of the saddle just far enough to snatch at the hilt of the flambard and drag it from the snow. There was blood on his face. He'd struck a rock on his way down. The gasy wasn't serious, but anything was serious enough if it got you killed. They were lining up for another charge. Barada was obviously not a knight used to serving on horseback. If he were, he would've simply had the creature run Eragos over. A twist of the blade to renew his sense of balance, and Eragos urged the creature forward again. This time there was no magic, and no trick, that could save him from his final end. As the princess dragged herself to her knees in the blood snow Barada let out a furious roar.
"You're less of a coward than most mercs, Feareborne!" Barada's voice seemed the voice of Bahamut himself in the relative quiet of the plains. "But you're still going to-"