I’m re-reading The Mark of the Horse Lord at the moment and marveling at Rosemary Sutcliff’s prose. Like this:
But long before that last echo had died into the wild crying of curlew and sandpiper, the chariot line of the Dalriadain was away at full flying gallop to meet the onrushing hosts of the Cailleach. Phaedrus heard himself raise the war cry: “Cruachan! Cruachan!”, heard it taken up and hurled back by the long-drawn battle yell of the enemy. He flung his first spear as they came into javelin range, and one of the leading charioteers went down, his plunging team bringing confusion on those behind him, and almost in the same instant the two chariot hordes rolled full tilt together, with a great shouting of men and a screaming chaos of horses, a ringing crash that seemed as though it must shake the very roots of the mountains.
I’m getting towards the end now and not wanting to reach it, because it’ll be the end, and because it’s one of those perfect and moving endings. If you haven’t read this one, definitely do. It’s one of my favorite Sutcliffs.