Haaph’ahin offered no comfort through his actions. He had always cared for his people, but he resisted everything Lasivar said and offered no alternatives but to wait. Something was different about him. He was like one who wandered without sun or stars to guide him. His own secrecy and the things he had done angered her, but she knew she could not say anything. Any question of his actions would be a challenge to his leadership.
She wished Haruu’na were still alive. She may not have known what to do, but would have given comfort and wise words without effort. Ahi’rea clenched her eyes shut, forcing away her tears. Azra had taken her away. Why had she not let him die? Why had she not killed him herself?
She knew why—he had been collateral, at first. As time had gone on, however, she had realized that he had been deceived. Like so many others, Halkoriv had taken Azra’s life and twisted it to his own ends. If there was ever to be peace, she thought, all those like Azra had to be able to be saved.
He had changed—become quiet, sad even. He had seemed to have accepted the truth. But it must have been through him that Halkoriv learned that Lasivar had come.
Ahi’rea wondered again if it might not have been better for all if Azra had died.
—
“They are planning something, Draden. I would not have returned myself if I were not sure of it.”
Draden sat in his tent, head bowed, massaging his temples with one hand. He raised his head with a deep breath and regarded Malskein. “I sent you to watch them because you are a strong warrior and you know how to fight and evade the plainsfolk,” he said. “I sent messengers to collect your reports, yet, two nights since you left, here you are. Why is that, commander?”
“We observed movements in their structure. They broke camp and the force divided. It appeared that the northerners and foreigners were headed south and the plainsfolk were headed more inland, closer to us. There are not enough of them to pose a threat, so I anticipate—”
“I don’t need your analysis, commander,” Draden snapped. “I said, why are you here instead of in the field where I sent you?”
The corner of Malskein’s mouth turned up. “Probably because you don’t like being corrected… sir. No one else will tell you when you’re being a fool.”
Draden lunged, cuffing Malskein across the jaw. His left hand came up and he caught Malskein’s arm as he swung to return the blow.
“I’m going to overlook that, soldier,” Draden said, nodding at Malskein’s balled fist. “I gave you orders, and I expect them to be followed. You were in the field because that is where you are most valuable. Your scouting party is surely dead without your guidance.”
Malskein jerked his arm away, but said nothing. He licked the blood trickling from his lip.
“Make yourself useful. Ready a double watch to the north and east. Send in my squires when you leave. Don’t fail commander. I have bare use for insubordinate men, and none for inept ones.”
Malskein saluted. He turned his back and left, nearly tearing the flap from the tent as he did so. Draden began to ready his armor and, when his squires arrived, buckled it on with their assistance. While they worked, a dark-robed figure entered the tent and stood, silent. Draden met the Servant’s milky eyes and suppressed a shudder. Halkoriv was with it. He could always tell.
It spoke in a whispering, wet voice, a voice that seemed to come from everywhere but its throat. “Your orders stand, Draden. Make for the eastern coast with all speed.” The squires ignored the creature, doing their best to avoid looking at it.
“Lord Halkoriv,” Draden addressed the Servant, “their forces have split…”
“We know this. The plainsfolk cannot harm us. East, with all speed.”
“Of course, Lord. But I fear they will strike us, soon. They may have followed our scouts back. They are planning an attack to slow us, I am sure of it.”
The Servant said nothing. It did not move, or breathe. Draden started when it spoke again. “We will bring The Rider.” The figure turned and left.
Light seemed to return to the tent. Draden was thankful for the ease of communication with Halkoriv, but less so for the presence of his Servants. They never spoke, save in Halkoriv’s voice. They did not eat, sleep, or fight. They simply followed, and waited.
Draden left his tent, stepping out into the night. The air was growing cool, unseasonably so. The sun had sunk behind the horizon of the western plains. He could smell the smoke of the army’s brush fires, see its red glow behind them. To the east, the sky was dark and starless. There was still some distance between the army and the sea, and somewhere within it was the gathered force of all Feriven’s enemies.
He issued the orders to break camp and begin marching, despite the onset of night. He shivered and awaited the Rider.
He arrived within moments. He was young, blond, still with a boy’s face. Draden might have thought him a raw recruit if he did not know him to be one of the finest cavalrymen in the army. He had once been called Surgund, but his skills had caught Halkoriv’s attention. He was more alive than the Servants—but something was frightening about him. He was too calm. He approached and waited, staring at Draden with dark, empty eyes.
“Plainsfolk are on the move, Surgund,” Draden said.
“I know this.” The Rider's voice was soft, restrained. “Halkoriv has been with me. The army must continue east, but the plainsfolk must be stopped. They are cunning foes.”
Draden nodded. “I understand that you have been studying their tactics?”
The Rider smiled. “Yes, sir. I have.”
—Eighteen—
Ahi’rea crouched beside Ruun’daruun on the scorched, ashen ground. Together they peered over the low rise behind which they hid, surveying the arrayed Cheduna forces. Ahi’rea had never seen such a large number of people in one place before. The sound of it was deafening. The number of people rushing about, talking, shouting, the number of tents and horses was enough to crack the earth. And this is only part of their armies. How can we fight so many? The ash hanging in the air blurred her vision and made her eyes water.
“It looks like they’re getting ready to move out,” Ruun’daruun whispered. “It’s the middle of the night. They don’t march at night.”
“Lasivar was right,” Ahi’rea said. “They know they are close, and they know Lasivar is hoping to escape. Halkoriv must be watching him. They duel through Sight, until one outmaneuvers the other.”
“Do you see any scouts?” Ruun’daruun asked.
“Lasivar said that the Cheduna change their scouts for rested ones just before moving.” She scanned the mass of people. They had little time. “The cavalry are our priority. If we do not find and slow them, Lasivar and the army will have no chance of outrunning them.”
As they watched and waited, one of their kin arrived in a silent run, dropping to the scorched grass beside them. “Nuun’ran. Did you see their horses?” Ahi’rea asked.
Nuun’ran nodded, his shaggy hair made gray by the ash floating in the air. His barrel chest heaved as he recovered his breath. He leaned close to be heard over the camp without shouting. “Further west,” he said, pointing. “I couldn’t make a count. I can’t get close enough with the grasses all burned. The smoke and darkness is all that will keep us hidden.”
“It’s enough,” Ruun’daruun said. “We just have to get in and out.” He started heading west, keeping low. “Go gather the rest of us and tell them to come this way.”
Nuun’ran nodded and, with a last deep breath, crept away as fast as he dared.
Ahi’rea and Ruun’daruun soon met with others who pointed out the horses. As they prepared, Ruun’daruun turned to Ahi’rea and took her hand. “Can you See anything?”
Ahi’rea turned toward the camp and reached out with her Sight, her eyes casting a glow about the gathered Huumphar.
Almost immediately she looked back at Ruun’daruun. “We can’t! They are waiting for us!”
Ruun’daruun drew close and hissed, “Are you sure?
”
“We must leave, now!” Ahi’rea answered. She stood, but Ruun’daruun gripped her shoulder and pulled her back down.
“Lasivar said we must not fail. The army will be caught if we do. Lasivar will never reach Halkoriv.” Ruun’daruun looked Ahi’rea in the eyes. “Are you sure?” His words fell like hammer blows.
She held Ruun’daruun’s gaze. “If we go into that camp, we will be slaughtered. We cannot do this.”
Ruun’daruun sat back, placing a hand over his eyes. Ahi’rea scanned the camp and surroundings, her every nerve on edge. “We must leave, Ruun’daruun. Please.”
“Every time before this you have discounted your own visions,” he said.
Ahi’rea stared.
“You called them a curse and said we can't depend on them.” Ruun’daruun looked at her, waiting for her response.
Ahi’rea was speechless. She shook her head, could not speak.
“Lasivar would not send us to die,” Ruun’daruun said. “He would have foreseen this. We must do what we can, even if you are right.” He stood, jaw set, eyes straight ahead. He gestured to the waiting Huumphar, readied his spear and blade.
Ahi’rea grabbed Ruun’daruun by the upper arm. “He cannot See everything. No one can! Please, Daruun,” she said. “We will not survive this.”
Gently, Ruun’daruun pulled his arm from her grasp. He looked first at her, then at the other Huumphar gathered around them. “We must do this, for the future of our people,” he said, addressing them all. “We are all warriors. We do not fear death, only the cage that awaits us should we fail. Tonight, we have our purpose. It is vital that we succeed. We will go on. We must go on. And if death should come for us, we will meet it with spear, and blade, and the will of the Huumphar!” He turned toward the Cheduna camp and gave throat to a roar. They cry was lost against the sound of the Cheduna camp. Ruun’daruun charged, and the others followed, crying out their frustration, their rage at home and loved ones lost, crying out their vengeance.
Ahi’rea watched her people dash toward the camp, other Huumphar joining them all along the perimeter of the enemy force. She stood, stricken. She could not will herself to follow them, but they were heading into an ambush, of that she was sure. Fear and doubt threatened to overwhelm her.
The grasses were gone. She felt only ashes beneath her feet. Nothing but the dark of night and a few hundred feet of open ground hid her kin from the Cheduna. They would have a few moments of confusion when they reached the edge of the camp, if that—if their ambushers had not already seen them.
She thought of Haruu’na, Ruun’gaphuu, Naph’oin, and all those others that had been lost. Their faces came before her in flashes. She watched Ruun’daruun running at the fore and realized she would lose him too—him and all the rest. What could she do? In her mind hoofbeats and the smell of death crushed out all thought and she felt despair dragging her down. She felt her spear slip from her hand.
A thought forced its way past the darkness in her mind. It seemed so long ago, but it had been only a month.
Why See as we do if you refuse to change anything? she had asked Haaph’ahin. He had given no good answer.
She bent and grasped the spear. Black ash darkened her hand as she lifted it. She set her gaze, willing her Sight to reveal what the night had hidden, what intent lay buried in the minds of the Cheduna. Green light flooded the air, a corona in the hanging ash.
It took only a moment to See them—horsemen, on the move, still hidden within the ranks of the otherwise unaware army. In seconds they would emerge from the camp and run down the attacking Huumphar before they even reached their targets. She could feel the horses’ hooves pounding the earth, hear the rumble of their approach. Through her Sight, she could tell something rode at their head, something like a man but lightless, a shadow in her mind. She could not focus on it. It looked back at her, and she had the impression of dripping jaws.
She ran. She remembered the sight of Azra charging against the Huumphar before his capture, one against many. He had been confident, sure of victory. Ahi’rea knew her limits.
The night was clear around her as she covered the distance to the camp, her eyes alight with inner fire. Smoke and darkness seemed to part before her. She ran without any attempt at stealth. She risked one look at Ruun’daruun, now ahead and to her left, rapidly approaching the camp. They believe in him. I must save as many as I can. Lasivar will have his chance to escape, to lead the army onward, and at least some of us will survive.
She turned her eyes forward again and pushed the Self through her limbs, pushed herself to run even harder. She knew she risked overexertion, but it did not matter. She did not expect to last long. She did not need to.
The Cheduna ranks seemed to burst ahead of her. Startled soldiers scattered and mounted warriors rode out of the camp and made straight for the nearest Huumphar, a group of warriors who had outdistanced the rest. Without the cover of the grasses, they were easy targets. The Huumphar, taken by surprise, hurled their spears but the soldiers were ready. “Shields!” their leader shouted, and the spears were battered aside. The Huumphar drew machetes. The Cheduna leader called out orders and the soldiers drew their mounts into small groups and charged their targets. The Huumphar were unable to dodge or parry all the lethal lance points at once.
The cries and screams of her people bombarded Ahi’rea. She used them, discarding horror for rage as she covered the final steps to the cavalrymen.
With a scream of fury, her eyes blazing, she leapt amongst the horsemen with her machete in one hand and spear in the other. The blade sliced one of the surprised Cheduna and the force of her attack drove another from his saddle on the point of the spear. Before they realized what was happening, she was dashing past the legs of the spooked horses. Her machete flashed one way, her spear the other. Cheduna soldiers shrieked and cried as tendons were cut and sides pierced. She passed among them like a revengeful ghost, eyes blazing. The Sight was a roar in her mind. She dodged and rolled, whirling out of the way of blades and lances. Horses bucked and reared but their hooves struck only air.
“Run!” she called. “They were waiting for us! Get away!” Their leader barked orders and Ahi’rea found herself at the center of an expanding circle of horsemen. Dozens of them immediately made for the other Huumphar. Her way was blocked by readied lances, but Ahi’rea charged after the horsemen. Three soldiers barred her path, their weapons stained red and gleaming in the camp’s firelight. Others tried to join them, to head her off, but their armored mounts maneuvered too slowly.
The first of them thrust out with his weapon, but Ahi’rea was already moving to avoid it. She spun and felt the lance pass through her hair. The other two drove their lances at her, but Ahi’rea was ready with her spear. She knocked the points of their weapons aside even as she planted the spear blade in the burnt earth and jumped, vaulting herself into the air. She cleared the horses’ height and slipped between two of the soldiers. Her machete slashed through one of them in passing. She landed behind them, rolled to her feet, and sprinted after the ones that were headed for her kin.
The Sight flashed urgency in her mind and she threw herself flat on the ground. A charging horseman, as if from nowhere, passed over her prone form. She rolled and regained her feet in time to see the Cheduna cavalry commander wheeling his mount back to face her. In her Sight he was a rider’s shadow, the shade of a man overtaken by something else. Faster than she thought possible he lunged forward, lance ripping through the air with a shriek. Somewhere nearby, she heard Huumphar cries of fear and pain. The horsemen were on them, and she could not get to them. “Run!” she yelled again. She hoped they could hear her.
Her Sight blurred, so quick was the Rider. Ahi’rea struggled to avoid his lightning fast lance-strikes. She dodged and rolled and swung her machete to parry the attacks. She heard the Huumphar crying out, screaming, and only hoped some of them would escape. She tried to charge past the Rider to draw in more of the horsemen, but he was impossible to
evade. In her zeal to escape, she lost her focus. The lance found her leg and dealt her a bloody gash across the calf.
Ahi’rea stumbled to face her attacker even as the other horsemen kept their distance. The voices of the Huumphar were growing distant, but she knew they were being pursued by the cavalrymen. Their numbers seemed endless, and yet she could not evade even this one of them.
She kept low to the ground, coiled and ready to spring. The Rider atop his circling mount was only a dozen paces away. His horse snorted hot steam into the night air, bucking and pacing. All the while, the Rider’s gaze was fixed on Ahi’rea from behind his helmet, and his lance point was steady and poised. Ahi’rea’s eyes lit him in green, but she saw more than what the light revealed. One of Halkoriv’s Servants. He must be. She remembered the feeling of danger when she had first Seen him.
“The Ghost Witch of the plainsfolk,” he said in Gharven, and laughed when she snarled. “My king knows of you. I have heard tales of you.”
“Good,” Ahi’rea growled. “Then you will be one of the few who know that it was I who killed them.”
He laughed again. “Indeed. I know of only two who have escaped you before, and they have taught me much. My master will be pleased to see you dead, and I will be honored to make it so. Your powers are nothing like my king’s, nothing like the power he has given me.”
Ahi’rea circled, clenching her teeth and trying not to limp or show her pain. She could feel hot blood running down her ankle. She concentrated her Sight, aware that the Rider’s banter would not last. Keep him here, she thought, the fading cries of fleeing Huumphar still in her ears. “And you are a fool to think I am only as dangerous as my Sight,” she said, eyes flaring. “You pretend to be so sure of victory, and yet you keep your men at hand to pull my blade from your throat.”
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