by T. A. Miles
“That’s a grand general’s suit you’re wearing, pup!” Tarfan blurted while he joined them outside the tent. He snapped up Taya’s spoon and prodded the stew experimentally, wrinkling his nose. “Most grand generals I’ve met are quite a bit older than you.”
Tristus didn’t look at the elder dwarf. He glared at the carrot as he sliced it. “This is my father’s armor, Master Fairwind.”
“Is it?” Tarfan persisted, putting his typical choke hold—born of stubbornness and meanness—onto the poor knight. “Where’s yours?”
“I...it...” Tristus’ face was reddening, as were his eyes.
“Lost it? Wrecked it maybe?” Tarfan dropped the spoon in the pot and set his fists on his hips. “Or maybe you never had one!”
“I had to leave it behind!” Tristus shouted. Then he cried out again as he nicked his finger. He dropped the carrot and the knife, drawing his injured hand reflexively to his body and scowling at Tarfan. “I told you before I’m not a boy playing soldier! I am a Knight of Eris! If you must know, I held the rank of captain! I inherited this armor from my father when he died in service to the Order!” The tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he ignored them. “He died in an ambush staged against a priest he’d been accompanying on duty! He fought alone against nearly a dozen men while that fat cleric and his personal guard escaped! They abandoned him. They abandoned me as well, and I don’t see how it’s any of your business!”
Taya reached out a hand to him, but he shied away, standing. “And now there’s blood in the soup,” he choked. He spun about and left, mumbling something about how they didn’t have any more carrots. Taya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but she did have the presence of mind to snatch the spoon out of the pot and soundly knock her unfeeling uncle on the head.
“Ow!” Tarfan complained. “Is it my fault the lad’s emotional?”
TRISTUS WALKED AWAY without looking back. Escape was the only thing on his mind. Unfortunately, there was no place to hide in the wide open region, not unless he wanted to run about a mile to one of the long-dead trees that were somehow still standing on the broken landscape. He tried to lose himself in their small camp instead, heading for the horses, where he leaned against the nearest one, crying like a boy half his age might. It had been so long since he’d had anyone to hold onto, or to offer him the merest physical comfort that he actually felt calmed by the impassive animal. He lifted his arms around the gentle beast’s neck, and buried his face in its soft pelt, letting the tears fall as they may. He didn’t want to hate any member of the group, but he was beginning to strongly dislike the old dwarf.
“It’s because he’s right,” Tristus murmured, forcing himself to draw a breath, though it rarely did any good once he’d given himself to a fit. “It’s true...I have no right to wear this armor.”
He continued on for several moments, despising his weakness, despising himself. When he felt eyes on him, he stopped and peered slowly over his arm at the old Fanese guard. He coughed in his embarrassment and lack of breath, then slipped away from the horse the man was attempting to gear up for the day’s journey.
“Forgive...me. I didn’t realize...” He stopped himself, recalling that the man spoke only Fanese. Awkward didn’t begin to describe the way he felt about the fate God had granted him.
GAI PING WATCHED the young barbarian, faltering in evident apology. The boy’s face was streaked with tears, defying the strength his armor suggested and the bravery he’d shown in battle against the winged devils.
“That is no way for a warrior to behave,” he said, knowing that the youth didn’t understand him. He hoped anyway that he would understand his firm tone and stern expression. It was in evidence that he needed a father’s words at the moment and Gai Ping, already grandfather of three, felt himself suitably qualified for the task, in spite of certain language barriers.
He hefted Blue Crane’s saddle up into place and began buckling it onto the calm animal, keeping his eyes on the young barbarian. “I can see that others ridicule you, take advantage of your…”
Gai Ping stopped momentarily when he heard his words echoing strangely. It was Lord Xu Liang’s voice, trailing his, speaking in the barbarian tongue as he approached, so that the boy could understand.
Appreciative of his master’s timing and eloquence, he continued. “They take advantage of your fear and the sadness you carry. Show them no fear and use your sadness as a strength, let it feed your resolve instead of breaking it down.”
When Lord Xu Liang finished translating, the boy looked shamefaced at the ground and soon left without saying anything. Gai Ping returned to the task in front of him.
“He heard the words, Gai Ping,” Lord Xu said. “I think perhaps he has gone to absorb them alone.”
Gai Ping nodded, secretly wishing that he could sometimes take the same liberty with Lord Xu as he just had with the barbarian. The young lord had also been some time without paternal guidance, and while he possessed one of the strongest minds in all of Sheng Fan, he still had a boy’s heart. Master Xu didn’t have to show his tears for Gai Ping to know that his master had wept over Deng Po’s death.
The barbarian that was pale of hide and hair arrived suddenly, reining in his white mare and speaking urgently to Lord Xu, who nodded in reply. Receiving acknowledgment, the pale one rode away slowly, toward the others in the group.
Lord Xu sighed. “It would seem that those ‘simple’ bandits from Li Ting have caught up with us once again.” He slowly frowned, donning the resolve he wore as armor into every battle. “This time we will have to fight them with the intent to destroy their minor numbers. They have had every chance to withdraw from this endeavor and have refused. In this instance, their persistent defiance must be paid for in blood; theirs this time. We cannot fall here. The Empress needs us.”
Gai Ping nodded once and went about gathering the rest of the guards.
“THEY ARE COMING out of the southeast, about a mile south of where we exited the mountains,” Alere informed. “It is possible that they realized they’d been spotted and sought a different route.”
“You’re saying they’re the same group you spied behind us before?” Tristus asked, peering into the distant mist that still clung to the horizon while the sun began its work on the previous night’s blanket of snow.
“They are,” the elf answered, as if that were enough explanation.
The opportunity to press him further passed when Xu Liang summoned everyone’s attention. The company gathered around their leader, who spoke in level tones, showing neither fear nor eagerness. He said, “Only two of them are mounted, causing them to move somewhat slower, but Alere tells me they are near and will be here shortly. More than likely, they pressed through the night, unconcerned with leaving a trail as we were. This land is very open, easy enough to traverse but with no place to hide or confuse our path. They are marching toward us openly with the intent to inevitably catch us, and we must answer their challenge now or later. I choose to do so now.”
“Tell us how you want to handle it,” Fu Ran said eagerly, grinding his fist into his palm, quickly recovered from the other night’s argument.
Xu Liang inclined his head once, utterly composed as he revealed his plan to annihilate their pursuers, which—given the straightforward circumstances presented by the terrain—involved very little subtlety. He explained first that these were trained soldiers, not wild, unarmed creatures. At least one of them was exceedingly strong and another was a sorcerer of undetermined potential. They carried with them the determination of the Fanese people, which was no small thing, and a troop of no less than eighteen men. A few more, Xu Liang noted, than Fu Ran had counted in Nelayne. Undoubtedly some of them were ‘borrowed’ pirates from Zhen Yu’s crew.
It would be Guang Ci and Tristus’ duty to rush at them on horseback and confuse their charge. Both were excellent riders and, unlike Alere—who may have been the most skilled on horseback—they were each heavily armored and least likely to be kil
led by an unseating blow. Their aim was to be the men on foot. They were to avoid the two riders unless it proved absolutely impossible. It was Xu Liang’s plan to lure the enemy commanders past Guang Ci and Tristus by riding part way out with Alere. Once the two leaders were engaged with the bearers of Pearl Moon and Aerkiren, Tarfan, Taya, Bastien, and all the remaining guards but Gai Ping were to run toward the foot soldiers and assist Guang Ci and Tristus. Gai Ping, an excellent bowman, had the task of attempting to shoot the enemy riders off their mounts from further back, while Fu Ran protected him from any attacks—either stray or deliberate—that may put down the elder.
“So this is how the Fanese do battle,” Tristus commented after mounting the horse he’d been assigned to, taking one of the guards’ tasseled spears when Xu Liang handed it up to him. He gripped the weapon unfamiliarly at first—it was nothing like a lance and much lighter than a halberd—but shifted and rotated the shaft until he got it comfortably balanced.
“This is how the Fanese do battle away from Sheng Fan,” the mystic replied. “I suppose the Andarians would stand in rows and wait until the enemy was visible through the mist, at that point charging headlong into a troop they mistook for little more than scurrilous rabble, who would turn and run at the first opportunity made available to them.”
Tristus smiled with grim sarcasm at the mystic’s accurate accounting of the elitist Order Knights. “It’s a wonder any of us are still alive.”
Behind Xu Liang, Guang Ci swung himself into the saddle of his own horse and said something to Tristus, who naturally looked to Xu Liang for help. “He says to sweep the weapon in long arcs.”
Guang Ci said something else and Tristus looked at the guard, receiving a visual demonstration of how to swing the spear back and forth high over the horse’s neck, striking low in such a way as to knock the enemy down rather than risk losing the weapon by stabbing and getting it lodged in a falling body.
Tristus nodded. “I understand.” He looked down at Xu Liang again, reminded of something. “I’d like to offer my thanks to the elder gentleman who spoke to me this morning. He’s right. I shouldn’t let Master Fairwind’s brusque nature get to me.”
“He was speaking of more than Tarfan’s brusque nature, but I will give him your thanks, Tristus Edainien. I wish you good fortune in the forthcoming battle.” After saying that and presumably repeating it in Fanese to the mounted guardsman, Xu Liang gave a departing bow, then joined those preparing to follow Tristus and Guang Ci’s lead.
“YOU HAVE A lot of faith in that boy, for having just met him,” Tarfan grumbled as Xu Liang approached.
Xu Liang did not smile when he said, “There is something about him that troubles me, but it is nothing I feel to be a deliberate threat. I believe he is in earnest when he offers his allegiance...to all of us.”
“Do you honestly believe that teary-eyed pup is meant to wield one of the Swords?”
“Time will tell. And in the meantime, the knight has proven to be a capable rider.”
“Are you so sure he’s actually a knight?” Tarfan persisted, proving unusually petulant in this matter.
With patience, Xu Liang said, “He is comfortable with a weapon and not afraid to fight, though fighting scares him—as it should all men, regardless of strength or ability. I believe these qualities are a result of training.”
“You’ve got ten of us going against eighteen,” the dwarf mentioned next. “Maybe more, if the elf didn’t spy them all.”
“I am trusting that by the time you and the others get to them, Guang Ci and Tristus will have evened things a bit with their advance strike. I know that you are not a trained soldier, my friend, but I also know that you are both strong and skilled. And I have faith in you and the others.”
Tarfan grumbled something incoherent and stepped away with his war hammer clutched tightly in both hands.
Alere rode up to them. “They’ll be upon us in moments.”
“Any sign of an attack from the rear?” Xu Liang asked.
The elf shook his head. “None that I have seen. Still, you should let the giant protect your guard as planned. The mist is heavy. If we’re as distracted as you claim we’ll be by the commanders, it would not be difficult for one or more men to pass us.”
Xu Liang nodded, then went to Blue Crane and mounted with ease that seemed to surprise almost all of his companions. He drew Pearl Moon, quickly glanced over the others taking up their positions, then nodded again to Alere, who whistled into the air, his birdcall giving Guang Ci and Tristus the signal to advance the enemy.
THE MIST USED to cover their advance was just beginning to clear, all too quickly revealing what Ma Shou had feared. “They were prepared,” he said to Xiadao Lu.
The large man saw. His eyes narrowed, and he sneered with defiance. “Xu Liang, you fool! You dare to insult us by sending only two men?”
“Is he trying to cover his escape?” Ma Shou wondered, doubting the scenario even as he spoke it.
“Ah, there he is,” Xiadao Lu said with satisfaction. “He comes himself! Attack!”
“Such a fool,” Ma Shou muttered while his companion rode away.
ONLY ONE RIDER came. Watching him come, it seemed like it would be no trouble to bring him from his horse, but Tristus recalled that he had been given orders. He dared not be the one to ruin Xu Liang’s plan before it’d even been given a chance to work. He waited until the last moment, seeing the strange halberd carried by the enemy rider as he extended it to drag Tristus off his mount, then steered wide away and let the man charge between him and Guang Ci, who had moved accordingly. With Alere and Xu Liang coming, the first rider didn’t bother with circling back. Tristus lowered his grip on the Fanese spear and started swinging a second before he reached the mob of armed foot soldiers. None were dressed in much armor, and several darted out of the way just to avoid the horses, let alone the dual spears diving in and out of their small force.
Tristus felt a man crumple under the horse’s hooves, blocked from running by his fellows. A moment afterward Tristus felt his shoulder hitch unpleasantly as he toppled another man with the spear. The second man might not have been dead but he was on the ground. Once he cleared the group, Tristus circled back, crossing paths with Guang Ci while the guard performed a mirroring pattern of maneuvers.
He didn’t notice the second rider at first. It was some time before he spied the individual sitting idle away from the trampled, confused soldiers, seeming to pray as Tristus had seen Xu Liang do in battle against the demons—just before firing daggers of magic through their unholy bodies. Tristus didn’t wonder whether or not this Fanese cleric was casting a spell, noting that his target appeared to be the oncoming guards, along with the dwarves and Bastien. Behind them, Alere and Xu Liang both confronted the first rider. All three men were still mounted, the horses charging in brief spurts to avoid or deliver a blow. Fu Ran and Gai Ping were just visible in the lingering mist nearer to their campsite. Tristus rode toward the magic-user, knowing he wouldn’t make it in time.
THERE WERE TIMES when Tarfan yearned for the long legs of a man or elf, and this was one of them. There were battles ahead of him and behind him, and he simply couldn’t move fast enough. The guards were several strides ahead of him and Taya, with Bastien jogging between, keeping his shifty gypsy eyes on everyone. Up ahead, Guang Ci plowed through the ranks, leaving Tarfan to wonder where in the Abyss the supposed knight had gone to.
Tarfan heard thunder in that moment, sounding loud and low enough to be in the sparse cloud that lingered over the morning’s battlefield. He saw the lightning afterward, only it wasn’t lightning. It was a great rolling ball of fire! And it was a half a heartbeat away from hitting Taya square and burning her to cinders. Tarfan cried out to his niece, reaching out for her as she stood suddenly stunned in the path of certain annihilation, like a startled doe. He dove, and tackled her, prepared to take the brunt of the fire himself, praying that she would be spared.
Thunder sounded again—the thu
nder of impact—and a tremendous heat rushed over the fallen dwarves, slamming into the hard ground behind them. Tarfan smelled scorched flesh, wondering for just a second if it was his own. When he realized both he and Taya were alive, he shot upright to have a look around, finding a dead horse in front of him and behind him, the smoldering body of a man.
“Tristus!” Taya wailed, bolting for him as he struggled upright, his white-gold armor smudged black all along the breastplate.
Tarfan turned to glare at the mage responsible, leaping aside just as the Fanese man rushed by on a white horse, his blond braid trailing him like a serpent’s tail. He was going after the knight.
Tristus saw him coming and hurried to his feet, knocking Taya aside to protect her. He’d lost his spear, but found his sword, and avoided having his head sheared clean off by lifting it to deflect the rider’s shorter blade.
“Go help the others!” Tristus shouted back at them. “I’ll deal with this one!”
Tarfan wanted to argue, but he knew what Tristus wouldn’t say. The dwarves were simply too short to be of much help against a man on horseback. “Come on,” he urged Taya, dragging her by the arm until she came on her own.
XIADAO LU SHOULD have known better than to trust that coward Ma Shou to ride with him. While he was likely standing safely behind the men, casting flame spells, Xiadao Lu had two enchanted blades to deal with. He suspected they weren’t simply enchanted, but actually forged in magic. He knew that Xu Liang carried Pearl Moon and could only assume he was seeing it for the second time as the pale blue light traced its sleek edges. The pale barbarian’s blade must have been one of the other Celestial Swords, since it glowed with a similar power. If so, Xu Liang had been more successful than Lord Han Quan expected.
