“You talk boldly, Governor, for a man with no army. Perhaps I could hasten the conclusion to this war by seizing you right here and now.”
“Only a despicable Zaran would violate a flag of truce,” spat the governor as he raised his right hand to shoulder height, “but I am willing to forgive this one transgression. Hear my words carefully, though. If you ever even mention violating a flag of truce again, I will personally kill you when you do so.”
General Omirro had watched the governor carefully to see what the man was made of. He was not surprised by the strong reaction, but his observation was interrupted when General Barbone gasped. General Omirro glanced at the Spinoan general and saw him looking up the hill. Omirro let his own eyes rise to see what had surprised Barbone. The Ertakan general, who was known for hiding his emotions, also gasped. The crest of the hill was crowded with Sordoan horsemen, thousands of Sordoan horsemen. General Omirro turned his head from one side to the other as he took in the full measure of what he was seeing. As far as he could see in either direction, the horsemen lined the crest.
General Omirro immediately thought of his own troops across the valley. He turned to see what his one-hundred-twenty men were doing. They were all mounted and holding their weapons as if ready to dash out to save their general. He held his hand up high and signaled for them to dismount. Only when they were all dismounted did he return his attention to the governor.
“That was well played, Governor. I offer my apology for making light of a flag of truce. I truly would not have seized you, but I did want to see your reaction to such a statement. Again, I apologize.”
“Accepted,” General Mobami said curtly. “Will you surrender?”
“No,” replied General Omirro. “You are correct that I am a cavalry man, but I have learned to respect the footman. Our infantry is well trained in battle against cavalry. Even with large numbers behind you, we will devastate your forces. Besides, now that you know about Gattas and Montero, you must also realize that time is against you. If I keep your army here engaged with mine, Gattas will march unopposed and take Trekum. You are caught in a vice, Governor. Save us all some bloodshed and give up.”
“You are a fool, Omirro,” scowled General Mobami. “Gattas and Montero are already dead, along with every single man of the 6th Corps and the 15th Corps. And if you think I am unaware of Ritka and Stemple, you are an even greater fool. They will meet their demise tomorrow. Then it will be just me and you. I am beginning to look forward to that confrontation. Good day, General.”
General Mobami and Sergeant Musaraf turned and rode away, leaving the flag of truce planted in the dirt. The Federation generals watched them disappear over the crest and then all of the Sordoan riders disappeared.
“Can he be telling the truth?” General Barbone asked anxiously.
“It was all utter nonsense,” General Omirro replied. “There are less fighters in all of Sordoa than in our two armies alone. The Sordoans are probably making the same pitch to Gattas and Ritka right now. They will undoubtedly be saying that you and I are already dead and our armies wiped out. No, Barbone, it was all a farce, but I will say that it was a game well played. The governor, if that is truly who he was, has played this game before. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it. He actually tricked me into saying that I might violate the truce just so he could show his army to us. It was supposed to rankle us.”
“It certainly surprised me,” admitted General Barbone. “When our foragers are attacked each night, I keep thinking that a small group is harassing us, trying to keep us on edge, but Mobami’s army is no small group. There were thousands of men up there, and they were not pretty boys playing soldier. Those men were warriors. You could see it in how they moved and sat. We will have a fight on our hands, Omirro.”
“Don’t get soft on me, Barbone,” scowled General Omirro. “The Sordoans have never won a war in their entire history. This is not going to be any exception to that streak. I assure you of that.”
* * * *
The Alcean Ranger stared at the small flock of blackbirds flying over the Boulder Mountains. He did not have to watch them for long before determining that they were not truly birds. From his perch in a cleft on the face of the vertical canyon, the Ranger glanced down at the canyon floor and the two black-cloak bodies that had died there. He looked up in the sky again and tried to determine how long it would take the seekers to discover what they were looking for. Without taking his eyes off the birds, he woke up his fairy. The fairy stretched and yawned as she stuck her tiny blue head out of the pocket.
“Can’t the message wait?” asked Petite. “I was just having the most delicious dream.”
“The dream will have to wait,” Steffen replied, refusing to be distracted from watching the birds. “Our prey has arrived. Warn the others that we have only a few minutes, and make sure that Kinelli is awake. The whole flock seems to have come hunting today.”
Petite shot up to the Ranger’s shoulder and peered into the sky. She started jumping up and down excitedly and then shot out of the crevice like a fired arrow. Steffen chuckled inwardly, but the humor lasted only a second. He pulled three arrows out of his quiver by touch and then strung his bow as he counted the birds. When he only counted twelve of them, he frowned and began searching the sky again. There was one missing.
The minutes dragged by as the birds circled around several times before flying over the steep canyon. Suddenly, the birds all gathered together, and Steffen knew that the bodies had been sighted. The birds were wary, very wary. For several long minutes the flock circled high while two birds dropped lower, inviting an attack. Nothing happened. Another pair of birds left the flock and dropped even lower, moving along the steep walls of the canyon, inspecting any ledges that might be used for archers. Steffen smiled. While there were ledges along the canyon walls that would have made excellent perches, his men were not on them. They were concealed in the narrowest and darkest crevices of the canyon walls. The hiding spots chosen would impair each Ranger’s field of vision, but birds did not hover as fairies did. They would have to keep moving, causing them to pass more than one archer. Once the flock was lured into the canyon, there would be no escape for them.
For over ten minutes the birds proceeded cautiously, pairs of them dropping ever farther into the chasm, daring a hidden archer to take a shot at them. None did. Eventually, two of the birds landed on the floor of the canyon. That was the signal to attack because the Rangers dared not let the black-cloaks transform into human shape. Arrows flew out of crevices on both sides of the canyon, and birds started dropping to the ground. Steffen, holding the highest position of all the Rangers, only managed to kill one bird, but there were still two birds out of the twelve that had not entered the trap. Steffen saw them circling above and took aim, but the range was too great. Feeling safe from the threat of archers, the two birds continued to circle. Steffen knew what was going through their minds. A single battle mage could destroy all of the Rangers hidden in the canyon, and the black-cloaks were trying to decide how to approach the problem. They had to land somewhere to transform into their human form, but once they transformed, they had to return to the canyon to do battle. Their problem was that there was no decent landing spot close by, meaning they would have to climb around in the mountains to strike back and that would give the hidden archers time to flee. It was a difficult decision for the battle mages to make, but Steffen smiled broadly knowing that the decision would never be made.