“What happened?” Bakhai asked, expecting to hear the voice of the Qubari shaman. “There was no attack.”
Bakhai nearly gasped out loud when his brother’s voice answered.
“You are to leave the Motangan camp tonight,” Rejji said sternly. “As soon as full darkness comes, you are to head east as fast as you can run.”
“But you did not attack today,” protested Bakhai. “I can call on the insects again tonight. Tomorrow the Motangans will be weak from lack of sleep. Besides, if I leave the premer will suspect an attack tomorrow. I must stay.”
“You must leave,” asserted the Astor. “The attack will occur tonight, not tomorrow, but it will not happen at all with you in the camp. In one hour’s time, I am sending some Qubari to eliminate the perimeter sentries near you. Watch them closely. When they fall, you are to flee as fast as you can. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Bakhai subconsciously nodded. “I will be ready.”
Rejji’s end of the air tunnel dropped, and Bakhai sighed with anxiety. He stretched out on the ground and closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. The hour passed slowly as Bakhai listened to the sounds around him. He opened his eyes abruptly when he heard the premer’s voice.
“What are you doing here, Bakhai?” asked Premer Cardijja.
Bakhai bolted to a sitting position and looked up at the Motangan premer.
“I often come here at the end of the day,” Bakhai replied. “I like to watch the moon rise.”
“That is hours away,” replied the premer. “Come back to the tent and eat. You ate very little today.”
“I am not hungry,” Bakhai shook his head. “Besides, I do not mind waiting for the moon. It looks magical when it rises. It is so large at first, but it grows smaller as it climbs into the sky. It is wonderful to watch.”
Premer Cardijja stared at the Fakaran youth and smiled. “Very well,” he said, “but return to the tent after it rises. I do not wish you to be so close to the perimeter. You do not want the evil spirit to get you, do you?”
“Oh, no,” Bakhai shook his head exaggeratedly. “I will hurry back to the tent right after the moonrise.”
The premer nodded and started walking away. Bakhai frowned at the encounter. In a different place and a different time, he could have become friends with a man like Cardijja, but he had to remind himself that the Motangan premer was tasked to destroy Fakara and all of its inhabitants. There could be no friendship under the current circumstances. There could only be death or surrender for the Motangan.
Bakhai got to his feet and stretched as his eyes covertly scanned the darkness now surrounding the camp. The two nearest sentries suddenly dropped quietly to the ground. Bakhai quickly looked around to see who was watching. The nearest tents had blazing campfires burning before them, and Bakhai knew that their ability to see beyond the flames was limited. He bolted past the dead sentries and ran into the darkness. He never saw the Qubari warriors who had delivered the deadly darts, but Mobi, a highly skilled Qubari warrior, soon met him.
“Come,” Mobi said authoritatively. “Your brother is waiting for you.”
Bakhai nodded silently and followed Mobi at a swift pace. They eventually reached Rejji, who was standing on a hill overlooking the Motangan encampment. Rejji silently embraced his brother and then returned to looking at the sprawling camp.
“It is much larger than I could have imagined,” Rejji said softly as he viewed the thousands of campfires that dotted the plain. “Even our attack tonight will not be able to crush something so large.”
“But tomorrow they will head for the jungle,” replied Bakhai. “Surely that will stop them.”
“Perhaps,” frowned Mobi, “but that is not guaranteed. The Qubari have never faced anything so large. The stories of the last invaders, led by Fakar, speak of many Qubari deaths. It is said that the Qubari barely survived as a people, and we were much more numerous back then.”
“The Qubari have allies this time,” smiled the Astor. “Let us deal with one battle at a time. Tonight the battle rests with the horsemen of the plains. Send out the word to attack when the moon rises.”
Mobi nodded and withdrew to speak with the shaman.
“What is going to happen?” asked Bakhai.
“Yojji will lead the attack from the north,” explained the Astor. “Adger’s men will charge from the south, and Harmagan will lead the Jiadin from the west.”
“No attack from the east?” frowned Bakhai. “Premer Cardijja will wonder why I am missing then.”
“There is to be no attack from the east,” replied Rejji, “but there will be more than enough death to cover your escape. We want Cardijja to think that the east is his only path to safety. If he avoids the jungle and discovers the true path to Angragar, we will not be able to defend it. He simply has too many men.”
The brothers watched the camp silently for over an hour. Mobi came back and stood quietly alongside them. When the moon finally appeared in the eastern sky, they watched and listened carefully. The first hint of battle was a low rumbling of the earth as thousands of hooves pounded the ground. At first no one in the Motangan camp appeared alarmed, but as the rumble grew louder shouts rang out and soldiers leaped to their feet, their movements silhouetted by the campfires.
Within moments the Motanga encampment sprang to life, soldiers grabbing their weapons and racing towards the perimeter. Few Motangans actually reached the perimeter before the Fakaran horsemen struck. Tens of thousands of Fakaran tribesmen charged into the camp from three directions, arrows from their horse bows reaching out to fell the enemy soldiers. As the Fakarans rushed past the perimeter, their bows fell to sway on leashes attaching them to the saddles. The Fakarans drew their swords and rode into the heart of the camp. Tents and soldiers alike were trampled by the war horses as the tribesmen slashed out with their swords.
The Fakarans rode completely through the encampment with the Jiadin exiting to the east while the free tribes crisscrossed each other. Motangans who were defending against a northern invasion were soon forced to turn around and face the threat to their south as the other prong of the attack came upon them. Confusion reigned supreme in Premer Cardijja’s camp. As the Fakarans fled from the battle, the screams of the wounded drifted on the air.
“Get me reports on our losses, Mobi,” instructed the Astor.
The Qubari warrior nodded and retreated from the hill. When Rejji made no move to leave, Bakhai began to wonder.
“Are they going to attack again?” asked Bakhai.
“That is exactly what the Motangans are asking one another right now,” smiled Rejji. “The answer rests on the reports of our losses, but another attack will not come immediately in any event. We will give the Motangans a chance to envision a peaceful night ahead of them.”
“They had no sleep last night,” Bakhai informed his brother. “I called upon the insects to attack them. If you wait a few hours, most of the Motangans will be asleep whether they want to be or not.”
“Excellent,” smiled Rejji. “Unless our losses were extreme, I think another attack tonight will be worthwhile.”
* * *
“I want damage reports,” shouted Premer Cardijja. “And make sure that the perimeter is well manned. They may come back for another pass.”
The Motangan premer gazed around at the trampled encampment and shook his head with a sigh of defeat. Tents were burning, and men were crying out for healing mages. Everywhere the premer looked, destruction was evident. For some strange reason, only his tent had been spared, just as it had been the previous night when the insects had invaded. The thought made him think of Bakhai. He gazed at the tent and opened his mouth to speak, but General Luggar read his mind.
“There is no sign of the boy,” the general offered softly, “but that does not mean anything just yet. He could be wounded, or he might have run away when the Fakarans struck.”