“Naroba—!” I burst out, but even I knew that it was already too late. Naroba had added her own, ululating war cry to the sound of the spinner, and her cry was caught up by the first wave of Daza hunter-warriors below as they surged up the rise and streamed past us, over the crest of the dunes to engage with the enemy below.
“Pick up your courage, Nari,” Naroba said as she dropped the spinner and replaced it in her hand with a long, wavy dagger, as her other hand still clutched my mother’s staff. “We are going to teach all of these invaders never, ever to underestimate the Daza ever again!” She cried out, already victorious even though not one blow had landed yet—and in that instant she charged over the rise, screaming and shouting in defiance, leaving me behind while she led our people.
“Ymmen!” I spun on my heels, taking out my sword.
“I am here.” I sensed his grim, reptilian determination in my mind as his own defiant roar of challenge rang out from far above us, and I ran forward myself and into the fight.
We had attacked too early; I was sure of it as I skidded down the far side of the sand dune with the shouts and roars of the Daza in my ears. And screams as nasty little crossbow bolts both found home and hit dirt, tearing into the Red Hound scouts on the opposite dune ridge, and spraying sand into the air—and into eyes, with any luck.
“Urk!” A Daza war cry was oddly cut short beside me, and one of the hunters suddenly went spinning backwards into the sand, a bolt protruding from his neck.
Damn you, Naroba! I cursed, certain now she had not weighed the cost to our people’s lives in her deliberations, nor their souls. Below me, the first wave of the Daza were hurling their short spears ahead of them, before pulling their curving blades from their belts and hurtling the last twenty meters or so into the bunched line of Red Hounds at the bottom of the dunes.
Taken almost entirely by surprise, the Red Hounds below churned in a confused melee, I could see. Many of them were still hurriedly pulling on armor, grabbing shields, or drawing weapons when the bravest and fiercest of the Daza warriors jumped amongst the mercenaries.
But there were just so many of them!
Hiss! There was a puff of sand from beside my foot, and then another sound like an angry hornet as something buzzed only inches from my face. It was the crossbows up on the ridge. They were peppering the second wave of Daza and thinning our numbers before we even had a chance to attack the main body of the enemy!
“Ymmen!” I shouted again, and instantly knew that he had read my thoughts and understood perfectly what needed to happen.
“I will take care of the little gnats!” Ymmen roared, and there was a loud clap of thunder from his wings as he plummeted out of the sky, wings held close to his sides to turn him into a giant lightning bolt of speed, teeth, and claws.
It was impossible for the crossbows not to notice the gigantic black dragon screaming out of the skies towards them, and I saw them switch their attacks from the charging Daza around me to him. Tiny black bolts shot up into the air towards his approach—
“Ymmen!” I cried out in worry—but my dragon partner paid me no heed as he flew headlong into the shooting crossbow bolts. I held my breath, helpless to protect him, only for bolts to splinter and clatter along his scales, as impotent as feathers against such a creature.
I skidded to a halt, still above the battle below, too caught up in the grandeur of my swooping dragon’s attack. Ymmen flung open his wings wide above the ridge as he reared in the air, sending a blast of wind that sent gusts of sand scattering in front of him.
And then the black dragon opened his maw and released his dragon fire.
I realized in shock that I hadn’t really seen Ymmen in battle up until now, not at all. It was the same sensation that you might have if you were watching a landslide or a volcano or some other force of nature. Every line of the dragon moved with an expert grace as he arched his back in midair, and his neck swelled like a bellows before unleashing a storm of fire that fell amongst the crossbowmen and women. The force of the dragon’s breath was such that it sent up more clouds of sand and dust, obscuring my view of the devastation happening up there on the ridge—all I could see was an ochre haze that glowed a burning red at its base.
To be honest, I was quite pleased for the opportunity not to see the effect that Ymmen’s fiery breath was having.
A cry rang out in front of me—close! Too close—and suddenly I had far more important problems. I threw myself to one side as the sword of one of the Red Hounds sank into the sand where I had been crouching, with the mercenary pulling his sword free with a flick of his wrist.
They’ve broken the line! I realized in a moment, to see that there were in fact other mercenaries of the Red Hounds all around me. The problem was clear, and it was just as I had feared: There were too many of them, and even two waves of fierce Daza hunters couldn’t contain them in one place.
But we had one great advantage—well, two if you counted the fire-breathing dragon hovering over our heads—and that was that we Daza had some experience of hunting in these lands. We knew how to move, how to run and jump on the sands, which meant we weren’t stumbling and falling all over the place like the Red Hounds were.
The trick was to leap, or to keep moving so fast that you didn’t give the sand time to swallow your feet. I chose the former option however, as I jumped farther down the slope. I skipped as fast as I dared across the sand, allowing myself to buy distance before turning and waiting for my attacker. The Red Hound mercenary who fought me attempted to charge after me—but every boot-fall set up sprays of sand, slowing down his momentum.
I could have kept on skip-running over the sands as though I were leap-frogging across stones in a stream—but that would only send me deeper into the melee. Instead, I stayed where I was and prepared to trade blows—
Clang! When the mercenary finally reached striking distance, I met his sword with my own. It was easy to parry his awkward blows as he had half of his mind concentrating on maintaining balance. I parried another jab and countered with a sweep of my own—forcing the mercenary to take the precise action that I had known that he would:
He dodged, but his boot slid on the sand and he swayed at the sudden lurch—
“Agh!” I grunted as I took another strong jump forward, barging into him with my shoulder and sending him sprawling onto the sands, rolling back down the slope.
“You should have killed him,” Ymmen advised in my mind.
“I know,” I whispered—but I hadn’t. I could have run him through—but my guilt had stopped me at the last moment. I knew what it was like to kill, up close and personal, after all.
Still—this was no time to consider questions of morality as more of the Red Hounds were escaping past the Daza fighters and up the slope. They’re trying to encircle us! I knew, jumping once again towards the next Red Hound—a woman with red hair—and landing with a roll to sweep with my legs at the woman. My kick took her off her feet and she went tumbling backwards down the dune’s slope towards the crowded gully below.
Maybe this isn’t going to be as difficult as I had imagined it was going to be… I thought, as my next target attempted to climb up the slope. I could knock him back down, too, I knew as I bounded across the dunes towards them. This next Red Hound appeared more capable than the one before, and had paused to stand with his legs wide, almost knee deep in the sands as he waited for the next Daza warrior to come to him, instead of attempting to charge across the Shifting Sands.