The light’s arrows began to fly towards them, glittering in the sky almost prettily.
Defend.
Fazel waved up a ward and arrows began to hammer it, the dull sound of hail on a wooden roof. Nearby a Vortharg stumbled backwards, a shaft sticking from his chest. Unlucky for him, indeed, to have been assigned such a pathetic mage. Meanwhile, other mages were growing too distracted by defending to cast spells on the outgoing arrows. Shafts began to land haphazardly, more and more falling short of the Kainordans entirely.
As for Fazel, he had no problem maintaining both attack and defence simultaneously. He watched as Bel and his mage clambered up onto the horse, then raced quickly to the left flank. There they arrived and swung about in the face of approaching arrows, Bel taking out his sword and swishing it defiantly even as shafts sank into the ground around him.
Cease firing on the left , sent Roma. Everyone on the right.
The left stream of arrows shifted to strengthen that on the right, and there were more cries from the enemy. With their lightfists doing two things at once, just as the shadow mages were, the Kainordans’ defence was beginning to be penetrated.
Now Bel raced across the field towards the right flank, the little mage clutching him tightly. It was not a short distance, yet he covered it quickly.
A talented mage and a talented steed , thought Fazel.
Cease firing on the right , sent Roma angrily, as Bel reached it in time to stand among the last falling arrows. The shadow mages were now facing more oncoming arrows than they could give out, and holes were appearing everywhere in the lines.
Fazel sensed communication between Losara and Roma.
A moment later …Fall back , said Roma. Everyone fall back.
Fazel felt the command take precedence, and instantly dropped his defence. A moment later there was a sound like a wet slap, and his archer twisted about with a shaft protruding from his cheek.
You realise , Fazel sent Losara as he moved away, that you’re going to have to give them some reason for why they cannot kill Bel.
An arrow smashed against the back of his skull, and he brushed away the splinters.
Siege
Jaya made her way through the camp alone, having finally slipped away from the overzealous protectors assigned to her by Brahl.
‘The blue-haired man will not thank me if I lose his lady,’ Brahl had told her. ‘You will be reunited soon enough – let us just work out the lie of the land here first.’
That had been several hours ago, before Brahl himself had ridden off to speak with Bel, leaving her with a troop of blades and lightfists towards the back of the immense gathering. Since then she had seen clouds of arrows rising in the sky, and heard the cries as soldiers fell. From the confused gossip floating about, apparently Bel stood at the front, somehow holding the enemy back from full-scale attack. There was also word that the shadowmander patrolled the area between the two armies, but did not venture close enough to do any harm. Knowing more than the average soldier, Jaya was able to make a guess or two why, but that did not stop her being determined to find out what the blazes was going on from the source itself, then kiss him.
The rumours stirred her in a way she found surprising. She had to admit she loved Bel’s courage, reckless as it sometimes was. She could see him at the final battle, an immovable rock against which flowed a red and roaring stream. What would she be doing? Jaya had a harder time these days, picturing herself there. Maybe at one stage she had intended to fight by Bel’s side, but some of the horrors of their recent journey had left dints in her confidence. She remembered all too well being caught helpless in the grip of a Mireform as it hauled her up to its dripping maw. Then the retreat from Holdwith, in which soldiers had been torn asunder by the mander, while blue bolts sizzled in from shadow mages on the fort walls – through it all she had showed a brave face, determined that no one think her weak, when really inside she did not feel so dauntless. More and more she realised that the ways of a thief had been safe in comparison with her current life. Certainly there were dangers in her profession, but a slip from a high wall seemed somehow preferable to row upon row of fangs descending, or being fried in her skin by foul magic, or dragon fire. And unlike in battle, when you were a thief, the danger did not come at you randomly from all directions at once.
I never wanted to be a soldier , she thought. When did I forget that?
She knew that Bel didn’t want her riding into peril – in fact, he often entreated her to remain out of harm’s way. Always she’d railed against him, for no one told her what to do, no one was allowed to doubt her spirit …yet maybe the next time he attempted persuading her to take a safer route, she would allow it. After pretending to be strongly opposed, of course.
She moved through a group of Varenkai putting up tents under the supervision of a penulm. From the mixture of their armament, they obviously weren’t trained soldiers, but regular folk who had answered the call. Mostly younger men, they joked loudly with each other, trying to hide their nerves under a mask of high spirits.
‘Hello darlin’,’ leered one, as she traversed the edge of their firelight. He was younger than Jaya, his stubble patchy, his leather vest seeming to hang on him too largely. ‘Looking for a place to bed down tonight?’
‘Missing your mother?’ she responded, and he scowled, though the others chuckled.
Quickly she moved on. As dusk turned to night, it became more difficult to navigate. The camp sprawled in every direction, twinkling lanterns and fires dotting the landscape. Off on the flanks she could hear the sounds of horses whinnying and dune claws clicking their enormous appendages. Order was forming.
She noticed two blades – muscular women, proper soldiers – stooped over a burrow in the ground, holding a smoking brand inside the entrance. A clumsy attempt to catch whatever creature found its home so encircled? As smoke sucked down into the burrow, each blade drew back her sword, ready to skewer dinner. Some ten paces away, a rabbit sprang from another entrance and dashed away in panic. The blades cursed as other soldiers began to aim blows at the hapless beast, for there was no way they could claim the prize if someone else caught it. It darted into a clearer area where Syanti Saurians were being given some berth by the other races, where the end of a serpentine tail smacked down upon its head and killed it instantly. The tail coiled to lift the rabbit up to its owner, who reached out casually to wrench the body in two, giving half to a companion. The blades’ shoulders sagged as they watched their would-be meal so casually claimed by the snakes.
As Jaya continued towards the front, she began seeing evidence of the archer attack. Arrows lay underfoot, some still sticking up from the ground. Nearby a bow bent to retrieve one, turned it for inspection, and placed it in a basket under his arm.
A sky-blue tent denoted the presence of healers, and she saw mages in blue robes tending to the injured. There did not seem to be many, and if there were dead, they had already been taken away. When she heard two healers talking about Bel, she stopped and pretended to retie her boot.
‘…to hold back all of them by himself?’
‘I don’t know. And then when they shot their arrows, he rode in their way and they stopped.’
‘I heard he wears a magical artefact, which gives him some kind of power that makes the shadow fear to attack.’
Finally Jaya arrived at the front. Away down the line a lone camp stood, some twenty paces in front of everything else. There, she knew, was Bel, and not just because of what she’d been told, but because the Sprite in her blood sang at his presence. The days since they had parted seemed long, and she hated that she could not stand to be without him. Had it been the same for him? She doubted she would ask.