Lord Rybak stood on a rise west of Raven’s Point, large columns of smoke rising high in the sky as the Khadoran fields burned to deny the enemy any food. Through the smoky haze he watched the Motangan boats still pouring fresh troops onto the shore. He slowly moved his gaze closer to the rise that he stood on and saw the Situ cavalry engaging the vanguard of the Motangan army. Mounted Situ soldiers charged the Motangan lines in an attempt to slow the advance, but the red-uniformed soldiers continued to push steadily westward.
“What is the situation in the north?” Lord Rybak asked.
“Lord Saycher has retreated,” replied Polema. “His people are safely over the first trench, and he has destroyed the northern bridge spanning it.”
“And the Motangans up there?” asked Lord Rybak.
“They are not pursuing Lord Saycher,” advised the air mage. “He suspects that they have turned south to flank our troops.”
“He suspects?” snapped Lord Rybak. “That is not acceptable. Contact him again and tell him to get scouts out. I must know where those Motangan troops are heading.”
Lord Rybak returned his attention to the battle below while Polema contacted Lord Saycher. He saw his cavalry harassing the enemy, but the solid sea of red uniforms all the way to the coast ensured that he would have to retreat soon. Already the cavalry losses were easily visible.
“He already has scouts out,” Polema interrupted his thoughts. “He just hasn’t heard back from them.”
Lord Rybak thought about ordering more scouts to be sent out, but he knew there was not time for that.
“What of our own evacuation?” he asked Polema. “Did you find out what is holding up the retreat?”
“It is the mages,” Polema reported softly. “Many of them are not as physically fit as the soldiers are. They cannot move swiftly. They have the central bridge clogged, and the infantry is behind them. It will be hours before they are safely across the trench.”
“We don’t have hours,” scowled Lord Rybak. “Our cavalry is being decimated. If we can hold another hour, that will be the best that we can do.”
“Should I advise them to destroy the bridge in an hour?” asked Polema.
Lord Rybak stood silently for a long time, his eyes viewing the carnage below. Finally, he sighed heavily and shook his head.
“Order the southern bridge destroyed immediately,” instructed the Situ lord. “At the center bridge, our infantry soldiers are to bypass the mages. They are to jump into the trench. Have the men on the other side of the trench lower ropes for them to climb out. As soon as the last mage crosses the bridge, destroy it.”
“What if the Motangans arrive before that?” asked Polema as she wove an air tunnel to the central bridge.
“The bridge must be denied to the Motangans,” declared Lord Rybak. “Regardless of costs, that bridge must be destroyed before the Motangans reach it.”
“I understand,” Polema nodded solemnly.
Lord Rybak turned to the lectain behind him. The officer snapped to attention when he felt his lord’s eyes upon him.
“There will be a change in plans,” stated Lord Rybak. “We are going to try to draw the Motangans to the south. Order the troops to start edging towards the south with every charge.”
“That will take the pressure off their northern vanguard,” frowned the lectain. “They might get to the central bridge sooner than desired.”
“They might,” agreed Lord Rybak, “but that is a chance that we must take. I am gambling that the Motangans are out to destroy as many of us as possible. If the Motangans that landed to the north did not pursue Lord Saycher, it can only be because they want to flank us from the north. If I am correct, the whole Motangan army will turn south to chase us.”
“Then I pray that you are correct,” saluted the lectain. “Will you be retreating now?”
“No,’ Lord Rybak shook his head. “I will be riding with you, Lectain. We must delay our enemies for several more hours. If they fail to turn southward, I want to be in a position to change my orders.”
The lectain smiled and nodded. He bowed slightly to the Situ lord and retreated to his mount.
“You do not need to ride with them to issue orders,” frowned Polema. “I can do that from anywhere.”
“Can you also send messages from somewhere that you are not?” questioned Lord Rybak.
“What do you mean?” Polema asked.
“Our armies on the other side of the trench must be kept informed of what is happening here,” explained Lord Rybak. “If you and I retreat, that task will remain uncompleted, and I will not retreat and leave you here. Besides, this battle is my responsibility. I plan to exact the maximum amount of damage on the enemy that we are capable of.”
“Your presence will energize the men,” smiled Polema. “They do look up to you.”
“I am glad to finally hear that,” smiled Lord Rybak. “I have spent the past few years trying to be like Emperor Marak. While I know that I can never compare myself to him, the love and respect from his men is his hallmark. They idolize him.”
“You sound envious,” stated Polema.
“I am,” grinned Lord Rybak, “but not in a bad way. I owe my life to Marak. He took me in when any other man would have killed me for what I did to him.”
“What did you do?” frowned Polema.
“I spied on him for the Situ clan,” Lord Rybak said softly. “In fact, I did everything I could to ruin his career.”
“And the Emperor never found out?” asked the air mage.
“He knew all along,” chuckled Lord Rybak. “He was always one step ahead of me. I was such a fool then.”
“I don’t understand,” replied Polema. “If he knew about your activities, why are you still alive?”
“Because Lord Marak saw something good in me,” replied Lord Rybak. “He saw something that no one else saw. He let me play my games, all the while knowing that I would eventually come around to understanding what he was trying to do.”
“I guess you did come to understand him,” smiled Polema.
“More than most people know,” Lord Rybak returned the smile. “After I became convinced that he was right and that I was wrong, I was taken prisoner by Lord Marshal Grefon of the Situ clan. The Situ almost tortured me to death, but Marak came and saved me.”
“He actually sent an army to rescue you from the Situ army?” gasped Polema. “That could start a war.”
“He sent no army,” explained Lord Rybak. “He came personally with his two shadows. Lord Marak risked his own life to rescue a reformed traitor. Yes, I envy him, and yes, I try to emulate him. Who wouldn’t after such a rescue? He not only saved my life, but he also gave me a new start in life.”
“The orders have been given,” announced the lectain as he rode onto the crest of the rise. “Our men will concentrate on the southern vanguard and start drawing them southward.”
“Excellent,” Lord Rybak responded as he turned to view the battlefield below. “It is time for us to move our observation post.”
* * *
Goral rode Bertha into the Sakovan camp, leading StarWind’s empty choka behind him. HawkShadow looked up from his seat at the campfire. Concern etched into his face, and he set his mug of coffee on the ground and rose. SkyDancer, who had been sitting next to the Sakovan assassin, also rose and followed. They caught up to Goral as the giant was tethering the two chokas.
“Where is StarWind?” asked HawkShadow.
“She was captured by the Motangans,” Goral answered without inflection.
“Captured or killed?” asked HawkShadow as other Sakovans began crowding around.
“I saw her captured,” reported Goral. “I can not say if she is still alive.”
“You saw her captured?” echoed HawkShadow. “How could you see her captured and not fight to rescue her?”
“Easy, HawkShadow,” cautioned StormSong. “Goral is not your enemy. He cannot take on the entire Motangan army by himself.”
“There was nothing that I could do,” Goral explained softly. “She was already well inside the perimeter of the encampment when she was captured. I would never have even reached her before she was hauled away. Do not make me feel worse than I already do. I asked her not to go, but she was adamant about it.”
“Spying is what she chose to do,” interjected SkyDancer. “No one knew the risks more than StarWind did.”
“Stop talking about her in the past tense,” snapped HawkShadow. “Goral did not see her killed.”
“She is as good as dead,” retorted Goral. “StarWind would never allow herself to be interrogated. She would kill herself first.”
“Did you see where they took her?” asked HawkShadow.
“I could not,” Goral shook his head. “The Motangan encampment is huge. They put her in a cage and hauled her away. I followed her progress as far as I could see, but their camp is endless. Eventually, she blended into the camp and I could not see her any more.”
“Was she disguised?” asked HawkShadow.
“She wore one of these,” nodded Goral as he held up a black cloak. “We killed two Motangan mages early in the morning. She used one of their cloaks to gain entrance into the encampment, but then something went wrong. I do not know what it was, but another mage suddenly came up behind her. There were already a thousand men between her and me.”
HawkShadow’s eyes fell on StarWind’s sword as Goral removed the sheath from his shoulder and leaned it against a tree. He shook his head sadly and departed from the small group and returned to his seat by the campfire. He picked up his cup of coffee and withdrew into himself. He did not even hear SkyDancer approach minutes later and sit down next to him.
“StarWind will be greatly missed,” SkyDancer said. “Lyra relied tremendously on her advice.”
“She is not dead yet,” retorted the Sakovan assassin.
“HawkShadow,” frowned SkyDancer, “face the reality of it. She cannot possibly escape from the Motangan encampment. Besides, Goral is correct. StarWind will kill herself before she reveals anything to the enemy. Too many good people are dying in this war.”
“That is what wars are all about,” spat HawkShadow. “I will not let these invaders come into our homeland and kill my brothers and sisters.”
“None of us will allow that,” SkyDancer nodded sympathetically. “Still, you must face the truth when it happens. I feel deeply for Goral. He was very close to StarWind, and he hasn’t gotten over losing SilverEdge yet. You didn’t make him feel any better by suggesting that he should have committed suicide to save her.”
HawkShadow stared at his partner with confusion. “That is not how I meant it,” he said softly. “I just didn’t understand the situation until he described it.”
“Well,” shrugged SkyDancer, “that is how everyone took it. It sounded like you were chastising Goral for not rescuing StarWind.”
“I will speak to Goral,” declared HawkShadow as he rose suddenly.
“That would be nice,” smiled SkyDancer. “Try to make him feel better. Her loss must be killing him.”
HawkShadow nodded and walked over to the secluded spot where Goral had chosen to sit down. The giant looked up and saw the assassin approaching, but he quickly averted his eyes.
“I apologize,” HawkShadow greeted Goral. “I should have known better than to ever question your devotion to StarWind.”
“I understand your feelings well, brother,” Goral smiled tautly. “If I thought that I could have traded my life for hers, I would not have hesitated, but there was no chance of success. She was already deep inside the camp.”
HawkShadow stood silently, and Goral fidgeted uncomfortably while he waited for HawkShadow to leave.
“I mean no disrespect, HawkShadow,” Goral finally said, “but I prefer to mourn in private this night. I hope you understand.”
“I will leave you in peace,” HawkShadow promised, “but I would request a favor before I go.”
“What is it that you want?” asked Goral.
“The black cloak,” HawkShadow replied.
Goral’s eyes squinted suspiciously at HawkShadow, but he nodded and pointed to the cloak.
“That is not the way to remember her, HawkShadow,” Goral declared. “I know that you two were close, but the enemy’s cloak is not a remembrance of StarWind. Take her sword instead.”
HawkShadow smiled tautly and removed his own sheath and leaned it against the tree next to StarWind’s. He picked up the black cloak and turned to leave.
“You can’t be serious?” gasped Goral. “There is no way that you can survive the infiltration. This is not some small party of bandits that we are talking about. This is not even an Omungan army of ten thousand men. You cannot hope to sneak into the Motangan encampment and get out again. It is suicide.”
“Suicide it may be,” nodded HawkShadow, “but it is the only chance that StarWind has. Would you rather mourn her or me?”
“I certainly do not want to mourn both of you,” countered Goral, “and that is exactly what I will end up doing if you carry through with this act of foolishness.”
“And what foolishness is that?” asked SkyDancer as she walked towards the two men.
Neither Goral nor HawkShadow responded. SkyDancer’s eyes fell on the black cloak in the assassin’s hands. Deep creases marred her forehead as she saw HawkShadow’s sword leaning against the tree.
“I will not allow it,” SkyDancer said adamantly. “It is bad enough that our friends are dying daily, but I will not permit you to throw your life away.”
“It is something that I must do,” HawkShadow said softly. “I have done it many times before.”
“In an encampment larger than StarCity?” balked SkyDancer. “You are crazy. I will admit that you are the best at what we do, but no one is that good.”
“I could use your guidance, Goral,” HawkShadow said, ignoring SkyDancer’s argument. “If you will not lead me to where StarWind entered the encampment, could you at least draw me a map?”
“Tell him nothing,” SkyDancer said angrily to Goral. “Do not help him to commit suicide.”
“Then I will find my own way,” HawkShadow said defiantly as he started to walk away.
“Why are you doing this?” asked SkyDancer. “Do you really think that you are invincible? Do you not believe that the Motangans are capable of striking you down?”
“No one is invincible,” sighed HawkShadow, as he turned to stare at SkyDancer. “What would you do if it was me that had been captured today?”
“I would be mourning alongside Goral,” replied SkyDancer as she drew her sword. “Why can’t you do the same instead of trying to impress us all with your fantastic abilities, because we all know your true limitations. You are human like the rest of us, and you can be killed, and that is exactly what is going to happen tonight if you are allowed to leave this camp.”
HawkShadow glanced at the sword in SkyDancer’s hands and shook his head. “Is that really what you would do if I was captured?” he asked softly. “You would sit under a tree and cry about it? Be honest with yourself. What would you really do?”
A long awkward silence filled the air as the three Sakovans eyed one another. Finally, SkyDancer spoke.
“I would try to rescue you,” she admitted, “but that is different. I love you, HawkShadow. I would rather die than live knowing that I might have had a chance to save you, but didn’t try.”
“Then you know why I must go tonight,” HawkShadow said softly as he turned and walked away.
SkyDancer’s eyes widened with understanding, and tears started to roll down her cheeks. Her hands opened, and her sword fell to the ground as she stared at HawkShadow’s retreating back.
“I will stop him,” offered Goral as he rose. “He is not thinking clearly.”
“No,” sobbed SkyDancer. “Let him go. In fact, go with him. Guide him to where you last saw StarWind.”
“Are you sure?” asked the giant.
“As sure as I can be about anything,” nodded SkyDancer. “If he truly loves her, there is nothing that we can do to stop him. Give him every chance to succeed that you can without endangering your own life.”
Goral nodded solemnly and hurried after the Sakovan assassin.
* * *
The Situ lectain rode up the hill and halted alongside Lord Rybak. He sat quietly for a moment to catch his breath before speaking.
“It won’t work any more,” reported the lectain. “There are too few of us left for the Motangans to be bothered chasing. They are turning westward.”
“I see that,” frowned Lord Rybak as he gazed down at the battle raging below him. “Polema is talking to our troops at the central bridge now. If we have bought them enough time to get everyone across, we will continue to head south and retreat across the trench to safety.”
The lectain nodded silently as his eyes drifted to the battle. The Situ cavalry charged into the mass of red uniforms and swiftly retreated, hoping to draw the Motangans after them, but the enemy defended themselves and then continued their westward march.
“They need another hour,” Polema finally reported. “All of the infantry is safe across the trench, but the mages are still not completely across.”
“Another hour?” gasped the lectain. “That is not possible. The men can’t hold that long, Lord Rybak. It is impossible. We are like acorns floating in a sea of red. You can’t ask them to try to keep this up for another hour.”
Lord Rybak stood silently staring down at the battle as the cavalry ran another charge into the enemy’s flank. The southern Motangan flank halted slightly to repel the attack, but the rest of the enemy army continued onward as if unconcerned with the conflict. The minutes dragged on, as the crest of the hill remained shrouded in silence. Eventually, Lord Rybak tore his eyes from the destruction below and turned to face the lectain.
“Gather the men, Lectain,” ordered Lord Rybak. “Break off the attack and gather them all in the clearing to our west. I will meet you there in a few minutes.”
The lectain saluted and retreated down the hill. Polema looked curiously at the Situ lord.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“I am going to do what I must,” Lord Rybak replied vaguely. “Your services are no longer required east of the trench. I want you to ride to the central bridge as fast as you can. Get those mages across the trench in any manner possible.”
“You are not coming with me?” questioned Polema.
“I will travel with my troops,” replied Lord Rybak, “but you have important work to do. After you have gotten all of the mages to safety, I want you to report directly to Emperor Marak. Tell him of our experiences here. Explain the problem of timing when we have older women as mages. They simply cannot move fast enough for an effective withdrawal. This information will be critical when we need to evacuate the other zones.”
“I shall do as you request,” frowned Polema, “but you did not answer my question.”
“I did answer your question,” retorted Lord Rybak. “I will be riding with my men. Besides, my words were not a request. I gave you an order, and I expect you to carry it out. Get on your horse and ride swiftly.”
Polema’s brow creased heavily, but she mounted her horse and rode swiftly down the hill. Lord Rybak turned to gaze once more at the flood of red uniforms streaming westward. His lips pressed tightly together as he mounted his own horse and rode down the hill. By the time he reached the large clearing, hundreds of mounted Khadoran soldiers sat waiting for him.
Lord Rybak’s eyes scanned the multitude of clan colors before him. A smile came briefly to his lips as he admired the way the clans had united to fight the enemy, but the smile did not last. He saw that the men were tired and many of them were wounded. He had asked much of the men under his command, and they had not faltered in the face of overwhelming odds.
“You men have done more for Khadora than anyone could have hoped for,” Lord Rybak said loudly. “I want to thank you for your devotion and courage, but this battle is not over yet. The northern and southern bridges over the trench have been destroyed. Only the central bridge remains. It remains because we have mages stuck on this side of the trench. The battle that we have been fighting has been to buy time for those mages to get to safety. We need to buy them another hour before our task is done.”
Groans rippled through the clearing, as the men understood what was being asked of them. They were not groans of protest, but rather groans of weariness. Lord Rybak felt sympathy for their feelings, but he saw no other option.
“Mages are a valuable weapon for Khadora in this war,” Lord Rybak continued, “but they cannot be effective standing in the middle of the enemy. They would never survive such an encounter. Their art requires distance between them and the enemy troops. We must have them on the other side of the trench. While I can demand that each of you follow me into battle to buy that extra hour that the mages need, I will not do so. You men have shed enough blood for one day. I will, however, implore each of you to ride with me to gain the needed time. Those who do not wish to stay and fight may leave immediately and cross the trench.”
“Are you truly going to lead the charge?” shouted one of the soldiers. “Or will you be safe upon the hill watching us die?”
“A fair question,” Lord Rybak nodded. “While my duties as commander of this force are best performed in a position that gives me full view of the enemy’s movements, there are far too few of us left to make observation worthwhile. I will not ask of you what I will not do myself. I will lead the charge.”
The soldier nodded in satisfaction with the Situ lord’s answer. The clearing remained silent and motionless for several minutes before Lord Rybak spoke again.
“I asked that those not willing to fight further leave us,” Lord Rybak said loudly. “The time to leave is now. Think quickly and make your decision. We do not have much time.”
“We are waiting for our orders,” retorted one of the soldiers. “No Khadoran soldier will leave the field while his commander is still upon it. What will you have us do?”
Lord Rybak nodded in satisfaction at the response of his men. He smiled briefly and addressed the troops.
“There is a thick stand of forest between the Motangans and the bridge,” explained Lord Rybak. “I intend to ignite it into a blazing inferno.”
“The Motangans will go around it,” a soldier pointed out.
“Yes, they will,” nodded Lord Rybak, “and that is when we will attack them. We will divide into two groups, one north of the stand and one south of the stand. We will stand and fight for one hour and then turn and flee.”
“If any of us are still alive to retreat,” remarked a soldier.
“If any of us are still alive,” Lord Rybak echoed with a grim nod.