Shirisae’s taller mount was positioned to the opposite side of Blue Crane, enabling its mistress a greater vantage from which to see very little. “Perhaps we should go in,” the Phoenix Elf suggested.
“No,” Xu Liang answered. “We must not submit to either fear or impatience.”
Guang Ci, Gai Ping, and Wan Yun had positioned themselves several paces ahead, a small first line of defense against attack. The yak stood docilely at the rear of the group, laden with supplies, which would make it difficult to guide the beast with any haste.
For several moments nothing seemed to move except for the mist as it drifted across the rocky earth in front of the forest. In Xu Liang’s mind, he was on the field of battle in the forests of the Southern Kingdom, awaiting the return of scouts sent to dispel traps and to look for signs of ambush. In war, ambushes were among the more lethal measures an opponent could take, and also among the riskiest to implement. Such a force was typically small, but given all advantage after what was often months of intricate planning and staging. If successful, it could immediately determine the course of battle. In failure it could do the same. Losses tended not to be an even spread. One side was always dealt a crippling blow while the other moved through the conflict relatively unscathed. Xu Liang used such tactics sparingly. They had been used against him often, because the opponent’s glory was the fate of an imperial officer. For that reason, Xu Liang could not afford negligence. He was forced to act as if his enemies concentrated their efforts solely on him in any battle.
But he was not known here, and they were all equal targets. He knew nothing of the logic or the motive of most adversaries outside of Sheng Fan. On this journey, he had been forced to learn how to anticipate both. Still, the outcome of most altercations seemed largely erratic. It put him on edge.
It occurred to him belatedly, that perhaps he ought to look to a warrior of the western realm for strategy. But he scarcely had a moment to glance in Tristus’ direction when the forms of four horses emerged from the mist, led by Breigh. The figures of others were taking shape in the woods behind them.
“It looks as if they’ve met up with someone,” Tristus commented. “The raiders, perhaps.”
“What can we do?” Taya wondered openly. “We’ll never get all of the animals across this terrain without breaking legs…or necks.”
“She’s right,” Shirisae said. While the lady elf spoke, she found her helm and lifted it onto her head.
“Come sit with me, Taya,” Xu Liang instructed, offering an arm to assist the dwarf from the destrier’s saddle down to Blue Crane’s.
Shirisae moved Kirlothden ahead a few steps and Taya came without delay into the saddle, in front of Xu Liang.
Ahead of them, the guards were positioning themselves for a defense, swords drawn. They were quickly joined by their fellows, who turned their horses about to contribute to the line. Alere rode past them with Fu Ran following.
“It’s a trap!” Alere called ahead, a trail of the purple gleam of
Aerkiren
following his path, weaving incidentally through Breigh’s long white tail while she moved with deftness and ease over the rocks.
Tristus immediately unstrapped the Dawn Blade from the mount on the animal’s well-crafted saddle. Sylvashen took advantage of the action, which required his release, to move of his own accord. The animal was nearly unacceptable, but that it would always return and when it did have even ground to run over, it did so like wind from the mountains of Ying.
When Alere reached them, he turned to face what was coming—what had already begun to engage the guards.
“God’s grace,” Tristus breathed when his eyes settled on their attackers.
“The Valley Lords,” Fu Ran offered, then added, “Not what I was expecting.”
No. Because they were not men. They were the torsos of men, who all appeared nearly as large as Fu Ran, mounted at the shoulders of elks. Their pelts were deep brown with accents of white, their skin only a shade lighter, detailed with the straps necessary to secure what weapons they carried and with bibs of hair that hung like an animal’s scruff from their shoulders down their chests. The stomachs, backs, arms, and heads were all bare and each of the beast-men was crowned with great antlers. Their look was menacing, fierce as aggravated bulls.
A group of seven moved about the guardsmen with no concern for the uneven ground, and only relevant caution for the swords the men wielded. The centaur raiders were armed with bows and with barbed clubs. It was the skill of the guards, and their armor that qualified a challenge. That they seemed disinterested in breaking away from their engagement with Xu Liang’s men suggested they were in no rush. The reason became apparent when a horn brayed at the edge of the forest, blown by an eighth centaur.
The rock formations in the periphery became living as Xu Liang became witness to ambush tactics put to use outside of Sheng Fan. The stark appearances and beastly forms of their enemy made it seem as if the strategy were being implemented by demons…a host come to escort those who had defied the ancient gods to the Infernal Regions.
“There have to
be at least thirty or forty of them,” Tristus determined.
“All of them with bows drawn on us,” Alere said. The words carried the tone of warning, and it was Xu Liang who acted on that warning.
The mystic raised
Pearl Moon
, casting its dome of blue energy over all of them, save the guards, who may have been too far away for the weapon’s reach. Arrows were launched into the air by bows of dark wood. Tristus watched them arc toward their group and rain down, pelting the dome as if they were little more than rain or hail perhaps. A series of precise clattering against the surface of the Moon Blade’s magic formed ripples that traveled across the whole of it, rings of disrupted but not penetrated light merging into one another as they traveled, until they dissipated altogether.
The guards were not the target of that particular assault, and remained untouched by arrow. Now that the centaurs had seen Xu Liang’s defense, they were unwilling to bother further with projectiles. The horde of beastly men rushed to the center of the stony field. Tristus was reminded instantly of the ambush that had forever altered his life. He felt the grip of his soul burner at the back of his mind already, as if it never rested, as if it were constantly prepared to draw itself up out of its dark corner, as if his very spirit were a rope set down for the demon’s convenience.
The Order Masters of Eristan might have believed that true, but Tristus could not continue to accept that. He knew not how to cut the line the demon followed to the surface of his being, but if he could make his focus a gate behind which to trap it…
With that in mind, he firmed his grip on
Dawnfire
, recalling the being of grace who had passed it to him. “Concentrate,” he whispered to himself, watching the force of unholy warriors coming at them.
When the Moon Blade’s dome fell, he charged over the uneven surface, toward what felt as if it were a horse and rider in one. There would be no way to unseat the man, and the man controlled every aspect of his mount. Fortunately, that would also mean that he felt any injury the body he was mounted onto received.
The first centaur to reach their unprotected ground attempted to run over him. The front hooves raised to stomp, and Tristus drove
Dawnfire
toward its exposed underside. The centaur reconsidered his attack, maneuvering to the side of the spear so that he might seize it by the shaft. Under normal circumstances, Tristus would then attempt to pull the rider off balance, but pulling here was as pulling a man with the strength of a team of horses, and the balance of a mountain goat.
“
Ellum lather Aerkiren!
” came the familiar cry of their Verressi hunter, followed by the swift flight of an arc of purple light that shot between Tristus’ opponent and a centaur that thought to rush past his fellow and toward Alere. The edges of the magic grazed both beasts, as if a pair of twin daggers had been hurled expertly at them.
Tristus’ attacker let go the Dawn Blade, and Tristus wasted no time in delivering a swift strike. The platinum shaft slapped against the collar of the centaur, causing him to rear back again, only to be shoved aside by one of his own, who came down upon Tristus with a heavy club laden with sharp protrusions.
Darts of the Moon Blade’s power sang past Tristus’ head, shredding the wooden club to splinters and blue ember. The centaur bellowed with rage, at a register that was more beast than man, turning its face from the sparks of magic that flew at it. Tristus drew back with
Dawnfire
, and braced himself while he drove the weapon upward with enough force to pierce the flesh of his opponent. He was assisted by the momentum of the centaur as it was coming forward. With the sensation of tearing, and the sound of breakage, the centaur gave a howl of agony, and keeled heavily to the side. The man-beast’s immense weight pulled Tristus several steps toward where it awkwardly fell among its fellows. A club came down onto his back in the meantime, jarring him harshly. His armor protected him for the most part, but he could not maintain his footing against the force of the blow. He used the shaft of the Dawn Blade for support and drew his sword, slicing at the legs of the centaur nearest him.
Whatever damage he’d managed wasn’t enough to fell the creature. He caught a glimpse of Alere nearby, fighting with the skill of the most celebrated of swordsmen, dealing injury in precise, swift strikes. He attracted enough attention that Tristus felt he had at least an instant to recover
Dawnfire
. He dropped his sword for the moment and used both hands to grip the spear. With a foot on the elk portion of his victim, he twisted the head of the Dawn Blade against the tension of the muscles that had flinched around it, and then pulled hard.
The spear was released. Tristus reeled back a step and upon recapturing his balance, brought
Dawnfire
up over his head. He spun it, and a golden disc of power radiated outward, throwing aside those who immediately surrounded him.
Xu Liang put
up the Moon Blade’s dome in order to deflect the body of a centaur that was flung in his and Taya’s direction. The young dwarf covered her face with both hands while the oversized body of both man and beast crashed thunderously into the barrier. The impact reminded Xu Liang unpleasantly of the ice giant’s club, and he incidentally held the reins tighter with one hand. Taya seemed to notice; her small hands lowered to fold over his and held. When she looked up at him, he spared her a glance, and with that glance hoped to assure her that he was not at any greater risk of harm than any of them.
That gesture was all he could spare. He would not leave the dome up long enough to invite a similar incident as what had happened defending against the ice giant’s assault. He took only a few moments to survey the battle.
Tristus and Alere stayed near one another, handling the forces on one side while Shirisae, Tarfan, and Fu Ran defended the other. Fu Ran stayed on his horse, maintaining his height advantage, as it put him at the same level as their assailants. One of them, he seized by the neck and flung in a fantastic display of might. He managed only to drag the centaur into his neighbor, but the assault caused legs to become tangled. During their stumbling, Tarfan hammered at lower joints, the compressed power of the dwarf causing significant damage. Shirisae attempted to lure her opponents out, trusting the thick and sturdy legs of her warhorse over the edges of the rocks while she assailed the raiders with surges of crackling silver light. The strands of energy snaked around limbs, hindering her targets with burns and pain that seemed to chase after them. One centaur tried kicking the lightning off of itself, which enabled Shirisae to ride in and draw the vicious blade of
Firestorm
down the length of its flank.