“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.”