The ground was flat and open and despite the dark, the noise the Dordovans would be creating and the relative silence of the Protectors, Aeb only expected to overhaul a third of the enemy column before being seen. It would be enough.
The Protectors ate up the ground, Aeb's centile on a slight rise to the path, those of the left on a down slope. Weapons were strapped across their backs on snap fastenings and made little sound as they sped along the trail. Aeb could already see the figures of the Dordovans ahead, their torches bouncing as they moved,
their formation tight, five broad, and their pace quick. But they were not expecting trouble behind them. The forward Protector scouts had reported no dropped tail guard for the marchers and no vanguard ahead. Both fatal mistakes.
Slowing, front of first and second centiles approaching the tail, pulsed Aeb. Prepare the sweep on my word.
He could hear the enemy now. Chatter in the ranks, not a Xeteskian failing. But these men believed they were already victorious and their discipline was the worse for it.
Running in deep gloom perhaps forty yards from the enemy, Aeb bade the brothers scan them for signs they had seen the attack coming in. As it was, a quarter of the way up the column an elven voice rose in alarm.
'Left flank, left flank. I've got runners at thirty-plus yards. Check right.'
A voice answered almost immediately.
'Runners right flank.'
Even as the Dordovan column slowed and the night came alive with the sound of swords whipping from scabbards, Aeb pulsed the command to break. The flanking centiles sprinted forwards, angling in towards the front of the column.
The Protectors were silent, snapping axes and blades from their backs as they came, and Aeb heard their name taken up throughout the enemy ranks and could see the fear in their faces.
Archers.
Bowmen sent a flight of arrows skywards. They were too few and too inaccurate to cause problems and only one found a home in the arm of a brother. He discarded his axe, another closed up to protect his injured side, and he pulsed that he would continue.
Centile rear, close. We meet the left. Attack spread, double rank.
Aeb curved around, seeing the brothers from the left centile cruising in to close the trap. Like a wave breaking at angles to the shore, the Protectors' flank lines formed and attacked the Dordo-vans, Aeb straightening his run and smashing into the bemused enemy's front, their panic already spreading.
First pace in, Aeb chopped his axe left to right across the body of his opponent, feeling the blade bite flesh as it beat the guard which had been placed to anticipate an overhead. Beside him, Xye blocked
a blow on his axe and drove his blade through, straight and waist-high, stabbing it clear through the enemy's body, making light of the chain-and-leather armour.
In front of Aeb, the enemy still stood and somehow struck out in an upward arc. Aeb swayed back and flat-bladed his axe into the man's face before driving his sword up between the victim's legs, splitting his groin and showering blood five feet in every direction.
Rear centile engaged. Back line breached.
Upper right block axe, Xye. Control, sword low, strike forward.
Xye complied. A man died.
Aeb felt the calm detachment of imminent victory. Pulsing commands left and right, he brought the Protectors in, allowing any wounded, and there were precious few, to fall back as the ring tightened. Seeing they were trapped, the Dordovan voices rose further, their blows came in harder and wilder, and their defensive formation buckled and heaved. Although noise flowed around and over Aeb, he concentrated on the pulsed messages in his mind, leaving the desperation to those he faced.
He buried his axe in the neck of a Dordovan, the man grasping at the weapon as he fell. Aeb let it go, retaining his balance and blocking high with his blade as directed by the brother behind him. He turned his attention on the astonished enemy, smashed a fist into his mouth and nose, knocking him back before reversing his blade across his chest.
The sword screamed against chain mail ringlets, sending sparks flying and knocking the wind out of the man. He was in no state to defend the next strike which tore out his throat, spattering gore on Aeb's mask. He shook his head to clear the drips over his eye slits.
No one lives. No one goes home, he pulsed.
We will be victorious. We are one.
The Protectors drove on, their weapons flashing dully under the clouded sky as their enemy's torches sputtered to extinction on the muddy ground. The screams of the hapless Dordovans diminished as they fell. One threw down his weapon in a gesture of surrender. Xye beheaded him in the next heartbeat.
And so it was over. Aeb's final Dordovan took a blow through his gut and he and half a dozen comrades breathed their last.
We are one.
We are victorious.
Report, pulsed Aeb.
Three Protectors were down. Twenty-one had cuts, of which twelve would not fight again that night. Aeb felt a surge of annoyance. Somewhere, their discipline had failed them.
No, pulsed Xye. The cornered fight like two men. Desperation breeds strength in the dying.
Then we assumed too much. Learn, brothers, learn.
We are one.
Aeb retrieved his axe and cleaned the blades of both his weapons on the clothes of the fallen, before handing them to Xye to replace in their back mounts, a favour he reciprocated. Stooping and tearing a length of cleaner cloth from a Dordovan shirt, he wiped over his mask and shoulders, turning to greet the approaching Sytkan.
'I would say congratulations but it seems a heartless statement in the face of such slaughter.'
'We are victorious,' said Aeb.
'So I can see,' said Sytkan, surveying the carnage with obvious disgust. 'Surely they tried to surrender at some stage. Report.'
'Prisoners are a threat,' said Aeb.
'And that's it?'
'We have no capacity to hold prisoners,' said Aeb.
The mage sighed. 'No, I suppose not. Retrieve any masks and have any wounded report to a mage. Leave any that can't run and form up. The battle is not over. Problems?'
'None. We will return this way?'
'Of course. Let's go, Aeb.'
The Protector chosen issued the orders and soon the army ran on into Arlen.
Darrick turned his mount and faced his cavalry, aware that whatever he said would carry to Selik too. It couldn't be helped. His men stood expectant, quiet, their horses calm, flanks steaming in the pale light of the lanterns and torches on ship and in hand. Earl Arlen would doubtless be here before long but it wasn't him Darrick feared. It was the Protectors. He hadn't let it show but The Unknown's words had struck home. He didn't want to be seen as a coward. He nodded to Izack.
'General speaking!' shouted the commander. The silence became deeper. Darrick saw Selik saunter back on to the deck of the Ocean Elm.
'I am surprised, disappointed and disgusted to confirm that the Dordovans behind me are in full support of the Black Wings on the ship to my right.' He paused as a ripple ran through the company. He held up a hand and continued.
'As you are aware, our Council has agreed to support the Dordovan Council in its efforts to secure the child and return her to safe keeping. But clearly the desire has changed and instead the Dordovans have willingly delivered the child's mother, a Dordovan herself, into the hands of the Witch Hunters.
'We are not, therefore, being invited to retake the ship, and indeed our task has become one of defence of the vessel and its current incumbents.' Another pause but this time there was no sound. Izack would know what was coming. For many of the rest it was a hammer blow.