It was a time for patience, Declan thought, as the rising sun turned from red to orange as it cleared the hills behind them and the caravan had not yet come into sight. Mareth's bowmen were spread out in an open line under the brow of the hill, watching him silently. Deliberately he did not raise his head too often, but the next time he looked the first of the camels were coming into sight and the eyes of the enemy would be on them. He gave Mareth the signal and bent low as he ran for his horse.
He watched from their flank as the bowmen rose into sight only enough to loose the first flight of arrows in unison at their unsuspecting targets, then more sporadically a second and a third flight before the enemy realized where the attack was coming from and began to shoot back. As expected, with the sun in their eyes their aim was hopelessly inaccurate. When Mareth's men rose to their feet and charged down the hill, Declan urged his horse forward and did the same, but instead of charging down on them in a straight line he rode in a semicircle so as to come at their position from the flank.
From that angle the sun was not in their eyes so that they had a clear view of him. He was attracting many arrows, but his original intention was to take the enemy bowmen's attention from the men who were attacking more slowly on foot, and it seemed to be working. Deliberately he guided his mount from side to side as he came rather than riding down on the position in a straight line. So many arrows flew his way that he wondered if the enemy bowmen would soon run short of them. Only two came close to him, however, one that tugged sharply as it went through his cloak and another that whispered past his ear. But their number and frequency was diminishing and suddenly he realized why.
More than half of the enemy lay still or writhing on the ground with arrows sprouting from their bodies, most of them the victims of the first few moments of the attack. Mareth was following instructions, but not quite to the letter because he had added an improvement that Declan had not considered. Most of the men had drawn their scimitars and were closing rapidly but erratically on the enemy as they tried to make more difficult targets of themselves, but not all of them. A few of Mareth's bowmen, probably his best marksmen, were holding back and continuing to kneel on the ground while they shot at any opposing bowman who was threatening their companions' advance. Declan dropped his reins so as to free both hands, drew the long-axe, and used his knees to urge his horse forward.
He was almost on top of them when the barb of an arrow scraped past his horse's neck, leaving a short, deep scratch and causing it to rear and shy to the side so violently that he almost lost his seat. The axe swing he had been aiming at the enemy bowman tore away the other's burnoose without touching the head inside. By the time he had regained control of his mount and returned to the attack, the fight was over.
Declan derived no pleasure from seeing wounded and already dying enemies being hacked unnecessarily to death, so he looked away in the direction of the other battle where Bashir's men had also surprised the enemy, although not as completely as had happened here. As he watched, Bashir detached himself from the fighting and began galloping towards Declan a few moments before Mareth joined him.
"You must have been a popular commander, Hibernian," he said, smiling broadly and waving his bloody scimitar. "We didn't lose a single man…"
He broke off as Bashir arrived, looked around and nodded approval.
"This was well done," he said. "Now they outnumber us by only two to one. Mareth, retrieve as many arrows as you can, theirs as well as yours, because you will need them. Then gather your men and follow Declan and me on foot as we ride along the caravan shouting about the relief force that is coming to help them. That is you, although they and the opposition will not know that at the time. Do not climb the high ground to attack. Use the shelter provided by the loaded camels to shoot up the slopes at the enemy, support the caravan bowmen, stay alive for as long as you can, and try to make every one of your arrows, and your lives, count. Declan, when you're ready."
To make the enemy think that they were the vanguard of a new force rather than a remnant of the old one, they took advantage of the high ground to the east to circle back and join the camel track. It was not until Mareth's men were out of earshot behind them that Bashir spoke again.
"Declan," he said quietly, "you have done well, and if any of us were to survive this battle, which we certainly will not, many stories about you would have been told. That is why, after we have ridden the length of the caravan, I want you to continue on as fast as you can to rejoin your master's wagon that you've said lies far behind. The enemy may ignore it because they have many richly laden camels that are closer by to rob, so your master, the other servant, and yourself may survive. Your presence here would make no difference to our ultimate fate except that you would die with us."
"But if the enemy thinks that a relief force is coming," Declan began, "will they not withdraw from what they believe is a stronger enemy?"
"They would not refuse battle," said Bashir quietly, "no more than we did when faced with them. Declan, you must try to save yourself."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ma'el Report. Day 112,889…
For the first time Sinead is going against my wishes as well as all the dictates of good sense. Yesterday at Declan's urging I had agreed to allow the wagon to fall behind the rest of the caravan in the hope that the robbers would either not see us or dismiss our single vehicle as unimportant, but later she insisted on rejoining the caravan as quickly as possible.
"During the night drive to do so, and between short periods of sleep; she continually studied what she still calls the magic chart and became increasingly agitated. She asserts that unless we catch up with the caravan by sunrise, Declan will die; and unless I use a greater magic than any she has seen me use before, he will die. The concern she displayed for his welfare appeared to be more personal than that previously shown, and I wondered if she might be manifesting the emotional responses that could lead to the inception of a rudimentary form of timesight.
'To test this theory I asked her what kind of magic she thought I could use. She replied that she did not know, but that on the few occasions she had been sleeping she had seen something terrible in her dreams, something falling from the sky that had screamed and thundered and resembled a monstrous insect with great, shining red eyes. She said that it looked worse than the worst nightmares of her childhood but that, strangely, it did not frighten her. Then she said that I should not listen to her bizarre dreams and apologized for wasting my time.
"Shortly afterward I decided to place my thundering and screaming monster on low orbital standby…"
–
The fast gallop along the length of the camel train that Declan had been expecting was reduced to a gentle trot because Bashir found difficulty, in spite of the blasphemously colorful language he was using, making the camel drivers and their few unmounted guards flee as he wanted. The result of their slow progress was that the relief force he was telling them about, Mareth's bowmen, were already coming into sight at a slow, steady run. Bashir and he were about halfway along the camel train when the first arrows began falling around them.
"Don't concern yourself," said Bashir, breaking off his shouted directions to the nearest camel driver. "The remainder of my men are trying to keep them occupied up there so as to give some of the criminal train a chance to escape, but those bowmen are at extreme range and they are shooting in hope rather than with the expectation of hitting anything. It is a criminal waste of arrows. If Mareth was in charge of them he would leave them speaking in women's voices and incapable of fathering children."