The plan was simple enough: a double ambush. Giff and a small force would attack the caravan first. It would be a fierce, no mercy attack, designed to frighten the humans as much as to harm them. Be as bloody and horrific as you can, Sarn had said. Soften them well for me."
At that point Sarn, striking from another vantage point, would hit full force. The entire action shouldn't take more than a few minutes, Giff thought. Yes, it was a good plan. An artful plan that seemed to guarantee success. But why was it he still felt so uneasy?
As if he were being watched himself.
"They can't be demons, Iraj said. You must be mistaken. It's forbidden for them to be here."
"Well, I guess nobody told them! Safar snapped. Look for yourself. He pointed at the monstrous figures hiding in ambush below. What else could they be?"
Dazed, Iraj aped Safar, funneling his hands so he could see more clearly. His head jolted back as the full realization sunk in. Then he swiveled, taking in more of the scene.
"Hells! he said. You're right. And look! There's more! A second groupmoving through that ravine."
Safar spotted them immediately. It was a much larger group than the firstpossibly thirty demons or more. He watched them snake through a ravine with high, snow-packed walls. The ravine narrowed at the mouth and Safar saw the leader pull in his mount and signal the others to stop. The group paused there to reform its lines.
"I think I see what they're going to do, Iraj said. His tone was oddly casual as if he were commenting on an interesting tactic in a military text. The first bunch will jump the caravan, while the others hold back. Then when the caravan soldiers are fully committed the rest will charge out of the ravine and roll them up."
Iraj dropped his hands. It's a good trick, he said. I'll have to remember it."
Sarn made certain his demons were ready, deploying them in short-winged cavalry ranks so the ravine's narrow mouth wouldn't diminish the force of his attack. Giff's position was opposite the ravine in a clump of frozen boulders. When the caravan moved between them Giff would strike first and then, when the panicked soldiers turned their backs to confront him, Sarn would leap out and close the pincer's jaws.
The bandit chief unlimbered his sword and made a few practice passes in the air. His blood sang as his demon heart pumped battle lust into his veins. In a few moments all the riches his scouts had told him were on the caravan would be his. Then he'd speed up the mountain, following the pass to Kyrania. He doubted it would difficult to eliminate everyone in such a remote village. Sarn surmised that the humans in Kyrania might be expecting the caravan. Some could even be on their way now to meet it, which meant he might not have enough time to wipe all traces of his demonly presence from the snows. King Manacia had commanded that no witnesses be left behind. So Sarn had to make it appear that banditshuman banditshad hit the caravan. He'd do the same with Kyrania, perhaps even picking up a bit more booty in the process. Then he and his fiends could make their way home with nothing at their backs to worry them.
Sarn was already imagining the greeting awaiting him on his return. A hero ladened with so much loot that other bandit clans would clamor to join him. Better still, the king himself would be in his debt. Sarn was by now convinced King Manacia was planning an invasion of the human lands. An invasion this mission had just proved was possible.
He was wondering if he ought to press the king for some sort of noble-sounding title when a sudden uncomfortable thought occurred to him. Wasn't it Giff who'd asked if perhaps Manacia had lied about the shield he'd conjured to protect them from the curse of the Forbidden Desert? What if Sarn had been too quick to dismiss Giff's supposition? After this mission Sarn would be a much more important demon than before. For daring the Forbidden Desert and striking out at the hated humans he'd be a fiend to be reckoned with. And the king hadn't held his throne so long by being stupid, or by allowing potential rivals to live. He might consider Sarn as one of those rivals. In fact, King Manacia, who was a mighty wizard, might have foreseen such a possibility in his castings. In which case he'd want Sarn to be weakened from the start. One way to accomplish that would be to lie about the potency of his shield. Sarn might have done the same himself if he were in Manacia's place.
Another thing: what if the curse didn't kill right away? What if it allowed him to live long enough to return home with the information the king wanted? And afterwards he'd die a horrible, lingering death, made worse by the knowledge Manacia had never intended to reward him for his faithful service. It was not unlike the way Sarn had treated the human, Badawi. For the first time he felt a touch of empathy for the horse dealer.
Then he thought, you're being a fool, Sarn. Pre-battle jitters, that's all. If royal betrayal had been in the wind he would have sniffed it out at the start. The bandit chief considered himself a most devious demon who could show even a king a trick or two about the art of treachery.
Nerves steadied, all self-doubt conquered, Sarn peered out and saw the caravan nearing the mouth of the ravine.
The attack was about to begin.
His yellow eyes glowed in anticipation.
Safar watched the smaller group of demons brace for the charge. His mind was numb, his limbs oddly heavy and when he spoke his voice came in a croak.
"What will we do?"
There was nothing numb about Iraj. The tragedy about to unfold below seemed to have the opposite effect, charging him with an inner fire.
"Warn the caravan, Iraj said, eyes dancing, What else?"
Before Safar could fully register the answer, Iraj burst out of their hiding place and bounded down the hill. His action swept away all of Safar's caution. Hot blood boiled over and without a second's hesitation he leaped forward to follow.
But as he scrambled down the steep hillside in Iraj's wake he thought, My father's going to kill me."
It was a small caravan, spread out and weary from hard travel. As Safar drew closer he heard the harsh voice of the caravan master urging his men on.
"Your fathers were brainless curs, he was shouting. Your mothers were lazy mongrel bitches. Come on, you dogs! Listen to Coralean! Only one more day's travel to Kyrania, I tell you. Then you can bite your fleas and lick your hairless balls all you like."
Safar heard a camel bawl and a driver curse its devil's nature. He also thought he heard the high-pitched voices of angry women. That was impossible, he thought. Women rarely traveled with the caravans.
He strained his aching lungs for air and in a burst of speed caught up to Iraj. They reached the caravan just as it crossed the mouth of the ravine. Three outriders spotted them first. Safar and Iraj raced toward the soldiers.
"Ambush! Iraj shouted. Ambush!"
The soldiers were slow to react. Their eyes were dull, their mouths gaping holes in frosted beards. But when Safar and Iraj ran up they suddenly came to life, drawing their horses back in fear. Safar realized with a shock they thought he and Iraj were the threat.
Safar desperately grasped the reins of the nearest horse. Demons! he screamed into the face of a dull-faced soldier. Over there!"
He turned to point and saw monstrous figures storm out of the mist, sweeping in to crowd the caravan defenders closer to the ravine where the main force waited. Safar heard a demon war cry for the first timea piercing, marrow-freezing ululation.
A series of images jumped out at him. He saw swords and axes raised high in taloned paws. Crossbows lifting to aim. Black bolts taking flight.
The soldier kicked at himreining back sharply at the same time. The horse reared and Safar leaped aside to avoid its lashing front hooves. A heavy crossbow bolt caught the animal in the throat. It toppled over and Safar heard the soldier scream as the horse's weight crushed him. He'd never witnessed such agony before.