I trust you will choose your path wisely.
Most gracious regards,
Archmaster Belegra, humble servant of the Gods
'I don't know which part is the most offensive,' Catrin began. 'I've never heard so many thinly veiled threats and insults. Why would they wish to provoke me in such a way? What does he mean, I have refused their offers for talks of peace? No one has made any such offer. He makes it sound as if their invasion is my fault!'
'Please stay calm, li'l miss. They wrote those things to provoke you, hoping you would do something hasty and foolish. It's a common tactic in warfare: taunt your opponent and instill doubt and fear in him whenever possible. There's not much in that letter we didn't already know. Try not to fret over it.'
But she could not put the message out of her mind. 'I'm going to take some time to meditate. Perhaps I'll find some inspiration,' she said as she went into her tent. Her own clothes were by her bed, cleaned and folded. The solitude of the tent and the feeling of changing back into her old clothes comforted her, as if they helped her hold onto that which was Catrin. Her thoughts were scattered, and she tried to focus and meditate on each one. She pondered the archmaster's words and Benjin's reaction to them, but she thought there had to be some undercurrent she was not seeing. She found no answers.
The sound of many people shouting yanked her from her thoughts. Shadows ran past her tent, and the commotion continued to grow louder. Benjin reached her as she was emerging from her tent.
'What's going on?' she yelled above the noise.
'I don't know. When I heard all the commotion, I came here to make sure you were safe. Let's find Vertook.' They scanned the sea of confusion for Vertook, but it was difficult to identify anyone in the morass, and it took a while to locate him. Benjin spotted him wading through the mob and heading for Catrin. He shouted and waved his arms, but they could not hear his words, and they waited anxiously for him to get clear of the throng. He rushed toward them, and the chaos he left behind seemed to take on a purpose as horses were saddled. That meant the Arghast were preparing to ride, and Catrin's anxiety was intense when she heard Vertook's words.
'Many soldiers coming from all around us.'
Chapter 19
Belief systems are fragile things. How will you react when your reality suddenly ceases to exist?
'You ride with me,' Vertook said, giving Catrin no choice but to follow him to his horse. They would all ride on horses with the other men, whose saddles contained a second set of passenger flaps that held soft leather stirrups. The flaps provided little cushion, but they had a large ridge around the back that would help keep them in place when they were riding at speed.
Before Catrin could get her boots into the stirrups firmly, Vertook issued a battle cry and the horse leaped into a full gallop. Catrin grabbed at the leather straps that hung from the sides of the saddle and held on with white knuckles, struggling to get her boots in the stirrups. Once her boots were firmly planted, she settled into the rhythm of the horse's powerful stride. Vertook's eyes showed his pleasure that the Herald had such fine riding skills.
The riders sent clouds of dust into the wind, and Catrin squinted to keep sand from her eyes. Vertook reached into his saddlebag and produced a headgear for Catrin-this time one with eye slits. She felt a little unsteady as they rode, but it was much better than sand in her eyes.
Cheslo and the others rode in tight formation with Vertook, and Catrin saw her companions donning headgears as well. Like a flash flood, they rolled toward the valley entrance in a headlong rush, lest they become trapped.
The mouth of the valley was narrow, and the horsemen funneled together, close enough for Catrin to touch the rider beside her, and as they passed through the narrow opening, they smashed together, nearly unhorsing her.
Clear of the valley, tribesmen surrounded their leaders in a tight, diamond-shaped formation. Vertook directed them straight toward the line of Zjhon soldiers approaching from the north. The wind whipped, and visibility dropped to near zero. The Zjhon were obscured by a veil of dust and were barely visible along the horizon. Despite greater numbers, the Zjhon attack seemed ill advised; they were still distant and spread thin, but Catrin supposed their hands had been forced when the Arghast intercepted their prey. Had the Arghast been less vigilant, she would have been trapped.
She turned her head to see who was behind her, but she could see little through the headgear and the dust that roiled up behind them. As she gazed higher, she could still see the top of the towering fountain, and she was amazed to see a pair of eagles floating on the thermals in the mist surrounding it. They swooped and dived through the water, and Catrin felt a moment of vindication and joy.
The Arghast remained true to the straight path they had chosen, and the enemy forces seemed to be gauging their purpose. As the Zjhon formed into a more dense and organized force, Catrin shouted to Vertook, telling him to take evasive action, but he continued on his direct course.
Looking at the dense formation of Arghast surrounding her, she wondered if Vertook planned to ride straight through the gathering Zjhon. The closer they came to the Zjhon, the more prepared the enemy appeared, looking ready to stand fast against the approaching onslaught. Many soldiers dismounted and held long pikes to protect against the charge, but by concentrating in one area, they committed themselves to holding that ground.
Vertook raised a reverberating cry, and riders charged in every direction, forcing the Zjhon to abandon the ground they held. Catrin held on tight as Vertook turned his mount sharply and headed east. The Arghast horses were winded, but so were those carrying the Zjhon. The Zjhon horses had not been desert bred and were on unfamiliar turf.
Catrin looked around desperately for her Guardians, but the headgears and the dust made it nearly impossible to identify anyone. Vertook's gambit provided a temporary advantage, but hordes of Zjhon reinforcements began to flood the desert, swarming around isolated pockets of the Arghast. One of the tribal leaders rode in close, and Catrin heard Nat shouting and pointing northeast.
'To the cliffs! Must get Catrin to the cliffs!'
Vertook nodded and angled them in the direction Nat indicated. No matter which direction they chose, they would have to break through the Zjhon at some point, and Vertook veered for the largest gap in their lines. In the same instant, Nat cried out in warning. Catrin snapped her gaze to where he pointed, and Vertook cursed when he spotted a formation of soldiers closing in from the north.
These men and their horses wore protective gear, making them much better prepared for desert fighting. The horses showed a bit of lather but did not appear as winded as the horse beneath Catrin. Vertook shouted and turned east, pushing their mount to the limit. Catrin was humbled by the dedication and courage of the Arghast horses, who gave all they had. Feeling such affection and gratitude for the mount that was so valiantly bearing her and Vertook, she placed her hand on the horse's croup behind the saddle, and unaware, her emotions-love, peace, and energy-flowed from her hand into the horse. As she touched him, her hand grew hot, and a tingling pulsated in her palm. The horse seemed to respond to her gentle touch and was rejuvenated. It leaped ahead of the horses surrounding it.
Vertook slowed his mount to let the others make up the ground he had gained. The approaching Zjhon formed into a tight wedge and closed at great speed, making Catrin wonder if this was where the fighting would truly begin. It was terrifying and she could not envision it.
The tension in the air was palpable, and she could hear little above the muted thunder of hooves pounding the sand. No one spoke, shouted, or cried out. It was eerie and unnerving, and Catrin could feel the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. The approaching Zjhon were mostly armed with swords, but a few carried bows. The Arghast were armed with wooden spears, and they looked puny beside the cold iron.
