Blood for Pashtuk

— Iraj —

"Two-second intervals," commanded Sister Khali, "aim for the highest concentration of people. Iraj, start firing as soon as the first rock is thrown and keep firing until you're out of arrows. Focus on anyone who picks up a bow. Stay alert. They won't be able to see us, but they'll know where we are."

Khali's team had taken a position on a section of the curved cut bank, looking down at the Satomen. If they wanted to counter-attack, they'd have to use ranged weapons or charge across the dry riverbed, up the point bar, and around the edge of the dead lake to get to their attackers.

"I have the first stone," Khali said. For several breaths, she steadied herself. Their scouts had heard Karoush talking about their plans, and how they wanted to kill everyone in Pashtuk. Everyone except the women, who they would keep alive as captive wives. In spite of that, and the way they had treated their 'stolen wives' from other gardens, she found it hard to throw the first stone.

"Karoush! The mounts are gone!" The Satomen's camp was thrown into commotion as some of them rushed to verify the claim.

The shout of alarm snapped Khali from her hesitation. With a single over-hand heave she slung the first stone so hard it cut the air and left ripples in its wake. The ten-kilo rock hit a Satoma hunter in the chest and punched straight through him. A cone of blood sprayed over several men behind him. Shards of rib and spine exploded from his torso, injuring the bloodied men.

Iraj already had his target, a hunter who had kept his bow close to hand, even through all the drinking. His first arrow fell short, landing at the man's feet, but Iraj didn't let it bother him. He had been warned about the effects of enhanced vision and the other blessing he'd received from Khali. His range was sure now, as sure as his hand putting the next arrow to the string, and drawing back the shaft, his enhanced eyes tracked the enemy's motion with ease as the doomed man reflexively reached for his weapons. The arrow was aimed at the enemy's heart but got him in the lung instead, thanks to an unexpected twist. But, the blessed arrow penetrated leather armor with ease, exactly as promised, right up to its fletching. Why aim for unprotected extremities when your arrowheads can't be stopped? The archer looked mutely down at his chest, at the tail end of the meter-long shaft that ran through him.

The two-second timing of sling attacks was designed to maximize the mayhem. Every time the Satomen recovered their courage, another rock would obliterate one of their numbers. After the fourth one, they called to each other to spread out instead of massing together. Arrows started flying towards the cadre as more of them picked up their bows. But they were shooting blind into the dark: Few of their missiles came close to hitting anything.

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Khali had given Iraj a dozen shafts. He used his remaining ten with a will, picking off the better archers. Between the blessings and the excitement of the fight, Iraj had all the time in the world. Every draw and release was calm. One arrow after the other sailed down at his enemies. A few missed thanks to chance movements, but he struck nine men in twelve shots.

After the seventh slingstone Karoush urged his men to climb the point bar to exit the lake bed. They charged across as ordered, shouting bravely, spears in hand, up the hill to escape their fate. They thought the way was clear, that all they had to do was climb that gradual rise and they'd be able to reach the enemy. Suddenly, Mahzad and five bulwarks blocked their path, immovable and deadly. A flight of javelins came first, and then the shields came up.

Iraj was out of arrows. Not that he wanted to shoot into the melee — he knew better than that. But there was one more target left behind at the bottom of the riverbed, an archer. He must have been watching where the shafts were coming from because he launched one in reply, directly at Iraj.

Calmly, easily, Iraj waited while the arrow flew at him, then snatched it from the air.

And now I'm armed again, he thought.

The Satoman archer waited for some sign that his arrow had found or missed its mark. Instead, an arrow came to him out of the darkness and struck him in his throat. His last sight was a view of his own fletching protruding from his neck.

Too high, thought Iraj. This really does take practice.

The Satomen were ended quickly after that. What could they even do at that point, with a less than three-to-one advantage? The first to clash with Mahzad's line were speared to death. Those who were supposed to flank them got the sword. Satomen had a reputation for ruthlessness, and that was why gardens fed them instead of sending them away. That reputation worked against them now: the stragglers tried to run, but even they were cut down. Why spare a people who would never do the same for you?

After the battle came the cleanup. They had to search pockets, count bodies, and look for intelligence. That's when they noticed Karoush was missing. The disciples and their divinations couldn't find them, nor could their scouts with magic eyewear see any sign of him. Karoush was gone, as thoroughly as if he had used Overlook.

On the way home, Iraj warned the cadre about the strange animal that followed them at a distance. "It's not to hunt, no matter what. Let's hope it follows us to safety."

"Is it forbidden to ask about it?" ventured Mahzad.

"Not to ask, but I am forbidden from answering." Frustrated groans passed through the cadre, but nobody questioned him.

It took twice as long to return to Pashtuk as it had taken them to leave it, because the disciples couldn't enhance so many animals to keep up the accelerated pace. Most of the animals were turned loose in the mischus, but the horses and a few favored appalons were brought through the gate. The jimala dithered on the garden's threshold, too afraid to enter and too curious to leave. After a quarter-hour of indecision, they gave up on the animal and started closing the gate. The jimala dashed through at the last moment, hooves clattering on the paved square. The nimble creature zig-zagged around the plaza, bounded into the garden, then plunged its head into a patch of greens and started eating.

Iraj was glad to see him safe inside the walls, but now there was a new problem to consider. What would he tell Maul Phillip?