form lines. Tristan was facing that faction, aware of the horses that galloped behind him but trusting the other Riders to handle it. Trailing the horse-mounted soldiers were reinforcements on foot, marching alongside covered wagons.
Tristan frowned. Wagons meant specialized weapons and war machines. Catapults, slingshots… and nets.
The mounted soldiers didn’t wait for them. Instead they unfastened the shields from their saddles and raised them up over their heads. Tristan recalled vividly the stories his father had told about this particular empire tactic.
The soldiers strapped the specially designed shields across their backs, protecting themselves from fire and arrows from above as they rode forward.
The only way to take them down was to fly so low that you were in range of their weapons, or shoot from above and aim at the horses, not the riders. The empire counted on the Phoenix Riders having a soft spot for animals and being unwilling—or at least hesitating—to deliver fatal blows.
But Tristan thought there might be another way. The ground between the line they held in the sky and the ranks of soldiers preparing to ride was grassy and dotted with flowers and shrubs. And despite careful attention, the plants were hot and dry this time of year—and perfect kindling.
Another way to slow a horse’s attack was to spook it, and like most normal living things, horses did not like fire.
Come on, Rex, Tristan said, urging him to ignite as the soldiers began their charge. For once in his life, he was not afraid of the burst of heat and crackle of flame licking up his bondmate’s sides. He was so preoccupied with the problem at hand, so focused on protecting Veronyka, that there was no room in his mind for fear or hesitation.
Tristan lit his first arrow and aimed it at the stampeding horses—then pointed it slightly lower, at a cluster of bushes closer at hand. The arrow hit, the fire caught, and he repeated the process.
Though he didn’t create the perfect line of flames he’d been hoping for, when Rex pumped his wings and pulled them up out of range, he’d managed to create a legitimate obstacle. Many of the horses kicked and reared, staggering into the others, and only a third of the soldiers were able to pass through gaps or push their skittering mounts to leap over the blaze.
But then Cassian was there, swooping down so low and so suddenly that the riders pulled back or dodged to the side, giving him the perfect angle to strike. He took out two soldiers with his bow by the time Tristan joined him, taking out two more.
When they circled back around, the soldiers had regrouped and were preparing for another charge. Tristan and his father shot arrows to keep the fiery barrier burning, while behind them, Fallon, Beryk, and Alexiya executed maneuvers of their own.
Tristan kept a constant eye on the distant foot soldiers and the wagons they brought with them, sensing that what advantage they had now would eventually shift in the empire’s favor. He darted looks over his shoulder at Veronyka and Val, too, but they were still facing off with each other. Time slowed during a fight as his mind analyzed every movement and detail, but he suspected that only minutes had passed since they’d taken their stand.
They continued to hold their positions until Tristan noticed Fallon getting into trouble on his right, near the pavilion. It looked like the soldiers were trying to push him back, using the colonnaded, open-air structure as a base to attack from. The roof protected them from Fallon’s offensives while their archers were able to squat behind the columns to loose arrows before ducking out of range again.
And worse, Tristan saw that one of the wagons had already arrived, and the soldiers appeared to be unloading its wares inside the protection of the gleaming marble building. He spotted enough equipment to know that a catapult was coming.
Leaving his father to handle the next charge, Tristan nudged Rex toward Fallon and the pavilion.
They swooped in low, causing the soldiers who’d been unloading the wagon to duck and scatter. Fallon used the distraction to fire off a round of arrows before soaring back out of range.
As Rex swooped around, Tristan considered the wagon. If they could set it on fire, they might destroy what was left of the catapult—and whatever other weaponry was inside too.
He craned his neck, trying to see Veronyka, but Xephyra blocked her from view.