front lines collided. Then there was fighting to be done, but strange fighting. Nahil’s men burst through the front line, swords slashing and stabbing at the air, then turned in bewilderment to try to discover their enemies.
Kallan fought as he had planned, to strike and step aside, so that they did not know who their enemy had been. And he was glad that he had planned so long and often, for in the battle there was no time for thought or fear. Blood and death, the ease of fighting that comes of long practice, and many battles. He stepped aside from one who ran blindly striking out at phantoms, and then cut him down from behind.
Butchery, sheer butchery. There were ones he knew among this crowd, ones he had trusted. No time for pity or recognition. He thought coldly that if Nahil had not betrayed him, he would have been one of them, blundering his way through a fog of enemies. Creatures of air and nothingness surrounded them. They could find no one to fight, and yet, they saw their comrades die.
Andiene’s ghosts fought with the skill of the swordsmen whose likenesses they wore. Nahil’s men warded off death-blows from phantoms, and seeing that those enemies were but phantoms, they did not guard themselves from other blows struck by men with swords of true steel.
Here and there, knots of close-packed men fought and slew one another, for lack of a better enemy. And some, run mad in another way, recognized friends and comrades arrayed against them, ones long dead. They fled in terror, throwing down their weapons.
Soon, more fled, and more, in a terror that grew like forest madness. The gates of the city were closed and barred against them; Nahil had been the first to flee. The men came to the high city wall and divided like waves breaking against a rock. Some fled east to freedom, and some fled west to the sea-cliffs, as far as they could run.
The field was clear. Kallan called his men to him. They came; he counted them. There were wounds that would need to be cleaned and bandaged, but none that should kill a man. They were alive, all walking, still battle-drunk. He praised them, as they stood looking around in wonder. The shadow folk stood a few paces off, as perfect as ever, untouched by the day’s fighting. The sun had not risen far above the horizon.
Andiene came to them, weeping as she went. “Do not weep,” Kallan said joyfully. “This is a great victory, of a few against a mighty army.”
How shall I pay you when this day is done? For a moment he saw mad anger in her stare, and death itself as his payment for his service. He who gives a king his heart’s desire must beware. Then she was calm again, but weeping still. “This was what I dreamed of, long ago. I saw this valley, too.”
She stared up at the sky, where the vultures circled already. There was passion and grief in her voice. “I would that there would be no more dying!”
“There may not be,” he said.
“We have not won into the city yet.”
“We may not need to.” He spoke to Syresh and Eliad. “Tend to your wounds, and when you are done, see what you can do for those we fought, the ones that live.
“And come with me,” he said to Andiene. “No, leave your army where it stands. We do not want to drive them over the cliffs with terror.”
It was her turn to be confused, but she followed him, as he walked toward the men that huddled on the brink of the sea-cliffs, an army no longer, but men gone mad with fear, with barely enough wit to halt on the edge of the solid earth.
“I do not think they will dare to attack us, but if they do, can you guard us?” Kallan asked. Andiene nodded. “I only hope that one of the high command was left to deal with,” he said.
They stopped a few hundred paces from the crowd of soldiers, and waited. Kallan scanned the crowd. Murmuring and uneasy movement, fearfulness, none bold enough to speak. He waited patiently. One pushed his way through the crowd, speaking brisk orders. They obeyed. Kallan narrowed his eyes to see better, and shouted, “Aren!”
The man turned, shading his eyes, for the sun was low in the east behind them still. He took an uncertain step closer. Kallan advanced also. “Aren, do you