Cursed: Traitor's Trail

Chapter 18 Part 2

The steppes fell silent after Bane flew from sight, not in a peaceful way, more of a hostile, suffocating sound. He needed to get back to the men; in his mind he knew it was a short distance, but with the emergence of this new threat, suddenly it seemed a long way.

He moved eastward, skirting around bunches of grass shooting up from the ground, or anything else that could be used as cover for an ambush. Urging his feet to fall silently, he strained to hear any out of place noise, anything that might give warning. Hoping to return to his men and be gone before whatever the king had in mind showed up.

Shouts of surprise and pain from over the slope ahead proved there was no room for such optimism. Giving up his stealthy and wary movements, Jaob sprinted for the hill, and his men. Whatever had befallen them, he owed them the honor—or foolishness—of sharing their fate.

The shallow valley the Magi rested in had erupted into a state of chaos. The Magi must have dismounted while waiting for Jaob and Bane to return from their information gathering. Mice, frightened by the confusion and the underlying fear of their human riders, scattered from the group, veering this way and that with no true direction. Arrows rained down from the hills to the east and south. The Magi defended erratically, swiping at the projectiles with blades. One of the men towards the middle of the group collapsed with a cry of pain.

Fools. What are they doing?

On the hills where the arrows originated, men were ranged, all with bow and arrow. But none, he noticed, with the chitin armor of the king's men. In an attempted synchrony the hilltop men strung a second round of arrows. There was not time to do a true count, but Jaob estimated the enemy number to be smaller than the Magi's. Only their higher vantage and surprise favored them.

Was this the king's trap? It didn't look like much. Finally, something that wasn't going even more horribly wrong. He came to this place thinking to face a trained force of thousands. The loosely formed attack on the hills would not be a challenge for so many Magi.

He studied the warriors in the valley with a cringe. Well, they wouldn't be a challenge if his men would stop panicking and get organized.

The men on the hilltops pulled the bowstrings to their cheeks in unison.

Jaob waited until they were all distracted with aiming, but not too long, he didn't want to risk the men actually loosing the arrows and injuring any more Magi. He called his power, sending a strong strand along the ridge, blasting the enemy with enough force to cause them to lose their balance and flail. The Magi turned his direction, and the men on the hilltop saw him, as well. Recovering from their surprise and unbalance, they soon turned their weapons toward him.

Having so many bows drawn upon him with intent to kill, quickened his pulse. He grasped on to his power, the only long range defense he possessed. If the arrows were loosed, he would summon a great gust to knock them off course. He raised his hand, prepared.

Eyes in the valley began to glow, a few other Magi joined Jaob in his power. The bowmen who noticed, wavered, some swinging their aim back down to the valley floor. Fear made them uncertain.

So why were they here? It was suicidal for such men to approach and attack the Magi. And by their discomfort, they realized the danger.

A flash of fire caught his attention. One of the arrows was burning.

Jaob blinked. Did he think that somehow the flame would make the weapon more effective?

The man holding the arrow, taught in the bow, seemed as surprised as Jaob. He jumped backward, dropping it, the bowstring snapped and the arrow disintegrated. Several other arrows caught flame, systematically removing the enemy's ranged weapons.