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J ai waited with his men in the darkness, listening for movement. It was still and silent, as if the whole of the steppe were holding its breath.

Then a rumble. Low at first, but growing ever louder, until even the Kidara could hear it. Jai could tell by the quickening of their breaths, the subtle rasp of metal sliding against leather as swords eased from their scabbards.

Jai was glad of his soulbound eyes, though he cursed the mana he had wasted, even if it had saved a man’s life. Who knew if that mana would be the difference between victory and defeat tonight?

‘Steady,’ Jai muttered, half to himself. ‘Stick to the plan.’

‘Steady!’ the order travelled down the line, and Jai bit his tongue.

Leather creaked, and khiroi grumbled, their lowing almost mournful as they voiced their displeasure at being awake at this early hour. Jai had let them all sleep as long as he could, mounts included. But Harleen’s scouts watched for the approaching enemy, and had updated him every hour. Teji had slowed, it seemed, since the wounded Kidaran scout had escaped them. He kept coming, though, and at a certain point, Jai needed to make sure his warriors were ready.

At least, he mused, the fatigue would be mutual.

Jai’s uncle must have ridden day and night to catch them. Sunset had been and gone an hour ago, and Jai knew this battle would occur in the black of night.

This was by design, Jai was sure of it. In the darkness, where strategy played a smaller part, numbers had the advantage.

‘Will they parlay?’ Jai asked, looking down the line.

His companions – Gurveer, Aman and Harleen – waited, silent ahead of their respective troops, their faces etched with grim determination. It was Feng, the stalwart presence at his side, who responded.

‘I predict they will dispatch a messenger bearing their ultimatum. There will be no negotiations, however.’

Winter chirred from her perch on the saddle behind him, and Jai reached out, calming her with a hand.

Still, Jai could see them now. Even in the waning moonlight, he could spot the silver glint of their weapons and armour, and the blue tinge of their clothing and banners. The cowards still dared to wear his father’s colours. Jai tried to picture if he could ever have done the same. The idea that he’d do such a thing to Arjun or Samar... his mind revolted at such a thought.

And yet that’s exactly what Teji had done to the memory of his brother, Rohan.

He snapped back to attention as a man rode at their head, resplendent in such finery, Jai was almost surprised it could be called battledress. As he neared, Jai made out the face of the man, the white flag clutched awkwardly in his grip.

Nazeem. The man had grown rich of late, it seemed. Rich off my people – the people he stole from. So much silver and gold dripped from him that it was a wonder he did not jingle like a wind chime.

The man rode the line, his khiro snorting. His face was a picture of quiet satisfaction, as if all was as he expected. Jai looked forward to wiping the grin from the man’s face.

Pulling up at the head of Jai’s formation, Nazeem cast aside the flag, its purpose served. ‘You all know why I am here,’ he declared, his voice thick with condescension. ‘Surely, you all saw this confrontation coming. It was foolish of you to align with this pretender.’

Gurveer’s retort was cut off as Harleen’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, a silent order for restraint.

‘Yes – watch your tongue, boy.’ Nazeem chuckled unpleasantly in the night air. ‘You may regret your words come dawn.’

Jai spat to the side in a display of contempt. A momentary flicker of distaste crossing Nazeem’s features.

‘Teji is magnanimous,’ he proclaimed loudly, his voice carrying clearly in the still night air. ‘Surrender now, and all will be forgiven. Your only penalty will be a tax, a small reparation for our pain and suffering. A fair deal, don’t you think?’

His words slithered through the quiet like oil, slick and unctuous, yet met with resolute silence. In response, Jai spurred Chak forward, staring Nazeem down with cold eyes. For a fleeting moment, the man’s complacency faltered as his eyes darted towards the discarded banner.

‘Your offer is rejected,’ Jai said quietly. ‘Prepare for battle.’

He pivoted Chak around, presenting his back to the man.

‘Oh, I was hoping you would say that,’ Nazeem chuckled again. ‘I am rather looking forward to some private time with you. Feng, I am sure, can attest to my... welcoming nature.’

Jai waited for the rumble of Nazeem riding away, then swept his gaze up and down the battle lines.

‘Remember!’ Jai called. ‘You are the true bearers of the Kidaran legacy. Oath keepers, every single one of you. The Mother smiles upon us!’

He thrust his blade high, a beacon for his warriors as they cheered. And then, as the distant drumming of Tejinder’s approaching forces grew, Jai wheeled about, steeling himself.

Jai’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade. He waited, counted the heartbeats.

‘Harleen!’ His voice was steel edged. ‘Fall back.’

With a curt nod, Harleen relayed the command. Her warriors retreated swiftly, streaming through the lines in a disorganised mass.

‘Gurveer – now,’ he commanded, and Gurveer’s warriors melted back as well, their swift departure echoing Harleen’s unit.

‘Aman,’ Jai called. His soldiers joined the retreating ranks, leaving Jai alone with half his men.

He could hear the cheers of the oncoming cavalry. They sensed victory, thinking Jai already abandoned by his lords.

Let them cheer at this, then.

‘Full retreat!’

His command rippled down the lines, setting the first phase of their plan into motion. Their forces turned and ran; the Tejinder, a tidal wave crashing after them.

Now they were engulfed in a breathless race. Beneath Jai, Chak bellowed, leading Jai’s contingent with a speed that belied his years. Ahead, the detachments of Harleen and Gurveer coursed through the central artery of their camp.

The encampment closed in around them as they raced down the makeshift corridor, a canopy of tents narrowing their world to a singular point.

Behind him, he could hear the yips and ululations of their enemy, plunging after them in wild abandon, even as Jai’s men spilled into the central plaza, the wide-open space bathed in moonlight. Jai pulled up at the edge of it, turning back to see his men pouring into the clearing, a stream of silhouettes. His heart pounded a harsh rhythm in his chest, but he steadied himself, clearing his throat.

‘Onward!’ he called, his voice lost across the open space. ‘Press on!’

His forces kept forward, pouring into the corridor on the other side where Harleen and Gurveer had positioned themselves. Turning in his saddle, he took in the spectacle of the Tejinder army flooding into the central square, catching up fast.

But not fast enough.

‘Not yet,’ he breathed. ‘Not yet.’

He could see the blades rising, battle cries rending the air.

‘Now!’ he roared, the word repeated, rippling through his ranks. ‘Close the trap!’

Kidaran citizens burst out from the tents at the plaza’s edges, plugging the gaps and escape routes between them. Each held a spear in their hands, some of wood and steel, but most simple lengths of bamboo, sharpened and hardened over fire.

The Tejinder wheeled in disarray within the plaza’s centre, cut off from escape. In the midst of the tumult, Jai saw Teji, bellowing commands from atop his Alkhara, Nazeem’s screeching voice piercing the din alongside him. But unless you were near either man – both of whom had conflicting orders – it was probably impossible to hear over the chaos.

Torches were lit by Jai’s foot soldiers, and Jai added his own glintlights to the sky, mana surging in a flick of his fingers, bathing the plaza in the cold light.

Jai spurred Chak forward, summoning his flag bearer to follow.

‘Parlay,’ Jai shouted at Teji, his spearmen parting to allow him by. ‘Parlay!’

He knew he could not yet be heard above the din, for the Tejinder were in a panic, but eventually one of them would relay the news to either Teji or Nazeem. In the meantime, he charged forward, even as some of the Tejinder charged at the spearpoints, but none dared meet the bristling wall. Those skirting the edges could find no way out, their curses colouring the night.

Seconds stretched as the clamour dwindled, Teji’s flag bearer casting about for the white banner Nazeem had left in the dirt. Jai could not help but grin as he saw Nazeem say something to his master, and receive a slap in return.

Finally, a strip of canvas was tied to a pole, and there was a momentary respite. And now Teji approached, Nazeem and a handful of nobles riding in his wake.

‘Small Council!’ Jai called. ‘With me!’

He waited until they flanked him. Then he drew a deep breath, and trotted forward to meet the man he had once hoped to call family.