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T hey waited. Two hundred warriors, blades sheathed and mudded, faces blackened by clods of earth. They lay low upon the backs of their khiroi, and their chargers’ horns were tied to the fur of their chest, such that they could not raise their horns above the grass line.

It had taken them much of the night to manoeuvre, for Jai had been meticulous in his preparations. They would get one chance at this.

Harleen and Sindri had fought him every step of the way. This was not how things were done on the Great Steppe, they said. But he wasn’t here to do things the way they had always been done.

This was about more than another victory under his belt. The Sabines would wreak a devastation upon this land the likes of which had never been seen. Already, they had but a taste of it at the caravan. The Gryphon Guard acted with impunity. Flying above, out of sight. Able to descend upon any and all. Even he, ensconced in the middle of his tribe, secure in his tent, could be a target.

He did not know how he would stop it. But he knew driving the legion from their Great Steppe was a good start. And he could not do that with his paltry army of some five hundred.

His father had crafted a legend. He would now do the same, and secure his place as khan.

‘What is taking them so long,’ Jai hissed.

Harleen and Sindri lay flat upon their mounts beside him, as did all the warriors at his back. All stared not at the Keldar camp, but into the darkness beside it, back the way they had come.

How confident he had been, when he’d set this plan in motion. Now, in the cold of night, it felt like stupidity. Had Leonid felt this way, when he had risked all?

Yet it had been Leonid that had inspired this folly. Jai had read about it, all those years ago. The Siege of Damantine.

There, the emperor, in his youth, had bluffed the collective armies of the Southern Kingdoms before they had been subsumed into the empire. How Leonid, outnumbered and hunted, surprised by the alliance, had lit campfires as far as the eye could see, such that the enemy’s scouts thought he had ten times his number.

The armies stopped to reform, giving Leonid time to escape, and fight another day.

Now Jai too would use the same trick. And finally... he saw them.

Torches, lit one after the other, flickering into existence as if by majick. Floating, above the grass line. Soon, more than a hundred lights burned merrily in the distance, close enough that Jai could see the black forms shifting beneath.

Though from this distance it was impossible to tell, he knew what they were. Oxen, with torches bound to their horns. And a half-dozen of Harleen’s fastest riders, lighting these torches as fast as they could.

If he had not known the truth of it, he too might have believed an army waited there. He only hoped the Keldar would think the same.

Already, the music in the Keldar camp had ceased. Cries could be heard, at first of alarm, then excitement and anger. For the Keldar had seen the torches too.

Jai was amazed at the speed at which the enemy warriors were mounted. It was as if one moment the camp’s edges were milling with running figures, and the next a host of mounted, screaming cavalry was charging, ululating into the dark.

Away from Jai. Towards the decoy.

But still some remained. Stragglers, mounted up but too late to join the charge. At least fifty by Jai’s count, many swaying drunk in their saddles.

‘Jai,’ Sindri hissed.

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Let the noose tighten.’

He could see the torches retreating, the oxen following Harleen’s outriders, and the Keldar’s own, bobbing in pursuit.

‘Wait,’ Jai hissed, hearing the rasp of blades in their scabbards.

Jai’s heart pounded in his ears. He drew his own blade, hearing the scrape of soil that dulled its shine. Beneath him, Baal let out a low rumble, pawing the ground.

Jai did not shout the order. No, he simply spurred his Alkhara, and the others followed. No battle cries. No ululation, or clattering swords. Just the rumble of their mounts, slow at first, then picking up speed as the first yells were heard, his army finally spotted.

The world surged back as Baal increased his pace, the song of battle loud in Jai’s ears. It was the wind tearing at him, the battle cries of his men, and the thrum , thrum , thrum of Baal leaping and bounding through the whispering grass.

Jai led the way, ahead of Winter, ahead of his entire army, but he could not stop Baal if he tried. He could see the enemy, turning towards them. Terror, stamped across their faces, threescore men and women milling upon their mounts, grooms stumbling at their sides. And beyond, the camp filled with families, celebrants and their ilk.

The wind tugged at Jai’s blade as he hefted it, his arm outstretched. The other, he raised. Summoned his mana, crooking his hand.

Baal lowered his head, the great horn aimed plum at a half-turned knight at the camp’s edge. Twenty feet.

Hesitation, as he saw the faces lit up by the roiling ball of flame gathering about his hand. Terrified.

Ten.

Jai let his mana fly, the flames fanning out in a roiling wave of fire. It was blinding in its brilliance, in the dark of the edge of camp.

Keldar warriors twisted away, some dropping their blades, clutching at their eyes. Jai felt his core emptying, emptying, and dropped his hand. Then he was sweeping his blade, cutting his target deep along his chest.

And then... he was among them. He swung, two-handed, too fast to see the damage he wrought, near losing his sword to the suck of flesh, a groom clutching at his face.

Jai was now cutting left, then right. Baal was a true war beast, prancing close, then away, swerving through the scattered enemy, and Jai felt the rhythm of the fight still his shaking hands.

A groom came at him, yelling. A boy, hardly older than Sum, the blade almost comical in his hands, but pointed with intent at his belly. At least, until a blur of white hit him from the side: Winter, clawing at his chest before ripping out his throat with a single lunge of her head.

Jai could taste the blood upon her tongue. Feel her excitement, even as his belly roiled at the sight of the gurgling boy. Warriors, such as could see him, spurred their mounts to face him.

Only to be swallowed by what followed.

Kidaran warriors tore through the scattered enemy, a devastating maelstrom of chopping blades. One khiro stumbled, an impaled groom dangling from its horn. Another struggled, its head buried in the side of another, its rider lost.

It was child’s play. And butchery. All at the same time.

Jai saw Keldar faces, drunk and blind and scared and shocked. Baal came to a stop, rearing, as Jai turned to call upon his soldiers.

And suddenly, Jai could hear the screams. It had all been a dull buzz, the blood rushing in his ears. But now... just the chop and thud of weapons, and the cries of agony.

‘To me!’ Jai called. ‘To me!’

The butchery hardly stopped. Men and women glanced up at him, turned their mounts to face him. Some even rallied to him, a dozen making their way through the mess of death. But for most, this was the work of war. And it could not be reasoned with until it was done.

‘Jai!’ Sindri bellowed. ‘We must take the camp!’

Jai did not know what this meant, only saw her riding with her bodyguard deep into the tents, her blade rising and falling. He followed, lifting his sword once more.

‘On, Baal! On!’

Baal pranced beneath Jai’s tight rein, eager to turn back to the screams they had left behind. But that battle was all but done. Now they had to finish it.

Sindri’s soldiers seemed to have taken over, for they were used to this work, if on a smaller scale. The civilians were corralled into the plaza at the camp’s centre, an easy enough task considering the festivities.

He could see the tear-streaked faces. The bride, a young girl barely past her first blood, crying softly. The children, wailing, despite their parents’ hushing. Food lay out on sitting mats, and crockery shattered and spilled, food spraying as the Kidaran mounts crashed around the plaza.

‘Quickly!’ Sindri screamed. ‘All nobles. At the front, now.’

They emerged, at first hesitant, then faster as Sindri struck a slow-moving man with the flat of her blade. There were perhaps two dozen of them, marked by their fine attire, and some by the fat of their bellies. The bride too was dragged to the front, even as the women of her family screamed and clawed at the Kidaran invaders.

Soon enough, they were all kneeling, lined up in the direction the Keldar army had gone. Valor knights had dismounted beside them, blades at their throats.

Jai could see the contrasting colours among them. Kiran had been right. This was a wedding after all. Two tribes, in one.

And two armies... about to return.

Jai did not know how this would go. Sindri had been so sure the enemy would surrender. But what if they didn’t? What if they just attacked?

He spun, and found his flag bearer. The young man was white as a sheet, and half his flags seemed to be missing. He had a cut to his thigh, and he was staring at it.

‘Manu,’ Jai called to the young man. ‘Rally the knights. Sound the horn.’

Manu nodded, and did as he was bidden, the note faltering. The boy turned, and vomited over his khiro’s side, then returned to blowing.

By now, much of Jai’s army had already begun to follow, and it was not long before Jai found himself surrounded by scores of khiroi, unable to manoeuvre in the midst of the Keldar camp.

‘Cut down the tents!’ Jai ordered, glad his soulbound lungs allowed him to project over the mess of screams, wails and shouts.

His will was done, though most were simply trampled, even as hiding occupants wailed within. This... was horror. He had known, and yet he had not known, what would happen this night.

Only here, hearing the screams, could he fathom the consequences of his actions. For he knew he had lost himself to the lust of warfare. He looked to see two boys, the spitting images of Arjun and Samar, kneeling alongside the others. Young Sithian princes. And now Jai held the blade.

He was no better than Titus. He was a coward.

‘They’re coming!’ Harleen called out, somewhere behind him. ‘Form up, form up!’

Jai found himself jostled into place, as the khiroi massed, shoulder to shoulder, the hundreds of sobbing Keldar behind them. A score of seasoned Valor circled their captives, keeping them in place.

Baal used his considerable size to bully his way to the front, Winter ducking and dodging between the forest of khiroi feet below.

Then silence, but for the crackling of the cooking fires. There was the stench of blood on the wind. Even the Keldar were near quiet, but for the sobs of babes and children. They, like Jai, were listening.

His soulbound ears could hear it now. The rumble of a charge. The ululation, fading in and out as the wind ebbed and flowed. But growing ever louder.

‘Torches!’ Jai ordered, raising a hand.

The last dregs of his mana allowed a single glintlight, spinning like a glowing apple above them. Its path was aimless as Jai lost concentration, his hand trembling. Still, torch poles were hurriedly stabbed into the ground around the line of kneeling enemy nobles, who were now in a row, shoulder to shoulder, across the entrance to the plaza. If the enemy were to charge, they would trample their own in the process.

He could feel the vibrations through Baal’s body, and see the dust rising from the ravaged ground.

‘Hold,’ Sindri called. ‘Hold!’

Jai parroted her cry, and it was taken up by the line, until it was a mantra, chanted by his soldiers. Now they could hear the cries of the enemy in earnest.

A high, keening ululation, such that they put his teeth on edge. And then the dark forms, rolling into the camp. Enemy knights, charging in their gold and red finery.

‘Hold!’ Jai cried out.

He could see the whites of their eyes, the steam of their charges’ snorts misting the air. And then... just like that... they began to slow.

Horns blared, flags swept back and forth. The momentum drove them onwards, khiroi bellowing as they dug in their heels. Until, finally, but a few feet from where the Keldar nobles knelt, they ground to a stop.

The lead rider leaped from his mount, his face a rictus of despair and rage. He held his blade aloft, before stabbing it into the ground and kneeling. His eyes met that of his bride, and Jai could see the crown upon his head and the ceremonial henna that adorned his face.

Still more leaped down. A man that might have been the groom’s father. Women too, battle-scarred matriarchs in the golden colours of the bride’s house. They dared not come closer, but their blades were all grounded, their chargers’ reins tied there.

‘Sindri,’ the groom hissed bitterly, staring at her with hatred. ‘You treacherous bitch.’

‘Hold your tongue, Devin,’ Sindri retorted. ‘Lest you say something you’ll regret.’

‘You are a traitor to your people,’ Devin muttered, though in a lower voice. ‘Allying the Valor with...’

Devin stopped himself, and shook his head. He reached out, whispering reassurance to his bride, whose tears fell silently to water the churned earth.

Sindri remained silent too, in the face of these fresh insults. In fact, everyone did. It took a few beats before Jai realised all eyes were upon him . This time, there was no Feng to speak for him.

‘Do you surrender?’ Jai asked, his voice as loud as he dared make it, without risking the trembling he felt in his throat.

It might seem he was asking the obvious, but Devin replied by letting his blade topple from its seat, and bowing his head low. He swayed, a little. Drunk, it seemed, from the celebration of his marriage. The young man was reeling.

To go from drunken joy, to the rage of battle, to the misery of defeat, and the fear of its consequence. All in a matter of minutes. Jai felt guilty, shame burning his face, incredulous of the steel in Devin’s spine as the young man lifted his chin.

‘Great Khan, I will surrender without more bloodshed. But only if you do not fetter us,’ he said, almost as if in prayer. ‘Take what you will, and let us go. Or at least... let my bride free, and her family.’

Jai realised then that Devin had seen he was untainted – a khan among the Great Tribes of the steppe. And when the Great Tribes hunted the Tainted... their fate was always fettering. To be sold to whichever empire was closest, be it the Phoenixian or Sabine.

That was what Devin thought would happen. Indeed, he could see the bristling of the men behind, ready to turn tail and run. To abandon their nobles to that fate.

Jai cleared his throat. It was time to dissuade them of that notion.

‘You are in no position to make demands. But there will be no fettering this day. Such practice is an abomination.’

Devin dared to look up at him, his eyes red-rimmed, his face tear-streaked where the henna had run. He was a young man, by all accounts, with a noble bearing, a high forehead and a forked, almost piratical beard not dissimilar to Jai’s own.

He seemed confused. Suspicious too, behind those piercing eyes. Jai had accepted his terms, but this was not the way of the steppe. Only now, it seemed, did the man notice Winter, for she sat upon her haunches at Jai’s side.

‘I am Jai, son of Rohan, khan of the Kidara tribe,’ Jai called out, letting his soulbound lungs carry his words. ‘Know this: none of you shall be fettered, if you let fall your blades.’

He waited, until Devin’s father, or so Jai guessed, stood and barked an order.

There was the clatter of metal, as their swords and other weapons fell to the ground. No doubt, they could be snatched up again, but Jai was glad of it. For now at least, he had their attention.

‘You called the Valor traitors,’ Jai barked. ‘They are no such thing. We are one tribe, beneath the Kidaran banner.’

At this, the silence was broken, as the Keldar muttered, the news spreading up and down the line. This too was unheard of. But so too had they also heard of his name, his tribe. Rohan had broken the mould. Jai hoped they might believe he too would do the same.

‘You want your freedom?’ Jai asked. ‘To keep your lives, your weapons, your banners? I ask only one thing of you.’

Devin stared up at him, disbelieving. But within his eyes too, Jai saw a flicker of hope.

‘Name it,’ he breathed.

Jai took a deep breath. This, all must hear.

‘Join me,’ Jai roared. ‘Become my bannermen. Take the blood oath!’