“You don’t want them to see you beaten, do you?” Miro grinned.
“So sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“You haven’t seen me fight,” Miro said.
He tossed one of the swords to Killian, who deftly snatched it out of the air.
“Let’s start with a classic move: the feint and thrust. Let me see your stance.”
Shaking his head, Killian formed an awkward fighting stance.
“Turn your body to the side; that way you present a smaller target,” Miro said. “Good. Now keep your elbow bent and your arms limber. Watch my eyes and my feet above all; don’t focus on my hands. With training, you’ll block without thinking.”
Miro leapt forward and smashed his wooden sword into Killian’s exposed side. The almost indiscernible symbols on Killian’s body lit up with fire in response to the blow. Killian made a clumsy attack, and Miro ducked under the outstretched arm to thrust again at Killian’s chest, striking harder this time. Still, Killian didn’t even grunt in pain.
“A challenge?” Miro said, lightly panting.
“I can’t help it.” Killian smiled and shrugged.
“Never fear. I always like a challenge.”
Miro sped forward to launch a flurry of blows, finally angling his leg behind Killian’s ankle and pushing Killian to fall flat on his back.
“You need to move faster,” Miro said. “But to know how to move, you need to read your opponent. Let’s go again.”
Killian climbed back to his feet, his brow now wrinkled in frustration.
“Look how I’m holding my sword,” Miro said. “Copy me. Yes, that’s it. Now copy my posture. Stand more relaxed. Now, you try an attack.”
Killian shuffled forward and made a cut at Miro’s eyes. He suddenly stopped the blow and changed his attack, instead thrusting at Miro’s chest.
“Good. Feint and thrust. Now let’s try a riposte. Block my blow, and then thrust under my attack.”
Miro cut overhead, and the two wooden swords clattered together. Killian nimbly cut underneath Miro’s extended arm, sending a blow at Miro’s abdomen.
Miro sucked in his stomach, drawing back before the blow could strike home.
“When the time comes to strike, don’t hesitate. It’s the most common mistake I see. You have the advantage, so seize it!” Miro tossed away his sword. “Let’s see if you can strike me.”
Killian grinned, his eyes glinting, and the emperor’s training began.
46
As Ilathor recovered from his wounds, Jehral continued to deploy his own tactics against the enemy. He led sortie after sortie, and worried that when Ilathor’s health returned, the kalif would once more lead wild charges. If Jehral’s command would soon be taken away, he wanted this time to count.
He built deep traps and long ditches in the enemy’s path and closed canyons with boulders. He diverted rivers to block their passage and built fires so they couldn’t see in the smoke. For every real diversion, Jehral ensured there was a false one. Interspersed with every labor of effort, Jehral had the Hazaran elders create confusing illusions of cloud and fire.
Attacking the flanks, harassing the horde, Jehral slowed the enemy’s progress to a crawl. Yet the distance to Seranthia shrank each day. The scouts said they were now just a week’s travel from the city.
Giving half of his men some much-needed rest, Jehral now led a smaller group after discovering an opportunity to hunt down some stragglers. The scouts reported that a splintered force of revenants had vanished between two jagged hills.
As he passed under the heights, Jehral scanned the tops of the cliffs even as he kept his men in a careful skirmishing line. The crowded hills became a canyon, and Jehral cursed that he hadn’t scouted more carefully. The past few victories had been easy.
He saw the trap too late.
Revenants sprang from the sides of the canyon and in a mass at the front, closing in on all sides. To continue forward would be to die.
The enemy commander was learning.
“Turn back!” Jehral cried. “Retreat!”
Wheeling his mount, Jehral turned his men back the way they’d come. Even as the horsemen spun around, revenants leapt forward to pull men from their horses, tearing into them with weapons and bare hands. Jehral charged into the encirclement, cutting into the enemy as he tried to break free of the ambush.
“To me!” he called.
Finally, Jehral broke free, but risking a glance over his shoulder he saw he’d left men behind, entangled with the enemy. Jehral cursed; there was nothing he could do to help them. He spurred his horse forward, hearing the thunder of hooves behind him as the survivors flocked to his call.
Then Jehral saw more of the enemy ahead, closing the canyon completely. A new force of revenants formed a solid wall, pikes bristling in front of them. Jehral tried to charge, but his horse shied away from the barrier.