Steven Brust - Dragon

There was an odd, unreal quality to the whole thing that lingers in my memory even now. I stood with Daymar on one side of me and Napper on the other, with the whole war, or at least a crucial part of it, rushing down on me, with Fornia amidst his honor guard and sorcerers turning away from us as if we were suddenly no part of their world and certainly no threat to them.

Well, okay, we were no threat to them.

I knew what Fornia was doing, I knew why he was doing it, I knew where it would lead; and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

There's a certain frustration that players of S'yang Stones get when their best shots fail and their opponents keep getting lucky breaks. I've seen it, and I've had it happen to me. You start just throwing your stones, even the flat ones, almost at random, as if you want to punish yourself for your bad luck by playing badly. I was feeling the same thing right now.

Was I making a bad play out of frustration, or was I really getting the odds I needed, now that the battle was loud and everyone had their backs to us?

I threw a shuriken into the throat of the man in front of us, the one who was threatening Napper, and then planted a knife in the throat of the one to my left; I heard Napper draw his sword, and by the time I turned around the third of the guards was dead and Napper was finishing off the one I'd started on. I caught of glimpse of Daymar staring, wide-eyed.

Better yet, Fornia hadn't noticed, nor had any of his group.

Napper said, "What's the plan?"

That almost made me laugh. A little demon in my head wanted me to say "Kill them all," but I resisted temptation.

"Boss, does this situation seem a little absurd to you?"

"Absurd? Well, among other things, yes."

Then Morrolan's band reached Fornia's honor guard, and the game was being played in earnest.

I saw Aliera, now dismounted, standing next to Morrolan; around them were several others I didn't recognize, and behind them—where she came from I couldn't say—behind them, mounted, was Sethra Lavode, holding the weapon I knew to be Iceflame. They were all of them heading straight for Fornia, who was waiting with the patience of a gambler who has staked everything he has on one throw and knows, now that the coins are spinning, that all he can do is wait and see which way they land.

My task was simple, put that way: just reach my hand out and scoop up the coins before they stopped spinning. And somehow contrive not to have my hand cut off.

Now that was a thought.

Good. I had a thought. All I had to do was combine thought with opportunity and I'd have something else: a chance.

I tried to make contact with Morrolan, but either I didn't know him well enough or he was concentrating on his mayhem too hard, or both. Probably both. I knew Aliera even less, but it was a worth a try—

And at that moment Fornia's honor guard fell back toward us as a body, struck by Morrolan's attack—or, more exactly, the remnants of the Eastern cavalry that was being pushed into Fornia's honor guard—and the three of us had to scramble or be trampled down.

"The plan," I told Napper, "is not to get killed."

"We could attack from behind."

"And get maybe two each at the most before they wiped us out. I don't think so."

Now, you must understand that, as we were speaking, we were also running to get away from the retreating honor guard. This left me facing the northeast, the highest part of the hill. I touched Napper's arm and said, "Look. What's that?"

He stopped in his tracks, watching another mass of humanity head toward us. "That's the hammer," he said. He gestured back over his shoulder and said, "And that's the anvil."

"Well, we had to expect him to have reinforcements handy once Morrolan started breaking through."

"That makes me feel better," said Napper.

Daymar, who had been silent this entire time, said, "I think I am perhaps no longer useful here."

"Does that mean you can teleport now?"

"Not exactly. I was thinking of a different method."

I thought of Morrolan's window and an idea began to form. I said, "Tell me about it."

He stared at me with a puzzled expression and said, "I was thinking about running."

"Oh," I said. "I hadn't thought of that."

The battle continued pressing toward us, and the approaching company looked to be light infantry.

"Do you think Morrolan will reach Fornia before the reinforcements arrive?" said Napper.

"If Fornia has his way, he will."

"Beg pardon?"

"I have to do something," I said.

"Like what?"

"Something clever."

We backed up a little farther. "Clever," said Napper, "will only get you so far."

I didn't answer, because things had gotten even louder, and that just wasn't the right moment to be philosophical. The light infantry was closing on us quickly, and on the other side Easterners were dying, and to the smells of battle that I've already refused to describe once we can add the distinctive and equally unpleasant smell of dead and dying horses.

What Napper said was reasonable, though: Fornia's plan wasn't "clever" in the usual sense; rather it was a bold, calculated gamble, like redoubling the bet when the pattern is in your opponent's favor but one perfect throw could give you the game and you're down to your last flat stone.

"Napper," I said aloud. "I think it's time to die valiantly. What do you think?"

"Yes!" he said.

"How 'bout you, Daymar? Want to join us?"

"In what?"

"We're going to attack, of course."

"Oh. Very well," he said.

"He's not armed," pointed out Napper.

"I most certainly am," said Daymar, sounding slightly offended.

Well, he wasn't carrying a blade, but I believed him.

"All right," I said. "That one, with his hair in a queue, is Ori. He is preparing a split-second teleport as part of Fornia's plan to, well, never mind. The important thing is to kill him. Killing Fornia will be harder, because he is surrounded by his honor guard, but it isn't as important either. It is Ori who has to die."

"All right," said Napper.

"Very well," said Daymar.

"Any questions?"

There were none.

"Charge," I said conversationally.

We walked forward at an even pace. I had evidently drawn a dagger at some point, and I held it in my right hand. Spell-breaker was in my left, swinging in circles. It had grown longer somehow, to almost three feet, I think, and the links were bigger; its swing covered my whole body, and Daymar on my right and Napper on my left.

Napper said, "Should we give them a yell as we go in?"

"No," I said. "We should say nothing. No more talking."

"You're going to strike them in the back, without warning?"

"Yes."

"I don't—"

"You volunteered for this. We're doing it my way. If you don't like it, take off. In either case, keep quiet."

"Yes, sir," said Napper. It didn't occur to me until later to wonder if he was being ironic. Thinking about it, I don't believe he was.

Yes. Battles are decided, Sethra told me, when timing and momentum and courage all come together and, at just the right moment, someone fails to make a critical mistake and doesn't manage to miss a vital opportunity. An opportunity that, perhaps, no one quite realized was there, because it is just all too confusing to have a complete grasp of everything that is happening. I was right in the middle of it, and I still don't know enough about who was doing what to give a complete picture. But I have my incomplete picture; I have to be satisfied with that, and you will, too.

As we approached, I reached out for Daymar, who was astonishingly easy to make contact with, and I said, "What is Ori doing?"

"Which one is Ori again?"

"That one."

"Oh. I don't know what he's doing exactly. They're still blocking me. But he's concentrating on a spell of some kind."