The Helosundians charged.

Barely fifty yards separated the two forces, but the Golden Hawk retreat stretched that distance. The Fire Hawks and Mountain Hawks started to pull back, too, shortening the Desei lines. Both Helosundian wings charged faster, trying to make sure they would all engage the Desei at the same time, but their flank companies never could quite catch up.

When the Golden Hawk flanks again touched the other units, orders were snapped and the retreat stopped. His soldiers tightened their ranks and set their spears. The Helosundians came on, slowing not out of fear but out of exhaustion. Batting aside spears, men smashed into the Desei line. Swords battered shields, clubs smashed limbs, swords stabbed deep, and screaming men rose into the air impaled on spears.

Pyrust lofted his fan into the air, letting it spin end over end. It slowed, then began to fall again, whirling down like a maple seed. The Helosundians, mistaking this gesture for one of surrender, shouted with great hope.

False hope.

Black arrows arced out from the Shadow Hawks, cutting down the ranks pressing the Desei center. The archers shot again and again, as fast as they could draw and release. Their arrows reached deep into the Helosundian formation and the standard-bearers for the Emerald Dog battalion repeatedly died as they fought to keep their unit’s standard from touching the ground.

From behind Pyrust came the rumble of thunder-though he was certain no one in the battle heard it. To the right and left of his hill came the Silver and Iron Hawks. Quartets of horses pulled massive war chariots, with two archers on risers behind the drivers. Sword blades four feet in length had been welded to each axle. They spun and glittered in the morning sunlight as the chariots came around the hill and into the battle.

Arrows ate into the Helosundian flanks, then the chariots grazed past. The blades cut men down horribly and their screams sparked panic in their fellows. Each man on the flank knew he was next, and few willingly faced death. Many fought to get deeper into the formation, which destroyed any pretense of discipline or order. Others just broke and ran-and this tactic was rewarded by an arrow in the back.

Chaos reigned among the Helosundians. Their back ranks turned and ran. The flanks buckled, which allowed his wings to push forward, inverting the battle line. While there were valiant and fierce warriors among the Dogs, they were rebels and did not merit honorable treatment. If they managed to kill his warriors in even combat, squads of Shadow Hawks would order the others back and shoot them.

And, curiously enough, he found no valiant warriors among the Helosundian leaders.

Pyrust watched the rebel force disintegrate, then retrieved his fan, raised it, and snapped it closed. His order slowly filtered through the troops, and they returned to camp, save those set out as pickets, those designated to dispatch the grievously wounded, and those sent to look for prisoners who might have information or be good for ransom.

He studied the field, then shook his head. As Urmyr has said in The Dance of War, with an understanding of weakness and strength, an army can strike like a millstone cast at an egg. The Helosundian force had been smashed and its yolk lay red and writhing on what once had been a green field.

“Yours is a great victory, Highness.”

Pyrust tucked his fan into his left gauntlet. “So it would seem, Mother of Shadows. Then again, a millstone should crush an egg, should it not? We shall see how things go when we meet another millstone.”

The crone pointed south toward Nalenyr. “The millstone waiting you there is small and brittle. Prince Eiran commands a Naleni force made up of westron troops. They will not stop you.”

“Do they know we are coming?”

“Not yet. Your Black Hawks and Stone Hawks have cut the road south, so refugees will flee toward Vallitsi. They will have things to tell the Council of Ministers.”

Pyrust nodded. “News from home?”

“All is well, though work slows because of those being drawn into the military. No alarm has gone out. The Hyreothi ambassador thought to send a message, but his courier died.” The assassin’s eyes narrowed. “I do have more news from the south, Highness.”

“Yes?”

“The reason the westrons are under Helosundian command is because Count Turcol of Jomir is dead. He was riding with Prince Cyron when bandits ambushed the royal party. All of the westrons died and Cyron was grievously wounded.”

“Wounded? How badly?”

“Rumor has it he may lose his left hand.”

Pyrust looked down at his own left hand, his half hand. “That could be dangerous. Losing half my hand made me twice as smart as I’d been before.”

“Four times an idiot is still an idiot, Highness.”

“As is twice an idiot, Delasonsa.”

She bowed her head to him. “I did not mean it as an insult, Highness.”

“I know, but I also know you are too intelligent to dismiss Cyron so lightly. Those were not bandits. Was it Turcol who wanted him dead, or were the assassins sponsored by someone else?” Pyrust’s expression tightened. “They were not ours, were they?”

“No, Highness, else they would be dead now. So would the Prince have been. The agent I have in position believes Turcol hatched the plan on his own. But this does not preclude others choosing the same tactic, Highness-even yourself.”

The Desei Prince firmly shook his head. “No. It shall not be an assassin of mine who kills Cyron at this time. I reserve that option for one of my troops, or myself.” He smiled, imagining the look of surprise on Cyron’s face when he pinned him to the throne with his sword.

“I shall let that be known, Highness.”

“Very good.” Pyrust pointed back toward the battlefield. “There will be survivors. See what they know. Save nine of the most hearty. Blind three, cut the ears off three, and cut the tongues out of three. Send one of each on to Moryne, Vallitsi, and Solie. Let them show their brothers what the fate shall be of all who resist us. Worse will come to their families.”

“Your will shall be done, Master.”

“And, Delasonsa, let them know that those who choose to fight for the honor of Princess Jasai shall be welcomed as brothers, feted as champions, and showered with glory as heroes.”

The crone raised an eyebrow. “Linking their fate with hers, Highness, might not be the most wise course. You will make them think they are men.”

“You’re doubtlessly right, but they shall be the millstone I cast south, and south again. Better I learn how to fight whatever I face over their bodies than those of my Hawks.”

The Mother of Shadows remained still for a moment, then nodded. “There will be war enough to consume them all.”

“And dead enough to choke Grija.” Pyrust raised his head. “And with a proper knowledge of weakness and strength, we shall not be among them.”