Fateful Lightning by William R. Forstchen

Author:William R. Forstchen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780451451965
Publisher: ROC
Published: 1992-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

It was midnight, the Great Wheel of heaven straight overhead, Shagta drifting low in the western sky, Borgta chasing after it. The day had been hot, and tomorrow would be the same, perhaps worse. He licked his dried, cracked lips. Water was running scarce. Hundreds of horses were dropping. Though he and all those of the hordes loathed to do it, they had been consigned to the cooking pots.

There would be no time this morning for the greeting of the sun. The ride would be straight out and hard, timed to arrive at the river at the hour before dawn.

With luck the killing would be good.

All around him through the darkness, he could sense his riders advancing, heads lowered, weary, an occasional mumbled song or chant drifting in the stillness, the warriors nervous to be riding at night when the steppe was ruled by the ancestor spirits.

From his left came the jingling of a message rider. He looked over and saw the colored lantern bobbing, suspended over the rider's head by a pole strapped to his back. He came straight up to Tamuka, guided by the three yellow lanterns carried by the message flag bearer who marked the position of the Qar Qarth.

The rider came up out of the darkness and swung alongside Tamuka, breathing hard, the smell of horse sweat strong in the air.

"My Qar Qarth, Gubta of the Vushka Hush reports."

"Go on."

"Forward scouts saw a column of cattle horse riders moving southward at sunset, on the far side of the next river. Four hundred, it is believed. A forward scout reported their continuing to move south after the first quarter of night had passed."

Tamuka smiled. It was a chance to trap a tidbit, to wipe out some of those who dared to ride the horse.

"Tell Gubta to force the river by the hour before dawn," Tamuka barked, his sharp teeth glinting in the lantern light. "Close the left wing of the horn upon them. I will be upon the right."

"I am to tell Gubta to cross in the hour before dawn, to close the left wing, you will be upon the right."

Tamuka nodded, and the courier turned and galloped back to the north, the bells of his harness ringing.

A small prize, Tamuka thought, not even half of a thousand, but at least enough to feed two umens for a day, and a chance for a minor victory to change the mood of his warriors.

A dull flicker of red light flared up on the far horizon, and he reined in. There was a moment of superstitious dread, it looked like the beginning of a heavenly fire, when sheets of red and green light, the Curtain of Bugglaah, filled the night sky. If it was so, there was no way the army would continue to move, for all would go to ground, hiding their eyes from the heavens until dawn drove the manifestation of the goddess of death back behind her curtain.

He looked over at Sarg, dimly visible in the starlight.

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