Shifting temperatures stirred the air over the hills. Low breezes sighed faintly in his ears. There was nothing to see.

He hugged his cloak tighter. He was going to freeze up here.

But soon he heard a sound so familiar that he had almost failed to notice it: a faint rattle. Muted by distance, it was barely audible. Still, he recognized it.

Hooves. Many hooves.

In the gap between those hills, the shadows seemed to seethe. At first, they squirmed vaguely. Then they boiled, spitting horsemen into the moonlight.

A long stream of horsemen. Hellick tried to estimate their numbers. He saw at least fifty—

In that instant, muzzle flashes split the night. The barking crash of a fusillade hit his ears. Long lines of rifles on both sides of the charging raiders fired.

And fired again. Again.

The el-Algreb on each side shot with the reckless abandon of wounded men. At that range, they could hardly miss.

Hellick could not pick out the shooting warriors. If they had been mounted, the moon would have exposed them. If they had been upright, their foes might have spotted them. They were prone, using the ground to brace their sore arms, their damaged shoulders.

Stuttering between light and shadow, bodies slammed to the ground. They landed hard, blundered against each other. The clamor of gunshots and screams mingled with the shrill shrieks of horses. In some ways, the mounts were better targets. During a charge, a fallen fighter was as useless as a dead one.

Somehow, Suti al-Suri’s people had chosen the path of the attack. They had lured the Cleckin into an ambush.

The horse-warriors might act like children, but they knew what they were doing.

Beasts and riders fell, tripped the raiders behind them. Howls, cries, and curses filled the darkness. Hellick heard the sickening shatter of bones. The horses screamed in agony. The charge had already been broken, but the raiders following around the curves of the hills did not know that. They kept coming.

Hellick counted six volleys. Six bullets in each clip. He expected the el-Algreb to exchange clips and go on firing. They did not. Suddenly, they were gone, melting into the shadows like bits of nightmare.

Their disappearance saved them. Prone, the warriors could not counter javelins and blades. They would have to rise. And Cleckin from the rear were flinging themselves off their mounts to attack on foot. But they could not locate their assailants.

As the sub-Commander raised his head to shout his approval, surprise closed his throat. Streaks of flame in the distance wrenched his attention away from the fighting below him.

Fire-arrows!

Suti al-Suri’s people had more than rifles, more than cutlasses and throwing knives. They had archers. And they were not content with ambushing the Cleckin. They had prepared a different attack as well.