Circling the rim of the canyon, he took up a position opposite the corner where the girl must lay hidden, closest to Corporal Merkle.

He’d need no magic for this job.

Han fitted an arrow to the bowstring, drew it back to his ear, and released. At that close distance, the shaft from his longbow spun Merkle half around before he toppled facedown in the snow.

Han was moving before the officer hit the ground. Shouts went up from the men below, echoing against stone. If he could draw the bastards away, perhaps the girl could find a way out of the canyon and escape. But with the loss of Merkle, the men in the canyon couldn’t seem to organize a pursuit or retreat. They milled about, brandishing hand weapons and launching a few belated arrows toward Han’s former position.

Han chose another target and loosed. Ran a little farther and loosed again. Two for two. Bedlam ensued. Three of the remaining four soldiers scrambled for their horses, while the fourth fell dead with an arrow in his eye. Han shot the last three in various stages of mounting their horses.

“Guess you’re not used to targets that shoot back,” Han said. He waited a few moments to see if there was anyone he’d overlooked. One of the fallen soldiers shoved to his knees and crawled painfully toward a bay gelding that stood nearby. Han’s arrow had caught the bluejacket just beneath the rib cage, and he left a smear of blood on the snow as he crept forward, one hand extended in a pleading manner. The bay stood, tossing his head, rolling his eyes, warily watching the wounded man’s approach.

Nocking another arrow, but keeping the tension off the string, Han descended toward him, leaping lightly from ledge to ledge, until he was perhaps a dozen yards above him. Taking his time, he set his feet, drew back the string, aimed carefully.

The soldier wheezed a greeting to the bay, and the horse extended his head toward him, snorting curiously. Lunging forward, he got a grip on the stirrup. Laboriously, he began to haul himself to his feet.

Han’s arrow went clean through the back of his neck, and the man died without another sound.

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Han circled around to just above where he assumed the girlie must be hiding. “Hey, there! Are you all right?” he called.

There was no answer.

“They’re gone.” He peered into the canyon, trying to spot her on a ledge lower down. “You’re safe now. I…ah…chased them off.”

Still no answer. Then again, why should she trust him?