as the wind’s wet rush,

as the clash of metal on metal,

as the screams, the battle drums,

whilst Tsung rode beside the king,

the horses maneuvering

as if they were a thousand shadows

of a single faultless form—

a thing out of legend,

out of the old times

when dragons aided King Nariz—)

—stopped

—each drum halted between beats

—Tsung’s breath paused

—the boy falling

—Tsung, captain of the king’s guards, forsworn,

the king he took an oath to guard

unguarded

—between the rock’s impact on the king

and the king’s impact on the ground

no excuse

no absolution

DOWN

In the tumult of battle,

the boy, the king, Tsung’s charge

toppled from his horse,

lay askew in the dirt.

The cavalry faltered.

Drums beat. The wind blew hard.

Tsung, captain of King Xau’s guards,

jumped from his horse,

yelled at General Qiang

to circle the horses about the boy.

Xau struggled to sit—

the boy armored so that Tsung

could not tell if he was bleeding,

how badly he was hurt—

The king looked at Tsung: “Help us up.”

Tsung helped the king stand.

Five other guards round them now,

the cavalry ringed beyond that.

Drums, trumpets, shouts,

a volley of incoming arrows.

Tsung grabbed the king’s shield,

offered it to him.

King Xau shook his head.

“We cannot hold it. Help us mount.”

Tsung hoisted him up,

heard the small swallowed sound

the boy made at the jolt.

Xau refused bow, arrows, spear,

his left arm hanging loose.

Took his sword in his right hand,

dipped his head to Tsung:

“Thank you, Captain.”

Tsung remounted beside him

as the king lifted his head

and shouted to his cavalry,

“Ride with us!”

Wind turned to rain

as the king rode forward.

DONAL

“Dismount! Kill your horses!”

King Donal yelled at his cavalry—

his cavalry? Hardly—

He sliced the neck of his warhorse

and it floundered in its own blood.

“Form a shield wall!”

Donal grabbed a fallen pike from the mud,

the shaft slick with rain,

and took a spot in the front line.

Xau’s cavalry charged toward them.

Donal braced himself, pike ready,

but the wave of enemy horsemen split,

poured round to their flanks.

Several horses slipped in the mud.

Through the rain, pouring now,

Donal saw the horses halt,

then maneuver again, more slowly, and withdraw.

Rain. He laughed,

water running under his helmet.

Xau was pulling his cavalry back

to save his horses,

his precious, unbeatable horses—

Donal squelched through the mud,

the mud that had saved him,

and ordered his own soldiers to fall back.

He’d lost the first two battles

holding his few cavalry in reserve.

Today he’d tried to use his cavalry

and the fucking horses

stopped. Mid-charge.

And just stood,

immobile.

After today, Donal was ready to swear

that Xau was King of the Horses,

that the stories were all true—

that ten thousand wild horses

had galloped up to Xau

and begged to help him—

but Donal was buggered if his own horses