Waithe halted his horse and drew a deep breath, steeling himself to the upcoming fight. Every muscle tensed and his heart sped in anticipation. His battle trained mind unconsciously evaluated multiple strategies.

Three hooded men drew curved swords in unison while the fourth pulled up a crossbow. Their eyes glared, cold and unnatural, with irises as dark as their hoods. For a moment a tense stillness held, each side studying the other, while the horses huffed and pawed the rocky soil, eager for action. The hooded men broke the impasse. With a battle roar, the swordsmen kicked their horses and charged, swords held aloft.

Waithe yelled to Alden, "Take Ceres and Eira up to the rocks!"

Waithe swirled his sword in challenge to draw the enemies to him, giving Alden some time to guide the others away. Urging his horse forward, he swept to the right side of the attackers so he would cross swords with only one of them, not all three at once.

Alden and Ceres leaped from their horses and pulled them the few steps to be among a field of giant granite boulders. Alden found an area that would be defensible and motioned Ceres within. Eira shuddered in Ceres' arms. Seeing them secure for the moment, Alden grabbed his longbow and quiver, then jumped up on top of a flat rock. He notched an arrow and surveyed the ongoing battle. 

Waithe used his sword to block a wild chopping thrust from the man closest to him. With swords locked, he thrust his left leg up and kicked his opponent hard in the stomach. The man grunted and slid off his saddle, crashing to the ground among the dust and wildly flying hooves.

Waithe clashed blades with the other two, maneuvering himself on horseback to avoid being trapped between them.  The barrage of slashing blades had him in a defensive posture, unable to launch an attack on his own. The fourth dark man raised his cocked crossbow. Waithe twisted his body as the bolt flew, slicing his shirt as it whizzed past. Warm liquid seeped down his side from the stinging graze across his chest.

He yelled out, "Alden, the crossbowman!"

The crossbowman pulled back the lever to cock his crossbow and notched another bolt. As he stood, Alden let loose an arrow. The man dropped the crossbow and bent over to grab at the arrow embedded in his gut, then curled down to the ground.

Waithe pulled back closer to the rocks where Ceres and Eira hid, facing the two swordsmen on horseback. They eyed each other for a tense moment, then Waithe lowered his sword and pointed at one, taunting him with a come-here motion of a forefinger. Enraged, the man kicked his horse and charged with his sword held high.

This was what Waithe wanted. The headlong charge by a single rider took away the advantage they would have had attacking together and he could use the rider's momentum against him. As the swordsman neared at full gallop, Waithe urged his horse back a step. As a thrust of the man's sword cut only air, Waithe swung his sword high and horizontal, slashing across the man's neck as he passed by. Blood spurted from the cut as the dark uniformed man's horse slowed, and the sword fell from his limp hand while his head slumped to the side. Then he slid out his saddle and settled like a sack of cloth to the dusty ground.

With a yell, Waithe pushed his horse forward toward the remaining attacker, also on horseback. Metallic clangs sounded as their blades clashed. Pounding hooves lifted clouds of dust as the horses circled each other in a violent dance. Waithe blocked repeated thrusts from his opponent's blade. Abandoning any thought of finesse, he pressed closer and pounded his sword down against the other blade, again and again. Eventually, Waithe overpowered his opponent and knocked the sword from his hand. With one more quick motion, Waithe thrust his sword into the man's chest. The man's black eyes should have shown something: fear, sadness, acceptance, anything; but they remained cold and distant. Waithe pulled out his bloodied sword and pushed the dark man out of his saddle.

A motion to his left caught Waithe's eye and he swung his sword around behind him, locking blades with the first dark man that he had kicked off a horse, now on his feet. The man's hood fell back to reveal a gash on his forehead. The black sash that once covered his mouth settled around his neck. With jaw clenched, the man lowered his eyebrows in rage, but like the others, his dark eyes were cold. For a moment they struggled at a stalemate. The man braced his feet and pushed hard, taking advantage of Waithe's awkward position.

Waithe tumbled backward off his saddle and landed hard in the dusty rocks, the impact jarring the sword from his hand and the air from his lungs. His mouth tasted of earth as he willed his dazed mind to act.  The dark swordsman rounded the horse and raised his sword for the killing blow. But with a faint hollow thunk, he jerked, and his motion stopped with Alden's arrow protruding from his back. Waithe seized the moment and drew the long knife from his belt, reached up, and plunged it into the man's gut.

Waithe pushed the man aside to the ground as he pulled his bloodied knife out. Rising to one knee, he panted to catch his breath. With lifted eyes, he grinned at Alden on the rock above and raised a hand in salute. Ceres stood beside Alden with a hand on his shoulder.

Ceres' eyes shot wide open, and she pointed. "Waithe! Behind you!"

The crossbowman had managed to stand, an arrow still sticking out from his gut. He staggered and aimed his crossbow. Waithe pulled out a knife from his boot and threw it in a single fluid motion, striking the bowman in the chest, but as he fell back, the crossbow triggered and sent the bolt whizzing past Waithe.

Waithe snapped his head around as Alden yelled out. "Ceres!"

She fell back into Alden's arms, her mouth breathlessly open, grasping at the bolt buried in her side. A blood-red blossom grew out around it.