A rider tore into the bivouac an hour after sundown.

  “Liel, a sail approaches four miles to the west!" he sang out.

  Tirlav sprang to his feet. He’d been sitting and shaving arrowshafts in a circle with the riders held in reserve. He didn’t need to give a command. Tirlav made sure the riders were prepared at all times, even requiring they sleep in their armor. The riders sprinted toward where their vaela browsed new-strewn fodder under picket. They had practiced for this. He had caused false alarms to be raised on three occasions to test their response, but he had not ordered this alarm, and his heart raced. One moment they sat in a mundane task, and the next they were rushing through the trees with bows and quivers in hand.

  The vaela threw their heads back in alarm at the sudden onrush, but they too had practiced. In moments, fifty-four Vien were mounted and heading west. Tirlav had debated how many of the contingent should be spread along the shore and how many he could keep together to respond to any incursions. He had settled on this balance, and as they raced westward at a gallop, he questioned everything all over again. There were other camps of riders waiting across the miles of their shoreline, but they would not arrive in time to repulse a landing.

  The warning sentry led them to a rocky bit of coast with thickets of hawthorn growing thick at the edge of the strand before giving way to a stand of mature hackberry. Despite the treachery , some sandy spots lay between slick wet rocks on the shore. They dismounted and left their vaela under guard, moving down toward the shore in single file along a narrow track. Tirlav gave the order to wait near the outer edge of the thickets while he proceeded with the sentry who had given the alert.

  A two-masted carrack lay at anchor beyond the reef. The plume of Miret, stationed along the coast of Talanael, had wisely commissioned a woodcut of the various types of human ships, with notations as to their capacities. He had sent copies to the other plumes along the coast, and Tirlav had studied it at great length. The human carrack was unlike the sleek ships of the Vien, but it could carry far more souls, if the humans could be considered as having souls. He felt a pang of guilt at that thought, remembering Coir across the sea in Nosh.

  It was a cloudy night; the morning rains might come a few hours early. Even in the darkness, Tirlav could see the movement of boats being lowered over the sides. It was almost certain the humans would make for the narrow stretch of sand before them, nearly twenty-yards wide and sheltered between tangles of boulders that broke the longshore current. Once there, the dense thickets would likely funnel them down the narrow track where the Children of Aelor now waited.

  It was impossible to form a plan for every possible landing point and scenario, but Tirlav had tried, mulling them over in his mind. Each potential action of the enemy, from choosing the shore to the manner of their beachhead were like the opening notes of a melody. If they chose one note, Tirlav might respond with an appropriate counterpoint. But if they chose a different note, a different turn of melody may fit.

  It would be easy enough to repulse them on the beach. He could line his contingent up on the twenty yards of sand once they came in range and rain volleys of arrows down on them until they turned back. But what would that accomplish? These human dogs sought to capture slaves or steal the vaela and other creatures they believed to have magical properties. They might fight, but mostly they wanted to strike and flee, hoping not to meet resistance. If they repulsed the humans without inflicting great loss, they might simply sail to a new spot along the coast to try again or prey upon some honest Noshian caravel or Vien craft out of Talanael.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Tirlav waited in the shadows of the thicket, watching as the small boats bobbed alongside the carrack. Then, he saw dark shapes moving from behind the ship. There were more boats coming from the far side, pulled by oars. Soon, six boats in total headed toward the shore, but they were not all of a size. One was much larger than the others. He had heard that the boats the Lishni contingent repulsed had contained around thirty men each. The humans had formed a roof of shields over their heads once the arrows had started to fall, and their losses were small. If the numbers held true, then at least 180 armed men pulled toward them even now. His gut told him it was more. Had he made a mistake, putting so many sentries to watch at such short intervals along the coast? It had reduced their strength to respond.

  Could he do anything other than try to keep them from landing? Who was he to make such a decision? He should be sitting in a tree far from there, his fingers feeling the vibration of harp strings. The waves rolled onto the sand, making the blue bioluminescent algae scintillate in the night.

  Hormil’s words returned to him. No. He was already dead. He was already dead. His old life was over.

  Tirlav spun on his heel and rushed back up the track, followed by the sentry. His heart raced in his chest.

  “Elnan!” he said. “Tereth!”

  “Liel,” they responded in unison.

  “Ride now and warn those in the groves to flee inland. Go!” There were vien kelp gatherers living nearby.

  The two Vien turned and fled. Tirlav looked to the next in line.

  “Glentel, fly west and tell High Tir the humans land in force. Have word sent to Hormil.” The High Tir contingent was closest, their first sentries only three miles away. It was mere chance that Tirlav was on the western end of their coast that night, but their next significant band of riders was ten miles east.

  “Sholn, ride east to the next station and bring them with haste.”

  Glentel fled. With the sentries that had been stationed at this beach, that left him fifty-nine Vien. Tirlav called out eight names in line. Eight echoes of “Liel” responded. Was it enough, or too many? If this note failed, the defense may turn into an embarrassment. He could still rain arrows upon them and try to force their withdrawal. He took a steadying breath.

  “Hide yourselves beneath the thickets. When we have drawn their strength inland, stave in their boats. Use your swords or rocks or whatever you can. If you cannot stave them, then steal their oars.”

  “Liel, they will put guards on their boats.”

  “Kill them. Cut off their escape however you may, but do not sacrifice your lives. Hide again when the main force returns to the beach.”

  With words of assent, the eight chosen riders slunk past toward the beach.

  “The rest, with me,” Tirlav said. He jogged back toward the vaela in the hackberry grove. How well did humans see at night? He looked at his warriors. They wore dark silks overtop of their mail to break the gleam at night. In the grove, the woods opened up as the thorny thickets gave way to the mature trees. He called out three more names.

  “Light a lamp here,” he commanded. “Give your weapons over to us, and your helms. When the humans come up the trail, shout in fear and flee inward. Act like fearful folk and not warriors. Draw them away after you.”

  Hurrying against time, his heart thumping, Tirlav snapped one order after another. This he had not planned in advance, but they were merely the next notes if he was to deal a true blow to the humans. What if Hormil disapproved? What if he should merely repulse them as the Children of Lishni had done? Pushing away the doubts that assailed him, he let himself play the melody as it came, one note after another, a sensation like falling, like riding a galloping vaela, trusting his body and mind.

  Patreon. The support is appreciated.

  https://discord.gg/JtJYdhmsVp