had joined Tanhara only four days after that last devastating battle. Lending his talents to the healing effort, he had been accepted as a channel without question, and he had let them believe he was a refugee from Fort Faraway which had been completely wiped out.
As far as he knew, he was indeed the last survivor of the Fort Faraway refugees who had been heading for Fort Rimon. He wasn’t about to watch Tanhara and Rimon go down too, not after leading these people all the way here.
As one of Fort Tanhara’s channels, Solamar knew he had no business riding ahead like this. But none of the renSimes was mounted on a horse that could make it.
Nearing the oncoming riders, he drew up and let his chestnut mare breathe while they approached. He manipulated the ambient nager to identify himself as a channel and turned his horse to face the Tanhara wagons.
When the lead riders came abreast of him, Solamar leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s flickering ears, “All right, Trilli, time to run again.” His weary mount took heart and, still blowing hard, fell into the pace of the Fort Rimon defenders.
Solamar went duoconscious, so he could see the renSimes around him as well as zlin for their leader. He found the one with the most disciplined and confident nager, a woman mounted on a fine black stallion—good thing Trilli isn’t in season!
Moving in close, he shouted an explanation of the pack of Gen riders now approaching from the lumbering wagons of Fort Tanhara. The renSime gestured her understanding with three tentacles of her left arm and signaled her riders to spread out, leaving a gap in the middle of their line to allow the Fort Tanhara Gens through.
Solamar noted how quickly the gap between Tanhara’s rear wagon and the lead Freeband Raiders pursuing them had narrowed.
Freebanders had no allegiance to any junct town or government, no law governing their actions. All they wanted was to capture plenty of Gens. All they ever did with Gens was Kill them, savagely stripping the Gen of selyn until the Gen died of the shock.
Freebanders craved nothing in life but the massive, fear-magnified deathshock of Gens. They didn’t Kill to live like the town juncts; they lived to Kill.
The Fort Rimon formation split in a very crisp, disciplined drill. The leader yelled at Solamar gesturing, “We’ll delay the Raiders. You circle your wagons around our gate. Our people will cover you from the walls. Get your people inside. Sacrifice the wagons. Got that?”
Solamar gestured his understanding with two tentacles, grazing her nager with an affirmative flick of his field.
The renSime tossed him a ferocious grin that sizzled through his nerves igniting something wondrously warm deep in his belly.
She shouted, “I do love ordering a channel around! Go!”
With a hearty laugh, Solamar went, wafted on a nageric zephyr breeze of acceptance, admiration, and delighted interest. Every cell of his body returned that interest. He cast his eyes to the heavens. A renSime? Isn’t my life complicated enough already?
The first of the Tanhara Gen riders, some with children mounted in front of them, several carrying infants, and one with a newborn, pounded through the gap in the renSime line. His own Companion, Losa, rode in the middle of the group carrying a baby in the crook of her arm, controlling the horse with her knees. His life might well depend on Losa’s survival.
Solamar cleared the Tanhara Gens and pulled out in front of the Fort’s renSime contingent to race flat out for the wagons.
Shouting and gesturing, he explained the plan with nageric emphasis as the wagons roared past him.
Despite it being beyond his authority to give tactical orders, the Tanhara renSimes driving the wagons set to implementing the Fort Rimon plan.
The cattle and sheep were cut loose. Now that they were inside the valley, the exhausted animals wouldn’t stray far, especially with the dogs herding them. That left the chickens, a few goats, more dogs and some cats, and a dozen geese, in the wagons.
Most of their riding stock had gone ahead with the Gens, leaving all the Tanhara renSimes riding in the wagons, driving them, or mounted on the few horses left. The lead wagons with the wounded also carried most of the channels and Companions to care for them.
The trailing wagons bristled with renSime defenders ready to die for Tanhara if necessary. The last wagon held two hopelessly ill Gens and an elderly channel, ready to sacrifice their lives to give the others a few precious seconds to escape.
Several renSime passengers took positions beside the drivers with arrows at the ready, an unusual weapon brought from out-Territory. Tanhara had been forced to master it during their flight when they met Freebanders who used it to pick off channels and Companions from a distance. One Band had chased Tanhara across two Territories and learned better than to get too close.
As Tanhara readied for the fight, the Fort’s riders passed the wagons at full gallop, speeding to intercept the Freeband Raiders.
They crossed the edge of the tilled fields. Now they rolled over the stubble of harvested wheat fields. The ground was softer, slower, but rock free. Speed picked up. We’re almost there. We’re going to make it.
Zlinning their prey about to escape into the stockade, the Freebanders spurred their horses mercilessly. They wanted those Gens who were fleeing ahead.
Solamar saw one of the Freebanders’ horses founder. The junct Freebander, a scarecrow figure of skin and bones clad in rags, leapt clear of the horse and ran, augmenting his speed by burning extra selyn. Even without a horse, he was still closing on the rear wagon.
Solamar dropped back to the rear wagon just as the Fort Rimon renSimes met the oncoming line of Freebanders.
The Rimon renSimes picked off the leaders with throwing knives, arrows, and bullwhips. The horses and Simes thus downed tripped several more Freebanders. The pile-up slowed the rest of the attackers. Most leapt off their horses and continued on foot.
The Rimon renSimes regrouped and caught up to the last wagon.
The lone runner on foot had now been joined by those unhorsed. Burning extra selyn, they were more desperate than ever to get at the Tanhara Gens.
With a quick scan toward the Fort, Solamar realized that most of the Tanhara Gens were going to make it to safety. But the last wagon was in trouble.
Solamar rode for the Freebanders, gathering his concentration. He grabbed hold of the junct’s personal fields with his own, and yanked hard.
The handful of juncts closing on the rear wagon went down. Oh, shen. They’re dead!
He hadn’t meant to Kill, but juncts could be so fragile, especially the malnourished and dissipated Freebanders.
The leader of the Fort’s renSime troop turned to him and saluted with four tentacles. Even at such a distance and through the surging ambient, he felt her astonishment and approval. But she was also irked at him for not riding on to the Fort gate. She ordered him away with a gesture.
Solamar turned his horse and galloped for the head of the wagon train, feeling his mare laboring with fatigue. He leaned over her neck and told her, “Just a little farther now, Trilli, and you’ll get a good meal and a warm barn to sleep in.” He shifted his weight encouragingly.
As the wagons climbed up to the Fort’s gate, Solamar swung onto the lead wagon’s left rear horse near the failing tackle he’d spotted earlier.
They reached the top of the rise where the area in front of the gate was broad and flat. The gates still stood slightly open.
Solamar gestured the renSime driver to circle right, easing the strain on the failing harness juncture.
They led the first ten wagons into a semi-circle around the gate, and headed the lead wagon straight into the wall of the Fort. Zlinning to judge the right moment as he gentled the skittish horses, Solamar climbed onto the wagon tree and pulled the pin.
With the horses separating from