“You’ve grown, Olaha. You look just like your father.”
Zakka, Ohfan, and the others smiled as they watched.
“Go on. Ride him,” Zakka said. Van laughed and swung himself onto the buck’s back. He felt his legs and arms respond instinctively, and he pressed his thighs against Olaha’s flanks, urging him forward. The pyuika leaped into the forest, quickly gaining speed as he wove through the trees.
Thanks to their wide-splayed hooves, pyuika could traverse snowy terrain much more nimbly than deer, which struggled in the snow. However, they still floundered in heavy drifts, and it took considerable skill to ride them across snow-covered ground. Those old techniques came back to Van without thinking. His eyes sought out the best footing, and he automatically shifted his weight ever so slightly from one side to the other to steer Olaha where the snow was lightest.
The speed. The rush of wind in my ears. The pounding hooves. This is what I loved.
Olaha’s antlers had been trimmed to prevent them from catching on branches, and when Van aligned his chin with the space between them, his view fused with that of his mount. They ran together as one body, seeing the same scenery, smelling the same scents, feeling the same wind. Together, they flew over thickets and darted through the trees until they returned to where Zakka and the others waited, watching agape.
“Amazing,” Ohfan whispered, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed like a young boy’s. “Zakka, I only believed half of what you said, but…that was incredible.”
“Pretty fast, aren’t they?”
“Incredibly fast,” Ohfan agreed. “And so nimble.” He turned his shining eyes to Zakka. “I’ve seen many people ride pyuika, but never anything like this. Can every pyuika run like that?”
“No. Van’s exceptional. Unfortunately, there are none left in our clan who ride like him.” Zakka sighed. “It makes my blood boil to know that the Mukonians have found our weakness. They would never have dared to invade in winter when we had plenty of riders like Van who could race their mounts freely across the snow.”
“To be honest, Zakka,” Ohfan began, “when you told me that the Lone Antlers could charge through drifts straight down a frozen cliff, I thought you were exaggerating. But after seeing this, I believe you.”
From their words, Van pieced together what was happening in his homeland. In the past, Mukonian soldiers never dared to attempt crossing the Toga Mountains in winter. The passes froze over, becoming impenetrable, and if they had tried taking the valley trails instead, the Pyuika Riders would have greeted them with a hail of arrows. Historically, advances into the Toga region had always been made via the grassy plain that ran along the great river in the south. However, the Zolian army had since hemmed it with a long stone wall and placed forts strategically. The Mukonian army traveled on horseback in summer and by dog sled in winter. Thus, even a waist-high barricade was enough to deter them.
So now they must be searching for a new route into the mountain regions.
In spring and summer, when vegetation grew lush, they couldn’t see where the Pyuika Riders waited in ambush. During autumn, when the ground was covered in leaves, the Mukonians could not pass through silently, and there was no foliage to hide them.
But the Lone Antlers, the finest of the Pyuika Riders, had been wiped out, and according to Zakka, of those who remained, few were capable of charging their mounts down the snowy cliffs. They couldn’t hope to protect all of this vast mountain region. The Mukonians must have realized this and were trying to invade during winter. Their sled dogs, big as calves, pulled substantial loads, and their soldiers moved swiftly on sleds or skis. As long as the snow was well packed, the Mukonian army could advance rapidly over the wider valley roads. While an uphill climb would slow them down, with no enemy archers on the cliff tops, they could advance at quite a pace, even pulling the supplies and equipment they would need to lay siege to a Zolian fortress.
So that’s it.
Ohfan had been excited to learn that the Mukonians were advancing along the road through the Zakato Ravine. That road crested behind a Zolian border fort. If Mukonian troops attacked from that vantage point, they stood to inflict considerable damage. Even if they didn’t overrun it on the first attempt, the fort would need repairs. By sending waves of reinforcements to repeatedly assault the disabled garrison, they just might succeed in taking it.
Moreover, much of the valley road was lined with steep cliffs on both sides, making it difficult to ambush a force marching along that route without skilled pyuika riders.
The key, then, is the timing. If the Mukonians attack at the right moment, they could capture that fortress.
Pyuika couldn’t move as swiftly over level ground covered in snow. While the Mukonians ran the risk of being caught between the Zolian army and the Gansa warriors, if they chose their timing carefully, they could deploy reinforcements to trap and annihilate any Gansa that tried to attack the first wave of Mukonians.
The Mukonians preferred to keep their main army hidden while sending in multiple contingents to confuse their enemies. The Gansa must have pretended to fall for this ruse, tricking the main army into choosing the road through the Zakato Ravine.
But why?
Were they hoping to make the Zolians regret a slow response with reinforcements? The Gansa had so little to gain by letting the Mukonians damage the Zolian fort. It would just increase the risk of a Mukonian invasion.
Van slid off Olaha to stand beside Ohfan. The chief of the Ahfal Oma glanced up at him and grinned. “Wait until tomorrow night,” he said. “Then it’ll be our turn to show off.”