The Sem lost no time in gathering what little they had and leaving Devil Rock. By now night had fallen completely. The eerie, heart-freezing howls of wolves sounded in the distance, borne on the winds that came down from the mountains. Even for the Sem with their excellent night vision the stony terrain made for difficult walking; still, the wildlings dared not use any lights to guide their way. If the Mongauli were to catch them here and now, there was no doubt that the tribes of the Sem would be destroyed to the last warrior.
The wildlings called out to each other as they moved, and those who marched at the outer edges of the group probed the ground ahead with long sticks—a technique, learned during their long years in the desert, that helped to frighten away many creatures of Nospherus before they could draw too near. Angel hair was blowing on the wind, coiling and twining around them, but the eerie floating substance was becoming less plentiful as the wildlings drew nearer to the higher crags. When they looked behind them the Sem could see many flaming torches spread out across the desert, like the lights of a fleet of fishing boats out to sea. It seemed that the Mongauli were arrogant after their victory at the oasis; they were no longer concerned about concealing themselves but wanted instead to push forward at top speed to find any Sem warriors who had survived the battle. Clearly they believed that their opponents no longer had the energy to fight back. The progress of the torches, like stars drifting across the desert, might have appeared dreamy and beautiful to a casual observer, but for the Sem the restless flames looked more like the fires of hell, flickering with the menace of impending death.
“If Riyaad were here…” Siba mumbled. “If Riyaad were here, without doubt he would order us to slip back close to the torches, and make a sneak attack to forestall their advance.”
“And if we did that, we would all be destroyed.” Gaulo had overheard Siba, and sneered in his powerful voice. “Evidently the creature called Riyaad desires us to be wiped out completely. But the Karoi don’t want to get mixed up in Raku business. We would not obey a fool’s orders.”
“Then why do you still follow us, and not take a different path?” Siba snapped back at him.
Gaulo shrugged his shoulders.
“That is funny. The Karoi thought the Raku were helpless and wanted to be with the Karoi. The Karoi are not afraid of oh-mu at all.”
“Are you saying the Raku are afraid of oh-mu?” Siba’s voice rose, and he was bristling. But he regained his self-control when Loto chided him.
“Don’t open your mouth. Focus your mind. We will soon arrive at Dog’s Head Mountain. If the oh-mu realize that, it will be the end of us.”
Suni was walking by Loto’s side. She was clearly suffering from her wounds, but she bore up bravely through the pain and offered no complaint. Siba glanced at her little figure and felt a sharp pang of pity. Then he looked ahead again, and saw Dog’s Head Mountain looming before them. He knew that many fearsome creatures would be lurking there—creatures worse than wolves, some worse even than the monsters of the desert. The Sem had already entered the foothills of the mountain, and the land was rising in uneven ridges, but the mountain itself was still a little distance away, so they could see its strange dog-shaped silhouette clearly. Siba, who was anxiously contemplating the various hazards that would await them once they approached the towering peak, suddenly came to a realization.
“This is the Dog’s Head Mountain, where Riyaad was heading,” he whispered excitedly in spite of himself. “If Riyaad came here, we are getting close to Riyaad.”
Meanwhile the Mongauli were drawing nearer. It was unclear whether or not they had noticed the Sem, but it was obvious that they had come eastward to hunt for them.
The Sem talked amongst themselves as they marched, discussing whether they should change direction to try to shake the Mongauli off their trail. The lights of the pursuers were still fairly distant, and it was impossible to determine if they had realized the Sem’s location, or if it was just a simple coincidence that they had sent their scouts in the Sem’s direction to search. Yet even bull-headed Gaulo didn’t suggest changing direction. If the Sem turned aside now, they would be heading away from the mountains into barren regions where the terrain offered no cover of any kind in which they might hope to hide. After their defeat it seemed natural to all the Sem to seek for a place of concealment.
“Suni, dear one,” a worried Siba called out to the girl as she staggered along. Wounded as she was, Suni was also showing signs of exhaustion and was increasingly lagging behind. “Suni, are you in pain?”
“I am all right. It is nothing!” the granddaughter of the chief asserted bravely. Siba knew that it was only her courage talking, but he felt a little relieved nonetheless. If Suni were to fall too far behind, Gaulo would insist that she had become an encumbrance and probably suggest that they abandon her or even kill her out of mercy. Siba kept an eye on the girl, wondering how long she would be able to keep going. It was not long before he noticed held-back tears shining in her eyes.
“Little Suni. Truly, how are you feeling?”
Suni shook her bandaged head eloquently and gave Siba a pleading look as if she wished to cling to him. After a moment she said in a low voice, “Siba, I want to help Rinda. Please help Rinda.”
“Suni, dear one…”
Siba was at a loss. He was a loyal Raku warrior, but he also admired Riyaad deeply. He had no objections to helping the twins whom Riyaad held in such high regard. Loto was his chief, however, and Loto had no intention of going back—not now, at any rate. It was clear that the tribes would need to settle down for a while before any daring action could be undertaken; Loto needed to talk to Gaulo, to calm him down and win him over, and then perhaps they could think about what could be done for the twins. Right now Gaulo’s faction didn’t care about two oh-mu prisoners. Siba shook his head powerlessly, and Suni pressed her hand to her mouth to keep herself from crying.
Once again the howling of desert wolves drifted down from the mountain crags. It was a sad and terrifying sound, a chilling music that made the hair on the Sem’s backs stand on end.
“…I report that our losses amount to three hundred and sixty-two dead, one thousand five hundred injured, and a few dozen horses killed,” the messenger’s toneless voice sounded in the desert night. “The deaths were almost all among the footmen, and the majority of injuries were caused by stone axe blows to the head or poison darts to the eyes.”
“The number of casualties is higher than I expected.” Amnelis was sitting on an ornate camp stool in front of her pavilion. She wore a satisfied look as she toyed with a whip that lay across her lap. “Still, the losses they suffered were far greater than ours—beyond comparison.”
The oasis had become a scene of gore in which every breath brought in the overwhelming reek of blood. A gruesome pyramid had been built with the severed heads of the Sem; their headless corpses littered the ground. The groans of their wounded had been replaced by a grim and final silence.
The Mongauli army had separated into two forces; one had left to pursue the fleeing Sem warriors, while the other went through the oasis to finish off the survivors. When it had been determined that no more Sem remained alive, this second group quickly reformed its ranks, sent messengers on ahead, and prepared to join the pursuit.
The advance force tracking the remaining Sem kept their comrades at the oasis updated with a constant stream of messages regarding the ape-men’s whereabouts.
“Sightings of Sem in the direction of the mountains.”
“The remaining barbarians have escaped into the hilly terrain to the east; it appears they have established an encampment there.”
“It is believed that the Sem are now heading into the rocky area at the foot of Mount Pherus.”
Amnelis listened attentively to each message as it arrived and responded with rapid-fire orders. “Don’t let them think we are pursuing them too closely. If we let them separate and scatter into the desert it will be difficult to round them up. Slow the pace of the pursuit—let them think that they’ve escaped, then give them a while to gather and regroup. Once they have assembled we will strike them again. Don’t let any of them, not even one, escape alive. Am I right, Gajus?”
“Yes, my lady,” the runecaster answered in a dull voice, gazing out at the lady from under his hood. His grim solemnity contrasted sharply with the keen air of the lady-general whose high spirits had returned.
“General, it will be trouble if they get up into the rocks on the mountainside,” Vlon worried.
Still enjoying the taste of the Mongauli victory and the capture of the twins, Amnelis let his objection pass without becoming angry.
“Of course, I have thought about that. I won’t let them climb the crags. Scout out the approaches—find their paths up onto the mountain—but remain out of sight. Let them think that they have a safe escape route there, but see to it there is a force waiting in ambush at the mountain’s foot. It will serve our purposes perfectly: a one-way path, with no way out. It will be their undoing. Am I right, Gajus?”
“Certainly…”
“But don’t let them suspect what we are doing. To ensure that they’re taken by surprise, let our main force ride with flaming torches, moving slowly to corner them. Meanwhile the holding unit will go on ahead. The main force’s action will be primarily a diversion; it’s the ambush that will do the job. The leader of the holding unit will be… Astrias. He performed well when he captured the twins of Parros. Irrim let too many of the Sem leaders escape.” Amnelis, feeling unusually garrulous, favored her subordinates with a pointed comment. “I didn’t expect that from you, Irrim. I told you to be sure those escape routes were closed off, but you let the wildlings slip through like water leaking from cupped hands. It’s a good thing you have a beard—your face must be red with embarrassment.”
Captain Feldrik of the white knights flinched uneasily at the general’s words.