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reappeared, breathless and flushed. 'We're being attacked!' he said, his voice filled with disbelief.
    'Who is attacking us?' Salokan demanded.
    'Some of our pickets came back wounded, and then a hail of arrows fell among the infantry. We don't know who. Riders appeared out of the sun and shot at us, then disappeared.'
    'Chetts,' Salokan said in disbelief. 'It can only be Chetts.'
    'On this side of the Algonka Pass?' another aide asked.
    It's my fault , Salokan told himself. All my fault . Sending Rendle into the Oceans of Grass had been like throwing a stone at a hornet's nest; Rendle had once been a slaver, and the Chetts hated slavers more than anything else. The magnitude of his mistake filled him with a terrible dread. What have I done ?
    'What are your orders?' the first aide asked.
    'My orders?' Salokan looked at him in a daze.
    'What do you want us to do? How do you want us to deploy the army?'
    'The army,' Salokan mouthed. He shook his head to clear it; he knew what had to be done. 'Post the archers on the left flank. Get the infantry and cavalry behind them. No one—absolutely no one!—is to pursue or harass the Chetts. Let them come to us.'
    The aide nodded and wheeled his horse around to give out the orders, but just then a hail of arrows fell among the king and his retinue. The aide fell from his horse, pierced through the throat. Others fell. There were cries of pain and surprise. Before Salokan could rally them more arrows plummeted out of the sky. Riderless horses bolted. His own horse started throwing its head back. He kept a tight rein and spurred his mount into a canter, leaving the dreadful confusion behind him. He tried to find one of his generals—any officer—to pass on his commands, but it was already too late. Formations were breaking up, individual soldiers fleeing in all directions. He heard a wild call behind him and looked over his shoulder. He saw a troop of Chett horse archers galloping through a gap in the marching line, loosing arrows as they went, scattering all before them.
    It was then Salokan realised he had lost his grand invasion force once and for all, and he let the panic touch his own heart. He kicked his horse into a gallop and rode north, away from the terrible Chetts, away from his own disintegrating army.
    He sighed heavily now and leaned his forehead against the saddle, ashamed of his own flight. How could he, King Salokan of Haxus, have allowed himself to behave like a common recruit?
    Just then there was a crashing sound behind him as something heavy started moving through the vegetation. Salokan placed both hands over his horse's muzzle and froze. Then he heard voices. Although he could not make out individual words, there was no mistaking the accent. The Chetts were searching the grove for survivors. He almost panicked again, but retained enough self-control to lead his horse as quietly as possible back to the trail. The Chetts were making so much noise they could not have heard him. Once out from under the closest trees he mounted, leaned over the saddle and urged his horse into a quick walk. The sound of the search dropped behind him and he kicked the horse into a canter. And then the moon flickered back into life. He was riding out of the grove. At that moment there was a great cry ahead and to his left. An arrow magically appeared in his saddle, just a finger's width from his knee, and another caught at his hair. He dug in his spurs and the horse broke into a gallop. Salokan held on for dear life, expecting to feel an arrow in his back at any moment. He wished to God he had never left Haxus, wished to God he had never besieged Daavis, wished to God he had never sent Rendle into the Oceans of Grass after Prince Lynan. Most of all, he wished to God there were no Chetts on the continent of Theare.
    The horse stumbled, managed to right itself, but it slowed down. Salokan jabbed with his heels, whipped with his reins, but the bloody animal was determined to see him killed.