The Peasant Read Free

the rim, we secreted most of our rebels, so the Imperial sectathons couldn't count how many we were. To catch the scouts sent to inspect the shielded areas visually, we placed snares in all likely approaches, a trick so primitive no one thought we'd use it. In the canyon entrance we assembled a hundred volunteers—the same number of rebels we'd whispered in just the right ears. Their shields flickered on and off as though malfunctioning, betraying their presence. Our strategy was to make the Arrow Warriors think we'd scattered the shields in and around the canyon to make our numbers appear greater than they were, a ruse often used to deceive an enemy. Our deception was we actually
did
have rebels under those shields.
    The Imperial Battalion marched toward the Caven Hills, Howling Tiger in command. The Emperor had allowed the Prefect's younger brother to lead them to save Scowling Tiger's face. They tried to march through the rough terrain in orderly rows and columns, trying to maintain formation in vain.
    Watching them, Brazen Bear and I laughed so hard we pissed all over ourselves. Father had taught us to adapt our strategies and tactics to the terrain, and we exploited their failure to adapt.
    After they got within ten miles of us, our unshielded sectathons analyzed their composition—the numbers of their swordsmen, archers, spearmen, pyrathons, portathons, thermathons,
et cetera
. The outlanders didn't turn on their own electrical shields until they came within a mile of the canyon, where they camped. Howling Tiger offered to parlay, but the contingent leader refused, as we'd instructed. Only sixteen, with little patience, Howling Tiger waited only one day before attacking the camp in the defile.
    The contingent had ample warning of the attack. In most battles, the attacking force will launch volleys of arrows to soften the defenders. The Arrow Warriors didn't bother. They just charged the contingent, so certain of victory they took few precautions. The contingent resisted as well as they could. The defile protected their flanks and kept the Arrow Warriors from surrounding them.
    As the battalion was about to rout them, the rebel contingent retreated into the canyon. Tasting victory already, Howling Tiger ordered his whole force to give chase. Almost a thousand Arrow Warriors, the lust for victory boiling in their veins, surged into the canyon in pursuit of perhaps fifty rebels. They quickly slaughtered so small a force.
    After nearly all the Arrow Warriors entered the canyon, I signaled the kinathons on the hilltops overlooking the entrance with a big red flag. The most potent telekinetics I could find in the Caven Hills, the two men pushed tons of earth and rock into the defile to block the only way out. On the same signal, other kinathons hurled boulders and trees into the canyon from under the electrical shields, which stop only psychic energy. I signaled our archers to let fly and sent a rain of arrows into the enemy. Still, I kept our swordsmen back.
    The enemy hurled back some projectiles and fired a few arrows. Since they couldn't see or detect us, most of their missiles missed. The scene below was bedlam. From my vantage point, I could see Howling Tiger, his sword in hand and armor glinting in the sun. He looked furious as he tried to organize his warriors, most of whom ran back and forth like trapped rats.
    I waited, knowing we needed to kill as many enemy as we could before committing our main force. The deluge of arrows began to slacken. My archers had almost exhausted their quivers. I asked the Infinite to keep the souls of the brave volunteers who'd baited the trap and sacrificed themselves. Smiling, I looked at my brother. Brazen Bear nodded and drew his sword. I gave the signal.
    Rebels poured down the canyon sides, five hundred strong, my brother and I leading the way. The maelstrom of psychic energy was terrible.
    Mine and my brother's talents worked in ways we'd never imagined. The talent is nearly