Troops were disturbed by the need to sit in the forest. Ymdaton could tell by the way men glanced around, too often and too suddenly. They had the right to be anxious. Both Drevlyani and Kinani warriors knew that among the trees something would always stalk you. They were not too deep in the woods, just far enough from the road that they would not be seen from it.

“Do you think it will work?” asked Abimnupal who displayed no signs of unease.

“That is a reasonable strategy,” answered Ymdaton who sat beneath the same oak as his friend, “We do not have enough numbers to defeat the alliance of cities openly. It is only logical to try and thin their forces on the way, so that when their army reaches the walls of Khladnetz it would be but a pale shadow of its original strength.”

“No, not that. I trust lord Azytenisar completely, when it comes to planning the war. I am talking about this ambush.”

“Why won’t it?”

“Well, the whole idea is based upon a report from a man whose reputation I broke last year. I doubt his intention to help,” grinned his friend.

“You haven’t heard him talk. I did. He sincerely wishes us victory.”

“So, the one who leads that force we are about to encounter is a dumb bloodthirsty prick.”

“Well, if you put it like this,” said Ymdaton with a smile, “Toogover is a prominent warrior and leader. He is rash and vengeful though. I heard he once was travelling with a small band of warriors when a swarm of borovici attacked them. They fought the attack off, but found that a lot of their equipment was stolen during the skirmish. So he led his men into the green and hunted poor things until the last of them was slaughtered and the last piece of equipment was retrieved. Yes, I think he will fall for it.”

A sentry climbed down the tree and ran to Azandahy, who was in charge of the mission.

“They are coming,” reported he, “The bait party is being chased by forces of Belosten down the road.”

“Have you signalled the squad at the other side of the road,” asked the pigeon face.

The warrior nodded.

“Ready yourselves!” raised his voice the Kinani commander, “On my command we emerge from the forest and attack the enemy force.”

Soon the noise of countless charging bakhmats could be heard. Crewmen and militia grabbed their weapons tightly and prepared to move.

“Not yet,” said Azandahy, “We wait until they pass a little further, so that the retreat won’t be that easy.”

In few moments he finally ordered the attack. Warriors ran through the forest and jumped onto the road. At the same time the bait party halted and turned, attacking again. Forces of Belosten found themselves under the three-way onslaught: from both edges of the road and from the front. Their mounts panicked when seeing foes emerge from the treeline. Some even threw their riders off.

Warriors of Khladnetz attacked. Only half of their squad consisted of crewmen, others were seasoned militiamen. It was the time to see if their training gave fruit. Ymdaton was not disappointed. Drevlyani warriors were smiting their kin with surprising eagerness.

Most of attackers armed themselves with long spears to pluck enemies from their saddles. Crewslayer did not trade his trusty axe for anything. He was managing just fine with it. Here he hooked bakhmat’s ankle with a blade, cutting it so the animal staggered. When the warrior who was mounted upon it swayed downwards, Ymdaton met him with a butt to the helmet, knocking the foe down.

Next one tried to charge at him, but Crewslayer avoided the mount speeding at him just in time. When there was passing him, Ymdaton slashed at his hip, just where the chainmail ended. Blood splashed at him, but the enemy rode away. He would not be fighting too long in that state, unable to put weight on one leg, thought Crewslayer.

Forces of Belosten were beaten. Here and there their warriors were being killed or pushed back. Ymdaton scanned the battlefield and found a man who was making a difference in the general picture. A tall warrior in white cape and a helmet crested by a weirdly curved horn was delivering punishment upon warriors of Khladnetz. He led his bakhmat back and fore, striking down all who encountered him. Ymdaton strode for the man, avoiding other fights, or slaying those who did hinder him quickly.

Crewslayer placed himself so that he would be in the way of the enemy warrior next time he charges. When his mount was coming, Ymdaton made a wide swing at the beast’s head. The strike connected and the momentum of the animal did most of the job for him. Its cranium was opened in quite ugly way and the bakhmat fell dead, tossing its master off. Ymdaton surged forward to finish the foe off, yet he was met by a strong kick to the shield.

After a moment that it took him to regain his balance, the enemy was already standing. The warrior only continued to prove that he was tougher than expected, when he parried and blocked all the initial attacks of Ymdaton. Crewslayer was forced to study his opponent more closely, since the rash approach did not work. Soon he noticed that enemy’s right elbow guard came off, it's leather strap was probably damaged when he fell off his mount. There was no chain under that piece of armour.

Few more feints and Ymdaton finally tricked the for into making a too wide swing forward. He then delivered a clean cut into the elbow. It was a fine blow, he almost severed the arm at the joint. The foe was shocked for a moment and Crewslayer hit him with a butt of an axe to the head. Surprisingly, the enemy did not fall, only staggered. Ymdaton admired his resilience and made another hit. It drove the man to his knees. Another one was used to bring him to his knees and hands. Only the fourth blow finally made him lie flat.

Crewslayer was not taking any chances, he torn the helmet of opponent’s head, revealing a bloodied face of a man with a long mane of red hair, braided so it would fit under the helm. He saw other warriors of Belosten coming to aid their comrade and cut foe’s head off quickly, before anyone could reach him. A moment later he was in a whirlwind of melee, fending off several angry warriors at once.

It was over pretty soon after Ymdaton slain the warrior in the white cape. Forces of Belosten were demoralized and made a retreat. They lost even more men as they fought their way out, but were ultimately able to get away. Crewslayer sat at the corpse of bakhmat, cleansing weapons of blood with a piece of linen cloth.

He glanced at the now empty battlefield. It was carpeted with bodies of men and beasts. Naked ground of the road was soaked with gore, bark of closest trees was stained with red all over. Warriors were slowly walking among the dead, finishing off the wounded. Crewslayer never took liking in that practice, he freed from suffering those who were struck down by his own hand, but that was it.

Azandahy approached him. Perhaps, he wanted to congratulate Ymdaton. According to the description, the man with long red hair was none other than Toogover, a fine kill scored. Pigeon faced stopped at hand’s breadth and suddenly swung a fist at Crewslayer’s head. Despite the attack being unexpected and his uncomfortable position, Ymdaton still managed to dodge, the fist flying past his left cheek.

Azandahy fluently shifted his weight a bit more forward and his elbow crashed into warrior’s face. Crewslayer rolled backwards, falling off bakhmat’s side. He jumped up quickly and surged towards pigeon faced only to be caught and restrained by several crewmen. He struggled, to no success.

“What is the meaning of this?!” demanded Abimnupal, who somehow was already standing close with a concerned face, “Explain yourself, Azandahy.”

“It is he who should explain himself. He destroyed our valuable asset,” said pigeon faced in a most calm voice.

“What is your problem?” growled Ymdaton.

“You’ve killed someone you shouldn't have to. Toogover is dead by your hand.”

“Warlord of Belosten, the enemy of knez, I did to him what I do to all enemies of Azytenisar,” spat Crewslayer.

“You killed the stupid, rash, impatient man. He was easy to manipulate, we could have tricked him into bringing us victory many times. Now he is dead. What if someone with actual tactical sensitivity replaces him? Did you think of it?” Azandahy looked him in the eyes coldly.

Ymdaton was silent and only gritted his teeth.

“Of course you didn't. That would not be your style, you dumb gloryshark. You kill everyone whose skull is worth something and then think. You will not be allowed to fight again until enemies reach our gates. I will see to it. Now let him go. Let him hit me, if he wants. Let him prove his stupidity further.”

Crewmen released Ymdaton. Azandahy did not flinch a single muscle as the man whom he humiliated was standing free in front of him. Crewslayer did not swing his fists, or charge forward. He silently picked up his axe and shield, sat upon the dead bakhmat and continued cleansing his arms as if nothing happened. The crowd dissolved, when they understood that nothing of interest would happen. Abimnupal shook his head sadly and left his friend alone with his thoughts.