A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor-Chapter 1168 The Ability to Overwhelm - Part 1
1168: The Ability to Overwhelm – Part 1
1168: The Ability to Overwhelm – Part 1
Oliver’s eyebrow twitched, but he followed after her, saying nothing – it was the opportunity that he was looking for, after all.
With the attention of the chariotmen divided, he stole Blackthorn’s strategy, and he clubbed the javelins that came for him aside, just as she had, using it as his chance to take greater strides forward.
Soon enough, his sword was in range.
The chariotmen attempted to take a step back, but there was only so much room in that cart of theirs.
Oliver’s sword came down, and a spray of blood caught him across the face.
From the left, the same was true of Blackthorn.
Her sword found her range, and she slashed, catching the man across the throat, but she wasn’t there to deal with the blood when it came.
She was already barrelling towards her next target, in a display of recklessness that would have put even Oliver to shame.
From the back of her saddle, embodying a grace that few in the Academy had been able to emulate, and that few of even the Higher Boundary soldiers of Lord Blackwell’s army would have been able to pull off, she launched herself onto the back of the chariot.
It was the leap of a sleek panther, with that braided black hair of hers billowing behind her.
She lost her helmet in the leap, as javelins were thrust towards her, but as she rolled, and came up standing, her foes lost their lives in turn.
With two quick motions, the last remnants of those chariot riders were dealt with.
She seized the reins, and lurched them off to the side, in a rapid change of direction.
The wheels groaned underneath, and the horses called out their dismay with terrified neighs, but the direction change was set regardless, and the chariot turned its way straight towards the other vehicles in its path.
“Blackthorn!” Oliver shouted.
There was danger, and then there was what she had just carried out.
It would have been one thing if they’d spoken about it, and planned beforehand, but now it looked as if she’d set a trap for both her and her enemy that she was unable to get out of.
He rushed forward, attempting to predict the path of her retreat, and to slow the inevitable collision to give her time to get away.
But this time, it was him that was left on the back foot.
She had already cast herself over the chariots’ side, far beyond its wheels and its blades.
She hit the ground hard from the speed, and then she rolled, and she rolled, eventually bringing herself to a halt.
BANGGGGG!
“Lasha!” Oliver said, dismayed by the stillness of her body as it lay on the floor.
“I am fine,” the reply came almost immediately.
She found her footing once more, dusted the dirt off her sleeves, and then searched for her horse amidst the chaos, as if there were not still dozens of chariot carts flying past them, doing all they could to turn their carts into the path of the two Stormfronters.
Her horse was there, seconds later, as well trained as one could ask for.
It offered the reins to her, with a flick of its head, and Blackthorn was mounting up before Oliver could even begin to process what had happened.
He looked over his shoulder and he saw the wreckage.
Three chariots had been caught up in the disaster, and their formation had been shattered as a result of it.
Through Blackthorn’s cunning, his men had made their escape.
They’d managed to cut off the chariot formation at its very head.
Those nearest to the retreating men’s rear had been dealt with, and it seemed that was all the help that they needed.
Soon enough, Oliver and Blackthorn followed along after them.
Verdant rode out to meet them, cementing their escape, and forcing the rest of those chariot men to turn around, lest they risk a full engagement with the new army of the right side.
Zilan watched, just out of the corner of his eye, and he tutted.
Chapter 13 – The Ability to Overwhelm
“Ponderous,” Lombard said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
It was not so much a criqitue as it was a statement.
Oliver didn’t get the sense from him that he was trying to point out just how bad their last attempt had been.
“Oh, I am glad we are allowed to say as such,” Colonel Yoran said, with no small amount of sarcasm.
“A single little excursion, and we almost lost our army in one fell sweep.
One can see that you were attempting to play at being Karstly, but I would advise against such acts in the future, if you are willing to listen.”
“Could you defeat an army of this size in a single engagement?” Lady Blackthorn said.
Her voice was level.
She kept the coldness in her eyes instead.
A normal man would have turned away, but perhaps it was his anger that kept Colonel Yoran fiery enough to stand up to her.
“I would not lose my own army in that single engagement, the least I can do is say that,” Colonel Yoran said, making a show of removing his helmet.
Even that act seemed vaguely offensive, as if he was implying that they would be doing no more fighting that day.
Along with him, more than a few men began to remove their helmets.
Blackthorn men, it had to be noted.
They seemed to take that fact that Colonel Yoran was resting as permission enough for the majority of them to take their own degree of rest.
Oliver had no defence.
He allowed Yoran’s words to continue without reprimand.
He could feel Captain Lombard looking at him, urging him to say something, and retake command, but in Oliver’s head, he could not let go of what had just happened.
He replayed it over, trying to find the source of his mistake, and better yet, find an alternative path.
