The sun was only a red glow behind Rod's right shoulder as he rode down the winding road toward the Romanov beach.  "No faster than a trot, Sergeant!  Let these folk by!  We're here to defend them, not trample them!"

Peasants thronged the road, with huge packs on their backs and handcarts behind them, hauling their few household goods.  Rod swore. "They'd take their whole cottages if they could!  Well, at least they're not stampeding.  Here's the real evidence of the good you've done, Toby."

"How so, Lord Warlock?"  Toby reined his horse over to let the peasants pass by.

"Because they've got time to evacuate, thanks to the Magic Early Warning system.  They even had time to pack up before they started fleeing!"

The Flying Legion swerved over to the side of the road, single file, following Rod's and Toby's example.  The peasants, seeing them coming, struggled to compress their ranks and leave room for them.

"God save the High Warlock and his legion!" a voice yelled, and the whole flowing crowd joined in a ragged cheer.  The soldiers grinned and sat a little straighter in the saddle.

"Always nice to be appreciated," Rod observed.  Toby smiled, amused.

A hand caught Rod's shin.  He looked down into a wrinkled, yellow-eyed face rough with beard stubble.  "Drive them away, Lord Warlock!  Why can ye not keep 'em from comin'?"

"Off wi' ye, now!"  The man behind him gave the old whiner a shove.  "Here's men goin' t' mortal danger, and you'd ask 'em to hurry!"  Rod smiled his thanks, and the younger man grinned back.  "Save your worship!"  He hurried
on.

"There will ever be such, will there not?" Toby said quietly.

Rod nodded.  "'Save us, save us!  And please arrange hotel accommodations while you're doing it!'  But there'll always be the ones behind them too, who tell 'em to shut up and let us get on about our business."

They struggled on through the crowd.  The peasants streamed by, and they came out onto the beach while the sky still glowed with dusk.  A hundred nervous men looked up at the sound of hoofbeats, and raised a frantic cheer.  Rod grinned and waved, muttering under his breath, "Gallop, Fess.  Make it look good.  Pick out their officer and stop on a penny next to him."

The black steel horse leapt into a gallop and thundered around in a curve, pulling up beside a cloaked horseman in plate armor.  "Hail, Sir Knight!  I am Rod Gallowglass, Lord High Warlock, and these men are His Majesty's Flying Legion."

"Thou art well come indeed!" cried the knight.  "Now, praised be King Tuan for your coming!"  Which was pretty good, considering that only three years ago this man must've been riding behind his lord, Duke Romanov, against the royal army, such as it had been.  "I am Sir Styenkov."

"We're just reinforcements," Rod assured.  "I don't want to upset your battle plan; we'll just fall in beside you.  What'd you planned?"

"What could I, with only an hundred?"  The knight spread his hands helplessly.  "'Tis all that Their Majesties allow us to keep under arms - God save them, 'tis generous to allow even that!  But what can they do?  Draw up in a line, and wait."

"I suppose so.  But I've got two hundred more behind me.  And yours are veterans, aren't they?"

Styenkov nodded.  "All fought in the rebellion, aye.  They are not like to break and flee."

"Then draw 'em back up the beach as far as you can, and let 'em wait.  There's only one dragon ship; at least, the witches haven't said anything about there being more than one."  He frowned at the thought.  "Hm.  I've been careless.  Toby!"

"Aye, Lord Warlock."

"Has anyone done a flyby on the raiders?  Actually flown over them, to see how many there are?"

Toby's eyes lost focus for a minute; then they cleared, and he shook his head.  "Nay, milord.  None ha' thought to do so."

"Then do it, okay?"