The Khan was surprised about the panic in the copper one’s eyes. Had she not known how to properly control the power at her fingertips yet? She said something about a book and was scrambling against Baichu’s stolen steed in frantic urgency. ‘<span style="font-style: italic">I need to focus on the fight at hand or flee with this one…. No, a Khan does not run merely regroups.</span>’ She offered her hand down and wore a kind smile like one she would have used on the women of her village when they needed guidance. “Take my hand, you’ll be safest on the back of my horse Magi-UMPH!”<br/><br/>Her horse screamed pitifully and Baichu felt herself start to fall with the dying animal. As a Miao she knew what it meant to have your legs trapped under your mount so she kicked herself away. Hands curling around her head in an effort to protect herself. Body crashing hard against the plains a few feet away with skin tearing and mashing against gravel as she slid through the tall grasses.<br/><br/>“Kharaakh!” ((swear word basically, that’s how you say it. The written word is хараах in Mongolian.))<br/><br/>Hissing angrily the black haired noble pushed herself up with hot eyes and stinging wounds flaked with debris. The side of her face hurt something awful and she could feel the blood running down her chin in rivets. She staggered back towards the girl shaking her head to focus, foot brushing against the lance which a strong hand curled around and unsteady feet tried to balance the large weapon. ‘<span style="font-style: italic"> This is why I needed a real staved weapon. Good for horseback and ground…’</span><br/><br/>“I didn’t have to miss you woman. I chose to hit the horse.” Peschek said with a haughty air.<br/><br/>Baichu wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or the red haired witch but she didn’t care. All she cared about was this man needed to breathe his last foul breath. Most the actual soldiers had fallen now with their Duke. The numbers were prettily evenly matched among guards and slaves. So Peschek did exactly what she expected a coward to do from a position of strategy. He offered a deal to all of them. She glanced at the other slaves through her black curtain of hair, wondering if they’d actually fall for such a lie. Calculating if she could protect the witch from both slaves and guards if they did turn on them like feral dogs. For a brief moment even she considered his deal. Freedom and coin to chase after her brother but it was a charade and he was a puppet master of deceit. She owed her gratitude to the one who freed her of chains and brought back the fuel to her fire.<br/><br/>Strong feet with purpose led the beige skinned woman to stand in front of the witch and spit blood at the short Slaver. “I may have fallen into bondage short one, but my honor does not escape me. This child has freed me. Not you. I refuse your deal. Bi ta ükhekh gej naidaj!” (I wish you death.) Native words sundering out her angry and blood-stained lips.<br/><br/>She raised her head high looking her enemy in the eye and pushing back the curtain of hair to frame her face in a black mane. She’d hide no longer behind it. The other slaves were beginning to give their answers as well and it looked favorable. This group actually did have a spine. So she gripped the lance, lifting it like it was one of her old spears. Brown eyes watching the devious man and she whispered softly, “Stay close Magic-flinger or use the horse’s corpse as a shield. I want you to breathe in and out slowly and calm yourself. Then try another spell. This is a battle now and for helping me redeem my honor I will protect you to the best of my ability. But just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you should hide behind another, we are not weak. We don’t need protecting. Now fight!”<br/><br/>She ended the last two words with a roar. Throwing her lance with all her strength like it was a spear towards Peschek and not checking to see if it actually hit. She knew that was a long-shot. The lance had merely been a distraction. She bolted for the body of the man she decapitated earlier and grabbed at his stave before standing ready for battle to face the whip and chain. Both mentally and physically.