Although little could be seen of the Falnori army, it was a certainty that a great number lay in wait just beyond the start of the trees, which formed a three-sided pocket around the gate. Even if they avoided the area surrounding the Hall of Tribute, directly behind the hill from Ronon's position, the Falnori could easily move personnel in from both the east and west sides of the hill, creating a strong line of defense. Could they be flushed out preemptively without sending too many Nistra into that pocket?
A wordless cry from someone half a mile down the line drew his attention to a handful of Nistra who didn't seem interested in a nuanced plan. The small group charged toward the hill, followed shortly by the surrounding ranks, all shouting with a fervor that betrayed their inexperience.
In moments, Ronon's suspicions were confirmed, as two units of Falnori warriors and soldiers poured out of the forest on either side of the hill to meet them.
Swearing under his breath, he looked at Teyla and found her just as dismayed.
"The Nistra have numbers," she said quietly, almost too low to be heard through the growing roar of battle. "But still they will be slaughtered."
Still more Falnori appeared over the crest of the hill with bows, aiming at the Nistra front lines. Some of them were picked off by arrows from elsewhere-had the hunters who'd been run off the gate earlier taken up positions in the trees? Regardless, those who held the hill held the high-ground advantage, and at present both belonged to the Falnori.
"We can try to even the odds a little." He drew his gun and fired a few stun bolts into the approaching line of Falnori warriors. Looking reluctant, Teyla did the same. It was only slightly more effective than trying to collect a rainstorm in a bucket, but they couldn't just stand there.
The skill Ronon had admired from the whip-warriors in practice was even more extraordinary in actual conflict. Although the majority of the Falnori force consisted of common soldiers wielding swords or bows, the field was dotted with searing, sizzling threads of light. Any Nistra who came close to the incline was cut down without hesitation or mercy. The lucky ones lost only a hand, the heat of the whip sealing such wounds instantly; the less fortunate took a blow to the torso and were nearly vaporized.
One small point of hope: Dantir had taken Ronon's advice to heart and stayed back, using his bow rather than diving into the close-quarters fight. Ronon kept an eye on the area directly surrounding the boy, stunning any Falnori swordsman who came near.
It wasn't long, however, before the clash spread to envelop them as well, and he had to worry about defending himself as much as Dantir. After dodging the upward swing of a sword, he shifted his gun to his left hand and drew his own blade with his right. Killing a Falnori would bring him no satisfaction, but he would be of no use to anyone if he became another of the nameless dead.
From one side he heard the hiss-crack of a whip only a few paces away, and he moved as best he could through the throng to distance himself from the energy discharge. The last thing he needed at a time like this was to lose focus.
Teyla had one of her staffs in her hand, which Ronon thought brave of her, as it wasn't his idea of a deadly weapon. Then again, she moved as though the staff was an extension of her body, easily deflecting the sword of an oncoming assailant and laying him out flat with a blast from her stun pistol.
The first wave of the Nistra attack didn't appear to be gaining any traction. The hill remained solidly under Falnori control as the ground at its base was beginning to clutter with fallen soldiers. "We should fall back and regroup," Ronon shouted over the din. It was hardly a useful observation, because they had no authority or ability to enact a mass retreat. Teyla glanced back and nodded helplessly, taking aim at another warrior to prevent him from activating his whip again.
Before long, though, the main thrust of the Nistra army seemed to falter, the central group that had pushed toward the hill now beginning to withdraw. The Falnori looked content to let them go, at least for the moment, since few attempted to follow. Those who did were quickly targeted by hunters, giving the rest of the Nistra the opportunity to close their ranks in a position very near to where they'd started.
Ronon scanned the lines. Injured soldiers leaned on comrades or slumped in the grass while their wounds were tended by mostly unskilled hands. Others huddled in groups to relate their experiences in the fight. The vigor that had punctuated the early assault had evaporated, leaving utter confusion in its wake.
He trailed Dantir through the crowd until they found liar sitting on a rock, struggling to bind her own bleeding shoulder. A step behind them, Teyla hurried forward and took over for her.
"Where are your commanders?" Ronon asked again. "Shouldn't someone be leading this army?"
When she raised her eyes to him, the vagueness there made him suspect that she had already been strongly affected by the adarite. "We have no leader but Minister Galven, and this place is too dangerous for someone of his importance."
"Is there no one to provide guidance on your strategy and objectives, then?" Teyla secured the bandage.
"Objectives…" Ear seemed to need all her concentration to answer. "Our objective is to drive the Falnori back and retake the hill."
So she'd said before. Ronon stifled the urge to pound his fist against something. These people knew nothing of battle tactics. They were little better than a gigantic mob, not even organized enough to divide into regiments.
Unbelievably, though, the atmosphere of chaos around them was shifting, becoming more determined. The casualties were being transferred to the rear as others readied their weapons.
Ancestors help them they're going to try again.
When liar attempted to get to her feet, Ronon went to assist, sliding an arm under her shoulders. He took the opportunity to stealthily detach the whip from her belt and toss it behind the rock. Even if her shoulder wouldn't allow her much use of her bow, the dagger she carried would serve her better. In fact, being unarmed would serve her better than that cursed whip.
"Ronon," murmured Teyla urgently, drawing his attention. Dantir clearly hadn't lost his zeal; he'd joined one of the front-line groups as it moved back out into the fray.
Biting back a vicious epithet, Ronon pushed through the swarm of soldiers heading onto the battlefield. If he lost track of Dantir now, he'd never find him again. The boy's dirty blond head bobbed in the crowd, still driving forward, even as the Falnori fortified their line in front of the hill.
Tendrils of energy crackled in the air, becoming a constant hum in the background. Ronon ducked a hail of arrows and continued his pursuit of Dantir. Seizing his arm, Teyla yanked him out of the path of an incoming whip. He whirled to stun the aggressor, only to be struck by a stumbling Nistra soldier. Knocked off-balance, Ronon watched the soldier crumple, one leg missing from the mid-thigh down.
The scene was madness, pure and simple. He couldn't control it, guide it, or even slow its inevitable descent into a massacre. All he could do was save one well-meaning kid…
…who'd just lashed out at someone in front of him with a fitfully sparking whip.
Ronon dove forward to finally close the distance between himself and Dantir. The boy had managed to use the whip correctly, at least. By the looks of him, though, he'd been using it for some time now, and the effects were making themselves known. He blinked at a body lying on the ground a few feet away, then stared at the hill with only the barest hint of comprehension.
A Falnori soldier stalked toward him with sword raised, likely thinking he'd found easy prey. Unhesitating, Ronon lunged, grabbing two handfuls of the man's thick leather vest and hauling him backward. The soldier recovered quickly, lashing out with a foot that caught Ronon behind the knee. They both tumbled to the ground.