To Azoun, it looked as if an invisible wall had been thrown up to stop the enemy charge-a wall with one noticeable gap.
The riders at the center of the Tuigan line, those closest to Yamun Khahan and his standard, found the path to the western army strangely free of barricades. Their horses pounded over the muddy ground while others on either side of them were stopped by unseen forces. The khahan could not know it, but he and his bodyguard had crossed over a plane of force, a magical bridge called into existence by Vangerdahast for the sole purpose of trapping the Tuigan leader. As soon as the yak-tail banner and the fifty or so men around it crossed that magical bridge, the royal magician let it disappear. When the plane of force was gone, the holes beneath it gaped hungrily for Tuigan horseflesh.
As the riders behind Yamun Khahan fell victim to the dwarves' trap, King Azoun looked to his right. His daughter stood, fully armored, waiting for the command to attack. The king had been wounded and unconscious when Alusair had joined the first battle. When he'd awoke, Azoun had learned she was safe before he'd found out she'd ever been in danger. Now he realized that his order might send Alusair to her death, that Filfaeril might not get to see her daughter alive again.
For an instant, he considered ordering her to the rear, out of danger. Azoun quickly shook aside that thought. The princess belonged on the battlefield as much as he did. That realization did not erase the fear the king felt for his daughter's life, but it allowed him to raise his own sword and give the signal he'd been waiting all day to give. "At them!" King Azoun cried and raced forward.
The two hundred soldiers who charged with the king had been handpicked. Along with Torg, Vrakk, and Alusair, there were dalesmen and Sembians, Red Plumes from Hillsfar and Purple Dragons from Cormyr, all the best soldiers in the Alliance. The two hundred shouted angry defiance at the khahan and braced themselves for the fight. "Now," the king whispered into his closed visor. "Do it now, Vangy."
As if in response to the king's plea, fifty lightning bolts joined the rain and the longbow arrows in the sky. They shrieked over the western lines and tore into the helpless, tangled Tuigan. The bolts momentarily blinded those who had looked upon them, and deafened the soldiers to the cries of the barbarians who were scattered by the lightning like sparks from an exploding firecracker. For the first time in many months, a Tuigan charge wavered, then failed.
Inside the semicircle marked by the wall of crippled horses and crushed bodies, King Azoun was ordering his two hundred to encircle the khahan's bodyguard. The trapped Tuigan were obviously looking for a way to escape, but the king was certain he would provide them none.
Azoun tapped his sword upon his shield twice, and the standard-bearer dipped the purple dragon to the ground. The archers, who had until now been aiming at the mass of Tuigan held up by their fallen comrades, pointed their missiles at the group of riders huddled around the khahan. Longbow arrows whistled over the king's head, and half the khahan's bodyguard dropped from their saddles. The surviving Tuigan caught inside the king's trap scattered, and the handpicked western force rushed to dispatch them.
Gripped with foreboding, Azoun watched Alusair rush from his side toward a barbarian rider. The princess, not carrying a shield, gripped her longsword with both hands and slashed at the Tuigan as he rode past. The blow connected, dropping the warrior to the muddy ground.
As the king took a step toward his daughter, the unhorsed Tuigan stood up. A large, hulking man, the barbarian wore a suit of typical Tuigan armor: large metal plates sewn onto leather. His conical, pointed helmet had fallen off when he'd hit the ground, so his braided, mud-spattered hair was all that protected his head. The princess took immediate advantage of that fact. Before her father could take two steps, Alusair feinted a blow to the barbarian's midsection. When the hulking man moved to block it with his curved sword, she struck at her real target. Her blade hit the Tuigan's unprotected head and split his skull.
With a glance back at her father, Alusair moved into the press of warriors in front of the king.
From the edge of the main battle, Azoun saw a Tuigan whirl his horse around, as if he were ready to charge the western lines alone. Unlike the warrior Alusair had faced, this barbarian wore a breastplate of gold, sculpted with muscles. A skirt of chain girded his waist, and from the top of his conical, fur-trimmed helmet, a horsetail dangled. The sky lit up again as another group of lightning bolts passed overhead. For an instant, Azoun thought that the Tuigan's dark eyes reflected the light with malevolent intensity.
"Yamun Khahan," Azoun said to himself. He took a step forward and tightened his grip on his shield and his sword.
The khahan must have seen Azoun, too, for he kicked his black charger into motion. As his mount bounded over the muddy ground, the ruler of the Tuigan shouted something in his own guttural language. The Cormyrian king didn't know that the khahan was shouting an oath, calling upon his legendary status as the chosen of the Tuigan sky god, but that didn't matter. All Azoun saw was the well-muscled horse with its angry, cursing rider heading toward him. He lifted his shield and bent his knees slightly, preparing to dodge the khahan's attack.
A short soldier in beautifully crafted armor stepped in front of Azoun, holding his sword before him like a lance. The king tried to push past the stocky dwarf, but the ironlord would not be moved. Torg mac Cei wanted the honor of slaying the khahan: the Tuigan leader's skull would be a fine addition to the mounds in Earthfast. Stepping back, Azoun attempted to lure the khahan away from the dwarf. The ironlord had little chance of striking a blow against the mounted barbarian, and it was only his colossal pride that made him try.
As Azoun expected, Torg's stand was indeed futile.
Yamun Khahan raced forward, pointing his horse directly at the ironlord. When the armored dwarf moved out of the way, Yamun sliced down with his curved sword. Torg's armor was perhaps the finest ever crafted in the halls of Earthfast, but it could not protect him from Yamun's powerful blow. With a screeching sound, the Tuigan blade struck the armor on the ironlord's neck and bit far into his back. Torg was dead before he hit the ground.
"Azoun of Cor-meer!" the khahan shouted as he wheeled his horse around to face the king. The Tuigan jammed his heels into the mount's side and drove it forward.
Azoun had not missed the trick Yamun Khahan had used on Torg, and he assumed the barbarian would use his horse to force him into a poor defensive position, too. The king moved long before the khahan's mount reached him, feinting first to the right, then dodging left. The ploy almost didn't work, and the khahan's sword scraped Azoun's helmet and knocked his shield away. Gritting his teeth against the pain from his wounded leg, the king decided that he'd best not try to feint again.
Yamun Khahan threw his head back and laughed as his horse drove Torg's corpse deeper into the mud. For an instant, time seemed to slow down for Azoun, and he saw the myriad of individual battles going on around him as if they were occurring in slow motion. A few yards away, Vrakk and Farl were fighting desperately against Tuigan soldiers they had knocked from their horses. Arrows were streaming overhead, interspersed with occasional flashes of fire and beams of magical energy. Alusair, he realized with a sudden start, was nowhere in sight.
The king's heart caught in his throat, and he wanted to cry out. In that same instant, however, the khahan's black mount leaped forward, kicking up a shower of muddy water. In four paces it was bearing down on Azoun.
Sidestepping only slightly, the king slapped the horse's front legs with the flat of his blade. The beast skidded to a stop, then lost its footing in the mud and toppled. As the horse fell, Yamun rolled from the saddle. The khahan wanted to stay clear of his mount, the only thing that would give him a chance to fight on. As he soon learned, the battleground was fast becoming a mire; with a curse, the self-styled Illustrious Emperor of All Peoples slid onto his back in the mud.
Azoun stepped forward and brought his sword up to attack. It seemed for an instant that the khahan was helpless. Weighted down by his heavy breastplate, he writhed in the mud like a turtle flipped onto its back. But when Azoun got close enough to strike, Yamun lashed out with his steel-shod boots and kicked the king in the knee.
Normally the blow would have had little effect. Azoun's armor protected him from any obvious damage from the attack, and the khahan had even struck against the king's uninjured right leg. The mud beneath Azoun's feet was just a slick as that beneath the khahan, though, and once his balance was upset, Azoun found his wounded leg of little use in keeping him on his feet. The Cormyrian king toppled into the mire at the khahan's side.
With a monstrous cry, the Tuigan leader grabbed his enemy's arm and brought a mailed fist down on his helmet. The blow knocked the visor from the king's basinet. Now, with the sight limitations brought by his visor gone, Azoun looked upon the khahan. His vision was slightly blurred from the blow, but the king saw that the barbarian crouched next to him, his lips curled into a savage snarl, his wet, red-tinged braids dangled wildly from under his pointed golden helm. Yamun was reaching for his curved sword, which lay in the mud a few feet away.
Azoun called upon all his years of training, all his years of adventuring, as he tried to heave his armored form out of the mud. The best he could do was roll onto his side, but that was enough. As the khahan retrieved his sword and turned, Azoun grabbed his own blade and struck. The blow severed the hand in which the barbarian held his curved weapon. With a howl of pain, the Tuigan emperor toppled forward.
Most of what followed was a blur to the king. In the days that followed, he would only vaguely remember struggling to his feet and raising his sword high over the injured Tuigan. The one clear memory that clung to Azoun for the rest of his life was of Yamun Khahan meeting his gaze just before the blade struck. The barbarian showed no fear as the steel drove deep into his chest, cleaving his heart in two.
The rest of Yamun's bodyguards were dispatched quickly, and to the westerners' astonishment, some of the Tuigan caught in the trap surrendered when they saw that their khahan was dead. Alusair returned to the king's side, the enemy's standard in her hand. A mixture of relief and immense pride gripped Azoun as he watched his daughter break the standard over her knee, then toss the shattered staff and the sodden yak tails onto Yamun's corpse.
By the time the rain stopped, a little less than two hours after it had begun, the barbarians of the Tuigan horde had either retreated or surrendered.