Back! Fall back!” Cordell shouted the command, and trumpets brayed in echo. Along his line, decimated by the first phase of the battle, the exhausted fighters pulled away
from the equally exhausted monsters. The second rank of Zaltec’s attack rushed across the muddied ground, still a mile from the withdrawing defenders.
Nayap, the foremost village in the defensive line, now spouted smoke and ash, a funeral pyre for the men who had died there. Indeed, the only men remaining in the village were those who were dead.
“Where to?” grunted Grimes, riding beside the cap general.
“Hold Actas” The captain-general pointed to the v that formed the inland end of his line. “Hold it at all but we’ve got to shorten the line! Keep your riders ready watch our flank!” Cordell gestured to Daggrande, who trotted over to him.
“Divide your men into two companies,” the commander ordered. “If all else fails, you’ll have to cover our withdrawal into the fort.”
“All right,” grunted the dwarf, grimacing at the thought of splitting his already depleted company. He saw the line shortening as the companies of Mazticans and foreigners drew closer together, filling in the gaps left by their fallen comrades.
The second wave of the monstrous attack now rumbled through the line of the first battle, knocking their own battered comrades aside. The beasts lumbered through the smoldering ruins of Nayap, paying no attention to the bodies around them, uncaring even whether the fallen had been human or their own bestial kin.
Some of the survivors of the first attack, the most aggressive among the monsters, joined in the second wave, and a powerful force of ores, ogres, and trolls rushed toward the narrowed band of defenders.
Once again the shower of arrows, the thunder of the harquebusiers, the speeding darts of crossbow and halfling, took their bloody toll of the attackers. But now there were fewer missiles and more monsters. The effect could only be lessened.
The first of the attacking regiments crashed into the thin rank of the desert dwarves under Luskag. But here the monsters, who towered over their diminutive opponents, as well as outnumbered them, met a rude surprise.
The dwarves ducked low at the first impact of the charge, darting beneath the shields and raised weapons of the attackers. Their keen weapons, with the razorlike edges of plumastone, struck upward, and hundreds of ores reeled backward, screaming and wailing in agony. The wounded monsters fell and writhed and died, and the desert dwarves attacked their ogre masters, slicing and slashing with their murderous blades of shiny black stone.
Even the ogres fell as the nimble dwarves twisted around them, evading the heavy but clumsy blows of the monsters. In moments, the entire regiment fell back, the beastly faces of its troops distorted by fear of these small, ferocious slayers. The shrewd Luskag, however, allowed only a moment’s pursuit before calling his warriors back into line.
Other regiments of Hoxitl’s horde turned from their advance to press the desert dwarf force with renewed vigor. This could have proven a critical weakening of the cleric-beast’s attack, except that nowhere else along the line were the defenders prepared to resist so sturdily as in that portion manned by the desert dwarves.
On this assault, two of Hoxitl’s great regiments swung wide of the line, passing around the far village of Actas. The rest of the force lumbered into the thin line, and once again the defenders struggled to hold.
Cordell looked to his left as a series of torches waved through the field. A small band of Payit warriors, concealed in the grass before Actas, held up the suddenly blazing brands. In the yellow light, the commander saw the movement of the monsters that attempted to move past the village.
“Grimes! Slow them up!” shouted the captain-general, and his commander of horsemen immediately urged his steed forward.
The lancers once again swept around the end of the defenders’ line in order to prevent a flanking movement such as they had earlier destroyed.
The cavalry thundered forward, ripping into the ranks of
the monstrous regiments. First one, then a second of the ‘ formations turned and scattered under the onrush. The horsemen wheeled, lances and swords lowered, and started toward the flank of a third regiment.
But here the monsters changed tactics. As Grimes led the riders forward, the ores suddenly broke into three huge blocks. The beasts in each block pivoted on all four sides, so that everywhere they faced outward. The horsemen rode into the side of one of these crude squares, trampling many of the monsters.
The formation, however, did not break. Slowly, grimly, the beasts of the Viperhand fought the riders who now bucked and trampled in their midst. These creatures did not turn and expose their vulnerable backs; instead, they attacked, slashing viciously at the legs and flanks of the pitching horses.
Turning and plunging, the riders tried to work free. The steeds reared and trampled, while the horsemen hacked about with their bloody blades. Finally, with a lunge between two huge ogres, Grimes drove his stallion free of the melee, beheading one of the ogres as he raced past. The rest of the riders followed, quickly widening the gap made by their captain.
Elsewhere, the leading regiments smashed into the thin line of Cordell’s defenders. Daggrande threw one, and then the second, of his reserve companies into the line, each time barely stopping a critical breakthrough.
Magic missiles crackled on die right flank, where the two dozen mages who had come with Don Vaez sniped at the enemy from the walls of Helmsport itself. The din of magic and fire, of death and destruction, crashed across the field, rising to a nightmarish crescendo.
Desperately the horsemen charged again, slashing and chopping their way into, and then free of, the monstrous ranks. Another regiment hurled itself at the riders, threatening to surround them again, and it took all of Grimes’s leadership and courage to break his men free of the enemy. Even so, they left dozens of their number behind.
Every man, every dwarf and halfling, fought for his life in this night without end. The cloud cover thickened, the light spells waned, and they fought on in nearly total darkness. Somehow the desperation to live gave them enough vision to combat the pressing horde.
Again and again the riders slashed at the fringe of the attacking mass, always springing away before the jaws of another trap could snap shut. Crossbows and steel swords drank deep of monstrous blood, while the boom of a harquebus occasionally cracked across the field.
The kurari-tipped arrows of the Little Men found the trolls, for they had learned that these weapons, when they struck with adequate numbers, could actually slay the hulking green beasts that simply regenerated after suffering other types of wounds. The plumastone axes of the desert dwarves chopped and gouged, holding great presses of ores at bay.
Then another great cry erupted from the forest, piercing the night with its promise of catastrophe. Whistles and horns and drums added to the din, and the legionnaires and the other defenders knew clearly that the noise sounded an end to their hopes.
And inflamed the desires of Hoxitl, for now the lord of the beasts threw his final ten regiments into the battle.
“Hsst! There’s something out there!” Darien could scarcely control the savage joy in her voice. The light.’ The treasure she had so long envisioned, the killing she had lusted for, at last drew near.
The other driders huddled on the platform atop the pyramid, thankful that the moon had already set. Like shadows of black thicker even than the forest, they clung to the edges of the structure and peered into the murky forest surrounding them.
“It comes from Ulatos, from the city,” said Hittok after a moment. Darien, too, sensed that the menace lay to the west.
Gradually the driders’ keen eyes detected the shapes moving from the jungle into the near pitch-blackness of (he clearing. In Darien’s sight, one of these glowed, so brightly that she could scarce dare to breath. Against that halo of hot, tempting light, she could not make out the identity of the treasure.