All day they maintained the deliberate pace, and when evening fell they had ridden some twenty-five miles altogether-halfway to their goal.
The Dragonships pulled into the southern shore and the legion made camp for the night.
And still a chill wind blew out of Garia, pushing grey clouds overhead.
Again at dawn they rode northwesterly, and when evening fell they had reached the point on the Ironwater chosen by Silverleaf and Aravan weeks past, for here the riverbanks rose up steeply some eight feet or so on either side, and the river itself flowed gently a thousand or so feet wide.
By hooded lanterns and stealth in the night, the first of the Dragonships-a Jutlander craft-drew parallel to the shore and moored at the nearside upjutting bank, and the upper platform was eased out to meet the land, the great wooden screws set to hold it fast to the platform aboard the ship, while at the landward end capped piles were driven through the holes and into the earth to anchor all to the shore. Then a second Dragonship-a Fjordlander- was moored alongside the first, and its upper platform slid out and fixed between, bridging from ship to ship, the heavy wooden screws holding it fast. The third Dragonship-a Jutlander-drew alongside the second, and once again the upper platform was fixed to span across. And so it went into the night, Fjordlanders and Jutlanders alternating craft and plying oars against the gentle flow of the current to anchor a boat-length or so upstream and then pay out the mooring line to ease back and set the ship in place, with Dragonship after Dragonship positioning alongside one another and platform after platform bridging the gaps between.
Long did the Warrows watch, but then Rynna commanded that they all get some rest. "Remember, sometime in darkness ere the dawn, we will ride across, for there's twisting hill country beyond, where once again we will scout, and I would have a rested 'army' of worth rather than exhausted Warrows of burden."
And so, they took to their bedrolls, sleep coming quickly, and none of the Warrows heard the faint knelling deep within the earth, though Volki and his advisors did. They looked at one another and nodded in agreement-it was Utruni signalling indeed.
Just after mid of night the final ship-a Fjordlander craft-was drawn into place, and an extra platform was brought forward and anchored to the land of the far bank by capped pilings driven deeply.
In all it had taken thirty-six Dragonships and seventy-three platforms to span from shore to shore, eighteen of them Jutlander craft, eighteen Fjordlander. The remaining Dragonships rode at anchor, ready to fill in should there be a need. And in the dark of the night, Fjordlanders and Jutlanders stood on the far bank, gripping their axes and their sharp-spiked, round wooden shields, warding the foothold in enemy territory even as the legion rode by the light of hooded lanterns across the Dragonship pontoon bridge and to the opposite shore.
First crossed Dylvana and Lian, able to see in darkness better than Dwarves or Warrows or men, the Elves on their fiery steeds, swords unsheathed, spears abristle, bows nocked with arrows in hand, some Guardians in gleaming breastplate, but most in nought but leather.
Following the Elves came the Dwarves on their ponies, armed with crossbows and axes and war hammers at the ready, and armored in black-iron chain mail, with black-iron helms on their heads. They would set a perimeter ward inside that of the Elves. And across with them rode the Warrows.
Then came the Baeron on their massive horses, the huge men with their maces and morning stars and flails, and they began riding across to take up a perimeter ward with the others.
And by this time it was dawn, and Warrows and Elven scouts rode into the jagged hills beyond.
Yet just as the last of the Baeron started across, there sounded from the hills ahead a resonant horn cry, and over a craggy mound came Tipperton flying, his black-oxen horn sounding the alarm. From other points came ponies at a gallop, Warrows crouching low, Elves riding behind.
And in the hills aft there sounded flat horns blowing and thousands of voices yawling-Rakkal Rakka!-and over the crests and down came charging afoot a flood of sun-darkened men dressed in black on black-pantaloons and quilted vests and brants overrobes and turbans with shawls flying out behind. Like a dark tide they ran down the slopes, howling and brandishing scimitars and tabar axes and short spears, dhals and sipars in hand, the small, round shields painted black, a clenched crimson fist centermost. Down they hurtled, some sounding the charge with trumps made of rams' horns while others waved red flags, each crimson banner marked with a clenched left fist of black. And howling Rakka! Rakka! Rakka!… they raised their weapons to strike as they rushed toward the defenders below.
In through the perimeter flew the Warrows, Elven scouts behind. The Baeron, yet mounted upon their massive horses, drew together at the ready and Urel and Durul called out to Silverleaf, yet what they said, Tipperton haling his pony to a halt did not hear.
And Dwarves and Lian and Dylvana, and Jutlanders and Fjordlanders braced for the onslaught.
Even as the Fists of Rakka charged down onto the flats, a sleet of arrows and crossbow bolts flew from the legion to hurtle into oncoming foe, sun-darkened men falling, pierced through, but undaunted the enemy came on. Another hail flew forth, and more of the foe fell, but still the men of Thyra and Sarain and Hurn shouted their war cries and plunged on. Silverleaf signalled to Larana and she blew her bugle, and the Baeron, now in formation, spurred their horses forward, the massive chargers flying in a wide wedge through the perimeter and toward the oncoming enemy, Elves and Dwarves and Fjordlanders and Jutes afoot running after the great galloping steeds.
And with clash and clang and shouts of Adon! and El-wydd! and Garlon! and Fyrra! and Rakka! the two armies collided, the great horses of the Baeron smashing into and through and over the ranks of the foe, though riders and horses were felled, brought down by spear and axe and blade.
Swords rived, axes hewed, spears pierced, mace and flail and hammer smashed and crushed. Blood and viscera and bone and brain flew wide, amid cries and shrieks and shouts of rage.
And from the rear flew arrows and sling bullets, sent winging by the Warrows now afoot. And everywhere they flew, enemies fell, yet there were only eight of the Wee Folk and myriad of the foe.
Though the Baeron on their horses had smashed through the enemy and beyond, still the Allies were outnumbered and were hurled back. Hindward they reeled, back toward the bridgehead, their perimeter growing ever shorter as they drew in toward the span. And the wee Warrows fell back and back, yet winging deadly slings and arrows. But then they had to cease: the perimeter became too crowded with allies for buccen and dammen to safely loose missiles past. Yet as the legion fell back, the tighter became the perimeter, the more difficult to break through, and the enemy's advance slowed and slowed, though the fierce struggle went on.
From the rear of the foe the Baeron again formed up and charged, and smashed into the enemy ranks, laying death about with their maces and flails and hammers, shattering skulls and arms, crushing necks, smashing ribs, and the horses flailed about with deadly hooves and trampled on any who fell.
Dwarven axes hewed, hammers bashed, and men fell screaming, and Fjordlander and Jutlander axes hewed as well, the spiked, round shields slamming into men to pierce the enemy through.
Elven spears stabbed over the heads of the Dwarves to take the enemy down, and gleaming Elven long-knives and swords-keen beyond reckoning, especially one of dark sil-veron-cut through sipar and dhal to hew flesh and blood and bone, arms and hands and heads flying wide, viscera spilling out.