Toede's mind went blank.
He sat on his horse, regarding the troops, and could have heard the proverbial pin drop along the entire line. He could feel the strain of the gnolls, as if they were swimmers preparing for a diving start, and he could sense the pent-up eagerness of the kender.
"For…" said Toede, his thin voice cracking. "For glory! And for good government!"
He was welcomed with a resounding "Huzzah!" as the
gnoll troops boiled out from the hedgerow, and the kender, bent forward, their hoopaks slung over their backs, began a scurrying flanking maneuver to the right.
The gnolls' charge broke in front of Toede and reformed beyond him. Rogate was in the vanguard, waving a sword in one hand, a crudely painted green banner in the other, a bow and quiver of green-feathered arrows on his back. The banner read "TOEDAIC KNIGHTS" and sported a picture of a frog.
Renders clopped up on one of his small horses. "Ah, good speech," he said dryly. "One for the ages."
Toede ignored the review. "Did Bunniswot slip away?" Renders shrugged and said, "I assume so. Shall we join the battle?"
Toede scowled and wheeled Smoker around. "Right. Stay a comfortable distance behind the main body, and keep up. I don't want to have to explain to an irate Charka how I let you die."
The hobgoblin dug his heels into Smoker's flanks, and the gelding broke into a brisk, uneven trot behind the screaming gnolls.
They were halfway across the field before the enemy responded with a hail of missiles. Toede had instructed Charka to have the gnolls raise their heavy shields over their heads, since the arrows would have to take high arcs at this range. Those that survived the first volley were the ones that remembered to do so, but one of every ten gnolls fell to the ground and did not rise.
The charge continued to within forty yards. Toede could make out the colored uniforms of the foe-colors not found among Toede's livery or those of his successors. Mercenaries then, as he had guessed. A front line of spearmen, grim-faced and at the ready, with a row of bowmen behind. The walls were sprinkled with city guards and the odd crossbowman. Most seem to have been pulled away by the diversion.
The kender, moving faster and wider than the gnolls, were in flanking position on Toede's right, and already were laying down a fire of small stones against the archers. Although the militia were driven from the walls, the meres were well trained and did not break under the rain of pellets. Instead, the enemy troops repositioned their aim at the kender, while the remaining archers fired straight ahead at the advancing gnolls.
The kender scattered under the returned volleys. They would reassemble quickly, but time would be lost. The effect on the gnolls was pronounced, as many of the swamp gnolls forgot to hold their shields aloft. Another one out of ten collapsed, wounded or dying.
More importantly, the charge ground to a stop thirty yards from the walls, and the surviving gnolls had to take cover behind their shields, their fallen comrades, and whatever low brush they could find. Toede bellowed» orders, but they could not hear him, and the mercenary bowmen returned to their primary targets, hammering the grounded gnoll offensive.
Toede felt a presence close to his right, and heard Renders say, "Ah…"
Toede cut him off, interrupting. "We're being cut to ribbons, be prepared to…"
The next word was going to be "run," or perhaps "flee," or even "surrender." However, at that moment, the gelding whinnied and rose on its hind legs, almost tossing Toede from his saddle, then bolted.
Forward, toward the withering arrow fire. Toede pulled his sword with one hand, clinging to the horse's neck for as much protection as possible. He was over the front line now, Smoker clearing it in a single bound.
Directly behind him, Toede heard the roar of the gnolls as they regained their courage and rose to follow their leader in his impromptu charge. There was another cheer, this one of childlike voices, as the kender also joined in.
Toede turned in his saddle, motioning for the kender to hold their ground. Without decent cover-fire, they would all be cut to shreds. He realized that Smoker was wounded, a long red smear of blood dripping from the animal's flank.
What the kender thought they saw, however, was the general of the Allied Rebellion waving them on, his sword glistening in the dawn. Those who survived the day would speak of the valiant spirit of the hobgoblin.
He was right on top of the enemy line, the gnolls behind him, the spearmen in front of him, when Smoker hit a chuckhole at high velocity. The horse cartwheeled forward, pitching Toede over its head.
And over the heads of the spearmen in the front line. The archers loosed one more volley at the gnolls (and at Toede's mount that screamed as the arrows riddled its broken, twitching body). Those closest to Toede dropped their bows and drew their swords, short wide blades that could gut a hog with one swipe.
Then the stones struck among them, and two out of ten archers fell to hoopak accuracy. The remainder moved back a few paces, and Toede scrambled among retreaters and the bodies. Pain gripped his shoulder-the same one Rogate had shot over a year ago-but he was otherwise unharmed. He touched his breast pocket, and found his secret weapon still intact.
The mercenaries wavered but did not panic as the gnolls slammed into their lines. Toede had to scramble again to avoid being trampled by the human troops falling back. The archers had mostly abandoned their missile weapons and were slashing at those gnolls who had pierced the line of mercenaries.
Still, Groag's mercenaries did not break, and Toede had to wonder exactly what the smaller hobgoblin had promised in exchange for their services.
A particularly burly mercenary swaggered toward him and was rewarded with death as Toede cut the man off at the ankles. The hobgoblin then spun and sunk his blade into another mere. Apparently the missile troops were better with bow than with sword, and lightly armored to boot.
A cry went up, this time from human throats, and Toede could see fresh enemy troops pour into the fray. At least fresh in that they had not yet fought Toede's kender/gnoll army. Many of them were bloodied and had the look of men who had fought the undead, and were now glad to battle flesh-and-blood opponents who have the sense to lie down and die.
Slowly, the mercenary line stiffened, then began to drive the combined gnolls and kender backward, away from the wall. Toede was still trapped on the wrong side of the lines.
And then the dead whale appeared, and everything changed.
It was even larger than in Toede's memory. Most of the skin had peeled away, and the rotting blubber had turned a sickly yellow-green. The ribs poked out one of its sides, and its massive eye was a runny pustule of white ichor.
It had erupted from the beach, where Toede's men had buried it long ago, leaping about two hundred feet in a high arc toward the battlefield. Alas, it would not clear the entire distance, but the airborne necro-whale did cause three things to happen:
Some (not all, but enough) gnolls gawked at the great mass of animated cetacean flesh in midleap.
Some (not all, but enough) humans turned to see what the gnolls were looking at with such fascination and awe.
And some (not all, but enough) kender took advantage of those humans with their backs turned.
The spearmen's line crumbled in a dozen places as the humans toppled, either from daggers set squarely in their backs or calf tendons severed, bringing their unprotected necks closer to the ground (and nearer to kender swords).