She turned to face him again without a sound. Taennen took two large steps back to escape the range of her terrible weapon. Her eyes were glassy and devoid of the battle rage he expected. She fought without anger or passion. She hefted the weapon above her head and drove down hard and straight, a blow easily dodged. Dirt sprayed as the axe head bit into the earth.
Before she could tug the heavy axe from the ground, Taennen was beside her, jabbing his khopesh at her. Twice his blade bit her before she wrenched her huge weapon from the soil, and twice it barely penetrated her rock-hard flesh. She pulled her weapon from the ground and straightened herself to stand tall again.
Taennen dashed behind her and jumped as high as he could, swinging his weapon like a pickaxe. He sank the curved end of the khopesh into her broad back and held tight to the hilt. His own weight on the blade tore at her flesh as he fell back to the ground. His blade slid down several inches, cutting a trail of pain, and the gash splashed blood. Still, his opponent made no scream of pain or any sound at all.
Taennen's heart sank. An opponent who felt no pain could fight forever. What drove these monsters so inexorably through the battle that they would not scream?
The enormous woman turned to him with her freed weapon, her face going slowly pale from blood loss. Her eyes were vacant and hollow. It was not just as though she felt no pain, but as though she felt nothing at all.
She drove her axe in hard on Taennen's right, and he prepared for the feint, assuming she would pull the weapon short and sweep it up toward him. The attack was no feint, though, and Taennen dodged the blow by leaning back. His opponent's lack of tactics only furthered his befuddlement. He pushed forward, shoving her arm hard against her stomach with his shield as he sent the khopesh at her chest with a mighty swing. The blow sank deep, dropping the half-giant to her knees. As she fell forward, Taennen jumped out of the way. Her face hit the dirt, her life over-and she had never once made a sound.
On the other side of the battle, Adeenya drove her spear into her opponent's throat, finishing off the little goblin before she brought the blunt end of her weapon up in an arc to smash into the jaw of a nearby hulking girallon.
The apelike creature turned from its opponent and its four arms grabbed for her. She brought the sharp end of her spear around and thrust it into the creature's chest. As the spear sank deep into the beast, the wild thing tried to drive on. The force of its ferocity lifted Adeenya from her feet and drove her back, legs flailing in the air. She released her grip on her spear and rolled to her right. The creature continued a few steps and then turned to charge again, Adeenya's spear still protruding from its chest. Blood poured from the wound, but the girallon did not stop, tear the weapon out, or even howl in pain.
She let the creature come at her, grabbing her spear and yanking it out as it ran by. She pivoted on one foot, spinning around to crack the pole of the spear across the beast's back. The girallon stumbled forward but did not fall. Adeenya charged but pulled up short when a yell to her right caught her attention. She turned to see one of her men being pressed by four spindly goblins. Her lines were falling apart. She left off the wounded girallon and raced toward her soldiers.
With a few well-placed thrusts, she helped the soldier make quick work of the goblins and turned to find her girallon opponent again. Her heart sank when her eyes fell upon it. The hairy beast had gotten its second wind. Its upper arms wrapped around one of her soldiers, crushing the air from the man's lungs, while the claws on its lower arms tore viciously into his stomach and sides causing a shower of blood. His entrails raced down his dangling legs and fell to the ground, sending up clouds of dust.
Adeenya sprinted to the scene, using her momentum to thrust her spear into the girallon's side. The spear pierced through organs and erupted out the far side of the beast. Still, the creature lurched around to face her without a sound. Nothing in nature she had ever seen or heard of could hold its tongue against such a strike.
Adeenya yanked the spear out and drew the bloodied weapon over her head as far as she could before leaping into the air and plunging its pointed tip downward. It sank through the creature's shoulder, into its torso. The beast convulsed, dropping its shredded victim to the ground. The girallon managed a weak swipe of its paws at her to no avail. Adeenya left the spear in the creature until it hit the ground and stopped moving. She spared a glance to the dead Durpari at her feet, his death-as most all their deaths could be-a tally in Durpar's books. She said a quiet apology that she could not give his death more reason or purpose. She wrenched the weapon free and shouted for her troops to continue their push through the back ranks of the beastly army. The Maquar were cutting through the lines on the opposite side. The Southern forces had the creatures in a pincer movement and would meet in the bloody middle soon.
At the rear of the monstrous army, just ahead of Taennen's beleaguered forces, the ant creatures were calmly watching the battle. The largest one on the field was the size of a horse and its skin was darker in color than that of the rest of its kin. It had fingered hands, unlike its clawed cohorts. The creature wore a bronze helmet on its head, and its antennae twitched endlessly. Taennen's stomach lurched. He. Broke formation and ran toward the monsters without a spare thought.
The creature's spear met his sword almost as soon as it was raised. The beast turned slowly from the battle to regard Taennen with cold, alien eyes. Taennen roared and swung the khopesh into its legs, but again the spear met the blow.
No matter what attack Taennen attempted, the alien beast seemed to know what he was going to do. He dived over an incoming blow and rolled to come behind the beast. He almost cackled with glee as he thrust forward immediately, sure he had the creature by surprise. But somehow it twisted and contorted its torso so that it met his attack with a counter that sent his weapon hand high and found his own torso shying away from a spear point it could not avoid. The wooden weapon sank into his shoulder and Taennen screamed.
He leaped back, the weapon making a wet sucking noise as it exited his flesh. He fought the pain, focusing on what he had learned about his opponents in the course of the battle. Where the other opponents he had faced that day had seemed unskilled to unusual levels with their slow, lumbering ways, this ant-thing seemed far above his aptitude. It was as if the creature had eyes all over, watching everything Taennen did even when it was not facing him.
Taennen glanced around the battlefield hoping to find some advantage and noticed that most of the beasts- including many of the enemy humans-were dead or dying. Yet many of the ant creatures still stood. Maquar and Durpari alike were now engaging the ants, giving the combined army the tactical advantage of outnumbering their enemies. Taennen's troops had split their wedge formation and spread themselves out to cover one portion of the field. Their battles had drawn them apart, and he cursed himself for not having watched over them more closely, keeping them together.
He locked eyes with the alien foe and nearly felt his heart stop.
He saw himself working hand in hand with the ants to bring about order and sense to a chaotic world. He was the key, the instrument that could finally stop the terrible randomness and furious meaninglessness of the world. Faerun would be a better, more ordered place if only he went with them. Together they could make the world lawful and productive, a goal he had long dreamed of making a reality.