"There is only one way in," Hata told Elnice of Arutan. "Up the canyon from the west. The one who leads the pongs has chosen well. He can match our numbers in the confined floor of the canyon, but we will wear him down by repeated attacks."
Hata, himself, led the first probe directly up the canyon and he came face to face with the tall leader he'd watched at the battle before the gate of Kooh. He tried to fight his way to where Duwan was holding, a stack of dead guardsmen before him, and got close enough to see the face of his adversary.
"You will be interested to know that an old friend of yours anchors the center of the pong line," he told Elnice, after he'd ordered a withdrawal, leaving more of his own dead on the field than he liked to admit.
"A traitor?" Elnice snarled.
"Tomorrow, when we attack, you will see for yourself." Elnice, surrounded by her personal bodyguard, made her way near enough to the battle line to catch a glimpse of the powerful warrior who anchored the pong line and killed her soldiers with dismaying regularity. She again felt that he was familiar, so she pushed closer. She was in no danger, for the pongs made no attempt to advance. They had established positions where the bowmen could take a toll, and the swordsmen could fight from the advantage of a small rise in the canyon floor.
"Duwan," she gasped, when she finally got a glimpse of his face in a moment of violence, as he threw back his head to avoid a thrust and then lunged forward to slay still another of her guardsmen.
"I want him taken alive," she told Hata, that night, when, once again, many dead littered the field of battle. "I took him into my bed and now he betrays me. He will be peeled so slowly that he will howl for mercy." Next day the line gave, but did not break. Little by little, the enemy pushed it back, back, until a new set of defensive positions were reached and hidden bowmen caused a temporary panic among the enemy, a panic that was halted by officers cutting off the heads of a few fleeing conscripts and lashing the others back toward the line of battle. And so it went for ten days, then fifteen.
Each day was the same. The attack began shortly after first light and continued as wave after wave of fresh troops replaced those who had taken their losses in attacking Duwan's positions. At Duwan's back, now, was the grove, the young grove of growing brothers where his grandmother lived. His losses had been severe. Each day saw fewer experienced swordsmen at the line. Worse, the supply of arrows was running out, for it was impossible to retrieve more than a handful after each battle. Pongs had died trying to retrieve arrows, for Hata had noted the arrow gathering activity after each battle and had taken steps to stop it, placing fresh troops behind the battle line to ambush the arrow gatherers. Duwan knew that defeat was inevitable. He prayed for the snows. He tried to communicate with the tall brothers, and his grandmother, but it was as if the presence of the enemy in the valley muted the whispers. He was still alone, and the hard fighting had not only depleted the pongs, it had taken its toll among the old valley Drinkers, as well. Males he had known from his first mobile days had been buried, or lay, unrecoverable, on the field of battle.
After a long, hard day of fighting he called his surviving leaders into council.
"The snows are tardy, and even if they come now it is too late," he said.
"Our only choice is to try to salvage a portion of our remaining forces. They have fought well. They can become a cadre to form other fighting groups. It will avail us nothing if we all die here. With us will die all hope." He outlined his plan, and, as she heard, Jai felt her heart pound painfully. Dagner protested. Duwan the Elder rose, his face grim.
"I see the wisdom of your plan, my son," Duwan the Elder said. "I question only one aspect of it. I will stand at your side."
"Father," Duwan said. "You must protect my mother. You must do as I say, or we have fought and died for nothing. Dagner, you have regained youth here in this land, and you must use your skills to train other fighters. You must all trust me. Many will die tomorrow, and perhaps I will be among the fallen, but I will die with my heart at ease knowing that you have obeyed my wishes, that the hope will not die with us who remain on the field of battle."
"Do not ask me to desert you," Jai said.
"I don't ask, my love, I order," Duwan said. "And if you don't obey me I will have you tied hand and foot and carried."
"Duwan," she wailed.
"No more," he said, and she was silent until, with the ordered movements made during the night, she lay by his side with the lights in the night sky putting a dim glow on his face.
"Let me stay," she begged.
He held her closely. "I do not plan to die. I will hold until you are safe among the hills, and then I will follow."
"Let me stay. Life without you would be more pain than pleasure."
"And to know that you die at my side, would that give me pleasure?" She wept silently.
Chapter Six
With the coming of darkness Duwan's army began to dissolve. Small groups began to make the difficult ascent of the steep walls of the canyon at its narrow, eastern end. There were quiet but tearful leavetakings, promises to meet again in the west, in the land of the free runners. The groups had been assembled carefully, with a male of fighting experience in each.
Duwan made the rounds of his camp, speaking to as many as he could.
"On you rests the hope of tomorrow," he told them. "You have faced the enemy and you know that in his veins runs blood, and that that blood can be spilled. You must be my cadre, my teachers, until I can rejoin you. You must spread the word that Drinkers can and will drive the enemy from this land."
He found Tambol speaking to a large group of males and females and he halted in the darkness, outside the glow of the campfires, to listen.
"Of you, much is asked," Tambol was saying. "I, myself, shudder to think of going back among the enemy, but I will go and if it is your desire, you will go. There you will spread the word. Be cautious, my friends. Speak in whispers and in the protection of the darkness in the settlements, in the cities, anywhere you can find a slave to listen, and tell him of his true heritage. Tell him of the Master. Say that our battle here was not a defeat, but a victory, a victory marked by hundreds of enemy dead, a demonstration of what we can do if we all stand together." When Tambol was alone Duwan approached and was greeted with an arm clasp and sudden tears from Tambol.
"I had counted on you to consolidate them in the west," Duwan said.
"Yet I hear you speak of going back into the cities."
"I will do as you wish, Master."
"Then guide a group to the west," Duwan said. He'd given up on trying to prevent Tambol's using the exalted title in addressing him. "Tramp the hills. Gather the scattered elements together. Be my voice, Tambol, and gather others to you until the army numbers in the tens of thousands. Tell them to listen to the valley Drinkers, to my father, to Dagner, and the others, and to learn their lessons well before making another attempt to meet the enemy head-on. He is warned now, and he will be prepared."
"Master," Tambol said tearfully, "it is you they follow, you who gives them the strength to die. Let me fight the holding action. You go and lead them into the west."
Duwan smiled and put his hand on Tambol's shoulder. "My friend, I have seen you with a sword. Your tongue is your weapon. Use it well." Duwan climbed with his mother and father and the small group chosen to accompany them to stand on a high place and look down on the camp. The few who were left were kept busy adding wood to the hundreds of fires that were kept burning to prevent the enemy from suspecting the mass escape from the canyon. He saw Jai working among the others and his heart filled. For one painful moment he considered going to get her, taking her and fleeing with the others.