The nomads were surprised to be attacked by an animal, but they were men of field and stream, used to hunting animals of all kinds. They rallied, trying to ring in the beast and cut him down. Fortunately for Balif, Lofotan’s band arrived.
They battered the nomads back, breaking the circle and freeing Balif. He snarled defiance and stormed into danger again. The centaurs fought valiantly, not only with sword and spear but with their front hooves too. Lofotan moved like a dancer, slashing in and out among the nomads with ruthless precision. But for all their ferocity, bravery, and skill, they were thirteen against hundreds. Nomads flowed left and right, getting behind the defenders. Two of Zakki’s centaurs went down in quick succession to thrown spears. Treskan did his best, which wasn’t much, so he settled for keeping the enemy off Lofotan’s back. Mathi could do little but parry and block sword and spear thrusts. The circle shrank and shrank. When Mathi’s heels bumped the elf’s she knew the end was near.
And then, a miracle.
At two-score points along the slope of the hill dirt flew upward. Holes opened in the ground, holes that had been covered with panels of woven vines and camouflaged with dirt. Pouring out of these holes came kender-hundreds of kender. Decked out in a motley collection of found weaponry they mixed with the nomads and fell upon them from all sides. In the time it took for a sparrow to cross the ridge the course of the battle completely reversed. The nomads broke. They ran for the woods, many with two or three kender clinging to them, battering them with swords, knives, stones, or sticks. The ring of bloody blades that threatened to close around Lofotan’s defenders disintegrated. Zakki and his warriors took up their bows, stinging the retreating enemy. Treskan and Mathi were content to watch the humans flee, stunned by the sudden turn of fate.
Balif chased them, howling for more blood. When a stout warrior turned to spear the general, Lofotan raised his bow and shot him down. Pointed ears laid back against his head, Balif howled and charged the next nearest nomads. He pursued the enemy into the woods.
Mathi saw the concern on Lofotan’s face. Alone in the woods, Balif could be ambushed at any time. There was nothing Lofotan could do. Sound tactics required him to remain on the hill no matter what his cursed leader did.
The Longwalker hailed them. “Greetings, noble friends! We have won!”
“Only the first throw,” Lofotan said. Uncharacteristically, he smiled broadly at the kender chief, however. “I wish you could have told us what you were planning!”
“We thought we were going to die!” Treskan added.
“Many apologies, but it was vital that the humans not know about our wall-less walls.”
The Longwalker explained that the kender had begun tunneling into the bluff since the first night they arrived. At first they were simply making holes to hide in, but as the number of holes multiplied, someone suggested linking them with tunnels. They knew they had neither the time nor materials to fortify the hill in the usual way, so they reverted to kender tactics-doing what no one else thought of.
“Whose idea was it to make tunnels?” Mathi asked. “Rufus.”
A hand plucked at Mathi’s sleeve. “How are you, boss?” Mathi’s knees failed her at that point. She sat down before she fell down.
“Fantastic!” she said trembling. She gathered the astonished kender into her arms and embraced him like a brother.
“Uh, boss? You’re crushing me.”
Mathi thrust the little man out at arms’ length. “What do I owe you for my deliverance?” she said happily.
“Nothing. This one was on me.”
The short celebration was over when word came up the hill that strong parties of humans were in the woods, many on horseback. In short order the kender came piling back, popped back in their holes, and pulled their lids shut behind them. As miraculous as their sudden appearance had been, their disappearance was equally astonishing.
The Longwalker remained above ground with a contingent of thirty-odd followers. They formed up in a bunch behind Lofotan and Mathi. The centaurs spread out in front, bows ready.
A line of mounted men filtered slowly out of the trees. Sunlight sparkled on their upraised spear points.
“Steady,” Lofotan said. “Remember, most warriors die while running away, not when they stand fast.”
“Depends on how fast you can run,” replied the Longwalker.
A small group detached from the line of horsemen and trotted up the hill. Mathi counted six riders. It looked like a parley, and he said as much to Lofotan.
“Hold those arrows,” the elf told the centaurs.
Drawing closer, Mathi recognized the massive nomad leader Bulnac. His horse was enormous too, with great shaggy hooves and a back as broad as a banquet table. Arrayed behind him were his lieutenants, decked out in typical savage finery with feathers, beads, shells, and the odd bit of metal here and there.
Bulnac came straight at the center of the line of stakes, and stopped there, waiting.
“I guess we’d best meet him,” Lofotan said.
“Who goes with you?” Mathi asked.
“All of you. This concerns everyone.”
The motley knot of centaurs, kender, elf and disguised elves went to meet the nomad chief. Bulnac did not dismount when they approached. He sat high atop his monstrous horse, looking down his flat nose at the strange delegation facing him with a fence of sharpened stakes arrayed between him and then.
“Who commands here?”
“I do,” said Lofotan. “The Longwalker leads his own people, and Zakki is chief of our friends, the centaurs.”
“Ah, I heard there were horse-men on this hilltop. Did you not learn your lesson before? This time there will be no survivors.”
“You haven’t won yet,” Lofotan replied dryly. “What do want? Or did you come all this way to boast us to death?”
The chief’s wide white smiled vanished. “You have too long been a thorn in my flesh, elder one. You and those cockroaches,” he sneered at the assembled kender. “I came to tell you not to expect any quarter if there is any further resistance to my taking over this land.” He looked past the defenders, noticing the commanding view from the bluff. “This will make a fine place to build my stronghold.” He smiled again very unpleasantly. “After you are gone.”
“There’s an old saying among my people,” the Longwalker said. “‘Birds on the wing lay very few eggs.’”
Bulnac curled a lip. “My steed shall tread on your faces,” he vowed, “unless you abandon the hill now. March away and I will not molest you. That is Bulnac’s mercy, and it is the most you can expect from me.”
The centaurs’ bows creaked as they nervously tugged at them. Bulnac heard the sound and laughed. “You have your choice: sure slaughter at the hands of my warriors, or return to the land that bore you.”
He reined around. His minions drew well back, making room for their large leader.
“You have until the shadow changes right to left.” He pointed to the shadow lines cast by the stakes. From Bulnac’s perspective the morning sun cast their shadows to his right. By the time the sun passed overhead and started down in the west, the stakes’ shadows would switch to the other side. That would take about three to four hours.
“Away!”
Bulnac galloped down the hill with his men close behind. The defenders of Balif’s redoubt watched them go, each one pondering the choice they had to make.
CHAPTER 18
Rufe led everyone to the opposite side of the hill, not far from the edge of the bluff overlooking the river. He went unerringly to a spot by a scraggly cedar tree, dug his fingers in the dirt, and opened a hidden trapdoor.
Lofotan and Mathi squatted by the hole. It smelled damp.