Taking a flint and steel from his wallet, Jason bent over the pot of shredded punk and began to scratch away industriously. As the sparks smoldered and died, he looked out of the corners of his eyes to be sure he wasn’t observed, then quickly actuated the lighter he had palmed. The tongue of flame flicked out and fired the punk.
“Here you are,” he said, handing the smoldering pot to Kerk. “I suggest you carry this and throw the grenades, as you can undoubtedly toss them farther than I can.”
“Farther and much more accuratelj.”
“Yes, there is that, too. I and the others will carry the bombs for you and act as guards in case of a counterattack. Here we go.”
They left their mounts and proceeded on foot into The Slash. The attacking troops were still moving up, so they worked their way along the sloping wall of the valley to avoid being trampled. As they went farther in, they met the first debris of battle-wounded soldiers who had crawled to the side out of the path of the still attacking army. The ones who had not made it were just red smears in the dust below. There were occasional dead inoropes as well, their massive bodies standing up like bloodstained boulders. Now The Slash narrowed and the walls grew steeper. They found themselves following a goat path, their hands pressed against the stone for support. In this manner they reached the first redoubt. This was a crude but effective wall of piled rocks that fortified a narrow ledge. Jason clambered up the boulders to peer inside. He would need some idea of how these things were built up in order to blow them down. The defenders, stocky men in dusty furs, each with a weasel’s skull lashed above his forehead, lay where they had fallen. Their bodies bristled with arrows; their thumbs were missing. Hardcarapaced death beetles had appeared out of the ground and were already at work.
“If they’re all like this, we won’t have any trouble,” Jason said, sliding down to rejoin the others. “The boulders are just piled up, with no sign of any mortar. A grenade, if it doesn’t knock out all the soldiers, should blow a gap in the wall big enough to let Temuchin’s lads through.”
“You are optimistic,” Kerk said, taking the lead again. “These are merely outposts. The main defenses must lie ahead.”
“Well, that’s better than being pessimistic. I’m trying to talk myself into believing I’ll live through this barbarian war and actually be warm again some time.”
It was no longer possible to walk on the valley side and they had to drop down and push their way through the soldiers. As the rock walls became more vertical, The Slash narrowed, and Jason could appreciate the difficulties of capturing it when it was stoutly defended. All of the moropes had been sent back and the attackers were now on foot. An arrow cracked into the stone above Jason’s head and clattered down at their feet.
“We’re at the front lines,” Jason said. “Hold the advance here while I take a look.” He pulled himself up the sloping side of one of the mas
sive boulders that filled the gorge and, with his helm pulled low, slowly raised his head above the top. An arrow instantly clanged off of it and he quickly tilted his head forward until he was peering through the merest slit between the helm and the stone.
The advance had stopped ahead, where two redoubts, on opposite sides of The Slash, could sweep the entire floor of the valley with their accurate arrow fire. The defenders were firing from slits between the rocks and were. almost impregnable to any return fire. Temuchin’s forces were suffering losses in order to take the defended points the hard way. Protected slightly by their shields, moving in quick rushes from boulder to boulder, they crept forward. And died.
“The range is about 40 meters,” Jason said, sliding back to the ground. “Do you think you can toss one of these things that far?”
Kerk bounced the homemade bomb on the palm of his broad hand and estimated its weight. “Easily,” he said. “Let me look first so I will know what the distance is.” He moved up to the position Jason had vacated, took one look, then dropped back down.
“That defended position is bigger than the others. It will take at least two bombs. I will light this one, hand you the smudge pot, then step out and throw the bomb. In the meantime you will have lit a second one, do not arm it, which you will give to me as soon as I have thrown the first. Is that clear?”
“Crystalline. Here we go.”
Jason slipped off the sling of bombs and kept only one in his hand. The nearby soldiers (they had all heard about the gunpowder experiments) were watching closely. Kerk lit the false fuse, blew it into smoking life, then stepped out from the shelter of the rock. Jason hurriedly lit the bomb he carried and stood ready to pass it on.
With infuriating calm Kerk drew his arm back as one arrow zinged close by him and another shattered on his breastplate. Then he lowered the bomb, wet his finger and raised it to check the direction of the wind. Jason hopped from one foot to the other and clamped his teeth tightly together to stop from shouting at the Pyrran to throw.
More arrows arrived before Kerk was satisfied with the wind and drew his arm back again. Jason saw his thumb and index finger give the smoldering fuse a quick tug before, with a single contraction of all his muscles, he threw the bomb. It was a good, classic grenade throw, straight-armed and overhand, sending the bomb on a high arc toward the defended position. Jason reached out and slapped the second bomb into Kerk’s waiting hand. This one followed the first so closely that both were in the air at the same rime.
Kerk stood where he was and Jason, dismaying his own cowardly survival instincts, remained exposed as well, watching the two black spots soar high and down behind the wail.
There was an instant of waiting, then the entirestone-walled position leaped out into the air and crashed down in fragments below. Jason had a quick vision of bodies tossed high before he dodged behind the boulder to avoid the chunks of falling rock.
“Very satisfactory,” Kerk said, pressed against the stone face close to Jason while stone shards rattled down around them.
“I hope the others are all this easy.”
Of course, they weren’t. The watchful defenders saw quickly enough that one man, throwing something, was responsible for the disaster, and the next time Kerk emerged he had to withdraw swiftly as a solid flight of arrows smashed down on his position.
“This is going to take some planning,” Kerk said, automatically snuffing out the sputtering fuse.
“Are you afraid? Why do you stop?” an angry voice asked, and Kerk wheeled around to face Témuchin, who had come up to the front under the protective shields of his personal guard.
“Caution wins battles, fear loses them. I shall win this battle for you.” Kerk’s voice was as coldly angry as the warlord’s.
“Is it caution or cowardice that keeps you behind this boulder after I have ordered you to destroy the redoubts?”
“Is it caution or cowardice that puts you here beside me instead of leading your men into battle?”
Temuchin made an animal-like noise deep in his throat and pulled out his sword. Kerk raised the gunpowder bomb, apparently eager to stuff it down the other’s throat. Jason drew in a deep breath and stepped between the two furious men.
“The death of either of you would aid the enemy,” he said, facing Temuchin for he was fairly sure that Kerk would not strike him from behind. “The sun is already behind the hills, and if the redoubts are not knocked out by dark, it may be too late. Their reinforcements could arrive during the night and that would be the end of this campaign.”