“Put these on, sir,” Saclare said. He was holding a bundle of the laquered battle armor of the morse riders, surmounted by a bronze, visored helmet. He and all the others were already wearing theirs.
Hiero struggled absently with the cuirass, half-sleeves, and greaves, not even noting that the two colonels were lacing them on for him and that his helmet bore the white heron plume of a general. His gaze was locked on the water. The main body of the apparently endless Unclean horde was now at the level of the larger islands, whose tree branches drooped over the lake.
A sudden blare of echoing horn calls rang out over the cries and yelps of the Unclean hordes. Branches fell into the lake, and even some of the great trees were thrown down. Out from their hidden island anchorages swept a flock of ships, the five armored Metz steamboats in the van, belching clouds of smoke as they charged the enemy. Justus Berain was not a man to be hurried; he struck only when he felt the exact time had come! The gun ports of the steamers had been widened and lowered, allowing for point-blank fire. From the great muzzle-loaders burst not solid shot, but masses of broken ceramic tile, mixed with rock and metal scraps, causing instant havoc. Behind the steamers came a fleet of stout rowing barges, wooden mantlets and wicker screens protecting both the complement of archers and the rowers. Volley-fired only by orders, sheets of arrows swept over the enemy, adding to the carnage.
It was not all one-sided. Though blasted and torn, shredded by the crude langrage, the blasting rubble of the war steamers, and devastated by the arrow storm, the enemy fought back. Their metallic trumpets signaled anew from the forest, and fresh masses swept out and into the confusion on the waters.
Here and there in the swarming ranks of the foe, Hiero now caught glimpses of gray-cloaked figures hurrying from one point to the other. The Unclean adepts might be new to open warfare, he realized, but they had come in strength and were fast learners!
He tore his eyes away and looked down at what lay below the observation platform. It made him feel easier. Unconcerned by the uproar in the distance, just under four thousand troopers of the Metz cavalry waited by their mighty steeds, all in four broken lines, stretching across the marsh. The great lances were planted in line, one at the head of each morse, with the troopers lounging in place. The two Mantans, impassive as always, waited patiently at the ladder foot; the three Children of the Wind were beside them. Klootz stood, silent, next to the two morses requisitioned for the hunters.
“Won’t be much longer, gentlemen,” he said to the two colonels. “It looks good here. Downstream on the lower lake, it may be something else. We only have one steamer, the newest, there. But we have other surprises. We should know shortly.”
They all continued to watch the lake even as Hiero spoke. As far away as they could see, until the angle of the lake cut them off, the battle raged, the screams and cries of men and beasts mingling under the veils of smoke with the roar of the guns.
“By the Lord God, I think they are turning,” Saclare muttered. “Even they have had enough. I thought they were never going to stop coming out of the woods. But—look!”
They could all see it now, and Hiero sent a heartfelt prayer up to Heaven. The frightful slaughter had turned back the swimmers and the Unclean boats. The frail craft they had borne so many leagues were no match for the keen arrows and the great guns. The armored ships went where they would, spewing destruction on all sides and grinding any smaller vessels under their angled snouts. Repeatedly, the enemy swarms tried to board and close in, only to be beaten back with heavy losses. The arrow boats followed in the wake of the big five, and the guard boats, which had fled so slowly to the other shore, wheeled and re-entered the fight. Many others darted from the southern shore to join them.
Here and there, some of the great mink mutants sprang aboard a smaller boat or a load of Howlers tried to board. Man-rats also tried the same tactic, but the wicker and plank screens kept most of them out, and the others were quickly slaughtered. The main body of Unclean human infantry was not one of great watermen, and the horrible dogs were completely helpless. There were so many bodies of all kinds floating on the waters of the lake that it almost seemed that one could walk across on them. The massed wreckage of the invasion boats made larger lumps here and there in the sea of corpses.
The Unclean trumpets back on shore rose to a screaming pitch, incessant and shrill. By boat and in the water, the enemy fled for the northern banks. They had begun to do so even before the signal to retreat had rung out. Beaten and demoralized, yet still in great numbers, they swam and paddled for their lives. Not one had come near to setting foot on the farther shore.
The war boats of the Republic moved in behind them, the terrible fire taking a continuous toll. Blasts from the guns swept the shore, and arrows flew through the smoke. Looking at the sun over the reeking clouds, Hiero realized that it was noon and that hardly an hour had passed since the enemy had launched its craft upon the lake. He wondered how the battle to the east was coming. The foe still mustered great strength and would fight hard if given a chance to rally. Would the interpretation of what came next be accurate?
“To your posts, gentlemen,” he said quietly, “I want this tower struck at once. The enemy could see it if they came now.”
They went down the long ladder like men possessed. In moments, the tower was disassembled and the three ranking officers were riding slowly along the lines. Saclare dropped off to command the right flank, and Hiero halted in the center; Lejus went on to take over the left. Listening hard, Hiero could hear a slackening of the gunfire from the lake. He could think of no reason for it but one—lack of targets of opportunity. Now only an occasional rumble came from the smoke bank in the southeast.
He turned to the catfolk, who stood waiting by his saddle. I have a task of great danger for you, he sent. We must know if the enemy comes and how fast. Ch’uirsh, go to the left. Za’reekh, you go to the right Try to reach me with your minds, but come back if you cannot. Do not be seen if you can possibly help it. Kill none unless it is death not to do otherwise. I seek knowledge, not bodies. Will you go? M’reen, you will go to my front, but not as far as the others. You can perhaps relay their thoughts.
They did not even answer, but were gone like three marsh sprites, skimming grass clumps and knee-deep water as if they were not there.
“If this were dry ground, I’d send you two on a scout,” he said to the twins. “But I don’t want the enemy to see a single morse, and you can’t move in this muck like those three.” They nodded bleakly and settled themselves at rest in their saddles.
Waiting was not easy. Hiero tried to think about the future; when he found this too depressing, he narrowed it to the immediate future. He had two tasks before him, and they might come quickly, even together. One—break the enemy flank to pieces. Come and be broken, damn you! Two—find and kill S’duna. You’re out there, you filth, I know it. Too many of your dirty renegade humans, too many louse-bitten Leemutes. You threw everything you had into this one and you couldn’t stay behind on Manoon, polluting the sun with your amusements this time!