This time, Krispos waved. Now trumpets and drums and pipes rang loud. The imperial force that had been aligned parallel to the direction of the pass swung in a great left wheel to block its mouth and keep the heretics from breaking through.
As the imperials raised their own dust and then as they came into view, the shouts from the Thanasioi got louder. Their red banners waved furiously. They might have been taken by surprise, but there was no quit in them. On they came, driving the lead regiments back on the main body of Krispos' force.
The Avtokrator, who now stood at his army's extreme right rather than to the fore, admired the bravery of the Thanasioi. He would have admired it even more had it been aimed at the Empire's foreign enemies rather than against him.
Phostis tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the center of the heretics' line. 'That's Livanios, Father: the fellow in the gilded shirt between those two flags there.'
Krispos' eye followed Phostis' finger. 'I see the man you mean. His helm is gilded, too, isn't it? For someone who leads a heresy where all men are condemned to the least they can stand, he likes imperial trappings well, doesn't he?'
'He does,' Phostis agreed. 'That's one of the reasons I decided I couldn't stomach the Thanasioi: too much hypocrisy there for me to stand.'
'I see,' Krispos said slowly. Had Livanios been a sincere fanatic rather than an opportunist, then, he might have used Phostis' self-righteousness to draw him deep into the Thanasiot movement. But a sincerely destructive fanatic would not have gone after the imperial mint at Kyzikos. Had Krispos needed any further explication of Livanios' character, that raid would have given it to him.
Which was not to say he lacked courage. He threw himself into the thick of the fighting, flinging javelins and slashing with his saber when the battle came to close quarters.
It was, to all appearances, a fight devoid of tactical subtlety. The Thanasioi wanted to break through the imperial line; Krispos' soldiers aimed to keep them bottled up inside the pass. They plied the heretics with arrows from a line several men deep. Even when the first ranks had to struggle hand to hand, those behind them kept shooting at the Thanasioi who piled up ever tighter against the barrier the imperials had formed.
Fewer Thanasioi were archers. In any case, archery by itself would not sweep aside Krispos' men. In spite of the galling wounds they received, the heretics charged again and again, seeking to hew a path through their foes. 'The path!' they cried. 'The gleaming path!'
Along with trying to break through in the center, the Thanasioi also sent wave after wave of fighters against Krispos and his retinue. With their shields, mail shirts, and heavy axes, the Halogai stood like a dam between the Avtokrator and the fighters who sought to lay him low. But the northerners could not hold all arrows away from him. He had a shield of his own, and needed it to protect his face.
His horse let out a frightened squeal and tried to rear. Krispos fought the animal back under control. An arrow protruded from its rump.
The Thanasioi charged again. This time some of them broke through his screen of bodyguards. Phostis traded saber strokes with one, Katakolon with another. That left Krispos facing two at once. He slashed at the one on his right side, used his shield to hold off the blows of the one to his left, and hoped someone would come to his aid soon.
Suddenly the horse of the Thanasiot to his right screamed, far louder and more terribly than his own mount had a few minutes before. A Haloga axe had bitten into its spine, just behind its rider. The horse foundered. The Haloga raised his axe again and slew the Thanasiot.
That let Krispos turn against his other foe. He still remembered how to use a sword himself, and slashed the fellow on the forearm. Another Haloga guard, his axe dripping gore, bore down on the heretic. The Thanasiot ignored him, bending every effort toward slaying the Avtokrator. He paid the price for his fanaticism: the guardsman hacked him out of the saddle.
'Thanks.' Krispos panted. Sweat ran down his forehead and stung his eyes. 'I'm getting old for this business, much as I hate to admit it.'
'No man is young enough to be happy fighting two,' the Haloga said, which made him feel a little better.
Among them, his sons and the northerners had put an end to the other Thanasioi who'd broken through. Katakolon had a cut that stretched halfway across one cheek, but managed a blood-spattered smile for Krispos. 'Iakovitzes won't like me so well anymore,' he shouted.
'Ah, but all the girls will sigh over how brave you are,' Krispos answered, which made his youngest son's smile wider.
Another Thanasiot surge. The Halogai on foot and Videssians on horseback contained it. Krispos gauged the fighting. He had not asked a great deal of his men, only that they hold their place against the onslaught of the Thanasioi. So much had they done. The heretics were bunched against them, still trying to force their way out of the valley.
'Send for Zaidas,' Krispos commanded. A messenger rode off.
He soon returned with the wizard, who had not been far away. 'Now, your Majesty?' Zaidas asked.
'The time will never be better,' Krispos said.
Zaidas set to work. Most of his preparations for this magic had been made ahead of time. It was not. properly speaking, battle magic, nor directed against the Thanasioi. Battle magic had a way of failing; the stress of fighting raised emotions to such a pitch that a spell which might otherwise have been fatal failed to bite at all.
'Let it come forth!' Zaidas cried, and stabbed a finger up toward the sky. From his fingertip sprang a glowing green fireball that rose high above the heaving battle line, growing and getting brighter as it climbed. A few soldiers from both sides paused for an instant to call Phos' name or sketch the sun-sign above their hearts. Most, however, were too busy fighting for their lives to exclaim over the fireball or to notice it at all.
Zaidas turned to Krispos. 'What magic may do, magic has done,' he said. His voice was ragged and worn; sorcery cost those who worked it dear.
Little by little, the green fireball faded. Before too long, it was gone. Watching the indecisive fight to which he had committed his army, Krispos wondered if it had been sent skyward in vain. Men should have been watching for
