archers began to rain arrows down upon the Tuigan. On the right flank, the dwarves let fly a thousand crossbow bolts and quickly reloaded. Sheet after sheet of deadly missiles dropped upon the seventy thousand barbarians as they rushed forward. 'Now, Vangy,' Azoun said and pointed to the center of the enemy line.
Without hesitation, the wizard drew a pinch of diamond dust from a pouch at his belt. Spreading it in an arc over the ground, Vangerdahast uttered a brief incantation. 'There,' he said weakly. 'The khahan is all yours.' He staggered a few steps and added, 'I'd best get back with the other War Wizards. I can do no more here.'
Azoun couldn't take his eyes off the center of the Tuigan line. The horselords raised their curved swords high and shrieked a frightening war cry. Even though he knew that at least some of the barbarians would be stopped by the holes dug across the battlefield, the king felt a shiver run up his spine. If the Tuigan got through, it was clear they intended to take no prisoners.
The war cry trilled over the battlefield for a few seconds more, until with startling suddenness, the Tuigan line hit the traps. At first only a few horses stumbled, but that was all it took to cause havoc in many parts of the charge. Because of the small front the western army presented, the horsewarriors were forced to ride much closer together than they normally did. Now, when one rider fell or one horse staggered, others quickly followed.
As the full bulk of the Tuigan charge hit the semicircle of holes, it became clear how effective the trap was going to be. Rider after rider urged his mount into the illusory terrain, only to have it drop one leg into a deep hole. The sickening sound of bones breaking filled the air before the horses started to shriek in pain and confusion. Soldiers tumbled out of saddles. A few were lucky enough to be tossed clear of the press, but most were not. The former were quickly cut down by the western archers, the latter crushed by falling horses or the troops charging behind them.
To Azoun, it looked as if an invisible wall had been thrown up to stop the enemy charge-a wall with one noticeable gap.
The riders at the center of the Tuigan line, those closest to Yamun Khahan and his standard, found the path to the western army strangely free of barricades. Their horses pounded over the muddy ground while others on either side of them were stopped by unseen forces. The khahan could not know it, but he and his bodyguard had crossed over a plane of force, a magical bridge called into existence by Vangerdahast for the sole purpose of trapping the Tuigan leader. As soon as the yak-tail banner and the fifty or so men around it crossed that magical bridge, the royal magician let it disappear. When the plane of force was gone, the holes beneath it gaped hungrily for Tuigan horseflesh.
As the riders behind Yamun Khahan fell victim to the dwarves' trap, King Azoun looked to his right. His daughter stood, fully armored, waiting for the command to attack. The king had been wounded and unconscious when Alusair had joined the first battle. When he'd awoke, Azoun had learned she was safe before he'd found out she'd ever been in danger. Now he realized that his order might send Alusair to her death, that Filfaeril might not get to see her daughter alive again.
For an instant, he considered ordering her to the rear, out of danger. Azoun quickly shook aside that thought. The princess belonged on the battlefield as much as he did. That realization did not erase the fear the king felt for his daughter's life, but it allowed him to raise his own sword and give the signal he'd been waiting all day to give. 'At them!' King Azoun cried and raced forward.
The two hundred soldiers who charged with the king had been handpicked. Along with Torg, Vrakk, and Alusair, there were dalesmen and Sembians, Red Plumes from Hillsfar and Purple Dragons from Cormyr, all the best soldiers in the Alliance. The two hundred shouted angry defiance at the khahan and braced themselves for the fight. 'Now,' the king whispered into his closed visor. 'Do it now, Vangy.'
As if in response to the king's plea, fifty lightning bolts joined the rain and the longbow arrows in the sky. They shrieked over the western lines and tore into the helpless, tangled Tuigan. The bolts momentarily blinded those who had looked upon them, and deafened the soldiers to the cries of the barbarians who were scattered by the lightning like sparks from an exploding firecracker. For the first time in many months, a Tuigan charge wavered, then failed.
Inside the semicircle marked by the wall of crippled horses and crushed bodies, King Azoun was ordering his two hundred to encircle the khahan's bodyguard. The trapped Tuigan were obviously looking for a way to escape, but the king was certain he would provide them none.
Azoun tapped his sword upon his shield twice, and the standard-bearer dipped the purple dragon to the ground. The archers, who had until now been aiming at the mass of Tuigan held up by their fallen comrades, pointed their missiles at the group of riders huddled around the khahan. Longbow arrows whistled over the king's head, and half the khahan's bodyguard dropped from their saddles. The surviving Tuigan caught inside the king's trap scattered, and the handpicked western force rushed to dispatch them.
Gripped with foreboding, Azoun watched Alusair rush from his side toward a barbarian rider. The princess, not carrying a shield, gripped her longsword with both hands and slashed at the Tuigan as he rode past. The blow connected, dropping the warrior to the muddy ground.
As the king took a step toward his daughter, the unhorsed Tuigan stood up. A large, hulking man, the barbarian wore a suit of typical Tuigan armor: large metal plates sewn onto leather. His conical, pointed helmet had fallen off when he'd hit the ground, so his braided, mud-spattered hair was all that protected his head. The princess took immediate advantage of that fact. Before her father could take two steps, Alusair feinted a blow to the barbarian's midsection. When the hulking man moved to block it with his curved sword, she struck at her real target. Her blade hit the Tuigan's unprotected head and split his skull.
With a glance back at her father, Alusair moved into the press of warriors in front of the king.
From the edge of the main battle, Azoun saw a Tuigan whirl his horse around, as if he were ready to charge the western lines alone. Unlike the warrior Alusair had faced, this barbarian wore a breastplate of gold, sculpted with muscles. A skirt of chain girded his waist, and from the top of his conical, fur-trimmed helmet, a horsetail dangled. The sky lit up again as another group of lightning bolts passed overhead. For an instant, Azoun thought that the Tuigan's dark eyes reflected the light with malevolent intensity.
'Yamun Khahan,' Azoun said to himself. He took a step forward and tightened his grip on his shield and his sword.
The khahan must have seen Azoun, too, for he kicked his black charger into motion. As his mount bounded over the muddy ground, the ruler of the Tuigan shouted something in his own guttural language. The Cormyrian king didn't know that the khahan was shouting an oath, calling upon his legendary status as the chosen of the Tuigan sky god, but that didn't matter. All Azoun saw was the well-muscled horse with its angry, cursing rider heading toward him. He lifted his shield and bent his knees slightly, preparing to dodge the khahan's attack.
A short soldier in beautifully crafted armor stepped in front of Azoun, holding his sword before him like a lance. The king tried to push past the stocky dwarf, but the ironlord would not be moved. Torg mac Cei wanted the honor of slaying the khahan: the Tuigan leader's skull would be a fine addition to the mounds in Earthfast. Stepping back, Azoun attempted to lure the khahan away from the dwarf. The ironlord had little chance of striking a blow against the mounted barbarian, and it was only his colossal pride that made him try.
As Azoun expected, Torg's stand was indeed futile.
Yamun Khahan raced forward, pointing his horse directly at the ironlord. When the armored dwarf moved out of the way, Yamun sliced down with his curved sword. Torg's armor was perhaps the finest ever crafted in the halls of Earthfast, but it could not protect him from Yamun's powerful blow. With a screeching sound, the Tuigan blade struck the armor on the ironlord's neck and bit far into his back. Torg was dead before he hit the ground.
'Azoun of Cor-meer!' the khahan shouted as he wheeled his horse around to face the king. The Tuigan jammed his heels into the mount's side and drove it forward.
Azoun had not missed the trick Yamun Khahan had used on Torg, and he assumed the barbarian would use his horse to force him into a poor defensive position, too. The king moved long before the khahan's mount reached him, feinting first to the right, then dodging left. The ploy almost didn't work, and the khahan's sword scraped Azoun's helmet and knocked his shield away. Gritting his teeth against the pain from his wounded leg, the king decided that he'd best not try to feint again.
Yamun Khahan threw his head back and laughed as his horse drove Torg's corpse deeper into the mud. For an instant, time seemed to slow down for Azoun, and he saw the myriad of individual battles going on around him as if they were occurring in slow motion. A few yards away, Vrakk and Farl were fighting desperately against Tuigan soldiers they had knocked from their horses. Arrows were streaming overhead, interspersed with occasional flashes of fire and beams of magical energy. Alusair, he realized with a sudden start, was nowhere in sight.
