swarms of attackers that appeared above the bluff rim, he thrust them back, sweeping them from the Carolan. But the defenders’ lines were thin and the bluff was long and dotted with bits of sheltering forest which hid the Demons’ approach. Isolated groups began to break through, and the Elven flanks began to buckle.
On the Elfitch, the Demons breached the gates of the sixth ramp. Breaking through the defenders’ ranks, they shattered the bolts and crossbars that secured the gates and flung them wide. Into the gap they poured, clawing their way upward through the bodies of their dead. Amantar still held the right wall, but Stee Jans and his decimated Bordermen were being forced steadily back. At the center of the Elven defense, Kerrin rallied the Home Guard and counterattacked the Demon rush, desperately trying to throw it back. Into the howling mass the Elven Hunters charged, hammering the Demons aside, slowing the assault. For an instant it appeared that the Home Guard would recapture the gates. But then a handful of Furies launched themselves from the walls onto the attacking Elves, claws and teeth ripping. Kerrin went down, dying. The counterattack stalled, then fell back, broken.
Slowly the defenders retreated up the Elfitch through the open gates of the seventh and last ramp, keeping their, lines tightly formed as the enemy tried to break through. With Amantar and Stee Jans holding the center, the defenders slipped back within the walls, and the gates slammed shut. Below, the Demons massed once more.
Three hundred yards east of the ramphead, Ander Elessedil stared out over the battlefield and felt his hopes begin to fade. At his back, the soldiers of the Black Watch ringed the Gardens of Life. He glanced quickly to Kobold, who stood at their head, then to Allanon. The Druid was at his side, seated on Artaq, dark face impassive as he watched the tide of battle shift back and forth.
«Allanon, we must do something,” he whispered finally.
The Druid did not turn. «Not yet. Wait.»
All along the rim of the Carolan, the Demons continued to scramble to the top of the cliffs, battling to turn the Elven Ranks. To the south, they had gained a toehold on the bluff and were swelling their ranks, turning back the assaults of Elven horse that sought to dislodge them. To the north, the Dwarf Sappers still held their ground against repeated attacks, the resourceful Browork rallying horse and foot soldiers in a succession of strikes that time and time again threw the Demons from the heights. Ehlron Tay rode south, leading a reserve company of horse to regain the lower bluff. They charged into the Demons, lances lowered. There was a frightful clash of bodies, screams and cries rising up, and the battle raged so heatedly that, from a distance, it was impossible to tell friend from foe. But when at last the struggle broke off, it was the Elves who were in retreat. The left flank of the defense curled up quickly now, and the Demons surged forward, howling with glee.
Then the gates of the seventh ramp splintered and broke, and the Demons poured through. The defenders were flung back, and it appeared that they would be overrun completely. But the Trolls led a sudden, savage counterattack that swept the Demons back through the broken gates, and for an instant the walls were regained. Then the Demons rallied, the largest, most brutal moving to the fore, and the hordes broke through again. This time even the Rock Trolls could not stem the advance. Dragging their wounded with them, the defenders abandoned the gates and moved back up the ramp toward the bluff rim.
By now the Demons had gained the north end of the Carolan as well as the south, thrusting back the determined Dwarves, and the flanks folded in toward the center point. Slowly, surely, the Gardens of Life became an island on the battlefield as the Demons surged toward it. Ehlron Tay went down, ripped from his horse. Torn and battered, he was pulled to safety by his soldiers and carried from the bluff. Browork had suffered half a dozen wounds, and the Demons were all about him. The Old Guard had lost a third of its strength. Two of the Wing Riders were down and the three who remained, including Dayn, had flown back to the Gardens of Life to stand with Allanon. Everywhere, the Elves and their allies were in retreat.
The defenders on the Elfitch had been forced back to the ramphead by their attackers. Stee Jans held the center position in the defense, surrounded by his Free Corps soldiers. Elves and Trolls held the flanks. It was clear to all that they could not hold long. The scar–faced Borderman recognized the danger of their position at a glance. Below, the Demons massed for another assault. To either side along the bluff rim; the defenders’ lines had collapsed and were pinching in upon the ramp head. In moments, all would be caught in a vice from which none would escape. They had to fall back at once, to reform their lines at the perimeter of the Gardens of Life where they might consolidate their strength and gain the support of the Black Watch. But they needed time to do that, and someone must give them that time.
Red hair flying, the Free Corps Commander snatched the crimson and gray battle standard of his company and jammed it between the ramp stones. Here the Free Corps would make its stand. Rallying his Bordermen to him, he formed a narrow phalanx at the center of the ramphead. Then he ordered the Elves and Trolls to fall back. No one questioned the order; Stee Jans had been given command of the army Quickly they abandoned the Elfitch, moving back toward the ranks of Black Watch that ringed the Gardens of Life. In moments, the remnants of the Free Corps stood alone.
«What is he doing!» Ander screamed to Allanon, horrified. But the Druid did not answer.
The Demons attacked. Up the ramp they charged, howling with rage. Incredibly, the Free Corps withstood the assault and thrust it back. All the while the Elven defenders continued to slip free of the noose that had threatened to snare them. Again the Demons came up the Elfitch, and again the Free Corps thrust them back. No more than two dozen Bordermen remained alive. At their head stood the tall figure of Stee Jans. Regrouping before the Gardens of Life, the defenders who had fled the Elfitch looked back, watching the tiny knot of men who still held against the Demon rush. A silence settled over their ranks. They knew how this must end.
Now the whole of the Carolan lay open. Stee Jans wrenched free the battle standard, lifted the gray and crimson pennant high above his head, and the Free Corps battle cry rang out. Then slowly, deliberately, the little band began to move back across the Carolan, back toward the Elven defenders who ringed the Gardens of Life. Not a single Borderman broke formation. Not a single Borderman ran.
Ander’s breath escaped from his lips with a sharp hiss. It was a hopeless retreat. At his elbow, Browork’s battered face shoved into view.
«It’s too far, Bordermen!» he muttered, almost to himself.
A wave of Demons edged over the lip of the ramphead, snarling. North and south along the Carolan, they began to mass.
«Run!» Ander whispered. «Run, Stee Jans!»
But there was no time left to run. Shrieks filled the morning air, shattering the momentary stillness, and the whole of the Demon army swept forward.
Then Allanon was moving. A quick word to Dayn and Dancer’s reins were in his hands. A moment later he had swung astride the giant Roc and was lifting skyward. Ander Elessedil and those who stood with him stared after the Druid in astonishment. High above the Gardens Allanon flew, black robes billowing out, lean arms raised. On the Carolan, the converging Demons slowed abruptly and stared skyward. Then a monstrous clap of thunder burst across the grasslands as if the earth had split apart in anger, and blue fire spurted from the Druid’s fingers. In an arc that reached from one end of the Demon advance to the other, the fire swept the foremost ranks of the attackers and burned them to ash. Howls and shrieks rose from the Demons as a wall of flame lifted before them, forcing them bark from the encircled Free Corps.
A roar of excitement went up from the Elves. A narrow corridor had opened through the ring of fire to the Gardens and the embattled army of the Elves. Back through this corridor came the Bordermen — quickly now, for their trap might close again at any moment. All about them the Demons raged, but the fire held them at bay. Run! Ander cried silently. There is still a chance! Back raced the Bordermen, and the distance between them narrowed. A handful of Furies gave chase, maddened beyond reason, hurtling through the flames. But Allanon saw them. One dark hand raised, clenching. Druid fire lanced into the cat things and they disappeared in a brilliant explosion, a pillar of fire rising skyward to mark their end. High overhead, Dancer screamed his battle cry.
And then Stee Jans and his Free Corps soldiers broke clear of the fire and were back once more within the safety of the Elven lines. Shouts and cheers welcomed them, and the battle standards of the Four Lands lifted in the morning air.
On the Carolan, the Druid fire burned lower now, but still the Demons did not try to cross. With the Furies so easily destroyed, none cared to face Allanon alone. Milling behind the wall of flames, they snarled and raged at the lone black flyer. And they waited.
The Druid glided past, eyes searching. He knew what must happen now. A challenge had been issued, and one among the Demons must answer it. Only the Dagda Mor was strong enough to do so — and answer he would,