the Paravaci with cries of horror that coursed the length of their entire line tried to stop and turn their kaiila but the ranks behind them pressed on and they were milling there before us, confused, trying to make sense out of the wild signals of their own bosk horns when the herd, horns down, now running full speed, struck them.
It was the vengeance of the bosk and the frightened, maddened animals thundered into the Paravaci lines goring and trampling both kaiila and riders, and the Paravaci who could manage turned their animals and rode for their lives. In a moment, maintaining my saddle in spite of the leaping and stumbling of my kaiila over the slain bosk, fallen kaiila and screaming men, I gave orders to turn the bosk back and reform them near the wagons. The escaping Paravaci could now, on their kaiila, easily outdistance the herd and I did not wish the animals to be strung out over the prairie, at the mercy of the Paravaci when they should at last turn and take up the battle again.
By the time the Paravaci had reformed my Tuchuks had managed to swing the herd, slow it, get it milling about and then drive it back to a perimeter about the wagons. It was now near nightfall and I was confident the Parava- ci, who greatly outnumbered us, perhaps in the order of ten or twenty to one, would wait until morning before pressing the advantage of their numbers. When, on the whole, the long-term balance of battle would seem to lie with them, there would be little point in their undertaking the risk of darkness.
In the morning, however, they would presumably avoid the herd, find a clear avenue of attack, and strike, perhaps evenrid through the wagons, pinning us against our own herd. That night I met with Harold, whose men had been, fighting among the wagons. He had cleared several areas of Paravaci but they were still, here and there, among the wagons. Taking council with Harold, we dispatched a rider to Kamchak in Turia, informing him of the situation, and that we had little hope of holding out.
'It will make little difference,' said Harold. 'It will take the rider, if he gets through, seven Ahn to reach Turia and even if Kamchak rides with his full force the moment the rider comes to the gates of the city, it will be eight Ahn before their vanguard can reach us and by then it will be too late.'
It seemed to me that what Harold said was true, and that there was little point in discussing it much further. I nodded wearily. Both Harold and I then spoke with our men, each issuingby orders that any man with us who wished might now with- draw from the wagons and rejoin the main forces in Turia. Not a man of either Thousand moved.
We set pickets and took what rest we could, in the open, the kaiila saddled and tethered at hand.
In the morning, before dawn, we awakened and fed on dried bosk meat, sucking the dew from the prairie grass. Shortly after dawn we discovered the Paravaci forming in their Thousands away from the herd, preparing to strike the wagons from the north, pressing through, slaying all living things they might encounter, save women, slave or free. The latter would be driven before the warriors through the wag ons, both slave girls and free women stripped and bound together in groups, providing shields against arrows and lance charges on kaiilaback for the men advancing behind them. Harold and I determined to appear to meet the Paravaci in the open before the wagons and then, when they charged, to withdraw among the wagons, and close the wagons on their attacking front, halting the charge, then at almost point blank range hopefully taking heavy toll of their forces by our archers. It would be, of course, only a matter of time before our barricade would be forced or outflanked, perhaps from five pasangs distant, in an undefended sector.
The battle was joined at the seventh Gorean hour and, as planned, as soon as the Paravaci center was committed, the bulk of our forces wheeled and retreated among the wagons, the rest of our forces then turning and pushing the wagons together. As soon as our men were through the barricade they leaped from their kaiila, bow and quiver in hand, and took up prearranged positions under the wagons, between them, on them, and behind the wagon box planking, taking advantage of the arrow ports therein.
The brunt of the Paravaci charge almost tipped and broke through the wagons, but we had lashed them together and they held. It was like a flood of kailla and riders, weapons flourishing, that broke and piled against the wagons, the rear ranks pressing forward on those before them. Some of the rear ranks actually climbed fallen and struggling comrades and leaped over the wagons to the other side, where they were cut down by archers and dragged from their kaiila to be flung beneath the knives of free Tuchuk women.
At a distance of little more than a dozen feet thousands of arrows were poured into the trapped Paravaci and yet they pressed forward, on and over their brethren, and then arrows spent, we met them on the wagons themselves with lances in our hands, thrusting them back and down.
About a pasang distant we could see new forces of the Paravaci forming on the crest of a sweeping gradient. The sound of their bask horns was welcome to us, sig- naling the retreat of those at the wagons.
Bloody, covered with sweat, gasping, we saw the living Paravaci draw back, falling back between the newly forming lines on the gradient above.
I issued orders swiftly and exhausted men poured from beneath and between the wagons to haul as many of the fallen kaiila and riders as possible from the wagons, that there might not be a wall of dying animals and men giving access to the height of our wagons.
Scarcely had we cleared the ground before the wagons when the Paravaci bask horns sounded again and another wave of kaiila and riders, lances set, raced towards us. Four times they charged thus and four times we held them back. My men and those of Harold had now been decimated and there were few that had not lost blood. I estimated that there was scarcely a quarter of those living who had ridden with us to the defense of the herds and wagons.
Once again Harold and I issued our orders that any wish- ing to depart might now do so.
Again no man moved.
'Look,' cried an archer, pointing to the gradient. There we could see new thousands forming, the standards of Hundreds and Thousands taking up their position. 'It is the Paravaci main body,' said Harold. 'It is the end.' I looked to the left and right over the torn, bloody barri cade of wagons, at the remains of my men, wounded and exhausted, many of them lying on the barricade or on the ground behind it, trying to gain but a moment's respite. Free women, and even some Turian slave girls, went to and fro, bringing water and, here and there, where there was point in it, binding wounds. Some of the Tuchuks began to sing the Blue Sky Song, the refrain of which is that though I die, yet there will be the bask, the grass and sky.
I stood with Harold on a planked platform fixed across the wagon box of the wagon at our center, whose domed frame work had been torn away. Together we looked out over the field. We watched the milling of kaiila and riders in the distance, the movement of standards.
'We have done well,' said Harold.
'Yes,' I said, 'I think so.'
We heard the bosk horns of the Paravaci signaling to the assembled Thousands.
'I wish you well,' said Harold.
I turned and smiled at him. 'I wish you well,' I said. Then again we heard the bask horns and the Paravaci, in vast ranks, like sweeping crescents, like steel scythes of men and animals and arms, far extending beyond our own lines, began to move slowly towards us, gaining steadily in momen tum and speed with each traversed yard of stained prairie. Harold and I, and those of our men that remained, stood with the wagons, watching the nearing waves of warriors, observing the moment when the chain face guards of the Paravaci helmets were thrown forward, the moment when the lances, like that of a single man, were leveled. We could now hear the drumming of the paws of the kaiila, growing ever more rapid and intense, the squealing of animals here and there along the line, the rustle of weapons and accou terments.
'Listen!' cried Harold.
I listened, but seemed to hear only the maddeningly inten sifying thunder of the Paravaci kaiila sweeping towards us, but then I heard, from the far left and right, the sound of distant bosk horns. 'Bosk horns!' cried Harold.
'What does it matter?' I asked.
I wondered how many Paravaci there could possibly be. I watched the nearing warriors, lances ready, the swiftness of the charge hurtling into full career.
'Look!' cried Harold, sweeping his hand to the left and right.
My heart sank. Suddenly rising over the crest of rolling hills, like black floods, from both the left and the right, I saw on racing kaiila what must have been thousands of warriors, thousands upon thousands.
I unsheathed my sword. I supposed it would he the last time I would do so.
'Look!' cried Harold.
'I see,' I said, 'what does it matter?'
'Look!' he screamed, leaping up and down.
And I looked and saw suddenly and my heart stopped beating and then I uttered a wild cry for from the left, riding with the Thousands sweeping over the hills, I saw the stan- dard of the Yellow Bow, and on the right, flying forward with the hurtling Thousands, its leather streaming behind its pole, I saw the standard of the Three-Weighted Bola. 'Katain!' screamed Harold, hugging me. 'Kassars!'
I stood dumbfounded on the planking and saw the two great wedges of the Kataii and the Kassars close like tongs on the trapped Paravaci, taking them in the unprotected flanks, crushing the ranks before them with the weight of their charge. And even the sky seemed dark for a moment as, from the left and right, thousands upon thousands of arrows fell like dark rain among the startled, stumbling, turning Paravaci.
'We might help,' remarked Harold.
'Yes!' I cried.
'Korobans are slow to think of such matters,' he re- marked.
I turned to the men. 'Open the wagons!' I cried. 'To your animals!'
And in an instant it seemed the wagon lashing kind been cut by quivas and our hundreds of warriors, the pitiful remnant of our two Thousands, swept forth upon the Parava- ci, riding as though they had been fresh rested and ready, shouting the wild war cry of the Tuchuks.
It was not until late that afternoon that I met with Hakim- ba of the Kataii and Conrad of the Kassars. On the field we met and, as comrades in arms, we embraced one another. 'We have our own wagons,' said Hakimba, 'but yet we are of the Wagon Peoples.' 'It is so, too, with us,' said Conrad, he of the Kassars. 'I regret only,' I said, 'that I sent word to Kamchak and even now he has withdrawn his men from Turia and is returning to the wagons.'
'No,' said Hakimba, 'we sent riders to Turia even as we left our own camp. Kamchak knew of our movements long before you.'
'And of ours,' said Conrad, 'for we too sent him word thinking it well to keep him informed in these matters.' 'For a Kataii and a Kassar,' said Harold, 'you two are not bad fellows.' And then he added. 'See that you do not ride off with any of our bask or women.'
'The Paravaci left their camp largely unguarded,' said Hakimba. 'Their strength was brought here.'
I laughed.
'Yes,' said Conrad, 'most of the Paravaci bask are now in the herds of the Kataii and Kassars.'
'Reasonably evenly divided I trust,' remarked Hakimba. 'I think so,' said Conrad. 'If not, we can always iron matters out with a bit of bask raiding.'
'That is true,' granted Hakimba, the yellow and red scars wrinkling into a grin on his lean, black face.
