the movement of the monsters that attempted to move past the village.
“Grimes! Slow them up!” shouted the captain-general, and his commander of horsemen immediately urged his steed forward.
The lancers once again swept around the end of the defenders’ line in order to prevent a flanking movement such as they had earlier destroyed.
The cavalry thundered forward, ripping into the ranks of
the monstrous regiments. First one, then a second of the ‘ formations turned and scattered under the onrush. The horsemen wheeled, lances and swords lowered, and started toward the flank of a third regiment.
But here the monsters changed tactics. As Grimes led the riders forward, the ores suddenly broke into three huge blocks. The beasts in each block pivoted on all four sides, so that everywhere they faced outward. The horsemen rode into the side of one of these crude squares, trampling many of the monsters.
The formation, however, did not break. Slowly, grimly, the beasts of the Viperhand fought the riders who now bucked and trampled in their midst. These creatures did not turn and expose their vulnerable backs; instead, they attacked, slashing viciously at the legs and flanks of the pitching horses.
Turning and plunging, the riders tried to work free. The steeds reared and trampled, while the horsemen hacked about with their bloody blades. Finally, with a lunge between two huge ogres, Grimes drove his stallion free of the melee, beheading one of the ogres as he raced past. The rest of the riders followed, quickly widening the gap made by their captain.
Elsewhere, the leading regiments smashed into the thin line of Cordell’s defenders. Daggrande threw one, and then the second, of his reserve companies into the line, each time barely stopping a critical breakthrough.
Magic missiles crackled on die right flank, where the two dozen mages who had come with Don Vaez sniped at the enemy from the walls of Helmsport itself. The din of magic and fire, of death and destruction, crashed across the field, rising to a nightmarish crescendo.
Desperately the horsemen charged again, slashing and chopping their way into, and then free of, the monstrous ranks. Another regiment hurled itself at the riders, threatening to surround them again, and it took all of Grimes’s leadership and courage to break his men free of the enemy. Even so, they left dozens of their number behind.
Every man, every dwarf and halfling, fought for his life in this night without end. The cloud cover thickened, the light spells waned, and they fought on in nearly total darkness. Somehow the desperation to live gave them enough vision to combat the pressing horde.
Again and again the riders slashed at the fringe of the attacking mass, always springing away before the jaws of another trap could snap shut. Crossbows and steel swords drank deep of monstrous blood, while the boom of a harquebus occasionally cracked across the field.
The kurari-tipped arrows of the Little Men found the trolls, for they had learned that these weapons, when they struck with adequate numbers, could actually slay the hulking green beasts that simply regenerated after suffering other types of wounds. The plumastone axes of the desert dwarves chopped and gouged, holding great presses of ores at bay.
Then another great cry erupted from the forest, piercing the night with its promise of catastrophe. Whistles and horns and drums added to the din, and the legionnaires and the other defenders knew clearly that the noise sounded an end to their hopes.
And inflamed the desires of Hoxitl, for now the lord of the beasts threw his final ten regiments into the battle.
“Hsst! There’s something out there!” Darien could scarcely control the savage joy in her voice. The light.’ The treasure she had so long envisioned, the killing she had lusted for, at last drew near.
The other driders huddled on the platform atop the pyramid, thankful that the moon had already set. Like shadows of black thicker even than the forest, they clung to the edges of the structure and peered into the murky forest surrounding them.
“It comes from Ulatos, from the city,” said Hittok after a moment. Darien, too, sensed that the menace lay to the west.
Gradually the driders’ keen eyes detected the shapes moving from the jungle into the near pitch-blackness of (he clearing. In Darien’s sight, one of these glowed, so brightly that she could scarce dare to breath. Against that halo of hot, tempting light, she could not make out the identity of the treasure.
But already she began to savor the thought of its death.
“Shall we strike them down with arrows?” asked Hittok, his voice a bare breath of wind against Darien’s perspiring cheek.
“No!” In her agitation, she spoke louder than she had in-tended. The driders held their breath as the humans below hesitated, but it was not Darien’s remark that had alerted them.
Staring into that light, Darien saw that one of the humans moved slowly, as if in pain. Then she began to see… it was her, Halloran’s woman! She was the burning force that! tempted the drider’s appetite.
“No,” the white creature hissed, softly this time, “No arrows. We shall await them here, and when they start up the steps, we shall attack.”
“Very well,” said Hittok, slinging his bow over his shoulder and pulling forth his dark, black sword.
“And know this,” Darien cautioned, tension again ringing.; in her voice. “All of you remember: When we attack, the woman is mine!”
Erixitl collapsed with an inarticulate groan of pain. She curled up into a ball of misery, wincing from the pain of a I sudden contraction.
“The baby!» she whispered. “Now is the time!”
Halloran’s mind went blank. All during the march, through the months in the desert and jungle, during their entire epic journey to Ulatos, he had been telling himself, preparing for this event. But now that his wife lay here in agony, he couldn’t think of a thing to do.
“The pyramid!” said Lotil quietly. “We must take her up the pyramid!”
Halloran looked at the blind man in astonishment. “That has to wait!” He turned back to his wife. “We’ll get you back to the woods, to some mossy clearing. It’s going to be all right!”
“No!” Erixitl’s voice carried surprising strength. “Lotil is right. We must go up the pyramid!”
Halloran looked from daughter to father in astonishment. His eyes met Coton’s, and the cleric looked at him with an expression of deep understanding-but also of steely-eyed will. Halloran knew that they had to ascend the steep stairway with Erixitl. The destiny that had driven them this far now compelled her presence atop the looming structure.
“The baby!” he protested. “We must get her to shelter and make her comfortable!”
“Listen!” Erix gasped, her teeth clenching. “On the pyramid! Take me to the altar!”
Halloran stared at her in disbelief. It was the same altar where she had so nearly met her own death! What if this was the cost of the god’s return, a ghastly sacrifice of his wife or his child?
“No!” Hal couldn’t allow it. He stood firmly against the men, but he couldn’t ignore his wife’s groan, and when he looked down at her and saw the pleading in her eyes, he was lost. “Very well,” he said quietly, kneeling beside her again.
“The pain has passed for the moment,” said Erix, slowly sitting up and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go!”
Jhatli led them toward the base of the stairway. Around them, the deep black of the night closed in, past moonset, as a last shroud of darkness before the first traces of dawn. Feeling his way rather than seeing anything in particular, he started up the stairs.
He had taken no more than four steps when strong, sinewy arms grasped him. A hand clapped roughly across his mouth, and insistent arms pulled him against a body.
A body covered by a hard, bony shell.
From the chronicles of Coton:
