Blade, frowning, watched the wagon drift away toward the sea gate to his right. The tide was coming in, that was obvious enough, and there was a strong current through the moat. Blade leaped atop his saddle, as agilely as any Mong, and peered after the wagon. He had thought the tide, rushing in from both ends, would cancel itself. Not so. He soon understood why. The Caths had dug a drain channel near one of the sea gates to direct the flow and so create a current. And drain the moat when the sea gates were closed.
Blade saw Rahstum spurring toward him, making slow progress in the corpse-cluttered water.
Blade waved his sword at a sublieutenant assigned to him. The man moved in close. Blade had to cup his hands and yell over the clamor of battle.
'Forget the bridge! Get poles. Hurry! Take a hundred men.'
The Mong stared at him. 'Poles? I do not know where...'
'The wagon poles, man! Bring them.'
He had ordered the wagon poles detached as useless and liable to impede movement. Now he saw how he could use them. They were slim, only about three inches in diameter and sixteen feet long.
Rahstum reached him at last. An arrow dangled in his chest armor. He broke it off and glowered at Blade. 'Your plan is not working!'
Blade grinned. 'Not my first plan. I have another. It will work.'
When he explained the Captain nodded. 'Yes. It is a better plan than the other. We had boats in Cauca.'
Blade snapped an order to a young Mong officer. 'Bring the rest of the wagons into the ditch. All of them.'
To Rahstum he said, 'The Khad's men are pretty well used up. They'll break and run any time now.'
It was true enough. The Khad's men had been doing the extremely dirty work, and the punishment had been terrible. They had lost over half their number, and the survivors were rapidly losing heart. They were terrified of the deep water in the moat and moved sluggishly along the banks and in the ditch where the water was waist deep or more. All of the catapult ships were in action now and monstrous hunks of jade fell from the sky in a steady rain. Blade, counting, judged that a ton of jade was slapping into the disordered ranks every twenty seconds. A direct hit left nothing recognizable.
A missile struck near them and drenched them with muddy water. Rahstum wiped his face and beard and said, 'You are right. They have taken enough punishment. They will blame the Khad for it, and will not be much good to him when the time comes. Signal me, Blade, when you want my men in again. We will lead the attack in your wagon boats!' He gave Blade a wolfish smile and spurred away back up the slope. An arrow glanced off his helmet and hummed away. Rahstum did not turn around.
When he had all his wagons in the ditch, and the poles, Blade put a horsetail on a lance and waved it at Rahstum, The Captain gestured acknowledgment and barked orders to his officers.
Five hundred of the dung gatherers were driven down into the ditch, miserably clad men without arms. Blade thought briefly of Nantee, but there was no time for thought or pity. The Mongs sacrificed dung people as they stepped on beetles.
Behind the dung gatherers Rahstum sent a wave of his best men. Five thousand of them, rested now and eager for battle again. They left their mounts at the rim of the ditch and ran screaming down into the water. The Khad's men, battered and decimated, began to fall back.
Rahstum joined Blade again. 'You will have to lead,' he said. 'Show them it can be done. My men are no boatmen.'
Blade nodded and spurred down into the water. Rahstum shouted after him, 'Remember your back!'
Blade leaped from his horse and waded up to the bank of the moat. The arrow fire from the ramparts over the water was not as heavy as before, and he guessed the Caths were running low on arrows.
He brought twenty of the wagons, lifted by the straining dung people, into line along the bank of the moat. Another twenty to be lifted into position when the first rank left the shore.
Judging that ten men to a wagon would be enough, he selected his first ten and leaped into the wagon with them. He shouted instructions and orders with a throat that had gone raw. Four of his Mongs were given poles and told how to use them.
Blade leaped to the driving seat, brandishing his sword, and shouted at the top of his voice.
'Hear me, Mongs! Watch me. And do as I do. There is no return from this journey.'
He pointed with his sword to where the Caths waited on the rampart. A ton of jade sliced down from the sky. An arrow nicked his arm. It broke flesh but drew no blood.
'Once on that rampart,' Blade told them, 'we stay or we die. Now follow me, Mongs!'
He turned to the pole men. 'Push off.' The wagon tops, removed and bound into place as shields, afforded some cover. Even so he lost three of his men before the wagon butted into the rampart.
Now the fury! And the Caths made a fatal mistake. In their eagerness to dispatch the invaders, they rushed howling to the water's edge. Too many of them. They jammed into a crowd and none could use their weapons effectively. Blade gave an order and his remaining men, but for two poling, sent a deadly hail of arrows into the packed crowd of Caths. They emptied their quivers and the carnage was such that the Caths broke and fell back. Blade leaped onto the rampart. He had breathing room. Fighting room. Barely, but enough.
He had but seven men. They formed a semicircle and linked shields and fought for their lives. Arrows fluttered at them with a steady pstt-pstt-pstt.
Blade shouted and they closed in, fighting on top of the bodies of the dead men. Lances now, and spears and hurled axes. Blade lost another man. He was fighting like an automaton, streaming with sweat and other men's blood, parched with thirst and his voice almost gone. A dozen Caths charged, yelling taunts, and it became hand- to-hand as the circle broke and the fight swirled up and down the rampart. Blade found himself beset by three Caths at once.
He slashed at one, daggered another, and took, a nasty blow on his helmet from an axe. The world spun and he
