Following her own order, she batted down a pair of light javelins hurled at her. The predawn darkness made it difficult to see every missile, and two of her warriors went down, scalps laid open by large stones.
“All right, on your feet!” she said. Nianki herself went to one of her fallen comrades and helped the injured woman stand. “Back to the houses — but slowly! Slowly!”
Under jeers and missiles, the slender line withdrew to the outermost ring of houses. Nianki gave the nomad she’d rescued to some householders, who took her inside. A few of the older villagers, who remembered fighting like this from their younger days, joined Nianki’s defenders. They were armed with whatever came to hand — wooden rakes, shovels, staffs. Not one in ten had a stone-headed weapon. With no other options to hand, Nianki put them quickly into the line.
The renegades who’d ridden down the shore of the lake turned in to the village and began throwing torches at the housetops. One by one, the roofs caught fire, the families running outside to escape the flames. Hatu’s riders let them go, racing inside to plunder the burning house before the roof fell in on everything. The terrified villagers ran to the foot of the falls, under the very mouth of the dragon’s cave, and prayed for the aid of their great protector.
Into this scene of terror came Amero. He directed those fleeing to take shelter by the falls and moved on against the screaming tide. A few horsemen were harassing the fleeing villagers, tripping them with their spear shafts or knocking them around with their horses. Furious, Amero stormed at the nearest bully. The laughing nomad was chivvying an old man and teenage girl, pushing them this way and that, not letting them get clear to run. Amero rushed the nomad from his blind side and thrust his spear into the man’s armpit. The horseman’s head snapped around, totally astonished. He fell from his horse. Freed of its rider, the animal galloped away from the battle.
Villagers surrounded Amero and praised him for his prowess and courage. Impatiently he said, “All I did was stab a man when he wasn’t looking! Go!”
A pair of riders bore down on Amero. He flattened himself against the side of the cairn just in time to dodge simultaneously thrown javelins. One came close enough to cut the waist of his trews.
For the second time in as many days, Amero found himself going up the side of the cairn. At least the horsemen couldn’t reach him up there. Rocks and axes flew thick and fast as he scaled the sloping stone side. A few thumped him with glancing blows. Wincing, he kept his grip and made it to the top.
The dark sky was lightening to blue. Keeping low to avoid missiles, Amero crept to the other edge of the cairn and saw the battle raging among the houses.
Nianki’s line had become a circle, bounded on all sides by stoutly defended houses. In the gaps between, her warriors and the armed villagers who remained fought tenaciously. The narrow lanes between the houses reduced the mobility of the renegades’ horses, and many dismounted to fight on foot.
From his perch, Amero spotted Nianki. Her closely-cropped hair made her easy to pick out as she stood in the center of the besieged circle. She directed the defense with cool words or fierce cries, as needed. Amero was deeply struck by this image of his sister. He’d seen her duel with Sessan, but he’d never before witnessed her commanding in battle.
A head bobbed up over the edge of the cairn, a long-haired nomad. With surprisingly little remorse, Amero put his foot in the man’s face and sent him tumbling to the ground. Two others tried to scale the platform and reach him, but he fended them off with his spear. Amero felt a growing confidence in his fighting abilities. Another quick glance over at his sister and he thought proudly that warrior blood did run in the family.
A heavy pall of smoke wafted between the cairn and Nianki’s position. Renegades on the outer edges of the battle were setting more and more roofs afire. When the flames reached the houses making up Nianki’s defenses, her line would fragment, and the defenders would be cut up and defeated piecemeal.
Scooting back to the center of the platform, Amero knelt and bowed his head. Concentrating as hard as he could, he formed a single thought.
Duranix! Help us, or we are lost!
The blazing roof on the house nearest the cairn — Konza’s home — collapsed. Inside, the wooden posts and flooring burned ferociously, tongues of flame spurting from the second-story windows. The heat was so powerful it drove Amero to the opposite end of the cairn. He fervently hoped no one was left inside the tanner’s house.
Pakito, fighting with the long-handled axe so dreaded by his foes, cleared a swath in front of him. Through the smoke he saw Amero crouching atop the dragon’s cairn.
“Karada!” he bellowed. “Isn’t that Arkuden?”
Nianki spared a glance in the direction he indicated. She saw Amero, wreathed in smoke and flames. Her heart seemed to stop; her instinct was to fly to his defense. Instead, she said, “We can’t reach him — there’s too many on us!”
“I can reach him,” Pakito said, planting his fists on his hips.
A fierce smile briefly lit her dirty face. “Do that, and you can name your own reward!”
The towering warrior jabbed a thick finger at his chief. “Remember those words, Karada!”
Gripping his axe, he strode past the line of smaller warriors — though all warriors were smaller than Pakito — into the lane between the rings of houses. At once he was set upon by a mounted renegade wearing a wood-and- leather breastplate: Tarkwa.
Tarkwa tried to ride Pakito down, but the big man was not about to be trampled under. He threw his left arm around the horse’s neck and brought his axe up in a wide swing. Tarkwa tried to parry with his spear, but the heavy axehead shattered the shaft and Tarkwa’s forearm as well. Howling in agony, Tarkwa tried to wrench his horse’s head loose from Pakito’s grip. The three of them — man, horse, and rider — skidded in a tight circle, slamming into the wall of a burning house.
Pakito found himself between the horse and the wall, for anyone else a bad spot. The giant warrior, however, drew his legs under himself, used the house for leverage, and threw the horse to the ground. Tarkwa rolled over and over in the sand, coming to a stop in the open doorway of a blazing house. Groggily, he sat up, just as the whole wooden interior of the house come crashing down on top of him.
Pakito moved on, swatting aside his former comrades as they tried to intercept him. After a few deadly swipes, they gave him wide berth, and he arrived at the cairn.
Coughing from the heavy smoke, Pakito called to Amero.
The young headman’s sooty, blood-streaked face appeared.
“Pakito!”
“I’ve come to take you to Karada.”
Such a declaration should have sounded ludicrous — battle and fire raged on all sides — but coming from Pakito, it was simply a statement of fact.
Amero half-slid, half-fell to the ground beside the giant. Pakito hauled him to his feet and propelled him forward.
Two of the six houses that formed Nianki’s defense line were on fire. The villagers inside had to climb out the rear windows to drop down among their neighbors and Nianki’s followers. By the time Pakito and Amero rejoined them, there were almost a hundred people in the shrinking circle.
Stumbling forward, Amero felt strong arms stop him. He looked up into Nianki’s smoke-streaked face.
“Bad day,” he said, taking her gently by the hand.
“Going to get worse,” she replied. “There’s a lot of people to kill.”
Even as she said so, a lull struck. The renegades backed out of spear-thrust range. Nianki’s defenders accepted the respite, some of them falling to their knees out of sheer exhaustion.
Hatu and Nacris rode forward into view.
“Karada! Arkuden! Can you hear me?” Hatu yelled.
“I hear only the screech of a vulture!” Nianki yelled back.
“What do you want?” Amero shouted.
“Lay down your weapons, and we’ll spare you.”
Nianki laughed derisively.
Hatu pointed over his shoulder at the falls. “There are a lot of helpless people over there,” he said. “It would be a shame to slaughter them all just to persuade you not to be stubborn.”
“Would he do that?” asked Amero, horrified.
“What do you think?” Nianki replied.
