Villagers toppled. The injured and the dead were pulled out of line, and the ring tightened. A second and third volley of darts swept over the circle of spears, then the deadly bombardment ceased.
The raiders launched themselves in a final furious attack. Zannian drove straight for the center of the circle. His horse was speared, and fell. He threw himself off and fought on foot.
The horsemen rode over the resolute villagers, breaking their line in three places. A group of young villagers who had been held in reserve now pushed forward to drive the invaders out of the circle.
Zannian laid about with his long Silvanesti blade. Bronze cut through wooden shields, spearshafts, and flesh with equal ease. In moments the young warlord had hacked his way to the center of the villagers’ formation.
Amero, using a small buckler faced with dragon scales, squared off against the raider chief. Zannian was half a head taller, much younger, and more skilled at hand-to-hand combat. Amero quickly found himself in trouble. His sword was knocked from his grasp, and only the bronze buckler kept him from being hacked to bits.
Time seemed to stand still. Raiders and villagers locked in close, bloody combat fought and died in cruel balance, neither side gaining the upper hand. Riderless horses cantered back and forth, crazed by the cacophony of battle and their own wounds. Injured fighters cried out for water, for mercy, for their chief, for their Arkuden.
Into this maelstrom galloped the second batch of raiders, sent down low along the beach. They tackled the stubborn villagers from behind and broke them. Men and women threw down their shields and spears and ran for their lives. Most never made it. Faced at last with a type of fighting they knew well, the raiders rode them down before they reached the wall.
Zannian presented the point of his sword to Amero’s throat. “Yield!” he cried. “Yield, and I will spare you!”
“Do your worst!” Amero spat, and batted the sword away with his scale-covered shield.
Furious, Zannian made a savage overhand slash. Amero stepped into the swing, allowing the blade to pass behind, and rammed his bronze buckler into his foe’s belly. The raider chief doubled over. With all his strength, Amero brought the shield up, connecting solidly with Zannian’s jaw. The young chiefs arms flew wide, his legs flew up, and down he went on his back. Amero, elated by the success of his desperate gambit, didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran.
The walls of Yala-tene were lined with people shouting and waving. They flung stones, pots, and firewood at the approaching raiders. Others dropped knotted ropes to the ground, so their fleeing friends could climb to safety. Wild with apparent victory, the raiders rode right up to the foot of the wall and grappled with those trying to escape. They were soon overwhelmed by a lethal barrage of debris thrown down on them, and the survivors quickly fled out of range.
Amero was the last to reach the wall. Those above, thinking no one else was left alive below, had withdrawn their ropes and ladders. Amero warded off raiders’ darts with his bronze buckler as he screamed for a rope.
At last a line dropped down the wall. Amero flung his shield aside and grabbed the dangling end. He was hauled up briskly, but when he was still a pace from the top, a dart buried itself in the back of his right thigh.
With a strangled groan, Amero let go the rope and slid down the face of the rock wall, landing in a heap at the bottom. Raucous cheers went up from the raiders, and four men rode forward to claim their prize. They were promptly felled by a torrent of stones from the wall.
A brief scuffle broke out atop the wall. Lyopi tied a rope securely around her waist and, with shouts and blows, bullied her faint-hearted comrades into helping her. She was lowered to the unmoving Arkuden.
The raiders responded with a hail of darts. The stone heads shattered against the wall, showering Lyopi with sharp fragments. In spite of the bombardment, she reached the ground unscathed. Hurriedly she loosed the rope, and snaked it around both of them.
“Up!” she screamed. “Bring us up!”
The sound of her voice caused Amero’s eyes to open. He squinted, trying to focus on his rescuer.
“Beramun?” he muttered.
“No, you ox-brained fool! It’s Lyopi! Shut up and hang on!”
She wrapped her arms tightly around him as they were dragged up through a continuous pelting of missiles. Lyopi turned Amero to the wall, using her own body to protect him from further hits.
Once they reached the top, she untied them both, shouting, “Now get back, all of you! Anybody else who falls outside stays there!”
Amazed by her daring deed, the villagers obeyed with alacrity, stampeding down the ramps into the streets below. Lyopi and those who could still fight crouched on the walls, watching the raiders. After much frustrated galloping back and forth, the attackers retreated to the beach, out of range of anything that could be thrown at them.
Lyopi turned her attention to Amero. Rolling him onto his stomach, she ordered three men to hold him down. The dart was deeply embedded in his thigh, a span above the back of his knee. She took a firm grip on the dart’s blood-slick shaft and pulled. Amero groaned and twisted in agony, but the men kept him down.
The dart came free. Amero gave a cry and passed out. Lyopi threw the missile away and rocked back on her heels, pushing at her sweat-soaked hair with a bloody hand.
“See if Raho the healer is inside the wall,” she said, her voice shaking. “Tell him the Arkuden is gravely injured and needs his help.”
“There are many wounded — ” began one of the men.
Lyopi’s tenuous calm snapped. “I don’t care!” she yelled, brown eyes blazing. “Find him!”
Raho had escaped to Yala-tene with the remnants of Huru’s band. Overwhelmed at the river crossing, they had retreated to the western baffle, where they’d been hauled inside with ropes just as Amero’s band had been.
Beramun was alive, as were Tepa the beekeeper, his son, Udi, and Montu the cooper. The cautious cattleman, Nubis, lay dead on the riverbank, and Jenla, whose stern presence and valiant heart had steadied the villagers time and again, could not be found inside the walls of Yala-tene. Knowing the sort of mercy she could expect from the raiders, her friends mourned the old planter as dead.
The sun was setting as Zannian’s men found their leader just waking from unconsciousness. They boosted him onto his horse. His hair was slick with sweat and the blood of his foes. One hazel eye was ringed with a prodigious black bruise. Despite his ignominious overthrow, he received fierce adulation as he rode back to his men.
He was now master of the valley. Two hundred villagers lay dead or wounded on the field. All that remained of Zannian’s enemies were the unknown number now trapped inside the stone walls of Yala-tene.
Chapter 22
Three times the raiders tried to storm the walls of Yala-tene. Each attempt ended in bloody failure.
First, they tried to scale the walls with their bare hands. Next, they tried throwing deer-antler grappling hooks over the walls in a vain attempt to pull down the thick masonry. Their third attempt was the most dangerous: swarming over the relatively low western baffle, a few daring raiders managed to get on top of the wall before being knocked down by villagers. Nacris offered to send the Jade Men against the walls, but Zannian decided they’d wasted enough lives for the time being and refused to allow it.
The raiders withdrew to the south end of the old bridge. There, they built a large camp and set up a towline across the river to ferry rafts of men, horses, and supplies back and forth more easily. As high summer arrived, a lull fell over the valley, though it was a tense, menacing calm.
Through it all, Amero remained in Lyopi’s house, recovering from his wound. Elders came daily to consult with him. As he had long suspected, the raiders, accustomed to making lightning-fast strikes against inferior foes, had no idea what to do when faced with thick walls and staunch defenders. The fight for Yala-tene had cost them many men and horses, and events seemed to be at an impasse. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t leave to seek easier prey.
Some elders came to believe they could strike a deal with Zannian, arguing that since he couldn’t take Yala- tene by force, perhaps he could be bought off. Lyopi backed the suggestion, so Amero agreed to try. Weak and
