Black wizards - Douglas Niles [158]
Tristan sprang forward and slashed his sharp blade through the forehead of an ogre. The monster dropped like a stone, and Tristan turned to stab another in the chest. The men of Doncastle and Canthus all joined in the melee, moving quickly among the clumsy attackers.
Six ogres stopped, dumbfounded, as a colorful fountain sprang from the grass before them. They stared transfixed at Newt's illusion while the fight raged around them. An ogre with huge, drooling tusks appeared to be in command of the company, snarling and snapping orders. The Prince of Corwell attacked like a berserker, knocking the club from the ogre's hand with his first blow. His second cut deeply into the monster's forearm, raised in defense, and the third spilled the ogre's guts onto the muddy grass.
Tiny arrows sprang from the air to strike ogres in the eyes or lips as Yazilliclick hovered invisibly about. The missiles were too small to do anything except aggravate the brutes, but they distracted and confused the enemy.
One of the elementals tumbled to the ground, but the second continued to smash at the ogres. Their leader down, their numbers shrinking rapidly, the ogres suddenly had had enough. As one mass, the company facing the companions turned and lumbered toward the imagined security of their own army. Tristan's fighting fury diminished and he leaned on his sword as he gasped for breath.
But then he noticed the commotion to his right. Finellen's dwarves fought bravely – dozens of ogre dead littered the ground. But the dwarves were paying a heavy price, falling slowly back before the monstrous crush.
And then, to his left, he heard cries of pain and shrieks of horror – human shrieks. He saw that the sahuagin approached the crest and had met the thin line of defenders. He stabbed expertly, knocking a sahuagin spear aside and driving the tip into the monster's chest. But as it fell backward, two more swarmed into its place.
More and more of the fish-men crept up the hill. And suddenly the line of Ffolk collapsed as the sahuagin broke through in a dozen places at once.
And the narrow path to the promontory – their only route of retreat – suddenly lay open before the rushing sahuagin.
* * * * *
White, fishy eyes stared emotionlessly from the hilltop. A hundred sahuagin had pushed through the thin file of defenders to gain the highest ground. They stood in a circle, facing outward, holding sharp tridents or captured spears in a bristling ring of weaponry. Pink, straight tongues flicked between their tooth-studded jaws – the only sign of fear or excitement.
Others of the sahuagin pressed upward to gain the breach their first line had created. Men of Doncastle came from all parts of the knoll to fill that line, however, and they stopped the second push. But still the ring of fishmen held the hilltop and could control the outcome of the battle by striking anywhere they chose.
"Fall back to the promontory!" called the prince, and the word flew down the line.
The men of Doncastle retreated before the dark dwarves, before the bloated, rotted undead. They held firm against the sahuagin, lest more fishmen break through and cut off their retreat onto the high peninsula.
"Finellen – let's break that ring!" urged the prince. The sahuagin stood astride their retreat path. The monsters would have to be pushed out of the way before the rebel force could cross the narrow neck of land leading to the promonotory.
"Charge!" cried the dwarf, and her company – now less than a hundred – shouted a hoarse challenge. Their stumpy legs pounded the ground as, axes flailing, they rushed toward the fishmen.
But another challenge came from the prince's left, and he saw Hugh O'Roarke leading a band of his men into the bristling defense. The bandit