Crusade - James Lowder [135]
"The banner you described is in the center of the Tuigan line, Father."
Alusair shook her head to clear it. Using the centaur's magical bracelet always left her feeling a little drained.
Torg and Vrakk both looked at Azoun, an unspoken question evident on their faces. "I saw the khahan's banner when I was in their camp," the king said. "He had it planted outside his tent."
Grinning, the ironlord grabbed his helmet and dropped it into place. He lifted the visor and said, "Now we know who to aim for."
The dust cloud grew larger and larger, until it seemed to cover the entire horizon. Azoun signaled the army to ready its weapons, and the anxiety that gripped the troops pulled their muscles a little tighter, forced their hearts to beat a little quicker. In the center of the first rank, the king and his guard put on their helmets and drew their weapons. Unlike the last battle, the entire army was going to fight on foot this time. If the Tuigan were routed again, Azoun didn't want anyone pursuing them the way the cavalry had. Knowing that no soldier was foolish enough to chase fleeing cavalry on foot, Azoun had ordered that no one, from himself to the lowest paid mercenary, be given a horse.
The Tuigan appeared on the horizon, at first only a black line against the dust cloud they were churning up. The thunder of their horses' hooves drowned out the murmured prayers and muttered curses in the western lines, and the hundreds upon hundreds of carrion crows that had roosted in the nearby trees took to the air again. In only a few moments, the horsewarriors rode far enough that Azoun could discern a few individual riders. Over the sound of the hooves and the crows, the Tuigan war cry rose.
"Ready the archers and mages!" the king yelled to the standard-bearer.
After closing his visor, Azoun said a brief prayer to Tymora, the patron of adventurers, and lifted his shield.
*****
Razor John was afraid.
From where he stood, at the center of the army's second rank, he couldn't see the field very clearly. The section of road the king had chosen to defend was level. Trees protected their flanks, but the troops to the rear of the array found their vision hampered by the geography. Still, the fletcher could make out the massive dust cloud rolling toward him from the east. It was clear that the barbarians were going to attack, and a horrible, numb feeling had taken hold of John's heart. He was certain he would not live to see the sunset.
Even though he feared for his own life, the fletcher was more concerned about Kiri Trollslayer. She was stationed with the infantry in the army's first rank. Perhaps, John concluded darkly, we'll both be killed. At least we'll go to the Realm of the Dead together.
The king's standard, rising up above the crowded first line of infantry, waved a command. John didn't know what the signal meant, but the commander of the archers, Brunthar Elventree, soon made the order clear.
"Ready to fire!" Brunthar shouted from nearby.
John watched as the dalesman lowered a helmet gingerly over his bandaged head. Brunthar hadn't worn any armor in the first battle, an act that was partly to blame for his wounded ear, but now he wore a visorless steel helmet and heavy chain hauberk.
As he gripped his bow, Razor John wished that he had armor, too. Like most of the archers, he dressed in the rough-spun tunic and trousers he wore on any normal day. The reasons for this were simple: plate or chain armor would hamper his ability to move and fire quickly, and leather armor provided little protection against arrows. And since the archers were all in the army's second rank, arrows would be all they had to face from the Tuigan.
"You!" Brunthar bellowed, cuffing John hard on the ear. "Stop daydreaming and prepare to fire!" The general stood a foot from the fletcher, scowling and staring with hard, anger-filled