Viperhand - Douglas Niles [30]
"Rarely," replied Kallict. "She has gone to the market several times, but always with an escort of palace slaves-and always during the day."
"Taking her from the palace will be difficult," said the high priest.
Kallict removed a stone knife from his belt. Facing the older priest squarely, he extended his arm, which was covered with long, straight scars. Laying the blade against his own skin, Kallict drew the knife sharply toward himself. Red blood welled from the wound and dripped, unheeded, to the floor as the young priest looked at his patriarch.
"By Zaltec, I will find a way to do it." They both knew that his vow was as good as the blood that now collected into a small pool on the floor.
"They await us on the slopes," reported Darien. "Beyond the next pass lies their city, so I am certain they will fight us here."
Cordell took the elfwoman's hand in gratitude for the warning. Without it, his legion would almost certainly have marched into ambush.
"Deploy to meet them," barked the captain-general to his assembled officers. The legion's march had taken it westward down a wide valley. Now they neared the higher ground, where the valley rose to this saddle-like pass, many miles inland from the border of Kultaka.
"Daggrande, deploy your crossbows across the front. Gar-rand, advance up the slope in a diversion. See if you can lure them into a charge. Alvarro, keep the lancers hidden, in reserve."
With the efficiency of long practice, the Golden Legion deployed for battle. The light foot soldiers of Garrand's company spread into a skirmish line. The heavy crossbowmen of Daggrande's units took station behind them, while Alvarro held his horsemen out of sight. The warriors of the Payit Cordell sent in two great wings to the right and left, using his Maztican allies to insure that his legion wasn't caught in a flank attack.
An overcast sky hung heavily over the valley, almost touching the highest of the surrounding peaks. All morning long the gray blanket had pressed close, darkening the landscape, threatening and rumbling, but yielding no moisture.
A shower of arrows, as thick as a summer downpour, soared outward from the slopes, arcing down to spray the assembled footmen of Cordell's legion.
"Shields up!" shouted Daggrande, nervously eyeing the heights.
With a clatter of stone against steel, the arrows shattered against the metal bucklers and helmets of the legionnaires. One or two found a chink, driving into a bicep or painfully pricking a shoulder, but most of the missiles bounced harmlessly from the protected troops.'
Again and again the arrows flew into the air, like a streaking cloud of locusts, but always the metal shields of the legionnaires saved them from catastrophe.
"Move up, now-look lively!" Daggrande raised hi§ steel crossbow, searching the brushy slope before them for some sign of the enemy. He saw the Kultakan archers backing up the hill, away from his slowly marching company. The temptation to charge them was great, but the dwarven veteran shrugged it away. The nimble warriors would have no difficulty slipping away from his heavily encumbered troops.
Instead, the company marched to the measured cadence of the drummer, maintaining a straight line even as a portion scrambled through a ditch or another section forced its way through a dense thicket.
"Halt!" he cried, as they reached a steeper, rockier portion of the slope. "Shields!"
Again arrows showered them, as thick as a cloud of stinging insects, but fortunately with not much greater damaging effect. The dwarf saw with satisfaction that, though several of his men bled from fresh and obviously painful wounds, not one of them had broken ranks or fallen.
Now a shrieking din of whistles, horns, and shrill yells suddenly broke from the ground above them. Where Daggrande had seen a broken slope with occasional flashes of movement, now he beheld a horde of many thousands of feathered, painted Kultakans. The natives leaped to their feet from countless holes in the earth, as if they had appeared by magic.