Ironhelm - Douglas Niles [95]
"Tighten up there!" he called as his ranks started to waver. Sergeants growled their way along the line, keeping the crossbowmen advancing in tightly packed straight lines, even at a steady jog. The dwarves, especially, huffed and panted to maintain the pace, but Daggrande knew they would not falter.
The swordsmen on their flanks also remained tightly packed as the natives howled closer and closer. Garrant's men suddenly broke into a run, hoarsely invoking the name of Helm as they charged.
And then, before the two groups could clash, the natives paused. We're breaking them already! Daggrande glimpsed a brief prospect of victory, but immediately discarded it in alarm.
The colorful horde slowed its rush, then stopped altogether, still a hundred paces or more away from the charging swordsmen. They continued to taunt and whistle and clash their weapons against their shields, even as they started to fall back. Then they quickly sprinted away from the armored swordsmen, but Daggrande sensed that these were not troops in terrified retreat.
Indeed, so did Captain Garrant.
"Halt!" Garrant bellowed to his companies as the spearmen drifted away. Most of the swordsmen finally ceased their charge, though a few still lumbered on.
"Stop, you idiots!" The captain finally collected his companies, forming again into tight ranks and falling slowly back around the crossbows.
Suddenly the plain around them swarmed with new troops, warriors who had been lying concealed in the tall grass while the legionnaires charged. These attackers quickly sent a shower of stone-tipped arrows soaring toward the companies. Other natives raced forward, swirling slings and sending heavy stones flying toward the invaders.
"Fire! Reload! Fire at will!" Daggrande bellowed his command and cracked off a bolt into the mass of archers before his troops. He bent to crank another shaft into the weapon as the enemy missiles began to fall.
"I'm hit!"
"Helm's curses, I'm down!"
Men cried out all around Daggrande. Arrows slashed into the legionnaires, but their armor stopped most of the stone heads from penetrating deeply. The stones from the slings were more painful, occasionally crushing a cheekbone or smashing an eye with a blow to the face.
Daggrande's men reloaded their weapons, ignoring the steady barrage of missiles showering around them, and fired another volley into the natives. While the arrows of the Payit inflicted painful wounds, the crossbows of the legionnaires cut a broad swath of death through the ranks of archers. The heavy steel bolts lanced through the quilted cotton armor as if it were not there. Sometimes a bolt passed clear through a victim to inflict further damage beyond.
Still the natives stood firm, firing again and again. The wounds became more severe, and Daggrande saw several of his men fall and lie still, or writhe in excruciating agony. Their own volleys of steel death slashed into the native archers, and hundreds of bodies soon bled their lives onto the field. But always more archers raced forward, more slingers advanced, to step across their fallen comrades and shoot.
"Company, advance! Charge!" Daggrande heard Garrant's command and immediately echoed it with his own. Only by driving these archers back could his own formation retire safely.
The swordsmen rushed forward. The crossbowmen raised their weapons and fired, laboriously reloading as they, too, broke into a run. The name of Helm resounded from every throat.
The archers stood bravely, launching missiles at point-blank range before they died from the swift strikes of Gar-rant's swordsmen. In scarce moments, the legionnaires had hacked their way through the bowmen and slingers. With still greater shouts to the glory of their god, the two companies of legionnaires rushed toward the bulk of the native army.
Gultec stood amazed at the carnage inflicted upon the archers, at first by the metal darts of the invaders and then