soldiers coming to the fore.
The two sides met with a sound like buildings falling. Shouts and
screams mingled, and any nuanced plan was gone. Otah's urge to rush
forward was as much the desire to see more clearly what was happening as
to defend the men he'd brought. His archers drew and fired sporadically
until he called them to stop. There was no way to see who the arrows struck.
The mass of men in the valley writhed. Once a great surge on Otah's left
seemed to press into the Galtic ranks, but it was pushed back. He heard
drums and trumpet calls. That's a good idea, Otah thought. Drums and
trumpets.
The shouting seemed to go on forever. The sun slowly rose in its arc as
the men engaged, pulled hack, and rushed at one another again. And with
every passing breath, Utah saw more of his men fall. More of his men
than of the Galts. He forced his mount nearer. He couldn't judge how
many he'd lost. The bodies in the mud might have been anyone.
A sudden upsurge in the noise of the battle caught him. His footmen were
roaring and surging forward, the center of the enemy's line giving way.
"Call them to stand!" Otah shouted, his voice hoarse and fading. "Stand!"
But if they heard the call, the footmen didn't heed it. They pressed
forward, into the gap in the Galtic line. A trumpet blared three times,
and the signal given, the Galtic horsemen that had held to the rear,
left and right both, turned to the center and drove into Utah's men from
either side. It had been a trap, and a simple one, and they had stepped
in it. Call the retreat, Utah thought wildly, I have to call the
retreat. And then from the right, he heard the retreat called.
Someone had panicked; someone had given the order before he could. His
horsemen turned, unwilling, it seemed, to leave the footmen behind. A
few footmen broke, and then a few more, and then, as if coming loose,
Otah's army turned its backs to the Galts and ran. Otah saw some
horsemen trying to draw off the pursuing Galts, but most were flying
hack in retreat themselves. Otah spun his horse and saw, back on the
field, the remnants of his wedges of archers fleeing as well.
"No!" he shouted. "Not you! Stop where you are!"
No one heard him. He was a leaf in a storm now, command gone, hope gone,
his men being slaughtered like winter pork. Otah dug his heels into his
mount's sides, leaned low, and shot off in pursuit of the archers. It
was folly riding fast over mud-slick ground, but Otah willed himself
forward. The fleeing archers looked hack over their shoulders at the
sound of his hooves, and had the naivete to look relieved that it was
him. He rode through the nearest wedge, knocking several to the ground,
then pulled up before them and pointed hack at the men behind them.
"Loose your arrows," Utah croaked. "It's the only chance they have!
Loose arrows!"
The archers stood stunned, their wide confused faces made Utah think of
sheep confronted by an unexpected cliff. He had brought farmers and
smiths onto a battlefield. He had led men who had never known more
violence than brawling drunk outside a comfort house to fight soldiers.
Utah dropped from his horse, took a how and quiver from the nearest man,
and aimed high. He never saw where his arrow went, but the bowmen at
least began to understand. One by one, and then in handfuls, they began
to send their arrows and bolts up over the retreating men and into the
charging Galts.
"'They'll kill us!" a boy shrieked. "There's a thousand of them!"
"Kill the first twenty," Otah said. ""I'hen let the ones still standing
argue about who'll lead the next charge."
Behind them, the other fleeing archers had paused. As the first of the
fleeing horsemen passed, Otah caught sight of Ashua Radaani and raised
his hands in a pose that called the man to a halt. "There was blood on
Radaani's face and arms, and his eyes were wide with shock. Otah strode
to him.
"Go to the other archers. "fell them that once the men have reached us
here, they're to start loosing arrows. We'll come hack with the men."
"You should come now, Most High," Radaani said. "I can carry you."
"I have a horse," (bah said, though he realized he couldn't say what had
become of his mount. "Go. Just go!"
The Galtic charge thinned as they drew into range of the arrows. Utah
saw two men fall. And then, almost miraculously, the Galts began to pull
back. Utah's footmen came past him, muddy and bleeding and weeping and
pale with shock. Some carried wounded men with them. Some, Utah
suspected, carried men already dead. The last, or nearly the last,
approached, and Utah turned, gesturing to the archers, and they all
walked back together. The few Galts that pressed on were dissuaded by
fresh arrows. Ashua had reached the other wedge. "Thank the gods for
that, at least.
The army of Machi, three thousand strong that morning, found itself
milling about, confused and without structure as the evening sun
lengthened their shadows. They had fled back past the northern lip of
the valley where they had made camp the night before onto green grass
already tramped flat by their passage. Some supply wagons and tents and
fresh water had been caught up in the retreat, but more was strewn over
the ground behind them. The wounded were lined up on hillsides and cared
for as best the physicians could. Many of the wounds were mild, but
there were also many who would not live the night.
The scouts were the first to recover some sense of purpose. The couriers
of the trading houses rode back and forth, reporting the movements of
the Galts now that the battle was finished. They had scoured the field,
caring for their own men and killing the ones Otah had left behind.
Then, with professional efficiency, they had made their camp and
prepared their dinner. It was clear that the Galts considered the
conflict ended. 'T'hey had won. It was over.
As darkness fell, Otah made his way through the camps, stopped at what
cook fires there were. No one greeted him with violence, but he saw
anger in some eyes and sorrow in others. By far the most common
expression was an emptiness and disbelief. When at last he sat on his
cot-set under the spreading limbs of a shade tree in lieu of his tenthe
knew that however many men he had lost on the battlefield, twice as many
would have deserted by morning. Otah laid an arm over his eyes, his body
heavy with exhaustion, but totally unable to sleep.
In the long, dreadful march to this battle, not one man had turned hack.
At the time, it had warmed Otah's heart. Now he wanted them all to flee.
Go back to their wives and their children and their parents. Go hack to
where it was safe and forget this mad attempt to stop the world from