In through the perimeter flew the Warrows, Elven scouts behind. The Baeron, yet mounted upon their massive horses, drew together at the ready and Urel and Durul called out to Silverleaf, yet what they said, Tipperton haling his pony to a halt did not hear.
And Dwarves and Lian and Dylvana, and Jutlanders and Fjordlanders braced for the onslaught.
Even as the Fists of Rakka charged down onto the flats, a sleet of arrows and crossbow bolts flew from the legion to hurtle into oncoming foe, sun-darkened men falling, pierced through, but undaunted the enemy came on. Another hail flew forth, and more of the foe fell, but still the men of Thyra and Sarain and Hurn shouted their war cries and plunged on. Silverleaf signalled to Larana and she blew her bugle, and the Baeron, now in formation, spurred their horses forward, the massive chargers flying in a wide wedge through the perimeter and toward the oncoming enemy, Elves and Dwarves and Fjordlanders and Jutes afoot running after the great galloping steeds.
And with clash and clang and shouts of Adon! and El-wydd! and Garlon! and Fyrra! and Rakka! the two armies collided, the great horses of the Baeron smashing into and through and over the ranks of the foe, though riders and horses were felled, brought down by spear and axe and blade.
Swords rived, axes hewed, spears pierced, mace and flail and hammer smashed and crushed. Blood and viscera and bone and brain flew wide, amid cries and shrieks and shouts of rage.
And from the rear flew arrows and sling bullets, sent winging by the Warrows now afoot. And everywhere they flew, enemies fell, yet there were only eight of the Wee Folk and myriad of the foe.
Though the Baeron on their horses had smashed through the enemy and beyond, still the Allies were outnumbered and were hurled back. Hindward they reeled, back toward the bridgehead, their perimeter growing ever shorter as they drew in toward the span. And the wee Warrows fell back and back, yet winging deadly slings and arrows. But then they had to cease: the perimeter became too crowded with allies for buccen and dammen to safely loose missiles past. Yet as the legion fell back, the tighter became the perimeter, the more difficult to break through, and the enemy's advance slowed and slowed, though the fierce struggle went on.
From the rear of the foe the Baeron again formed up and charged, and smashed into the enemy ranks, laying death about with their maces and flails and hammers, shattering skulls and arms, crushing necks, smashing ribs, and the horses flailed about with deadly hooves and trampled on any who fell.
Dwarven axes hewed, hammers bashed, and men fell screaming, and Fjordlander and Jutlander axes hewed as well, the spiked, round shields slamming into men to pierce the enemy through.
Elven spears stabbed over the heads of the Dwarves to take the enemy down, and gleaming Elven long-knives and swords-keen beyond reckoning, especially one of dark sil-veron-cut through sipar and dhal to hew flesh and blood and bone, arms and hands and heads flying wide, viscera spilling out.
Yet so, too, did the blades of the Fists of Rakka hew, tabars and scimitars and spears hacking and hewing and piercing. Dwarves fell, men, too, along with Elves cut down, and Tipperton and Beau and Rynna and Linnet wept to see such slaughter, as did Farly and Nix and Alver and Dinly, the Warrows ineffective now that they couldn't loose arrow or bullet at all.
And still the sun-darkened men drove inward, the Allies pressed back and back, some to come in among the gathered horses and ponies of Elf and Dwarf and Warrow. The steeds squealed and milled in fright, though some of the Elven horses lashed out with hoof and laid about with teeth, striking among the enemy, though now and again the one attacked was an ally instead.
"If we can get to ponies," shouted Tipperton, "we can lead steeds across the bridge and out of harm's way."
"You heard him," called Rynna. "Find a pony to ride." Warrows sprang forward and darted and dodged down among milling horses and horselings and fighting men and Dwarves and Elves, and they caught up ponies and leapt astride. But even as the Warrows did so, among the Allies came racing black-robed foe, a wedge of the enemy plunging for the bridge, lit oil lanterns in hand.
"They're going to burn the bridge!" shouted Tipperton, spurring forward, but only Beau and Alver heard him, those two buccen galloping after.
Even as he rode, Tipperton strung an arrow to bow, and he felled one of the Fists of Rakka, as a sling bullet took another in the back of the head, crashing into skull and brain, the black-robed man to tumble, his lantern smashing on the ground, flaming oil bursting outward.
Tipperton loosed a second arrow, and another man fell dead, even as Alver's shaft slammed into the back of yet one more. But, staggering, the arrow-struck man turned and triggered his heavy crossbow-"Alver, look out!" cried Tipperton-the bolt to crash into Alver's chest and knock him over the rear cantle to crash unto the ground, his pony to run on without him.
Tipperton screamed in rage and nocked an arrow, but it was Beau's sling bullet that hammered into the man's eye and slew him.
Now the remaining men hurled their lanterns toward the bridge, some to smash onto wooden platforms, others to crash into Dragonships, still others missing altogether to plummet into the water below.
Though not burning with the intensity of Dwarven liquid fire, still oil was aflame on the span and in two of the boats below, and black-robed men stood athwart the path.
As Tipperton flew another arrow into the Fists of Rakka, from the far shore and westward there came a resonant horn cry, and the buccan turned to see -riders galloping, thousands of riders in the near distance, men and Elves racing along the Sea Road from the west, and in the lead rode Aravan and a redheaded warrior in scarlet-and-gold armor as well as a warrior with a white horsehair gaud flying out behind, and a host coming after.
"Aravan! Linde!" Tipperton cried, and he raised his own black-oxen horn to his lips and blew a ringing blast, and it was answered by Linde's pealing horn. And athwart the bridge the black-robed men quailed back to hear such a sound. And they turned to see the oncoming host, and fled back toward their own.
As Beau dismounted and ran to Alver, Tipperton pursued the fleeing burn squad and felled man after man, and now he was joined in the slaughter by Rynna and Linnet and Farly and Nix and Dinly, all winging arrows into the running men, and not a one survived.
Yet still the battle raged at the fore, Baeron and Fjordlanders and Jutlanders and Elves and Dwarves all crushing and slashing and hacking and piercing and felling black-robed men. But the Fists of Rakka gave as good as they got and slaughtered allies in turn.
But then from beyond the crest of the hills there sounded the cry of rams' horns, and at this signal the enemy struggled to break free, fighting to get clear of the melee. And Silverleaf signalled to Larana, and she blew the call to disengage, and men and Elves backed away in response, though Larana had to sound the call several times ere the Dwarves relinquished the fight.
And even as they disengaged, thundering across the bridge and through the flames came Aravan and Linde and the redheaded man in scarlet and gold, the host riding after.
And still the Fists of Rakka fled the field.
Again the legion flew arrows and bolts into the fleeing enemy, the Warrows' shafts quite deadly, as were the arrows cast from Silverleaf s white-bone bow.
"My Lord High King," cried Silverleaf as Aravan and Linde and the redheaded man came riding nigh, "shall we pursue?"
Tipperton's mouth fell open. So this is King Blaine, at last!
He saw a slender man perhaps in his fifties, his hair flaming red, his eyes a grim steel-blue. He looked to be some six feet tall, though mounted on a horse as he was it was difficult to say. He was accoutered in scarlet-and-gold armor, and a golden griffin was embossed on his crimson shield, and gripped in his hand was a scarlet morning star.