"Is he alive?" Cord demanded, then shook his head and raised his spear. "We should have gone to negotiate, not him!"
"Too late for that," Despreaux shot back, and lunged across the palisade. The Shadem had leapt onto the shoulders of two other Scourge, but he tumbled backwards as the half-meter of steel punched through his throat. She spun in place as another head came over the wall. This one let go and grasped at his face as her slash opened it up from side to side, but it was the butt-stroke that got rid of his ugly mug.
She worked the bolt and fired from the hip, blowing a third raider back from the top of the palisade.
"Too late for that," she repeated, "but if he lives, I'll kill him!"
"Worry about whether or not we'll be here to kill him," Pedi advised as she took off the head of a Shadem who'd been pinned against the inner face of the parapet by Dogzard. Cord might not be able to move with his wonted speed and power, but at least he was wise enough to admit it to himself, and he moved behind his benan, covering her back without getting into her way.
"Good point," the Marine muttered, as she sought out a target further down the wall. "Damned if we're not going to have to kill them all."
"I'd heard you were having problems with that," Cord said through a grunt of self-inflicted pain as he drove his spear into the throat of a veiled Shadem who'd tried to sneak around Pedi's flank.
"I just got over it!"
"Mudh Hemh is under attack," the Gastan told Pahner evenly.
The two commanders had moved to the battlements to observe events. For a time, the battlefield had been absolute chaos as the Krath army mutinied en masse. Now its commanders were restoring some order, and a formal parley had started. The initial negotiations had been unspoken; groups that were armed and came within weapons' distance of the walls were engaged. Those who threw down their arms were allowed to huddle near the walls, still at a distance, but well away from the rising floodwaters.
Other groups, more foolhardy or desperate to retrieve their belongings, had been caught by the rising water. A few of them huddled on scattered outcrops of higher ground, but most had been swept away by the flood. The total who'd been lost in that fashion was small, but it had been intensely demoralizing, and it was after the first groups disappeared into the hungry waters that the Krath had actively started to surrender.
With the first recognized heralds on their way, and the Krath throwing down their arms, it seemed the war was over. Before the walls of Nopet Nujam, at least.
"Talk about snatching victory," Pahner said, looking to the rear. The red distress flags above the town were evident... as were the struggling figures on the walls. "Damn it."
"We can't get word to them to surrender," the Gastan said. "That will take too long."
"Roger will be fine," Pahner replied. "Despreaux will make him put on his armor, and nothing the Krath have will get through that. But the rest..."
He leaned over the edge of the battlements and looked around until he spotted a human.
"Turner! Find Rastar. Tell him to take all the Vashin to Mudh Hemh; it's under attack! Spread the word!"
"This is most unpleasant." The Gastan lowered his binoculars. "They're burning my town. If they think this is going to improve negotiations, they are sorely mistaken."
"Worry about that after we find out who's alive and who's dead," Pahner muttered.
"Erraah!" Despreaux butt-stroked the Krath so hard in the face that it smashed her rifle, but it didn't really matter. She was flat out of ammo... and just about out of time.
"Son of a vern!" Pedi yelled as she blocked a strike from a Shadem staff. She drove forward in a windmill of steel that ended in a kick which sent the Shadem stumbling back over the edge of the wall. His intestines slithered after him.
"Pedi!" Despreaux gasped, and threw her broken rifle past the Shin like a spear.
Sor Teb blocked the missile with one of his swords and snarled.
"I'm going to enjoy sending you to the Fire, you Shin witch!" the Scourge commander told the Gastan's daughter. He was just about the last Krath on the battlements. But, then again, they were pretty much alone, as well.
"You'll have to manage it first," Pedi said, and darted forward.
From Despreaux's perspective, the engagement was nothing but a vortex of steel. The sound of the swords grating on each other sounded like so many sharpening steels in action, and neither combatant was paying attention to any of the other battles going on around them. They were in a focused, private world of steel and fury, and as Despreaux watched the deadly, flashing blades, she realized to her amazement that Pedi's reflexes were just as extraordinary as Roger's or Sor Teb's.
They broke apart for moment, as if by mutual consent, just as Cord limped up to them, and the shaman shook his head.
"Wrist! Keep your wrist straight!"
"Thanks," Pedi panted. "I'll keep that in mind."
"No, I was talking to him," Cord said. "His technique is awful. Your wrist is perfect, darling."
"Darling?" Pedi looked over her shoulder at him.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It just slipped out."
"I'm going to feed you, your boyfriend, and your get to the Fire," the Scourge panted.
"You talk big," Pedi replied, focusing once more on the task at hand. "We'll see who's going to the Fire today."
"Yes, we will."
Sor Teb gestured with his left false-hand. Pedi's eyes flicked towards it for just an instant, and that was when his right false-hand moved. It threw a handful of dust into her face, and he drove forward right behind.
Pedi flung up a false-arm. She managed to stop most of the powder, but some of it still took her in the eyes and mouth, and she buckled as instantaneous pain and nausea ripped through her. But she still managed to drop to one knee, and she drove upward with both swords as the Scourge's downward cut sliced into her shoulder.
Sor Teb looked at the two swords buried to their quillons in his stomach and coughed out a gush of blood.
"No," he muttered, raising his off-hand sword.
Cord raised his spear, but before he could drive it forward, Dogzard—who'd had enough of this stupid single-combat and fairness stuff—crashed into the dying Krath's chest and settled matters by ripping out his throat.
Despreaux darted forward and caught Pedi as blood from her shoulder poured out.
"Damn it, why is Dobrescu never around when you need him?" she demanded of the universe.
"Pedi?" Cord went to his knees beside her, ripping at his hated clothing until he tore off a strip and wadded it into an impromptu bandage. "Pedi, don't go away from me."
"I..." She shuddered. "It hurts."
"The healer Dobrescu will be here soon," Cord said. "He's a miracle worker—look at me. Just hold on. Don't... don't leave me. I don't want to lose you, too."
"You won't... darling," she grimaced a smile. "I have too much to live for. You... and your children."
"Mine?" he repeated, almost absently. Then grabbed his horns in frustration. "Mine? How?"
"I... I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "You were so hurt, so needing. You came into your season while you were injured. I couldn't stand to watch you in such agony, and you were calling for your... for your wife. I— Ahhh!" She panted in pain. "I love you... ."