Some of the older heads yelled for order, holding men back from pursuit. Some highlanders ran back to the slopeward line, past where Alythia stood with the wounded man clutching her shoulder for support, and formed a fourth rank behind the others. The remainder began picking up weapons the defeated Riversiders had dropped and began hurling them into the mob upslope. Several spears flew low and flat, doubtless impaling someone further back, then a scythe was hurled with a vicious flat spin, raising more screams and mayhem. Some swords followed, also with a flat spin, then a sickle, a club and a number of knives. Into an unarmoured mob, packed too tight to dodge, they couldn't miss. With no weapons to spare, and their own being their only means of defence, the mob threw nothing back.
Suddenly there were arrows whistling about and Alythia ducked in horror, but they were falling into Riversiders. She stared up and saw Nasi-Keth archers perched atop the walls above-at least ten, with more arriving now above the south wall. Arrows flew thick and fast. With no protection, the Riversiders began dying in scores.
It was too much, and the survivors broke and ran. With a roar, the highland ranks charged, and scores more Riversiders who could not run fast enough, or were blocked by those behind, or tripped on fallen bodies, also died. Through the press of running bodies, Alythia thought she saw several Riversiders fall to their knees and beg mercy. And were decapitated where they knelt, to Alythia's hot satisfaction. They had to be joking. Mercy? After what they'd done?
A dozen men did not charge, but held their ground and formed a new line, watching both ways along the lane. Mostly older men, Alythia saw, and some others with wounds. Instinctively, they seemed to understand the tactics that their situation required and deployed themselves to achieve it, without needing to be ordered. But of course they would. Highland men drilled for war all their lives. These men, especially the older ones, understood warfare like Dockside fishermen understood sailing.
“All clear?” called a voice from the wall above. Against the deep red sky, Alythia saw the unmistakable dark grey hair and handsome build of Sasha's friend, the serrin Errollyn. He held that strange serrin bow, with elbow joints in its arms, that just looked dangerous. Even at this range, his eyes were visible, two penetrating green spots in the shadow of his face.
“Aye!” shouted up one of the men, above the groans and screams of the wounded and dying who now made a ghastly, writhing carpet along the lane. “Good timing!”
“Sasha told us they'd come this way.” His eyes scanned the lane. “And so the highland legend grows,” he remarked.
“We're just getting started!” came the retort.
“Good. There's plenty that broke through. If you move back fast, you could get some more.” And he vanished, as did the others.
“Highness,” said another man in Lenay. His long, matted hair and thick beard were spattered with blood, some of it his own from a forehead gash, but just as much not. His eyes burned, the left one within a maze of intricate tattoos, and he fell to one knee. “You were magnificent. It was an honour to fight beneath your banner.”
Alythia blinked at him. “It…I was?”
Another repeated the gesture as the first man rose and kissed the banner fiercely. Others repeated the gesture. Alythia stared at them and…wondered. She was a widow. She'd thought she had nothing left. But this…this was something. Despite the fear, the blood, the wet and the cold, her shoulders straightened, just a little.
“Highness,” said another man, upon kissing the flag. “You were glorious.”
Alythia managed a small smile. “Of course I was,” she said.
Kessligh had given up trying to command from the tower as the messengers had ceased getting through and the view below showed him nothing but chaos. Sasha ran at his side as he pointed and yelled to small groups of disorganised defenders, directing them to cover the major approach lanes to where the breakthrough had been thickest. Within that zone, behind Rani Lane, many Riversiders had broken through. Now, they looted, burned and killed, but so far they had not spread much beyond. Most of the other barricades had held and another large attempted breakthrough to the north had been thwarted. Sasha did not dare feel too optimistic given the chaos before her, but surely, if the other barricades were holding, this should be little more than a matter of mopping up.
There were more Nasi-Keth on the roads now-climbing to the rooftops with bows was time-consuming and, with the targets more dispersed, it was possible to do more damage on the ground with a blade. Some senior Dockside men had joined Kessligh's side, and they moved fast about the new perimeter, attempting to contain the breakthrough. Sasha took several Nasi-Keth with her and dashed to the docks to see if she could form a defence there.
Down several lanes and alleys to her right as she ran, she caught a glimpse of running figures, weapons, fires and fighting. The fighting would be all across Fisherman's Lane now. She hoped the children had been moved in time. She hoped that Mariesa and the Velos were out as well, and that Mari had not been a fool and tried to defend his home alone. And she hoped that the star had been moved safely.
She emerged onto the docks, and found hard fighting. Some houses were on fire, lighting the massed boats at their moors with a leaping, hellish glare. Before the fires, dark figures clashed and screamed, weapons waving. Women ran from doorways clutching children and, further along, someone jumped, or was thrown from a high window onto hard stones below. Sasha looked left toward the North Pier, and saw mostly shadow, lit by the occasional lamp, and no fighting.
“Get in there and kill all these maggots on the dock!” she yelled at the men with her. “Don't go into the houses to flush them out-make them come out, we'll trap the bastards! DOCKSIDE!”
With a yell, the men charged past her. They fell on those closest, killing two who foolishly stood to fight, saving a local man who wrestled with another to keep a knife from his throat, and then the confusion grew thicker and Sasha could no longer see where everyone was. In the firelit chaos, it became difficult to tell friend from foe-there were no uniforms, no rich raiments or armour, and makeshift weapons on both sides. Mostly, Sasha determined, the ones who were yelling and chanting were the enemy. And they usually saved her the trouble of guessing-one sight of a woman with a blade and they knew she was an infidel.
She killed several, a sidestep here, a feint there-the Riversiders were easy to fool and left themselves ridiculously exposed to her blade. Then she saw three Nasi-Keth ahead, blades out and backs together, warding off perhaps a dozen Riversiders who circled and lunged, many with longer weapons. Sasha did not even think, instinctively noting their positions, the mob's weak spots, and how it might all unfold in a rush if she hit it just like…
One man saw her coming, spun and lashed with his halberd, Sasha ducked beneath it with a spin that split him across the middle. Another did not turn in time-she lashed one-handed to extend her reach, taking his arm whilst holding ground to spin back the other way, and cut past the next man's defence before he could bring it to bear. Three men attacked her at once as their comrades fell, one was obstructed by his own companions, Sasha took a half-step back from a club swing that whistled past her nose, then held her arms vertical to deflect the big cleaver that swung down from above-a quarter turn, a quarter step back and a downward flick of the wrists, her blade sliced her attacker from shoulder to rib cage.