only dimmer. These
once-majestic beasts were a sickly shadow of their former selves. Their hides
were sunken and pallid, fur fouled and matted, the golden light of their eyes
all but extinguished. Occasionally a dejected moan escaped one of their
throats.
Reya’s
men had halted in their tracks several paces short of the enemy’s front line.
They seemed unsure how to react to this new development, frozen by a mixture of
fear, confusion, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness at the wretched state
of these animals. Reya, recognizing that this development posed some sort of a
threat, immediately ordered a retreat. But it was as though her soldiers heard
her only through a dense veil. She repeated the command, louder now, but her
troops stood motionless, staring toward the opposing hillside. Incensed, Reya
looked more closely at the beasts and saw that the tanks on their sides glowed
with rows of orange lights. Were these strange devices exerting some kind of
effect on her troops? She stole one final look over her shoulder, then,
muttering something softly to her mount, started down the hillside at a fair
clip.
As
the row of pathetic creatures reached the rear guard of enemy foot soldiers,
the formation parted in multiple places to allow their passage. The animals
lurched laboriously past row after row of the enemy’s legions, finally emerging
at the front line. They advanced but a few steps more and then halted facing
Reya’s army, snouts almost touching the ground, enormous heads swaying
hypnotically to and fro. Reya spoke again to her mount and it broke into a
full gallop. This was an impressive thing to see, now for the first time as a
passive observer. The great white hide revealed an elegant and powerful
musculature as the beast worked its six legs, thundering down the steep incline
at the top of the hill, leaping over a broad outcropping of rock and landing
without breaking stride to resume its gallop on the more even ground at
mid-slope. Reya had almost reached her army’s right flank when the sparkling
in the antlers of the enemy’s poor beasts suddenly grew to a blinding flash.
Above the head of each beast a tiny sun exploded, sending a devastating wave of
energy spreading ahead of the animal, encompassing a broad, cone-shaped area.
In that instant, the battlefield was terribly transformed. Wherever the energy
had touched, scores of men lay dead. And immediately after the blast, each
animal emitted a hollow groan and expired, never to rise again. The orange
lights went dark.
Reya,
despite the incredible momentum of her steed, had not advanced far enough to
suffer the effect of the blasts. Her mount reared up high on its hind legs,
and she again ordered a retreat. This time her remaining troops seemed to
hear, and hastily obeyed. Quickly scanning the area of destruction, she saw
that maybe two-thirds of her people had died in that one terrible act. Shaking
her head, she turned and led the retreat, back up the hill the way they had
come. As she reached the base of the rocky bluff she had cleared earlier, she
halted and cocked her head. The thing that apparently gave her pause was a
deep rumbling that now reached my ears as well. It grew to an almost deafening
din, then the air over Reya’s head was filled with a half-dozen or so great,
white, soaring shapes as a small band of men on beasts like her own leaped over
her position and plunged down the hillside. At their head, an oddly familiar
figure. The face was my own. I knew before she cried, “Tal!”
“Tal,
no! This fight is lost!” she screamed. He reined in his mount, cutting a
sharp left arc, and came up a few dozen paces below Reya.
“Not
again!” Tal barked, his face a mask of vengeance. “He must pay for his
atrocities! For what he’s done to our people. To our friends!” He gestured
toward the corpses of the fallen
once-majestic beasts were a sickly shadow of their former selves. Their hides
were sunken and pallid, fur fouled and matted, the golden light of their eyes
all but extinguished. Occasionally a dejected moan escaped one of their
throats.
Reya’s
men had halted in their tracks several paces short of the enemy’s front line.
They seemed unsure how to react to this new development, frozen by a mixture of
fear, confusion, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness at the wretched state
of these animals. Reya, recognizing that this development posed some sort of a
threat, immediately ordered a retreat. But it was as though her soldiers heard
her only through a dense veil. She repeated the command, louder now, but her
troops stood motionless, staring toward the opposing hillside. Incensed, Reya
looked more closely at the beasts and saw that the tanks on their sides glowed
with rows of orange lights. Were these strange devices exerting some kind of
effect on her troops? She stole one final look over her shoulder, then,
muttering something softly to her mount, started down the hillside at a fair
clip.
As
the row of pathetic creatures reached the rear guard of enemy foot soldiers,
the formation parted in multiple places to allow their passage. The animals
lurched laboriously past row after row of the enemy’s legions, finally emerging
at the front line. They advanced but a few steps more and then halted facing
Reya’s army, snouts almost touching the ground, enormous heads swaying
hypnotically to and fro. Reya spoke again to her mount and it broke into a
full gallop. This was an impressive thing to see, now for the first time as a
passive observer. The great white hide revealed an elegant and powerful
musculature as the beast worked its six legs, thundering down the steep incline
at the top of the hill, leaping over a broad outcropping of rock and landing
without breaking stride to resume its gallop on the more even ground at
mid-slope. Reya had almost reached her army’s right flank when the sparkling
in the antlers of the enemy’s poor beasts suddenly grew to a blinding flash.
Above the head of each beast a tiny sun exploded, sending a devastating wave of
energy spreading ahead of the animal, encompassing a broad, cone-shaped area.
In that instant, the battlefield was terribly transformed. Wherever the energy
had touched, scores of men lay dead. And immediately after the blast, each
animal emitted a hollow groan and expired, never to rise again. The orange
lights went dark.
Reya,
despite the incredible momentum of her steed, had not advanced far enough to
suffer the effect of the blasts. Her mount reared up high on its hind legs,
and she again ordered a retreat. This time her remaining troops seemed to
hear, and hastily obeyed. Quickly scanning the area of destruction, she saw
that maybe two-thirds of her people had died in that one terrible act. Shaking
her head, she turned and led the retreat, back up the hill the way they had
come. As she reached the base of the rocky bluff she had cleared earlier, she
halted and cocked her head. The thing that apparently gave her pause was a
deep rumbling that now reached my ears as well. It grew to an almost deafening
din, then the air over Reya’s head was filled with a half-dozen or so great,
white, soaring shapes as a small band of men on beasts like her own leaped over
her position and plunged down the hillside. At their head, an oddly familiar
figure. The face was my own. I knew before she cried, “Tal!”
“Tal,
no! This fight is lost!” she screamed. He reined in his mount, cutting a
sharp left arc, and came up a few dozen paces below Reya.
“Not
again!” Tal barked, his face a mask of vengeance. “He must pay for his
atrocities! For what he’s done to our people. To our friends!” He gestured
toward the corpses of the fallen
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