at the ready, their shields bobbing as they ran. Spears flew between the closing lines, here and there a man fell. Mots sagged and crumpled as spears found gaps between shields.
Then the men came up against the pikes.
They swung shields and engaged with their spears. The pikes and spontoons were wielded by the strongest brilbies and kobs. They pulled and jabbed, keeping the men at bay. The momentum of the charge was dissipated. Thru felt a surge of hope. The lines of men piled up just at the outer range of the stabbing pikes. A huge clatter went up as men used shields and swords to try and divert those long, vicious pikes and get in close. Screams of agony and triumph announced the success of the pikebearers as they sought to hook or stab their opponents.
Here and there, though, the men got through. They were veterans and they'd fought against massed pikes before. A skillful parry of the pike, perhaps driving it aside with the shield and the spearman was inside the range of the pikebearer. Another shove, a step or two, and the spear or sword could be buried in the chest of the pikebearer.
This was where the mots in the second line came forward to engage, pushing past the pikebearers. However, this tended to break up the pike formation, and that allowed more men to push in past the lethal pike points. Mots and brilbies died as the lines coagulated and the formation broke up.
Colss had waited too long to order the pikebearers to withdraw. In truth, they lacked time to execute any such maneuver. Pressed this hard by men skilled at turning aside a pike, they could do nothing except struggle to hold the front.
But after just a few minutes of this furious battering, the pikes had been abandoned, broken off or their bearers forced back into the general mass of mots. The pikes had proved a failure, despite the training.
The men were better trained, but their superiority was dissipated in the brutal slugging match that developed. So the battle teetered here, neither side gaining an advantage, while every so often a combatant would stagger back and sit down, stabbed too badly to continue.
Now the enemy began to use their superior numbers, concentrating the weight of their attacks at either end of the line of mots, forcing them back into a U that was anchored on the river. Inside the U was a stretch of polder, broken up by low stone walls across the fertile muck.
The ring of sword on sword was coming more and more often as spears were given up in the tighter press. Within the press it was becoming very difficult to move. The mots went back, step by step, but they were stubborn and exacted a toll from the men who pressed forward. The dead continued to accumulate.
Thru saw the danger of the slow movement backward. The U would contract until the mots were eventually crowded against the stone walls of the polder. Their formations would break up against those walls, and they would be slaughtered in the confined spaces.
He pulled Ter-Saab aside.
"Have to counterattack. Before we get crushed into those walls."
Ter-Saab had seen the problem as well.
"Get two hundred mots," said Thru. "We're going to surprise them."
"Easier said than done," said Ter-Saab, looking at the sprawling lines, locked in combat.
"Get it done!"
Thru turned away to organize a line of archers. He wanted a sudden storm of well-directed fire at a narrow part of the enemy line. The archers were to be thrust into the heart of the fight, where they could make sure of their targets.
As it happened, Thru and Ter-Saab were given a gift. For a moment there was a spontaneous separation of the lines, both sides drawing breath.
Ter-Saab used it to pull a Quarter into shape. His big voice was unmistakable as he bellowed orders to whip the mots into four short lines. Archers came forward to take up places at the ends of these lines. The order was given, and just as the Shasht drums started, the mots drove forward. The front line parted, the assault group burst through
Then the men came up against the pikes.
They swung shields and engaged with their spears. The pikes and spontoons were wielded by the strongest brilbies and kobs. They pulled and jabbed, keeping the men at bay. The momentum of the charge was dissipated. Thru felt a surge of hope. The lines of men piled up just at the outer range of the stabbing pikes. A huge clatter went up as men used shields and swords to try and divert those long, vicious pikes and get in close. Screams of agony and triumph announced the success of the pikebearers as they sought to hook or stab their opponents.
Here and there, though, the men got through. They were veterans and they'd fought against massed pikes before. A skillful parry of the pike, perhaps driving it aside with the shield and the spearman was inside the range of the pikebearer. Another shove, a step or two, and the spear or sword could be buried in the chest of the pikebearer.
This was where the mots in the second line came forward to engage, pushing past the pikebearers. However, this tended to break up the pike formation, and that allowed more men to push in past the lethal pike points. Mots and brilbies died as the lines coagulated and the formation broke up.
Colss had waited too long to order the pikebearers to withdraw. In truth, they lacked time to execute any such maneuver. Pressed this hard by men skilled at turning aside a pike, they could do nothing except struggle to hold the front.
But after just a few minutes of this furious battering, the pikes had been abandoned, broken off or their bearers forced back into the general mass of mots. The pikes had proved a failure, despite the training.
The men were better trained, but their superiority was dissipated in the brutal slugging match that developed. So the battle teetered here, neither side gaining an advantage, while every so often a combatant would stagger back and sit down, stabbed too badly to continue.
Now the enemy began to use their superior numbers, concentrating the weight of their attacks at either end of the line of mots, forcing them back into a U that was anchored on the river. Inside the U was a stretch of polder, broken up by low stone walls across the fertile muck.
The ring of sword on sword was coming more and more often as spears were given up in the tighter press. Within the press it was becoming very difficult to move. The mots went back, step by step, but they were stubborn and exacted a toll from the men who pressed forward. The dead continued to accumulate.
Thru saw the danger of the slow movement backward. The U would contract until the mots were eventually crowded against the stone walls of the polder. Their formations would break up against those walls, and they would be slaughtered in the confined spaces.
He pulled Ter-Saab aside.
"Have to counterattack. Before we get crushed into those walls."
Ter-Saab had seen the problem as well.
"Get two hundred mots," said Thru. "We're going to surprise them."
"Easier said than done," said Ter-Saab, looking at the sprawling lines, locked in combat.
"Get it done!"
Thru turned away to organize a line of archers. He wanted a sudden storm of well-directed fire at a narrow part of the enemy line. The archers were to be thrust into the heart of the fight, where they could make sure of their targets.
As it happened, Thru and Ter-Saab were given a gift. For a moment there was a spontaneous separation of the lines, both sides drawing breath.
Ter-Saab used it to pull a Quarter into shape. His big voice was unmistakable as he bellowed orders to whip the mots into four short lines. Archers came forward to take up places at the ends of these lines. The order was given, and just as the Shasht drums started, the mots drove forward. The front line parted, the assault group burst through
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