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shoulder, a deep cut. Org shouted defiance and came on.
A Pethcine leaped in on Blade's flank. He backed another two steps and turned
from Org long enough to put his sword into the man's groin: He recovered the
steel quickly this time, leaving the Pethcine staring down at his ruined
manhood, and faced Org once more. Org was not attacking. Org had turned,
screaming commands at his men, and was running with them down the glacis. For
a moment Blade could not fathom it. Then he was hit and engulfed from behind,
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by the massed phalanx of the women. Isma's
926, pouring past him in hot pursuit of the enemy. Isma had disobeyed orders
and committed her women. There was very little Blade could do about it.
He was knocked aside by the charge of singing, shouting, screaming women. Had
he gone down he might have been trampled to death. Blade shouted a hoarse
command, trying to stop them and knowing it was useless. The women were caught
up in a blood frenzy.
Blade was nearly winded. He was bleeding from minor wounds, sweating, his body
armor slashed and torn. There was a great dent in his helmet where Org had so
nearly brained him. He would gladly have rested for a few minutes but there
was no time. Isma's disobedience had placed his whole battle plan in the
direst jeopardy.
Org and the survivors of the charge had fought clear of the glacis now and
were reforming on the plain.
The women, the phalanx tattering and coming to pieces now, were pursuing.
Blade cupped his hands and shouted, cursing like a madman. Isma was playing
directly into Org's merciless hands, leaving the sheltering advantage of the
forts to fight on the open plain. Blade groaned aloud and started forward. If
he could get to Isma in time, take command from her, he might yet avert the
disaster that was building.
Beyond the moil he saw Org's four ranks of reserves moving into position to
attack-and behind them, moving slowly in a wide horned crescent, were the war
chariots. Totha was leading them, standing beside her driver and brandishing a
spear.
Xeno appeared at Blade's side. Blade was about to give him orders when new
disaster struck. The catapults were now back into action, all of them, hurling
arrows, balls and chunks, fire and shrapnel into the battle that was beginning
to shape on the plain. Isma had managed to get her women into a square, and
for the moment was beating back the barbarians, but now the deadly hail from
the catapults was falling short and wreaking havoc in the square.
Blade sent Xeno on the run to silence the catapults. He went to join Isma in
the square. There was still a chance-if he could get the women back up the
glacis and into the fort again. Blade was grim as he made his way through the
crowded ranks of the square. It would not be easy to withdraw in the face of
constant fierce attack.
Another barrage of arrows from the catapults slammed into the packed square.
One arrow gutted three women just beside Blade. They fell, screaming and
bleeding and thrashing about, strangely linked together in death. A huge block
of teksin slammed four more women into bloody mush. Blade pushed on, becoming
more and more alarmed. Isma had formed her square badly. It was too tight.
Then he was beside her. She was attended by what was left of the Lordsmen.
They were few now, and badly frightened, the fight gone out of them.
Not so Isma. She rested in the center of the square, leaning on a lance, a
bloody sword at her side. Her helmet was missing and her hair was down around
her shoulders, streaked with dirt and blood. Her corselet had been slashed
away, and one of her breasts was exposed and bleeding from a long scratch.
As Blade approached her dark eyes were enigmatic and her smile was chill. She
greeted him.
"You see, my Lord Blade, how my people can fight! Soon we will destroy these
barbarian scum."
He regarded her grimly and shook his head. "Not this way, Isma. We must get
back into the fort.
Quickly! While we can. This way we are fighting Org's battle!"
Another salvo of shrapnel from the catapults sprayed through the square. A
Lordsman screamed and fell with half his face gone.
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