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The whole glittering procession marched firmly toward Chersonang and following us tailed a massive
baggage train. No comforts would be missed on a Lohvian campaign. We would, in any case, spend only
a few days on the march before we crossed the border and approached Chersonang city.
 You do realize, Dray, that that she-leem only wants you to lead her army? She wants you to rush in first
and break a way for the rest of her lackeys. You ve had no say in the strategy, have you?
 Yes, Thelda, and no, Thelda, I said.  I have more or less promised. You must understand why I
agreed.
 But there s no need! She bit her lip while Seg shot a quick glance at her as she rode between us. She
wore a proper riding habit, and once more looked a great lady, her switch in her gloved hand.
 Oh?
Her nactrix jostled closer to mine; she reached out her hand to me and her face showed a strange look,
of compassion, baffled desire, remorse  self-doubt, even. Thelda had never been one to exhibit the
slightest self-doubt; even the business of the vilmy and fallimy flowers had not fazed her for long.
About to pay attention to what was festering in her, I was caught by the long shrilling sounds of
Hiclantung trumpets, those fabled silver trumpets of Loh. Intense activity boiled up.
 Look!
Low over the horizon, skimming the ground and rising and falling over groves of trees, a myriad black
shapes darted down on us. A swarm of midges they appeared at first; and in seconds the narrowing
distance converted them into fanged and wide-winged impiters, metal-jangling, with fearsome Ullars
perched on their backs waving their spears in ferocious glee at the onslaught.
Between the scattered clumps of trees the ground undulated gently in waves of rippling grasses, a
motionless sea endlessly in motion. The Ullars flew their mounts directly down on us, disdaining any
attempt to stalk us from the sun. Instantly the compact formations of the Hiclantung infantry shook out
into fresh patterns and I saw the forest of upraised left arms, the longbows bent, the sunlight glinting from
the jagged arrow barbs.
 They will not catch us again! yelled Seg.
He lifted in his stirrups, dragging out his long sword, his whole body animate with a dreadful yearning.
The strange contrivances of Hiclantung now revealed their purposes. As the impiter host struck so rose
the arrow storm to drive feathered shafts deep into breast and wing and belly. And, with that rustling
arrow storm rose spiraling, tumbling, spreading, spinning nets, and chains, and bolas, and starred-blades.
Great was the execution that day, as the army of Hiclantung repaid their score, as they showed the fliers
of Umgar Stro how they treated any impetuous airborne assault.
A warrior flying a great bird, even a creature so fierce and powerful as an impiter, must necessarily be at
a disadvantage against a warrior on his own two legs armed with a projectile weapon. It is difficult to
shoot an accurate shaft from horseback  or zorcaback or sectrixback  and even more difficult from
the wind-gyrating back of a corth or an impiter. It can be done by expert marksmen; and such marksmen
were these indigo-haired half-men of Ullardrin. But the longbowmen of Hiclantung outshot them with
ease. Aerial beast and man, one after another, more and more, fell helplessly from the sky.
I saw two impiters entangled in the same net, their wings striving to beat and break the strands, saw
them twist and fall and smash terminally into the ground. All around us the flying host was falling.
Occasionally men of Hiclantung staggered back with an arrow shafted into them, or a spear gouging its
way down past the soft skin between neck and collarbone. But the winged attackers had met their
match. Discipline, training, knowledge of weapons, and no taint of treachery brought the victory.
Watching those half-men up there as they wheeled aimlessly about above us, screeching their hatred and
their defiance, shaking their weapons, trying to loose shafts down upon us, I was vividly reminded of the
useless French cavalry charges I had witnessed on the field of Waterloo  and I began to build together
ideas on how one should use this aerial cavalry, the proper function of airborne infantry.
In all the blaze of action I had not loosed a single shaft.
Despite his exultant energy, Seg, too, had not shot. We both sat our nactrixes with full quivers strapped
to our backs.
Queen Lilah rode across, her peak of hair giving her narrow face that demon-haunted look, her mouth
open and shouting. She indicated by her carriage, the brightness of her eyes, the abandon of her gestures,
how great the victory was. Everywhere over those undulating hills the sprawled corpses of impiter and
Ullar showed how sorely the half-men had paid, how bloody had been the vengeance of the men of
Hiclantung.
 You see, Dray Prescot! Lilah screamed across at us.
 I see, Lilah.
 Nothing can stand against us now!
I pointed.
Over the crest of the hill appeared a long dark line. I could see the wink of suns-light on spear and
sword, on bronze helmet and breastplate. Regiment after regiment, already deployed, broke into a
jog-trot down the slope of the hill. And then, around the flanks broke a spray of cavalry, squadron on
squadron of nactrixes. Their riders whooped in the saddle, lifting, their weapons glittering bright. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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