James Lowder - Crusade

In twenty-eight spots along the Tuigan charge, the ground burst up, showering the horsewarriors with earth and uprooted grass. In each of those ravaged places, a massive creature of stone climbed out of the ground, swinging huge fists of rock and dirt. The stone creatures had cold, expressionless faces and eyes made of sparkling gems that reflected the fires still growing around the enemy.

Azoun sat motionless as the earth elementals lumbered into the Tuigan line, scattering horses and soldiers. From ten to fifteen feet tall, the creatures found it easy to dash the troops from their path, and the Tuigan arrows had little effect on their hard, rocky bodies.

Rays of glittering golden dust and swarms of glowing blue darts accompanied the arrows that rained down on the retreating enemy. The Army of the Alliance shouted out their victory as the Tuigan wheeled in the burning field and tried to escape the shambling monsters and shower of magic that drove them from their horses and crushed them into the earth.

"They didn't even have a chance to fire a second time," the king said to Farl. He raised his sword high into the air and added his voice to the army's triumphant cry.

The infantry commander shouted something the king could not hear. After an instant, Farl flipped up his visor and slapped Azoun on the shoulder. "Your Highness, look!"

Following the general's outstretched arm, the king saw what so upset Farl. Far to the right, the Alliance's cavalry was breaking from the flank, sweeping in on the retreating Tuigan line. "By the gods," the king whispered, the color draining from his face. Lord Harcourt's banner charged through the ranks of cavalry as they raced toward the fleeing enemy.

After an instant of hesitation, the king grabbed his own standard and shouted, "Call them back!" to the young knight carrying it. The king's banner, emblazoned with the purple dragon of Cormyr, ordered a retreat. The signal was to no avail; the nobles continued their charge.

"What does Harcourt think he's doing?" Azoun cried bitterly to no one in particular. "Has he gone mad?"

The cavalry meant to guard the left flank saw its counterpart's charge and followed suit. In helpless anguish, the king watched the silver dots he knew to be armored knights race across the field and cut off the Tuigan retreat. Some of the fighting was obscured by smoke, but it was clear that the better armored western nobles were having an easy time wiping out what little remained of the broken Tuigan charge.

A messenger, sweaty from an obviously furious dash through the lines, made his way to the king's side. "Words from Lord Harcourt," he said, neither bowing to nor saluting the monarch.

Azoun shook a mailed fist at the boy. "What's going on?" he snapped. "Why did he charge?"

"Th-the nobles, sire. They, uh-"

Seeing the fear in the messenger's eyes made Azoun realize what he was doing, and he tried to calm himself. His face still red with anger, the king said, "The message, boy. Don't be afraid."

"Lord Harcourt sends his apologies, Your Highness." The boy swallowed nervously and glanced around. "The nobles disobeyed his orders and charged."

"By the gods, why?"

The boy wiped a gummy hand across his forehead. "Lord Darstan and some others said they could easily chase down the horsewarriors when you, one wizard, and a few knights escaped from the Tuigan camp on your own. I heard 'em say it, Your Highness."

The shock from that statement had little time to settle on Azoun. A deep, rolling rumble crossed the field, and for an instant, the king thought the wizards had cast another powerful spell. A single look at the battlefield revealed how wrong that guess was. Through the patches of smoke and fire, Azoun could clearly see the entirety of the khahan's army advancing at a gallop across the body-strewn field.

The black line on the horizon spread as it moved closer, and the king realized why Yamun Khahan had waited until now to attack in force.

"They're going to surround us," he said, turning to Farl. "The khahan was hoping to bait the cavalry forward so he could surround us easily."

The infantry commander scowled. "Without cavalry on the wings, the Tuigan will outflank us without trying." He spurred his horse and charged away from the king, shouting orders.

By now the rest of the Alliance had realized what was happening, too. The wizards, unprotected by any kind of armor, pushed from the rear of the formation to the short space between the first line of infantry and the mixed line of swordsmen and archers. Shoving their way to protection, the mages threw the second rank into turmoil. In a few places scuffles broke out, though the captains saw to these with harsh efficiency.

Assessing the situation as quickly as possible, Azoun decided to force both lines up the hill farther. In a normal assault, the archers' palisades would be used only if the frontal assault drove the first rank into retreat. Then, the wooden spikes would hamper a full-scale charge. However, if the Tuigan got to the rear of the Alliance and forced the second rank downhill, the palisades would be useless.

"Front rank retreat to the second rank's position!" the king cried, waving his sword to motion the retrenchment. The standard-bearer echoed the order, and sergeants and captains barked out the command all down both lines.

For a well-trained army, this maneuver would have proved little problem, but the Army of the Alliance had had only a limited amount of time to drill. As a result, the retrenchment took far too long. By the time the ranks were in place, the Tuigan had outflanked the army and were closing in on three sides.

Azoun didn't see Lord Harcourt's standard waver, then fall, as the bulk of the khahan's troops rolled over the Alliance's cavalry. The nobles had wiped out the last of the retreating Tuigan line, but at the cost of their lives to a man.

The fires and the earth elementals slowed the charge a little, too, but not enough. Eighty thousand barbarians, crying out for vengeance, screaming for western blood, emerged from the smoke, brandishing their bows.

Without warning, a Tuigan arrow bit into Azoun's leg. Fired at a distance of only thirty yards, the black shaft pierced the king's cuisse and pinned his leg to his horse. The destrier reared as Azoun threw back his head and screamed in agony. The sky he saw through tears of pain was black.

Above the Army of the Alliance, the crows swarmed. Their numbers seemed to blot out the sun, and their cries drowned out Azoun's scream. Almost hidden in the sea of black feathers, a lighter-colored falcon circled the battle, watching the Tuigan surround the crusaders.

Black wings fluttered in front of her eyes, obscuring the battle on the ground below. She swooped lower, closer to the conflict. The carrion birds bumped and battered her, making her view jump, but soon the Army of the Alliance came clearly into sight again.

Tuigan troops completely ringed the western army.

Alusair cursed bitterly, and her black-and-white view of the battle wavered. After she forced herself to concentrate on the magical link with the falcon, the vision cleared again. For being so high above the lines-higher even than Suzail's tallest tower-Alusair was amazed at the detail she could discern. Through the bird's eyes, the princess saw the plights of individual soldiers, even the flights of single arrows.

For all her searching, she couldn't find her father. She'd spotted the royal standard, which was being buffeted about in the press, but the king wasn't near it. That was a very bad sign. As Alusair knew, Azoun needed to be in contact with the purple dragon standard to issue commands; without him, the army was fighting on instinct alone.

Refusing to believe her father dead, Alusair decided that he must have been pushed away from the standard-bearer. The mental effort it took to draw that conclusion weakened the link to the falcon, and for an instant, the battle disappeared completely from her mind.