John Flanagan - Oakleaf bearers

Unwittingly, as they had concentrated on his position, trying to hit the elusive figure who darted in and out of cover and peppered them with a deadly hail of arrows, the enemy had begun to bunch up. There had been little in the way of effective fire from the other archers for some minutes now and the Kaijin had all moved toward the command position to get a shot at Will.

"Front right!" he called softly, and heard Evanlyn relay the order. Nothing happened for a moment or so, then he heard her berating the men below her, shaming them into compliance. Gradually, one after another, they turned to face the direction she had given them.

"Ready," she called back, and he gave her the elevation: position one. The bows came up to the horizontal, then steadied.

"Draw," he said, and heard the order relayed once more. Then, taking a deep breath, he yelled: "Shields down! Shoot!"

And a fraction of a second after, as the volley was still on its way, he heard Horace call: "Shields up!"

Realizing that attention would be focused for some seconds on the line of archers, Will darted into the clear and poured arrow after arrow into the Temujai ranks. His archers' volley struck home-he had less than fifty men firing now, but still a mass of arrows slammed into the Temujai riders, sending a dozen of them sprawling into the dust. Then another five went down under the hail of arrows that Will had let loose before Horace, diving at him, dragged him below the level of the earthworks before the Temujai arrows could find him.

A storm of arrows thudded into the earthworks behind them. Horace rolled clear of his friend, dusting the dirt from his knees and elbows.

"Do you have a death wish?" he asked. Will grinned at him.

"I'm just relying on your judgment," he replied. "I can't keep track of everything in my head."

They stood behind the shield again and saw that the Kaijin, what remained of them, were edging away to longer range. They still fired at the Skandian ranks, but with far less effect than before. Will frowned as he assessed angles and positions, then pointed to the center of the Skandian line, where the main battle was still raging.

"We can start shooting volleys again," he told Horace. "If the shield bearers shift their shields to their right arms, and our archers stand to their left, they'll be covered from return shots."

Horace studied the position and nodded agreement. The remaining Kaijin were directly to their front now, so that the line of archers could shoot diagonally toward the rear of the main Skandian army without having to move from behind the cover of the shields.

Hastily, they called their idea down to Evanlyn, who relayed the directions to the men. The depleted line of archers looked at their young commander and nodded their understanding. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Evanlyn!" he called, and she looked up at him, her eyes questioning. "Once we've started, you call the volleys. Keep them at position three and just keep them shooting. I'll keep those damned Kaijin honest."

She grinned at him and waved a hand in reply. There would be no need to change angle or elevation once they began. The plunging volleys would be directed at the mass of the Temujai rear ranks. It might give Halt, Erak and Ragnak the respite they needed.

"Face half left!" called Will. "Position three!"

The forty-odd remaining men brought their bows to maximum elevation.

"Draw:shoot!"

He waited this time to assess the effect of the volley, making sure the men's angle and elevation were correct. He saw arrows striking the support ranks of Temujai, saw the panic caused by the suddenly renewed arrow storm.

"Keep them shooting!" he called to Evanlyn.

He turned and shot at the thin line of Temujai shooters, drawing a brisk shower of arrows in return. Behind him, he heard the thrumming noise of another volley arcing away toward the main battle. He shot again, picking a target and seeing him fall. Then he felt a surge of excitement in his chest as the small group of riders began to move.

"Horace! They're pulling back!" he yelled excitedly. He pointed wildly to the line of shooters. Less than twenty of them remained and they were gradually falling back from their exposed position. Gradually at first, anyway-as they moved farther, they moved faster and faster, none of them wanting to be the last one exposed to the accurate shots from the Skandian lines.

He gripped his big friend's arm and shook him with excitement. "They're turning it in!" he yelled. Horace nodded soberly, jerking his thumb toward the hard-pressed line of Skandian defenders below them.

"Just as well they are," he said. "Because these ones aren't."

Below them, the Temujai swordsmen, dismounted now, were pouring through a gap they had forced in the Skandian lines.

N IT'ZAK, FIELD COMMANDER OF THE T EMUJAI FORCE ATTACKING Will's position, had poured his men into the attack with reckless disregard. As the Kaijin engaged the archers, his lancers and swordsmen hurled themselves against the line of Skandian axmen protecting them.

Nit'zak had sensed that this attack was a final throw of the dice for his commander. If they couldn't break through this time, he knew Haz'kam would order a general withdrawal, unwilling to take further casualties in this campaign. The thought of withdrawal, of failure, was anathema to Nit'zak. He urged his men on now, willing them to break through the Skandian line and destroy the small but highly effective force of archers who sheltered behind it.

The ground in front of the Skandian defenses was littered with the bodies of his men and horses. But gradually, they were driving the wild northerners back as their numbers were depleted and the defensive line became more fragile. Dismounted now, the Temujai swarmed up the earth slope, slashing and stabbing with their long-bladed sabers. Grimly, the Skandians fought back.

"General!" One of his staff grabbed his arm and pointed to a small group of riders angling away from the battle. "The Kaijin are withdrawing."

Nit'zak cursed them as they rode away. Pampered and privileged, he thought. He knew they regarded themselves as elite members of the Temujai force. Kaijin shooters were excused the dangers of direct combat so they could sit back and pick off enemy commanders in relative safety. Now, faced with accurate and deadly return shooting for the first time in their lives, they had broken and deserted him. He made a vow that he would see them all die for their cowardice.

But that would have to wait. Now, he realized, the Skandian archers were launching flight after flight of arrows into the rear ranks of the main attack once more. They had to be stopped. The sudden resumption of the deadly volleys could well tip the balance of the battle.

Haz'kam had remarked that his deputy had no sense of the bigger picture when it came to warfare. But Nit'zak had an ability that made him a superb tactical commander. He could sense the crucial moment in a battle-the moment when everything hung in the balance and a determined effort from either side could make the difference between victory and defeat. He sensed such a moment now, watching his men struggling with the Skandians, seeing, for the first time, an element of uncertainty in the enemy. He drew his saber from its scabbard and turned to his own personal bodyguard, a half-Ulan of thirty seasoned troopers.

"Come on!" he yelled, and led them in a charge toward the Skandian line.

Nit'zak's instincts were accurate. The Skandians, exhausted and bleeding, their numbers depleted, were hanging on with their last reserves of strength and will. The Temujai numbers seemed never-ending. For every one who fell before the Skandian axes, it seemed another two rushed to fill his place, screaming their war cries and slashing and stabbing with their sabers. Now, as a fresh force drove into the line, dismounting and scrambling up the earth berm, the balance tipped. First one, then another Skandian gave way. Then they were retreating in groups, as the Temujai drove through the gap they had finally forced, striking down the fleeing Skandians as they tried to escape.