We ran into the center of the center of the line of
artillery, leaving shattered Auger ranks behind. When the matriarch flipped the
nearest one, I saw that it had almost turned in our direction. I moved to
overturn the one immediately ahead of me. Its weight pulled at the muscles of
face and neck and shoulders. But I set the mastodon’s feet and very soon came
the flip at the height of the turn when all the weight fell away. The artillery
lay flat on the ground, an inert mound of golden metal in the pouring rain. Its
operator would be beneath it, crushed dead or caught by twisted wreckage for
the infantry to finish off. I stepped my mastodon around.
“Mastodons
slow!” shouted Jerem Cozak. “Forward double march to three hundred paces! To
Marcus! Rally round his ranks! Hold! Hold for the artillery!” Just as we
reached Marcus’s lines, a swift glance behind told me that the infantry had
just reached the shattered Auger ranks while a few of their squads were trying
to rally back. The artillery was pulling up behind them, as swiftly as it
could.
Other
than the charge, the other instinct mastodons retain is to circle around
whatever they wish to defend. All their riders have to do is to convince them
of what needs protection. So we drew up around Marcus’s thousands, with Jerem
Cozak and I leading those mastodons that would come nearest to the city that
Marcus had originally attacked.
I heard
Marcus as our great herd circled him in. “We could use some spearmen,” he said.
“You are welcome, warlord.” He stood unmoving at the front of his ranks.
From atop
the matriarch, Jerem Cozak turned glared at him for a moment, though I could
not read his ghostly gaze. Was it anger? Disappointment? A promise of
punishment or retribution later? I could not imagine any falling upon the
leader of the Never-born.
Then
Jerem Cozak turned and resumed his orders. “Spearmen suppressing fire! Intermittent
targets! Keep them down! Down!”
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