The remainder of Golsingh’s army, lead by a figure in royal blue, swept across the circle of their opponents. One of Lopez’ warriors paused in the middle of a stroke aimed at Taddeusz and tried to run. Several others were struck down from behind.
Warriors began kneeling with their arms raised. Lopez’ freemen hopped back onto their ponies and trotted away, harassed by Golsingh’s horsemen.
Hansen noticed that the arc which touched the man in silver met no more resistance than it would from as sapling. It cut the warrior in two at mid-chest.
Walker tossed away the remains of his nut and sniffed. “The first rule of war,” he chittered superciliously, “is never to fire a bolt. It takes minutes for your suit to build up power again.”
Lopez’ men were taking off their armor. The suits opened down the left side like gigantic clamshells. Each suit’s arms and legs remained attached to the backplate, but the helmet and body armor split to allow the warrior access to his suit.
Dismounted freemen knelt beside Golsingh’s fallen warriors. In some cases the victim was able to stand after he’d been lifted out of his armor.
Golsingh’s baggage train arrived at the battlefield in a bedlam of trumpets and crackling brush.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Hansen muttered.
“You’ll surely be lost unless you put yourself under my protection,” the squirrel retorted primly. “You would have joined Lopez’ army just before the fight, wouldn’t you? And where would you be now?”
There was a remuda of saddled ponies in Golsingh’s train, but the baggage animals were elephants covered with long black hair. Their tusks had been sawn off close to the jaw and capped with copper bands.
The beasts would’ve been mammoths, if Hansen were standing on Earth a million years before . . . and very possibly they were mammoths here on Northworld—whatever nightmare Northworld turned out to be.
The animals were guided and accompanied by a hundred or more men on foot—but certainly not warriors. Whereas the freemen were dressed in furs, not infrequently picked out by streamers of bright cloth, this lot looked like so many bales of dingy rags plodding through the snow.
Hansen looked at the squirrel. “Servants?” he said.
Walker flicked the brush of his tail. “Slaves,” he replied.
Most of Golsingh’s men were getting out of their armor also. Pairs of slaves attended each warrior and carried the empty suits to bags of rope netting hanging from the flanks of the mammoths.
Hansen was shivering uncontrollably. He looked at the slope, wondering whether he could climb down directly in his present state or if he needed to find a gentler descent.
The warrior who’d worn the royal blue armor stretched as he stepped clear of his suit, then walked over to join Taddeusz. The warchief’s armor had for the most part regained the luster it lost when the bolt of raw energy struck it. There was a black star-burst in the center of the gold and scarlet plastron.
“King Golsingh,” Walker said. “He has dreams, but he’s too soft to make anything of them.”
Slaves were stripping the corpses of warriors; no one seemed to pay any attention to the handful of dead freemen. Birds were already circling the battlefield. The corpses of Golsingh’s men were laid over a pile of faggots sawn by the few warriors still wearing their suits. Lopez’ men lay where they’d fallen.
All the armor, damaged as well as whole, was loaded onto the mammoths who stamped angrily and hooted at the smell of blood. A score of Lopez’ warriors had been captured. They were herded together, under guard by freemen, and watched the proceedings with evident disquiet.
It wasn’t going to get warmer on the bluff, and the drop wasn’t likely to become less steep. Hansen lowered himself over the edge, keeping a grip on a treebole until his boots found purchase. So far, so—
“You’re a fool,” the squirrel chittered. “They’ll pay no attention to you. Or worse.”
Hansen glanced over his shoulder. Warriors were mounting the ponies brought on leads, and the line of mammoths was plodding off in the direction from which it had come.
Taddeusz and Golsingh were arguing. The warchief shouted an order. One of the warriors still wearing armor stepped toward the line of prisoners.