Chapter 22: The Reckoning

The cylindrical towers of DagonRidgeTemple loomed over the shadowy watchers, pale green against the night sky in the light of the setting Great Moon. A low muttering of last minute instructions, and two dark cloaked figures climbed silently over the wall of the temple compound, approaching the base of the tallest tower. Reversing their cloaks to reveal a lining of pale green that blended with the surface of the tower, they started up its vertical side.

The outside of the tower was rough and pitted, made to resemble coral, and they had no trouble finding hand and foot holds. They reached the top of the wall with ease, not stopping until they were close under the flatly conical roof that overhung openings where bats flitted in and out. Going in opposite directions, they met on the far side of the tower.

When at last they started back down, the openings were securely blocked by a length of fine meshed netting that wound tightly around the top of the tower. They crossed back over the compound wall just in time. A few moments more, and the light of the Great Moon was gone. Only the thin crescents of two lesser moons moved slowly among the scarcely dimmer stars.

The sky over the snow capped mountains had only begun to lighten when the raiders struck! Luckless sentries fell with slit throats, choking on their own blood before they realized that they were dying. A shrill whistle split the air, and the encampment of soldiers outside the temple compound boiled with frantic activity. Tents fell, their ropes slashed by scurrying raiders. A wave of riders followed, striking the disorganized soldiers before they could struggle free of their collapsing tents. The attackers swept through and were gone, swinging their advance guard up behind them.

"Form up! Form up!" The few remaining officers pulled their shaken men together into disciplined ranks, but they were too few and too late to stem the tide of battle. A few scattered soldiers made it to the shelter of the temple, but the survivors among their fellows were only too glad to throw down their arms when they were given the chance.

The attackers scattered away from where a flying projectile burst in a cloud of green vapor. Racing around to the upwind side of the temple, they rode back and forth, shouting taunts and arching arrows into the compound. At last a gate in the side of a smaller tower swung open, and a troop of mounted soldiers cantered forth. When they were close enough, just out of bow shot, another whistle sounded.

A troop of raiders galloped closer. From bulky cases strapped to their ponies' flanks, coiled springs hurled short spears into the ranks of the soldiers. Another whistle, another flight of javelins, and the attackers swung aside to be replaced by another group of riders. More javelins flew, skewering horse and rider alike, and striking fear into the hearts of the remaining soldiers.

Before they could crowd back through the gate, the raiders were among them. Swords and lances wrought fearful carnage among the disorganized soldiers, and within minutes the fight was over. The temple doors were flung open and frightened priests herded out into the open compound, blinking their eyes against the unaccustomed morning sunlight.

"Where is your High Priest?" The commanding voice was higher pitched than expected. With an added sense of shock, the disarmed soldiers realized that well over half of their attackers were women!

"I am here!" The priest who pushed forward was tall and thin, his dignity marred by a hastily donned robe that did not quite cover his bony knees. "What is the meaning of this sneaking attack? Haven't you heard that the war is over? Your leader, Orzad, and King Khamul are both dead. The Emperor Sholim is now your rightful ruler."

"Sholim is no ruler of mine," Mei Mei answered grimly. "And it makes no difference right now what happened to Orzad. My task is to destroy your foul Temple of Kathool, and all that it stands for. You and your fellow priests die, here and now. Your soldiers will be stripped of their weapons and turned loose to find their own destinies."

Even as the first tendrils of smoke curled up from the looted towers, the Hill warriors rode away. They were burdened with everything that they could carry, and left behind only a tidy row of green robed corpses. As the smoke grew thicker, gray hunting bats beat frantically against the enclosing netting. One bat had a message tied to its leg. A message that never reached its destination.

Far to the north, a file of green jacketed soldiers rode along a mountain trail. Scouts ahead and behind scanned the surrounding hills, but the lack of hostilities since the fall of Talai had left them less than fully alert. Their first hint of trouble was the rumbling of sliding, tumbling boulders ahead and behind. Hampered by the narrow trail, they were helpless against the horde of screaming attackers who poured down a gully into the middle of their line. Splitting into two groups, the attackers spilled them off the trail into the canyon depths so far below. Gathering up what horses and weapons remained, the attackers left as quickly as they had come, leaving only a few dazed survivors.

All up and down the length of Kath the raiders struck, and no green jacketed soldier or isolated Temple of Kathool was spared. A few attacks were even launched against small towns, attacks that left dead soldiers and priests in their wake, but which harmed few if any common folk.

"These fiends must be stopped!" Sholim raged up and down his luxurious apartments when reports of the carnage trickled into Talai. "Send out the army! Find and punish them! Wipe out their villages, man, woman, and child! Leave not one stone standing on another to mark where once a Hill man lived!"

He only raged the harder when lesser priests urged caution, reminding him that the passes to the Hill men villages were still choked with snow so early in the year. Messages flew back and forth as fast as bats could fly, and within days the armies of Sholim were once again on the move.

Chilled soldiers cursed impartially at the weather that dropped a mixture of rain and snow on their heads, the officers who led them, and the uncatchable Hill men who dogged their flanks. Nobody knew when an arrow would arch silently down into their ranks, or when sliding snow and rock would wipe out whole sections of their line. In spite of all opposition the armies of Sholim plodded onward, moving one step at a time closer to the mountain villages that were their goal.

WindVillage, high in the Pass of Demons to the east of Talai, was the first to be reached. Shrouded by snow, it resembled nothing more than a collection of rounded drifts, with here and there a trickle of smoke rising. It lay at the upper end of a broad upland valley. Sholim's army poured eagerly through the narrow gut that gave access to the valley, pushing ahead despite the flights of arrows that sleeted into their ranks. Ahead, white clad archers launched their deadly shafts, fell back, fired and fell back again. Green jacketed soldiers moved implacably forward, eager to come to grips with their foes, but the Hill men were as elusive as ever.

Back through the village the defenders retreated, moving faster as they approached the upper end of the valley. The soldiers charged into the captured village, breaking down doors and setting fire to anything that would burn. The momentum of their attack was broken, and by the time their swearing officers could get them moving again, the Hill men were nowhere to be found.