* * * * *
Swiftly now, in the thin air of Mars, the dawn came with a rush and a
leap, flooding the world with harsh light. It flashed in cruel
brilliance from sword-blades, from spearheads, from helmets and
burnished mail, from the war-harness of beasts, glistened on bare russet
heads and coats of leather, set the banners of the clans to burning,
crimson and gold and green, bright against the snow.
There was no sound, not a whisper, in all the land.
Somewhere a hunting horn sent forth one deep cry to split the morning.
Then burst out the wild skirling of the mountain pipes and the broken
thunder of drums, and a wordless scream of exultation that rang back
from the Wall of Kushat like the very voice of battle. The men of Mekh
began to move.
Raggedly, slowly at first, then more swiftly as the press of warriors
broke and flowed, the barbarians swept toward the city as water sweeps
over a broken dam.
Knots and clumps of men, tall men running like deer, leaping, shouting,
swinging their great brands. Riders, spurring their mounts until they
fled belly down. Spears, axes, sword-blades tossing, a sea of men and
beasts, rushing, trampling, shaking the ground with the thunder of their
going.
And ahead of them all came a solitary figure in black mail, riding a
raking beast trapped all in black, and bearing a sable axe.
Kushat came to life. There was a swarming and a yelling in the streets,
and soldiers began to pour up onto the Wall. A thin company, Stark
thought, and shook his head. Mobs of citizens choked the alleys, and
every rooftop was full. A troop of nobles went by, brave in their bright
mail, to take up their post in the square by the great gate.
Balin said nothing, and Stark did not disturb his thoughts. From the
look of him, they were dark indeed.
Soldiers came and ordered them off the Wall. They went back to their
own roof, where they were joined by Thanis. She was in a high state of
excitement, but unafraid.
"Let them attack!" she said. "Let them break their spears against the
Wall. They will crawl away again."
Stark began to grow restless. Up in their high emplacements, the big
ballistas creaked and thrummed. The muted song of the bows became a
wailing hum. Men fell, and were kicked off the ledges by their fellows.
The blood-howl of the clans rang unceasing on the frosty air, and Stark
heard the rap of scaling ladders against stone.