They had better than half a mile to cover, but it was level ground, open and hard, and the Zungans were running as Blade had never seen them run before. How they found breath to shout was a mystery to him, but they screamed threats and curses at the Kandans as they ran. Blade saw the Kandan army clumping itself to meet the charge. He grinned. The fools were expecting a frontal attack, and not extending their flank to their left at all. Time for the end run.
Blade found the breath to shout an order, heard it relayed by Nayung, and saw the entire mass of running men swerve hard to the right. They passed along the front of the Kandan army so close that Blade could see the pale, drawn faces of the enemy soldiers. They were clutching their swords like drowning men clutching branches, and there was fear in their eyes as they listened to the curses and war yells of the Zungans.
Before the slow-moving Kandans could block their path, the Zungans were clear around the flank of the Kandan army. Looking along the enemy's rear, Blade saw the little cluster of figures around the two banners less than another five hundred yards away. He took deeper breaths and lengthened his stride.
He did not expect the enemy to simply sit and wait while a thousand Zungans charged their commanders. He knew that his thousand might get in without help, but they could never get out without it. But he was certain that surprise and speed and their own fighting skill would give the Zungans the edge over any defense the enemy could improvise for his generals. Enough of an edge to bring down those generals, Blade hoped. Again he lengthened his stride.
The Kandan army seemed paralyzed by the spectacle of the Zungans tearing down along their rear. Not so the Rulami. Blade heard the trumpet calls rise, and saw soldiers pouring out of the second Rulami division to form a circle around the two banners. He saw them begin to move back, and if he could have lengthened his stride still more, he would have. But his strength and his wind had reached their limits, and he could move no faster. But neither did he slow down. He was still moving at full speed as he led his thousand men into the ranks of the Rulami soldiers. Again there was a terrible noise of metal and screaming men as the two formations clashed. The Rulami had thrown a circle six ranks deep around their king, but the Zungans nearly broke straight through it by sheer impact. A section manned by more than a hundred men was hurled violently backward by the Zungan charge. The two outer ranks simply vanished, stamped out of existence under the Zungans' feet or smashed down by whirling spears. Rulami and Zungan bodies piled up in a hideous bloodstained shrieking tangle. With Nayung beside him, Blade charged the inner ranks of the Rulami.
He was a terrifying spectacle as he lunged and thrust and swung with his spear, eyes blazing, mouth open to shout savage war yells, splattered with the blood from the smashed skulls and the crushed chests of his victims. A Rulami officer ran at Blade, thrusting with his sword. Blade leaped aside, swinging the weighted butt of his spear down across the man's lunging arm. Bone cracked and the sword fell. Blade's spear butt flashed up and took the man under the jaw, again smashing bone. The officer's mouth spewed blood and fragments of teeth and he fell back, opening a gap in the third rank. Blade plunged into it.
He parried a downcut from the left and thrust the soldier in the throat, jerking the spear free in time to ram the butt into another's armored chest. This blow did not kill, but it stunned and slowed. The spearhead came over and did the killing as it drove into the man's open mouth. Another rank penetrated.
Now it was Nayung's turn to move into the lead, and he cleared two more men out of the way with swift strokes. Not as quickly as Blade, for the two men were better opponents. But they both went down. The gap they made let Blade through into the last rank of the circle, spear whirling like a machine, the head and butt both dripping red by now.
A windmill slash outreached a soldier's sword and laid his face open, cheeks and nose gaping red above his screaming mouth. The swinging spearhead smashed into the side of another man's helmet, not doing any direct harm but knocking him off balance. Nayung took advantage of that to smash the man's thigh, then stamp on his face as he went down into the welter of bodies on the ground.
By now Blade and Nayung were only the tip of a wedge. It was a wedge of darting Zungan spears wielded by shrieking Zungan warriors. The pressure of a thousand fierce men was driving the wedge into the protective circle. The circle was beginning to sag, crumble, and collapse. Over a third of its men were down now, and the Zungans were killing the Rulami faster than they could reinforce their circle. And then Blade and Nayung burst through the last of the six ranks and into the center, where Kleptor and the High Priest stood.
If either of the two men had vanished into the Rulami ranks before Blade charged in, they would certainly have escaped. But Blade entered the center before they realized the nearness of their danger, with Nayung hard on his heels. Both dashed for the far side of the circle, to get behind the two enemy leaders. The two attackers reached the far side, then turned on Kleptor and the High Priest.
The two leaders stood for a moment, frozen by surprise. Between them and their only line of retreat stood Blade and Nayung, even bloodier, even more terrifying than before. On all other sides the circle was steadily crumpling under the Zungan attack, and nothing but certain death awaited them. Even as they stared, three soldiers of the inner rank gave way before a dozen Zungans. The Zungans poured through the gap and hurled themselves on the handful of guards and attendants that stood close around the two fat men and their standards.
Then Blade and Nayung attacked. For the moment they did not worry about guarding their backs, though an entire division of Rulami soldiers stood behind them. Their entire world was the two men in magnificent robes, standing like carved images as the battle swirled around them.
Blade and Nayung thrust together at the first soldier to charge them, smashing his sword out of his hand. Brave or mad, he charged Blade barehanded, got under his spear, grappled with him. But Blade did not have to drop his spear. Nayung's spear butt flashed in an arc and smashed the back of the soldier's neck. Blade shoved the sagging body away from him savagely and moved on. He had to block a downcut so strong that it took both hands to hold the spear. Then he slammed the spear shaft forward across the swordsman's throat, splintering the larynx. He felt a man behind him, aimed a backward thrust by sound alone, and was rewarded by a thud and a gasp.
But the Rulami were breaking out of their division's ranks and moving up behind Blade. Nayung did not wait to be asked. He spun about and leaped across until he was behind Blade, facing the main body of the Rulami, guarding Blade's back as the Englishman plunged on into the ranks of the bodyguards. The two men he was after still did not move. Were they paralyzed with fear? Or did they still hope their guards could beat off both Blade and the Zungans?
Blade didn't know and he didn't care. As he broke through the bodyguards at last, he saw the High Priest turn pale. The man turned to flee, then raised his hands to heaven when he realized there was no place to flee to. But Kleptor was made of braver material, for all his grossness. He drew a sword five feet long and came at Blade, swinging it in both hands.
The first swing of that sword smashed into Blade's spear and all but smashed it out of his hands. Blade wanted to jump back, for here was a weapon against which he might not be able to defend himself. But there was no room. He and Kleptor were like the proverbial two scorpions in a bottle. So he moved forward as fast as he could, driving in under the sword, risking everything on his speed. If that speed could take him in under the sword before it came down…