forward, the super ships groaning under each plodding footfall. Large wagons squeaked, latched to the loxodonts to carry small catapults, supplies, and shelters. Behind these, the assembled army readied to march off the boats and form ranks on the shore.
The shoreline splashed at the feet of the Hyliseor and Nepengal tribes racing to the beach. Their bleached leather armor shone red in the sun, arranged against stretches of cloth and knurls of wicker. The better soldiers, those of sufficient standing, wore helmets of shaped wicker and leather, formed into a stylized loxodontus face. They stood out among their peers, waiting on the shores for the lesser soldiers to organize the beach.
The tribes’ wicker shields quickly came to the ready, poised before their eight-foot spears as each tribe arranged themselves into phalanxes. With disembarking only just beginning, thousands of troops were already on the Thermotylus shore, organizing as quickly as possible to clear room for the rest of the army. Banners of the major tribes sprung up, each depicting the face of a loxodont, a unifying theme surrounded by the tribes’ own identifying marks. The prominent number of Hyliseor and Nepengal banners spoke clearly of each tribe’s military contribution to this endeavor.
The loxodont calls and assorted shouts of the gathering army on the shore echoed against the sheer rock face of the Crag. The sounds of the preparation for war mixed with the waves lapping against the beach and crashing against the thin peninsula of Korrand’s Finger, which jetted into the sea from the opposite bank of the Thermotylus River: the cacophony swam on warm air currents along the cove-like mouth of the dried riverbed and over the delta of sediment into the fortifying chasm to Kyrrest’s ears.
The Tither’rïan amazon shifted her jaw, raising her shield and looking back. With three solid hits of her shield against the rocky ledge, she signaled behind to the other amazons stationed and ready. Quickly, each amazon in succession rapped her shield three fast times on the cliff’s edge, creating a percussion of sound down the length of the gorge. The shield bearers each grabbed for the loxodont whistles at their hips. The small bone tubes, made from the hollowed out vertebrae of lomogu spinal columns, were attached to thin twine and notched with holes to produce the correct pitch when twirled like a sling.
Nelledotor Rangthor Renthar looked up, marching at the front of the massive phalanx column moving down the riverbed. He spied the shield bearers grabbing their whistles and looked to either side of the phalanx. “The loxodont charge is early!” the Purple Sun nelledotor called out. “All ranks spread forward!”
The lines began to separate by almost a body’s length between rows, all but dissolving their phalanx formation. Still keeping mostly shoulder-to-shoulder, Rangthor’s line—like those behind—continued marching toward the end of the Thermotylus Crag where the river met the Spartrakus Sea.
To Rangthor’s left marched Rod’ler Vondil, a massive man of deep brown skin and muscle enough to make him seem even larger with his armor on. Rangthor could think of few he’d prefer at his side at a battle such as this. At his right marched Rezuin Hytlatulis, a burly amazon sheathed in muscle and bred to fight. She wore the scars of years of battle beneath her heavy armor, clearly a warrior to have at your flank.
Looking up, Rangthor acknowledged Kyrrest with a nod, silently waiting for her signal. The amazon leader nodded back, looking to Omeip Jalwekam readying her bow. The vy’liryn shared Rangthor with Kyrrest as consort and were it not for Kyrrest’s confidence in Omeip’s aim the vy’liryn would not be in battle.
The burnt orange skin of Omeip’s face glowed red with the sun. The various markings on her face and body flushed a deep shade of crimson in her excitement and worry over the battle. As with all vy’liryns, Omeip had to take special care to customize her armor to allow the large arm-like spines down her back freedom to move, as well as allowing her long tail to be mobile and yet protected. The spines did much to showcase her readiness when they erected in warning, but similarly fitting her armor around those spines often proved hazardous to its effectiveness. With her four-curved composite bow in hand, Omeip nodded to Kyrrest.
For a moment, Kyrrest wished she’d made Omeip stay in the Tither’rïan caves to make sure the small amazon children had someone to guide them if the battle turned sour. The vy’liryn’s resolve once again won Kyrrest over. She’d not let the Rygem’dor army take Rostheromi—to do so would allow Tither’rïan to fall. Her staying behind in that event would prove pointless.
Kyrrest leaned out over her shield, eyeing the gathering army on the shore, watching agitated loxodonts pulling carts and catapults from the gigantic boats. Ship after ship with their bows beached lined the shore, each emptying out onto the sands of the Thermotylus Crag. She could see the methrian soldiers readying their armor and weapons and tribes clambering onto their loxodont steeds to steady the towers on the mammoth backs.
Lifting her right hand, Kyrrest looked back to make sure all of her nearby amazons were prepared to swing their whistles. With her left, Kyrrest began a steady thumping of her shield on the rock—hammering it quickly twice with a third delayed strike and repeating—beginning a rhythm the other Tither’rïan amazons followed. Down the long stretch of the gorge, shield after shield began to pound, amazon hands raised at the ready with their whistles poised. The echo was almost deafening; all standing solid and stoic on the riverbed felt their hearts race with heightened anticipation.
Gal’den Gymesorm looked up from the flat front foot of his loxodont. The Nepengal tribesman cocked an ear towards the gorge opening, his brows furrowing at the clamor coming from its maw. Egit Faepental scratched his chin, setting the final latch on the loxodont’s shoe. With the wide shoes crafted of pterapthyodes leather, the loxodont would be less likely to skewer its broad feet on any caltrops or broken armor when charging.
“I wonder what that sound is,” Gal’den questioned aloud.
“They’re probably trying to raise their spirits before we send them to their gods,” Sorik Isoryr’fin scoffed. The mahout leaned over his saddle and rubbed the shaffron of his mount affectionately.
With her thumb and index finger clasped tight, Kyrrest let her whistle drop, where it bobbed at the end of its twine. Never stopping the thunderous clamor of her shield, Kyrrest slowly began swinging the whistle again at her right side. The low hum of the whistles soon began to reverberate through the chasm as amazon after amazon began to swing their whistles in tandem. Down the riverbed’s length, the whistling grew in pitch and strength, reverberating against the high sheer walls and spitting out into the Spartrakus Sea.
Sorik’s chest slammed into the bow of his saddle, thrust forward as his mount reared suddenly. Egit cried out in pain as the loxodont’s right foot smashed into his leg, pinning him to the ground by his right knee. Gal’den backed up to grab the bridle, trying to yank the loxodont down and steady it. “Yan’sti! Get over here!” Gal’den barked.
Yan’sti Warendil rushed to their aid, a fellow loxodont rider from the Hyliseor tribe. Grabbing at the reins, Yan’sti tried to settle the mount down, looking about as more loxodonts were fiercely clamoring about.
Kyrrest grit her teeth, swinging her whistle as hard as she could. The pitch and volume hurt her ears. Squinting, Kyrrest almost smiled to see the loxodonts going mad with the noise. Even as far away as they were, she could tell the thunderous feet of their mounts were pounding several keepers.
Yan’sti felt his shoulders pop as the loxodont reared and flung him to one side. Gal’den barely had time to turn to react before the loxodont’s feet slammed into his back. Roaring with life, the loxodontus charged forward, enraged, the trumpeting sounds of the other loxodonts following behind.
Sorik felt his chest crack, thrown against his saddle with every trampling gallop. Flung to all directions, the mahout’s arms desperately scrambled around the saddle to find some way of controlling the loxodont once more.
The tribes scattered, jumping clear of carts and siege weapons being broken and splintered. Screams rang out against a chorus of loxodont
us calls, their huge legs trampling on, over, and through anything between them and the chasm. Wooden boards were flung away, carted weapons smashed underfoot. Plumes of half-dry sand sprang up from every footfall, the towers on their backs lurching to and fro. Soon the loxodonts broke free of the tribal armies that contained them, racing along the coast towards that maddening whistle.
Omeip readied her bow, calmly drawing back her arrow as she aimed. The squeak of similar bowstrings drawing barely registered in the vy’liryn’s ears. With a squint of her eye, Omeip let fly a bolt.
Sorik gurgled, grabbing at the arrow suddenly in his chest. With a snap, he felt his forearm break against the saddle, broken by the violence of the loxodont’s charge. Desperately he clung to his saddle with his left, gasping for air. The mighty trunk of his loxodont rose into his eye line, his jostling vision catching sight of the gorge coming up quickly.
Kyrrest slammed her shield into the cliff a final time, her whistle still flying. The percussion of the shields dissolved almost instantly in the gorge. Only the new high pitch of hissing arrows accompanied the loxodontus whistles now.
Rangthor’s grip