With infuriating calm Kerk drew his arm back as one arrow zinged close by him and another shattered on his breastplate. Then he lowered the bomb, wet his finger and raised it to check the direction of the wind. Jason hopped from one foot to the other and clamped his teeth tightly together to stop from shouting at the Pyrran to throw.

More arrows arrived before Kerk was satisfied with the wind and drew his arm back again. Jason saw his thumb and index finger give the smoldering fuse a quick tug before, with a single contraction of all his muscles, he threw the bomb. It was a good, classic grenade throw, straight-armed and overhand, sending the bomb on a high arc toward the defended position. Jason reached out and slapped the second bomb into Kerk’s waiting hand. This one followed the first so closely that both were in the air at the same rime.

Kerk stood where he was and Jason, dismaying his own cowardly survival instincts, remained exposed as well, watching the two black spots soar high and down behind the wail.

There was an instant of waiting, then the entirestone-walled position leaped out into the air and crashed down in fragments below. Jason had a quick vision of bodies tossed high before he dodged behind the boulder to avoid the chunks of falling rock.

“Very satisfactory,” Kerk said, pressed against the stone face close to Jason while stone shards rattled down around them.

“I hope the others are all this easy.”

Of course, they weren’t. The watchful defenders saw quickly enough that one man, throwing something, was responsible for the disaster, and the next time Kerk emerged he had to withdraw swiftly as a solid flight of arrows smashed down on his position.

“This is going to take some planning,” Kerk said, automatically snuffing out the sputtering fuse.

“Are you afraid? Why do you stop?” an angry voice asked, and Kerk wheeled around to face Témuchin, who had come up to the front under the protective shields of his personal guard.

“Caution wins battles, fear loses them. I shall win this battle for you.” Kerk’s voice was as coldly angry as the warlord’s.

“Is it caution or cowardice that keeps you behind this boulder after I have ordered you to destroy the redoubts?”

“Is it caution or cowardice that puts you here beside me instead of leading your men into battle?”

Temuchin made an animal-like noise deep in his throat and pulled out his sword. Kerk raised the gunpowder bomb, apparently eager to stuff it down the other’s throat. Jason drew in a deep breath and stepped between the two furious men.

“The death of either of you would aid the enemy,” he said, facing Temuchin for he was fairly sure that Kerk would not strike him from behind. “The sun is already behind the hills, and if the redoubts are not knocked out by dark, it may be too late. Their reinforcements could arrive during the night and that would be the end of this campaign.”

Temuchin swung his sword back to cut Jason out of the way, while Kerk clutched his arm to pull him aside, his fingers steel clamps penetrating to the bone. Jason controlled the impulse to howl with pain and said, “Order the rest of the Pyrrans here and have them, and other soldiers, throw rocks at the defended points. They won’t do much harm but the bowmen will not be able to pick out the real bomb throwers.” The sword hesitated, the grinding fingers relaxed the slightest amount and Jason hurried on.

“It is sure death for one man to stand up to the concentrated fire.

But if we can divide the fire, we can march up this valley just as fast as we can walk and clean them out. We’ll be past the defenses by dark.”

For one instant Temuchin’s attention wavered back to his army and the darkening sky, and the tension was broken. Winning this battle was the only important thing, and personal intrigues would have to wait. He began to issue orders, unaware of the sword still grasped in his hand. Kerk’s taloned grip finally relaxed and Jason stretched his bruised muscles.

The advance could not be stopped now. Stone, throwing figures bobbed up on all sides, and the baffled enemy had no way of telling which one was the lightning hurler. While the nomads just lobbed their stones and darted back to safety, the Pyrrans, with years of grenade, throwing experience, took careful aim and planted their small boulders behind the barricaded walls, breaking more than one skull in the process. They marched forward relentlessly and, one by one, the resisting strong points were demolished.

“We’re coming to the end!” Jason shouted, pounding Kerk on the shoulder to get his attention and pointing ahead.

At this place The Slash was less than a hundred meters wide, pinched in by two tall spires of solid rock that rose straight up from the valley floor. Through this narrow gap could be seen the red of the sunset sky, and the plain beyond. The almost vertical walls ended at the spires. Once the horde passed them, it could not be stopped.

As Jason and Kerk pushed forward with a fresh supply of bombs, they realized that most of the soldiers were running back toward them. From up ahead came the shrill rise and fall of the iron horns.

“What is happening?” Kerk asked, grabbing one of the running men. “What do the horns mean?”

“Retreat!” the man said, pointing upward. “Look at that.” He pulled free and was gone.

A large boulder bounced down among the fleeing soldiers, squashing one of them like an insect. Jason and Kerk looked up and saw men clambering on the valley’s rim high above. They were clearly outlined against the sky, heaving and pulling at a rounded pile.

“On the other side, too!” Jason called out. “They’ve got boulders heaped up on both sides, ready to be rolled down on our heads. Pull back!” Reluctantly they retreated as more of the stones rumbled down.

Only the fact that this last, resort weapon had never been used before saved the attacking forces. The rocks and boulders had been piled higher generation after generation, until the supporting props were wedged firmly against the cliff edge. Warriors with long rods pushed at them, but they would not budge. Finally, one brave, or foolhardy, tribesman swung down on a rope and hammered the supports where they sank into the stone. He must have succeeded because in an eyeblink he was gone, swept away by the falling boulders that, for a fleeting instant, appeared to hang suspelided in the air before they fell. A short while after this the supports on the opposite cliff gave way as well.

Jason and Kerk ran with the others.

The loss of life was not great, for most of the men had been warned in time. In addition, the narrowness of The Slash at this point acted as a choke, piling up the falling stone behind the gateway higher and higher.

When the last boulder had rattled into silence, The Slash was walled shut, completely plugged by the barrier of rock.

The campaign was obviously lost.