“It is the enemy!”
“It is oh-mu!”
As the exclamations echoed across the camp of the Sem, uncontrollable confusion was spreading as well. It had been already far too late when the twins of Parros carried Istavan’s warning to Loto. The Sem, simians that they were, had a far keener sense of smell than any human, and despite the Mongauli efforts to approach in silence, the Karoi, who had been sleeping on the side of the oasis closest to the impending attack, leaped up in violent surprise when the Gohran army approached. At first the warlike Sem had simply gazed about in consternation, sniffing and bristling like brute beasts, and making throaty squeaks of alarm.
Unaware that the camp was waking around them, Rinda and Remus had run to Loto, nearly falling down in their haste, never guessing that Istavan had heartlessly left them to their fate while he sought safety for himself. When they reached the Raku leader they had launched into a painstaking effort to communicate the situation to him as clearly as possible, but they had barely begun their explanation when the encampment broke into chaos around them. Gripped with fear, they turned to stare mutely into the darkness to the west. Something was happening at the outer edge of the oasis. Suddenly, piercing screams and shrill voices filled the air, mixed with the noise of hundreds of feet running. Loto’s wise old face quickly took on a grim expression.
“Siba! Siba!”
In answer to Loto’s yells, a young Raku soldier ran up, flushed with desperate excitement. The young Sem did not even seem to be aware of Rinda and Remus standing nearby, nervously holding hands. He pointed into the darkness behind him and began jabbering in a piercing voice, but the twins could understand nothing that he said. Loto screamed something back at the young warrior.
“Alphetto!” Loto screamed again, naming his god, his voice changing as if he had abruptly become enraged; then he rose to his feet. Although he stood no taller than Rinda’s chest, he carried himself with the dignity of a chieftain and his presence projected authority. Quickly Loto issued a series of commands, and by the time the disturbance the Karoi started had spread through the rest of the camp the Raku were rushing into action.
The Sem were desert savages, unfamiliar with even the most rudimentary practices of strategic warfare. So it was that they had failed to post sentries around the oasis during the night; nor had they made provisions for a skirmishing force to protect the encampment in the event of a sudden attack. Now, although they possessed better night vision than the Mongauli and they had quickly located their human foes, they lost their heads at the first sign of the unexpected onslaught. Many found that they had lost their weapons as well. Like frightened rodents in a box they rushed about, shrieking abuse and trying to snatch armaments from each other as they tripped over those who had managed to sleep through the racket. The Sem leaders shouted out a constant stream of commands in an attempt to restore order, but their efforts were in vain. Istavan’s advice, that the wildlings should betray no knowledge of the sneak attack and pretend to remain asleep in order to gain time to prepare for battle, had been given to no purpose. Had Guin been present he might have calmed the Sem and put their troops in order by the shear force of his leadership, but Loto didn’t have the same kind of influence over the other chiefs. The Karoi in particular were independent and high-spirited and didn’t cooperate well with the other Sem; the black-furred wildlings were quick to action, however, and now, just as they had been the first to grasp the situation, they overcame their confusion faster than the others. In a matter of moments their pride at being recognized as the great warriors among the Sem spurred them into readiness. While Loto was still listening to the news, the Karoi were already gathering up their axes and poisoned darts.
“Ayeeya!”
At the command of their chief Gaulo, without pausing to form any sort of battle formation, the Karoi streamed forth from the oasis.
“Follow the Karoi! Attack the enemy!” Ilateli screamed, and the Guro rushed to battle as well, with no thought of tactics or organizing their forces.
Realizing that they had lost the element of surprise, the Mongauli wasted no time in beginning their assault.
“Charge!”
“An all-out assault!”
Amnelis' commands kept flying. Astrias Corps was at the apex of the triangle formed by the advancing army, and the red knights urged their horses to a wild gallop, swiftly covering the remaining distance to the oasis. The opposing forces were now so close to each other that attempting to set traps or study each other’s maneuvers—even firing a volley of crossbow bolts—had become meaningless. The Sem and Mongauli simply crashed together and fought face to face, the two forces intermingling like contending waves. Horses’ hooves kicked sand into the air and drawn swords clanged against armor and saddles. In a matter of moments the main body of the Gohran army had reached the outer edge of the Sem encampment.
“Captain! The Sem are heading straight for us!” Pollak hollered.
“Impudent monkeys!” Astrias' voice was feverish as he shouted his reply. “We will crush them! Hold nothing back!”
The hairy mob of Sem rushed forward, brandishing their axes. With a chorus of frenzied squeals they launched themselves against the Mongauli.
“Aiiieee! Ayeeya!”
“Hiaaa! Hiaaa!”
The peculiar, brutish screams that the Mongauli had heard so many times before once again filled the air.
Astrias unsheathed his sword. “Attack! Attack! Attack!
Destroy and conquer!”