The assaults continued through the day, halting only to allow the Minwanabi to regroup and send fresh soldiers into the van. They no longer made pretence of being outlaws, Keyoke observed with old hatred. The ranks that assaulted the breastwork now wore orange-and-black armour. Dedicated to their mission, the enemy warriors threw themselves against the Acoma defenders; they died and died, until the flow of their lifeblood soaked the soil and mixed into sucking mud. The Minwanabi were not the only casualties. Acoma soldiers fell also, more slowly, but with a finality that wore away at their numbers.
Keyoke tallied eleven dead and another seven wounded beyond the ability to serve. He estimated this had cost the Minwanabi ten times that number dead or critically injured. More than a company of slain enemies would rise to sing of his valour when Keyoke’s soul stood in judgment before the Red God, but he despaired to be sent in defeat, that his mistress might never discover that her security network had been breached until too late. For while Lujan was a quick enough study that Keyoke counted him a fit successor as Force Commander, he was untested in large battles, and his training was unfinished.
Keyoke forced himself away from agonizing over this. There was no profit in it. He approached the senior servant. ‘How fare our stores?’
The man bowed. ‘If our soldiers take minimum rations, we have ample food for several days.’
Keyoke considered a moment. ‘Double the rations, instead. I doubt we’ll survive for several days. The Minwanabi seem determined to waste lives as a drunkard spends centis in atavern.’
Shouting arose from the canyon mouth, and Keyoke spun around, his sword out of its scabbard with the speed of reflex. Minwanabi soldiers had contrived to gain a position on a ledge behind their own lines, and archers were shooting at the heads of the Acoma defenders, forcing them down while the attackers at the barricades threw shields across the bodies of fallen comrades to enable them to leap over the top into the canyon.
The first Minwanabi soldier attempted the jump only to land upon a ready Acoma spear, but the soldier who made the kill took an arrow for his trouble. Keyoke whirled and shouted to Dakhati, who stood by with a reserve company. ‘Prepare to sortie!’
Dakhati called his men into ranks.
To the men at the barricade, Keyoke shouted, ‘Withdraw!’
The defenders fell back in tight order, and a pair of Minwanabi soldiers sprang into the clear space behind the barricade, only to crumple as Acoma archers cut them down. The grating sound of rocks and heavy branches pushed across stone resounded through the canyon as the Minwanabi attempted to force through the barricade. Keyoke issued a command and a pair of husky servants hauled on ropes tied to the end of the heavy log that was the mainstay of the defences. The tree trunk drew aside, and the barricade gave way. Branches and rock shoring burst inward, and off-balance Minwanabi soldiers fell forward onto their faces.
Keyoke showed his teeth in satisfaction, just as Dakhati called for the charge, hurling his company at a run into the astonished and ragged line of attackers. The fresh Acoma reserve pushed the vanguard back, while archers on the Acoma flanks fired upon their Minwanabi counterparts. The air was alive with arrows, thick enough to shadow the sunlight that now beat unmercifully from above; with the enemy unable to fan out past the rocks, their concentrated numbers made them easy targets. Within moments the orange-and-black arrows ceased.
The vigorous assault by the Acoma drove the Minwanabi up the defile, and Keyoke called the next wave of soldiers forward. They rushed to the breached barricade, pulled the dead from the branches and rocks, and threw Minwanabi as well as Acoma corpses into the canyon. Servants stood ready to strip the fallen of armour and arms, saving anything that might be turned to Acoma use. Swords that were not too badly damaged, shields and daggers, an occasional hip bag of food — all were quickly added to the Acoma stores. Other servants scrambled around the area, inspecting arrows in a search for those that hadn’t been broken against the stone walls of the canyon. Acoma archers fired black-and-orange-marked arrows as often as green ones.
The bodies were left naked where they lay while soldiers and servants rushed to restore the barricade. Keyoke mourned inwardly for Dakhati’s reserves, still fighting on the other side; he prayed their deaths would be hard-won and their pain honourably brief. The sacrifice would lend their fellows the time to restore the broken barricade and inflict more disproportionate damage on the Minwanabi.
Fifty or more Minwanabi casualties lay in the clearing. Keyoke revised his estimate to nearly three hundred enemies dead or critically injured. The sky showed the day half-done and their position no worse – perhaps even stronger – than at first light.
And yet no man knew how many companies the Minwanabi had sent against them.