Freed by the pressure of Tol’s counterattack, Lord Regobart re-formed his horsemen and charged again, aiming to cut off the Tarsans from their city. A small band of mercenary cavalry tried to defend the gates but proved no match for the fury of Regobart’s Great Horde. With their guard routed, the Tarsans had to close the city gate to keep Regobart out. The massive brass portals swung shut just as the lead riders reached them. From atop the walls, stones, molten lead, and arrows scourged the Ergothians. Lord Regobart recalled his men.

Cut off now, the Tarsans did a remarkable thing. Instead of surrendering or trying to fight their way back into the city, they continued to drive toward the distant row of tents where the imperial priests labored. For a moment the Ergothians did not react, so surprising was this bold move. The four giant turtles ponderously changed formation from a wedge to a line. One of Tol’s phalanxes tried to stop a green behemoth, jabbing it continuously with their spears. The beast’s shell and leathery hide turned aside all their efforts.

Frez appeared at his commander’s side. “They’re not themselves today!” he shouted in Tol’s ear. “They fight like wild men.”

Tol nodded. “They’ll expend every life they have to reach our mages-then their fleet will have a chance to save the city!”

“Can we stop those monsters?”

Tol craned his neck to see over the sprawling battle. The hoarding on each turtle’s back held fifteen to twenty archers. The wooden structures, pointed at the fore, reminded him of the forecastle of a ship. That thought brought a grin to his face.

“Let’s board ’em!” he said, clapping Frez on the back.

Tol withdrew his phalanx, ordering the rest to keep up the pressure on the Tarsans. Marching swiftly behind the line of battle, his men grounded their spears and drew swords. With about four hundred men fit to fight, Tol sent a hundred against each of the four turtles.