Silence followed our shout and the enemy continued to swell into the wider expanse of the pass as they formed a hasty and somewhat disorganized battle line. Behind us the walls bristled with the poised arrows of thousands of archers, many of which were women.
Suddenly a woman's voice broke out from the ranks of the other archers gathered there. She was singing. The words of the song she sang echoed clearly into the crispness of the morning air and every warrior's heart gathered before the wall.
Her song was older than the wall she stood on and was quickly picked up by both men and women up and down the wall, who repeated the chorus to her lead.
Across the waters so far have we come,
In search of a land of milk and honey,
At last we have found our home,
Where we will grow strong,
We will grow strong,
Loss of our homes we have known,
But in our valley's rest is to be found,
Come and see our valley's so fair,
Mountains so high they reach the sky,
No better a home could one ask,
We have found our rest,
Our rest we have found at last,
Proclaim to one and all this our journey's end,
Move on as strangers no more shall we,
We will fight for our home,
May it forever be.
Throughout the song the enemy soldiers rushed to form a battle line that they had expected to have had hours to accomplish in an orderly fashion, but instead were down to only minutes. The song ended and so did the enemy's rush to reach formation.
The enemy formation abruptly opened up across the battle line to form gaps, which mounted cavalry poured through in endless streams. They were lancers just like the ones who had killed my family. They fanned out the width of the pass over ten rows in depth as they surged forward heedlessly toward us, intent on breaking us with the power of their charge Ground soldiers rushed to keep up with them in order to support them if need be.
"Get ready men! For our families and our country! Hold the line!" I yelled out, my words similarly repeated by other warrior commanders around me.
The horses of the unbroken line of cavalry were completely stretched out in a full gallop, when suddenly it appeared as if the ground opened up and swallowed them. They were but forty feet in front of us when it happened. As the first row of lancers pitched unexpectedly into the camouflaged chasm before them, they were followed closely by the next several rows that had been pressed close behind the front line of cavalry. As both horses and riders somersaulted into the ditch from the force of their momentum alone, they were impaled on the sharpened stakes which lined the steep sides of the deep trough hat they had careened into.