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Huma raised his lance high over his head, then lowered it
with a snap of his wrist. At his command, there was
shouting in his lines and the bowmen drew the strings of
their weapons back. As one, they let their arrows fly, a
black cloud of death that arced at the Queen's waiting men,
slamming into their ranks. As the second volley was fired,
the pikemen began a slow advance on the enemy, their
shields held in front of them, the tips of their pikes pointed
at the Queen's soldiers.
A shout seemed to rise from one-hundred-thousand
throats, a roar that came from both armies. The Dark
Queen, a beautiful woman dressed in black armor and
mounted on a black horse, waved her men forward. They
came on, running across the no-man's land of dried, dead
grass, raising a cloud of dust that obscured them and the
obsidian obelisk behind them.
Like the sound of the sea smashing onto a beach, the
two armies collided. There was the ringing of metal against
metal and a grunting of effort as the men of both sides
fought with one another. Huma's men momentarily
retreated under the heavy onslaught of the Dark Queen's
men, but their line finally stabilized.
From his position on the hillside, Huma, astride the
silver dragon, could watch the fight
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