From the eastern edge of Jadar's abandoned camp points of cannon fire erupted, tongues of light that divulged the length and location of the camp's defenses. A few moments later—less time than Hawksworth would have wished—the sound reached them, dull pops, impotent and hollow. The firing lapsed increasingly sporadic, until the camp's weak perimeter defense seemed to exhaust itself like the last melancholy thrusts of a spent lover.
The defense perimeter of the camp had betrayed itself, and in the tense silence that ensued Hawksworth knew the Imperial guns were being set.
Suddenly a wall of flame illuminated the center of the plain below, sending rockets of fire plunging toward the empty camp.
"Jesus, they're launching fireworks with cannon. What are they?"
"I don't know. I've heard that cannon in India were once called naphtha-throwers."
A second volley followed hard after the first. Although this time no fireworks were hurtled, the impact was even more deadly. Forty-pound Imperial shot ripped wide trenches through the flaming tents of the prince's camp. In moments the gulal bar, where they had been standing only hours before, was devastated, an inferno of shredded cloth and billowing flame.
A harsh chant began to drift upward from the valley, swelling as voices joined in unison.
"Allah-o-Akbar! Allah-o-Akbar!" God is Great. It was the battle cry of Inayat Latifs Muslim infantry.
The plain below had grown tinged with light now, as dawn approached and the fires from Jadar's camp spread. As Hawksworth watched, nervously gripping the handle of his sword, a force of steel-armored war elephants advanced on the eastern perimeter of the camp, their polished armor plate glowing red in the firelight. Those in the vanguard bore steel-shrouded howdahs, through which a single heavy cannon protruded . . . probably a ten-pounder, Hawksworth told himself. The steel howdahs on the next rows of elephants were almost three feet high and perforated to allow their archers to shoot without rising above the open top. Sporadic cannon and matchlock fire from the few hundred men left in the camp pelted the elephants but did nothing to impede their advance. Directly behind them the Imperial infantry swept in dense, martialed ranks.
Jadar knew exactly what he was doing when he picked this terrain for the camp, Hawksworth told himself. He used it to set the terms for the battle. There's no room to maneuver. When they discover the camp is abandoned, the elephants can't retreat and regroup without crushing their own infantry.