The Rajput cavalry plowed into the first rows of Imperial infantry with their long nezah lances held at arm's length high above their heads, thrusting downward as they rode. Veins fueled with opium, the Rajputs had forgotten all fear. They brushed aside Imperial spears and swords and slaughtered with undisguised pleasure, as though each death endowed more honor to their dharma. Hawksworth's stomach knotted as he watched a thousand men fall in less than a minute.
While the Rajputs attacked, the prince's division of armored war elephants had emerged from their camouflage and begun advancing across the western edge of the plain, isolating the ragged remainder of the Imperial elephants from the battlefield. Although Jadar had far fewer war elephants, they now were easily able to contain the shattered Imperial forces.
Hawksworth turned to watch as yet another wave of Jadar's cavalry bore down on the plain. These rode through the tangle of Imperial infantry wielding long curved swords, killing any the first wave had missed.
"I'm not sure I believe what I'm seeing." Hawksworth peered through the dust and smoke boiling across the plain below. "Jadar has already seized the advantage. He's immobilized their war elephants, their major advantage, and he timed the counterattack perfectly."
"The battle has only just begun." Shirin took his hand for no reason at all and gripped it. "And their major advantage was not elephants, but numbers. I fear for him. Look, there." She pointed toward the east, where the red sky now illuminated a vast sea of infantry, poised as reinforcements. "The prince's Rajputs cannot stop them all. Prince Jadar does not have the forces to meet them. I think he will be defeated today, badly."
"And if he dies, do we die with him?"
"Perhaps not you. But they will surely kill me. And probably Mumtaz. Most certainly they have orders to kill his son."
On the field below Jadar's cavalry fought as though possessed. Rajputs with one, two, even three arrows in their back continued to sound their war cry and take head after bearded head, until they finally slumped unconscious from the saddle. Riderless horses, many with their stomachs slashed open, could be seen running wildly through the Imperial ranks, unused arrows still rattling in their saddle quivers.
Waves of Jadar's infantry had begun pouring down from the hills, following the cavalry. The men wore heavy leather helmets and a skirt of woven steel. A hood of steel netting hung down from each man's helmet, protecting his face and neck. They advanced firing volley after volley of arrows into the Imperial infantry. When they reached the plain, they drew their long curved swords and, waving them above their heads, threw themselves into the forces of Inayat Latif. The field quickly became a vast arena of hand-to-hand combat, as inevitably happened when two Indian armies met, with Jadar's forces badly outnumbered.
Shirin watched the slaughter in silence for a time, as though tallying the dead and dying on both sides, and then she turned her face away.