grass. Temeraire roared furiously and dived towards her, but one of the Garde-de-Lyons flung itself into his path.
"That," Temeraire said furiously, "is quite enough, and anyway the soldiers are smaller still than you." He seized the little dragon's neck in his jaws, and with a jerk of his head broke it, a single dreadful snap. He let the beast go falling out of the sky, a little scrap of scarlet and blue, the small handful of crewmen scattering like falling leaves through the air behind.
The Garde-de-Lyon had bought the necessary time with its life, however. Below, the Grand Chevalier had gotten herself off the ground again, and with an escort of joyfully roaring P锚cheurs and Pou-de-Ciels was ponderously flying back to the shelter of her lines - "The coward," Temeraire said bitterly, watching her escape into the range of the French artillery. The square was trying desperately to re-form, some soldiers crawling back to their places on hands and knees, too dazed yet even to stand, dragging their muskets along behind them.
Laurence heard the horns blowing, a thin and thready sound, and everywhere the French were suddenly advancing. The knot of fishing huts on the left flank, so long hotly contested, now came suddenly under a savage bombardment. The fresh dragons coming in flung themselves over it, casting down loads of munitions, until at last a rush of infantry poured over the low encircling fences and charged into the huts, one after another, and black smoke came out the windows as the British colors came down.
If they meant to give the center up, it must be soon. But Wellesley gave no order: he was observing the battle from a ridge on the right flank, where a few tents had been erected for the headquarters. At the moment he was looking out to sea, gauging perhaps the weather, which had begun at last sluggishly to clear, before sweeping his glass back towards the French rear. Laurence followed his line of sight with his own glass, and saw in the thinning mist Napoleon's standard, and the Emperor himself in his plain grey coat and black hat, mounted on a white horse and backed by the gleaming and polished ranks of his Guard.
Even as he watched, Napoleon raised a hand, and with a single economical gesture sent ten thousand men in motion. The word ran along the French lines, and one after another of those marshaled companies began their steady march forward, into the British center. The Emperor himself turned towards the fishing huts, just taken, and the Guard followed in steady ranks as his command shifted forward.
On either flank, the dragons of the Corps were fighting fiercely to hold off the advance, but they too were tired. On the right Accendare, the great Flamme-de-Gloire, loosed a torrent of flame against Lily's formation, and Laurence to his horror saw Messoria recoil, her wing blackened and smoking. She did not fall out of the sky, but reeled heavily against little Nitidus, fouling his flight, and a few men, specks of black, went tumbling down through the sky.
Two of Accendare's wingmen darted in to press the advantage, boarders leaping across to Lily's back. She twisted and plunged, trying to shake them loose, and in the opening a spectacular Honneurd' Or, gold and blue and red, went through the shield, diving towards the massed ranks of British cavalry with a great roar, his crew firing off flares from his shoulders as he went, spreading his wings wide.
The horses shrilled and bucked in terror, and stampeded madly straight ahead, pouring in a mass into the open field, and providing the French with their bodies a shield against the British artillery. The advancing ranks of the French infantry broke now into a steady jog, their bayonets fixed low as they came; and back over the French camp, dragons formed into line: heavy-weights and middle-weights, with a screen of light-weights and courier-beasts before them, and all together began a slow, measured advance, one wingbeat after another, inexorably.
"LAURENCE, IF WE DO NOT GIVE THEM the center now, I think they will take it themselves," Temeraire said, doubtfully. Still Wellesley did not give the order; the signal-flags on the hill, when Temeraire could get a glimpse of them through the fog, showed still hold fast.
"I know," Laurence said. "We must keep off the advance, as long as may be. If you will break their line at scattered points, and engage the heavy-weights - "
"Wait, wait," Perscitia cried shrilly from a distance,