As Bactria had pressed upon Assyria's force below, so now Prince Menon galled the Bactrians from his vantage point above, destroying them with arrows and with slings, with down-flung stones and the trunks of fallen trees. With Kedah came the Syrian hillsmen, silent, pitiless, while Menon led the loose-limbed mountaineers from the land of Naïri, to whom a fray was as a feast of wine. They sang as they swept the cliffs, jeering, mocking while they slew, seizing their fallen foes where other missiles failed and flinging their bodies on the heads of those beneath.
In the gorge the King's men once more scrambled up the slopes, snatching at the foemen's legs and feet, dragging them from rifts and crevices. Anon two foes would grapple on some narrow ledge, totter, and plunge, still fighting with nails and teeth, till the shock of death released them from the fierce embrace. The Bactrians who sought to fly were caught below on the points of spears with shouts of vengeful joy, while those who held their ground in the courage of despair, were slain where they stood, for mercy they begged not nor received.
A breach had now been torn through the barrier of stones which stretched across the gorge, and the King, to relieve the press within, led three score thousand horsemen out and breasted the gentle slope beyond; yet scarce had he cleared the opening when Oxyartes, with a cloud of riders, swept into view and came thundering down the hill. They far outnumbered the Assyrian horse and held a marked advantage by reason of their whirlwind rush; yet the heart of the King arose. Here was no unseen enemy hurling stones from shrouded heights, but a foe to charge on even ground, sword to sword and shield to shield--a foe to conquer in the glory of his strength, or to free a royal saddle of its weight.
"At them!" he cried and loosed his bridle rein, while his followers with a shout of joy came streaming after him. With a clangorous roar the riders met, their horses rearing to the shock, battling with hoofs or toppling backward upon those who pressed behind. For an instant Bactrian and Assyrian both recoiled, then drew their breath and fell to the work of war--a struggle, deadly, fraught with fate, for victory gave the whip-hand unto Ninus or the brave King Oxyartes; and so the leaders vied in their deeds of arms. They met at last, the sword of Ninus clanging on the Bactrian's blade; and for a space they glared across their shield-rims silently, then rose in their saddles for a scepter-stroke that would mark a kingdom's fall.