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At a distance of little more than a dozen feet thousands of arrows were poured into the trapped Paravaci and yet they pressed forward, on and over their brethren, and then, arrows spent, we met them on the wagons themselves with lances in our hands, thrusting them back and down. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 23, Sentence #106)

The brunt of the Paravaci charge almost tipped and broke through the wagons, but we had lashed them together and they held. It was like a flood of kaiila and riders, weapons flourishing, that broke and piled against the wagons, the rear ranks pressing forward on those before them. Some of the rear ranks actually climbed fallen and struggling comrades and leaped over the wagons to the other side, where they were cut down by archers and dragged from their kaiila to be flung beneath the knives of free Tuchuk women. At a distance of little more than a dozen feet thousands of arrows were poured into the trapped Paravaci and yet they pressed forward, on and over their brethren, and then, arrows spent, we met them on the wagons themselves with lances in our hands, thrusting them back and down. About a pasang distant we could see new forces of the Paravaci forming on the crest of a sweeping gradient. The sound of their bosk horns was welcome to us, signaling the retreat of those at the wagons. Bloody, covered with sweat, gasping, we saw the living Paravaci draw back, falling back between the newly forming lines on the gradient above. - (Nomads of Gor)