by Rob Bayliss
A horn resounded through the ravine, followed by a loud volley of harquebus, smashing into what resistance still lived before the wall of flames ahead. There was a brief cheer of victory and then another flurry of activity as the troops quickly grabbed the hacked, dead monstrosities and flung them toward the fiery barrier to further progress in the ravine. Huscarls with kite shields stood apart from the heat and watchfully peered through the flames in case more of the plague appeared.
Soon, the large frame of the Khan appeared, stomping back from the front. By his side were Stavor and Rufen, their eyes full of menace and ever watchful. The Khan carried his axe in one hand and a water gourd in the other. He freely took swigs from it as he walked, inspecting his troops’ handiwork. His armour was splattered with the rancid gore. He was instructing his men in clearing the ravine of the fallen, when he saw Tuan and his companions and smiled.
“Well then, troopers, I trust you found our methods up to Imperial standards?”
Bronic nodded his head in agreement and smiled down at the Khan, impressed that this was a ruler who led his warriors from the front, sharing in the risks that they faced.
“You have a good strategy for countering the plague, Lord Khan. These infected beasts did not seem to offer you too much trouble,” Tuan remarked thoughtfully. “The one we encountered at the tower proved much harder to kill.”
The Khan shook black gore from his axe. “It is a strategy honed over the years. It is ideal in such a confined area, but difficult to implement in the open. These were mere senseless beasts, newly infected; the one at the tower was a Hivemother. It had a memory of those it had consumed and could have been centuries old. You saw how it could spread its foul seed and infected all it chose. That one toadstool could have infected the entire Khanate. But it was lucky you were with us, yes?” The Khan patted Tuan’s shoulder with the flat of his axe. “There were more in the ravine beyond but they withdrew from the fire and now the sun burns off this mist. We must ensure no infection remains, so we must burn the fallen.”
Thegn Govchen hurried to the Khan’s side. “Lord Khan, we lost three warriors in that encounter.”
The Khan sighed deeply. “Are they yet alive?”
“One was rent asunder; the other two are mortally wounded and infected. Already their minds wander in the dream paths. Shall I finish them, my Lord?”
“No Govchen, as their Khan, that is my task,” the Khan said, studying his axe. “Bring the cage cart up for the bodies. Pray, excuse me, my friends.”
The Khan turned and walked back to where huscarls had gathered around their fallen comrades. Thegn Govchen was directing a horse-drawn cart to move up ahead to the gathered troops. The cart carried a large metal box, big enough to hold many bodies. As it trundled past, the companions saw that it had a padlocked trapdoor on the roof and another door secured with chains halfway up the back.
The Khan’s warriors had quickly cleared the fallen plague. They burned readily on the pyres they had made, belching black smoke into the mountain air.
“This one wonders,” Klesh said slowly, as he watched the Khan enter the ring of huscarls that hid his grim task. “Why do they not burn their own dead, why put them in carts and carry the infection with them?”
“And I for one wonder, Tuan, why your father-in-law did not ask you to try and heal them, as you did with Princess Karla. Have you thought about that?” Tamzine asked, as she cleaned her blades.
Tuan looked troubled, deep in his own thoughts. Bronic chuckled and looked hard into his friend’s face, waiting for a reaction to Tamzine’s teasing. Seeing none, he waved his hand in front of Tuan’s face to stir him from his meditation.
“I was only pulling your leg about the Khan being your father-in-law, Tuan,” Tamzine said teasingly, “Unless there is something you are not telling us? You and Karla went off alone for some time last night.”
“What?” Tuan said, shaken out of his trance, “Karla? Look, she was appreciative. Can we leave it at that?” He remembered them kissing and then ….
Bronic shook his head, much to Tuan’s annoyance, but despite himself, the memory of last night with Karla caused him to smile. “I am not going to go into details, you Turanesci bastard!” He grinned. “I am more concerned with what the Khan just said about this Hivemother, and what this plague really is.”
“It is a mould that eats creatures, is it not?” Tamzine remarked, snapping a cleaned falcata back into its sheath.
“It is more than that,” Tuan said excitedly, “It is a …” He paused, searching for the word. “It is a being, not a mere plant, and as the Khan said, it is incredibly old. Back at the tower when I took Karla’s hand, I felt it drug and consume me. I went to a far away time, before birds flew and mammoth trumpeted; even before the Flint folk named the world. The world was different, the air rich. The creatures that crawled under our feet were big and shared their world with the plague. It possesses a host, controls its mind to spread its kind. The fact that it had a memory of those it once had in its thrall, now that is what interests me.”
“It is an awful thing,” Tamzine said, looking at the fires, “all these beasts possessed, and people also, if the tales of the Khan’s son be true. Destroying this plague is a just thing.”
Klesh shook his head. “No, Sword Girl.”
Tamzine looked incredulously at the Flinter. “What do you mean, Klesh? I saw you weeping at the deformities this plague had inflicted upon the creatures of the mountains; why would you not wish to see it wiped from the world?”
“Don’t you see?” the Flint Father said, pointing toward the ravine, “it is one of the first ones, from the dawn of the world. If I took it upon myself to rid the world of it, how am I any different than the Empire killing my kin after the Battle of the Tusk? The question is this: it has been dwelling here, hidden in the mountains, for all this time. We should ask: why does it now threaten the world of men?”
“Well said, Klesh,” Tuan nodded in agreement. “The plague is one, it is not separate entities. They are all linked, one and the same, a single plant. It was happily tucked away in the mountains here, untroubled and not troubling others. Why does it now target the Khanate with such ferocity?
“Well, the fires are burning down and it looks like the Khan and his troops are about to move on,” Tamzine said as she slid her other falcata into its scabbard. “Something tells me the ferocity of that last attack was nothing to what we are about to face.”
“Indeed,” Klesh said, dragging his fingers through his beard. “We must remember why we are here. We are here to cross the SkyCrags.”
“Yes we are …” Tuan said slowly. “But if I can help find Karla’s brother, I will; we owe the Khan that surely?”
“Fine,” Tamzine said tersely. “Just remember: you may have promised great deeds to Karla last night as you shared her bed, but we did not. We have our own quest.”
Tuan was about to respond, but thought better of it. He followed Tamzine and Klesh, his head bowed. A huge arm suddenly went around his shoulders and a fist lightly punched him in the upper arm. He looked up at Bronic’s grinning face. The mute giant looked at him questioningly. In the end Tuan could not help a smile creeping across his face. “ I’m good my friend … and all right, I’ll tell you about it later, out of earshot of the others,” he whispered. Bronic chuckled and his smile grew broad.
Up ahead, the huscarls had taken in water and had cleared the smoking remains to one side of the ravine. Scouts went on ahead; some sure-footed ones were sent to scramble over the rocks of the ravine’s sides as the clouds lifted. The column resumed their progress, with the vanguard kept in ranks. Despite the victory, they all knew another ambush was a near certainty, but the sun was now upon them and their mood was lifted.
As the companions followed the troops into the mountains, they heard a loud clang coming from their left side. They followed the noise and saw the trapdoor atop the horse-drawn metal box being locked into place. Inside were the fallen huscarls, their re
mains infected by the plague. As they watched, they caught the eye of the driver securing the door. He looked back at them, as if in challenge. The companions shared a glance with each other but said nothing and continued on their way.
The column threaded through the ravine as it twisted and narrowed. They journeyed for a further two hours, but all too soon the ravine sides grew steeper and more foreboding. Now the sun that had warmed their faces could only be seen on the mountain on the north side. The scouts who had climbed the valley walls were no longer in sight, although the odd rock that bounced down proved that they continued threading their careful way. The air was moist and heavy, green mosses and lichens hung down from the encroaching cliffs, dripping with moisture gathered from the morning’s mists, the remnants of which still lay in the high hollows.
Away from the bright sunlight it felt cold and damp once more. The cliffs towered ever higher, blotting out the view of the sunlit slopes. The grinding of wheels and tramp of feet on the ice bedecked gravel path echoed all around, the sound bouncing off the wet rock walls. An increasingly uneasy feeling crept up on the column. All fell quiet, straining their ears to listen ahead. Warriors clasped their weapons tightly, and some drew cloaks around them as they shivered, not just due to the cold of the mountain air. Above them clouds of ravens wheeled, croaking to one another. When the horns sounded, shattering the silence, it was almost a relief. Almost.
From up ahead the horn blasts could only be heard faintly at first, their sound absorbed by the surrounding rocks. The column came to a sudden halt; huscarls quickly formed a shield wall. Fires were quickly lit and harquebus loaded and primed, the harquebusiers urgently encouraging the cords of their matches to glow.
The Khan strode to the front ranks as the sounds of the horn grew louder and more urgent. Around an outcrop of rock the horseman came. He lay low behind his horse’s neck, the horn to his lips. When he espied the shield wall and the figure of the Khan behind it, he brought his mount to a skidding halt before the wooden obstruction and began to shout desperately.
“Lord Khan, go! Go quickly; you cannot hope to make a stand here!”
“What do you mean? What lies ahead? Tell me!”
The shout died on the Khan’s lips, as around the outcrop it came.
Huge, deformed, it was as if a number of mammoths, diseased and mutated, had grown into one. They trumpeted in a sickening way, the sound gurgling and bubbling. The grotesque creature shuffled on, causing loose rocks to fall from the cliff faces as it squeezed its vast bulk through the ravine. Yet on its back, either growing out from its flesh – or into it - were man and bear shapes. It was a Hivemother. Like none other, it was more of a landlocked ship of living plague flesh. The huscarls in the front rank quailed, looking to the Khan desperately for the order to retreat, but the Khan was not easily cowed.
“Bring the cannon forward, quickly!” he bellowed.
Thegn Govchen rushed to his side. “My Lord,” he said, “we cannot hope to defeat this enemy without great loss. We must retreat; draw it back to the fortress where we can destroy it against our walls.”
“I will not retreat, darkness take you!” the Khan said fiercely, “My son is out here somewhere, I will not leave without my son.” As he spoke he fingered the Aethling Ring that he now wore on his hand, rotating it unconsciously.
Thegn Govchen swallowed hard, mouthing a silent prayer to the Mother of the Vines. “You heard the Khan! Bring up the cannon, and get ready with the oil and fire arrows.”
Midway down the column, all was mayhem as the cannons were dragged up through the ranks to the vanguard. Thegns were hard pressed to keep the ranks in order as the sight of the moving mountain of plagued flesh filled the ravine ahead.
Tamzine looked around wildly at her companions. “This is not our fight. We can find another way around the SkyCrags. This is madness. Tuan, this is madness, we should go back.” She grabbed Tuan’s arm in pleading.
Bronic unhitched Blissa and stood in readiness for the fight. His eyes burned as he looked at the Hivemother as the Red Rage grew within him.
Tuan looked at Tamzine; doubt filling his heart. He had his hand on the hidden Sun Shard, drawn to it by its vibration. His eyes shut momentarily and looked at Tamzine as he opened them. “I made a promise to Karla that I would try and find her brother.” His voice was full of regret.
Suddenly there were more horn blasts above from either side. A horn blast from the south ended with a strangled blast. A small avalanche of tiny stones and shards fell from above followed by the dead body of the scout tumbling down. His comrades scattered as he fell among them with an awful crunch.
Another shape fell down from the south cliff, following the slain scout, but it was no dead climber. It landed with a wet sound. The shape twisted as it rebuilt itself from infected creature of shattered bones. They could hear hideous cracking sounds as the bones knit themselves back together. The vague shape of a bear grew up from the ground. Some of the Khan’s men fell back from it, seeking escape from the enemy in their midst.
Bronic leapt forward. His bardiche sang a song of death in his hands, carving at the creature, separating legs from torso in one deadly sweep, before it rose fully. Already at his side, Klesh plunged his boar spear into the deformed skull of the bear.
Klesh spun around from his butchery as more rocks fell from the cliff tops, indicating movement above. “Tuan, we will die here. Sword Girl is right; this is not our fight. We can find our way around the SkyCrags by the coast road. This way is death!”
Tuan’s eyes were wild, his loyalty torn in different directions. He shut his eyes tightly and remembered the night before: Karla had been like a cool pool on a hot summer’s day. He had lost himself in her sweet caresses. His hands had run eagerly over her sensual curves, her full lips had been intoxicating. But then, his Shard pulsed red and his mind went blank as all the time he seemed to watch himself from afar, as if imprisoned within his own mind. He watched himself and Karla rutting. When he emerged from the trance he was behind Karla, his ardour spent. She had questioned him, accused him of bewitching her. He had begged her forgiveness, sworn to all the gods that he was as glamoured as her. She had declared her love for him but looked at his Shard fearfully then, no longer trusting its power. How had that happened? He realised he had still much to learn about his Sun Shard. He had to repair the trust with Karla and had sworn to assist her father in locating her brother.
He opened his eyes. His senses took in the sights and sounds of impending battle. Were Karla’s sweet attentions worth risking the lives of his comrades? This was indeed madness. Despite his guilt, he had to consider his comrades. He nodded his head sadly. “Let us leave this accursed place.”
Bronic was hesitant, but Klesh and Tamzine pulled him away as they tried to fight their way through the confused ranks, who were all looking up at the cliff tops either side.
However, from the rear of the column a murmur of fear was growing and spreading. Beyond the narrow cliffs the wider valley sides could be seen. On the southern slope, untouched by the sun, something moved. A creeping, living wave oozed down the slopes, seeking the ravine, where it reformed and remade itself.
Some at the back of the column rushed forward, seeking escape from this new enemy behind them. The thegns shouted at them to form defensive lines. Those who disobeyed, overcome by their fear, could only cry in despair when they saw the Hivemother.
Tuan shouted at a messenger who was rushing ahead to inform the Khan. “Huscarl, what is behind us? What form does the plague take?”
The fearful huscarl, who had become rooted to the spot upon seeing the mountain of flesh advancing upon them, looked at Tuan with wild eyes.
“It is the lost column. An enemy looking at us from the faces of our comrades, over a shield wall,” he replied in anguish. “They are plague ridden.”
Staggering in their advance behind wet, rotting linden shields were their fallen comrades. Half decomposed and consumed by the plague, their voices bubbled and
tortured in an alien half death, cutting off any escape.
Up ahead the cannon boomed, the balls of iron tearing chunks of plagued flesh from the Hivemother, yet still it advanced.
“We are too late!” Klesh exclaimed. His hands were white as he clasped his boar spear tightly.
Bronic’s tongueless mouth frothed, a roar of defiance building in his throat as the Red Rage took him.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Tamzine said fiercely, drawing her falcatas from their sheaths.
Chapter 24
“Eyes, right!” bellowed Captain Tarwen Klenish, as the 14th Foot marched past the royal pavilion.
As per their drill, the troopers marched ahead, their boots stamping on the road in perfect synchronisation. Before the pavilion, the Grand Mage of the seminary blessed the troopers in the name of the Fire God. Tarwen smiled in appreciation and then his eyes sought out the Emperor Staviloc. His Imperial Majesty lazily acknowledged their salute but looked bored, reaching for more wine. He was quite aged now, well over twice the age of his concubines, who lounged around him under the shade of the parasol. The captain’s face was expressionless, despite his disappointment. In truth the Emperor was the same age as him, grizzled old veteran that he was. It was no wonder his majesty was getting bored; he must have spent most of the day watching the army marching to embark on the troop ships. Tarwen noted that the royal princelings, Tarlinger and Bradon, were not on the pavilion. There was a rumour, which had spread from military encampment to encampment, that the Emperor’s youngest son, Prince Bradon, was sailing with the fleet. The heir to the throne, Prince Tarlinger, was obviously too precious to the royal dynasty to risk capture or death on a foreign shore. Tarwen grunted to himself; the very least Tarlinger could do was to show an appreciation for those going to bleed and die for his greater glory, come his accession.
On either side of the pavilion was tiered seating, occupied by the backsides of the great and the good of the Senate. Some seats were vacant, most probably those whose noble offspring had already marched past. Probably officers gaining their commissions on the name of their houses alone, Tarwen mused bitterly. He knew all too well what that was like.
