by Stuart Hill
“Yes. Last month a squadron of vampires flew south to find out what they could. They returned three days ago. They made contact with the people of Artemesion and found them to be fierce, independent and powerful. They’re ruled by Basilea Erinor and they call themselves the Hypolitan.”
“Fascinating! Quite fascinating!” said Maggiore, taking a large gulp of beer. “And are they definitely of the same ethnic stock as our own northern allies?”
“If you mean, are they related to Olympia and Olememnon’s people, then yes, they are. In fact the fame of the Icemark’s war against Bellorum brought our Hypolitan to their attention over twenty years ago, but it wasn’t until the Polypontians were defeated for a second time that they were able to break out of their mountain stronghold and begin their crusade.”
“Crusade? What crusade?” asked Olememnon calmly.
“To seize control of the old Imperial capital, to re-establish the empire under their rule, and ultimately to wipe out the northern Hypolitan, whom they consider traitors.”
A silence followed as the importance of the information sank in. But then Olememnon spoke up. “And could they do this?”
Thirrin shrugged. “They head an alliance of mountain people. They’re fierce, warlike and ruthless. On top of that, I strongly suspect that Basilea Erinor is more than competent as a war leader. The remnants of the Polypontian army have clashed with her in five major battles and countless skirmishes. They lost every time. She now threatens the southern borders of the Polypontian heartland. It’ll take her several months to prepare for invasion, but nonetheless she certainly will invade.”
“Then what do we do?” asked Olememnon.
“Couldn’t we send an envoy or embassy of some sort?” asked Krisafitsa. “Unpleasantness can often be avoided by the use of simple diplomacy and good faith.”
“In effect, that’s exactly what the vampire party was. Her Vampiric Majesty chose the most intelligent and personable of her subjects; they were under strict instructions not to reveal their true natures and to transform to their flying forms only when there were no witnesses about. Even so, Basilea Erinor arrested them, and five of the ten were destroyed before they escaped.”
“Then there’s no hope of a peaceful solution?” asked Krisafitsa, her voice tinged with despair.
“I think it remote. Before she started murdering the envoys, Erinor let it be known that not only does she consider our Hypolitan to be traitors for deserting the homeland so long ago, but that the Icemark itself is a target because, as the daughter of a Hypolitan woman, I too am a traitor, and my lands forfeit.”
“Complicated sort, by the sound of things,” said Grishmak as he crunched a rack of beef ribs. “It’s amazing how some of the most violent types have to find an excuse for their actions. Bit annoying, though. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a bit of a rest from fighting.”
A general rumble of agreement greeted this, and then a silence followed that was broken only by the sound of chewing and the cracking of marrowbones.
“What tactics do they employ?” Cressida asked, her obsessive military brain hungry for details.
“Much the same as our Hypolitan, I’d have thought,” said Tharaman, chewing a huge beef knucklebone.
“Similar, it has to be said,” Thirrin agreed. “But there are factors that make them . . . dangerous.”
“Well, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the Sky Navy,” said Grishmak. “And if it’s just the usual problem of us being outnumbered by something stupid to one, then we’ve all been there before. In fact, to be honest, after taking on the worst that Bellorum could throw at us, I find Erinor and her Hordes less than worrying. After all, don’t let’s forget that the empire did keep them trapped in their mountains for centuries, and if they couldn’t defeat the people that we have beaten twice in a row, I’d say there’s little to worry about.”
“Ordinarily I’d agree with you,” said Thirrin, sipping her beer. “But there are factors that need to be considered. First, the empire built a wall around the entire region of Artemesion; it was over twelve metres high at its lowest point, and had lookout towers more than twenty metres high at one-mile intervals. On top of that, there were fortresses with half a legion every two miles, and a full-sized castle garrisoned by two full legions every six miles. Breaking out of that particular stranglehold would have taken something that was the equal of the Imperial army at the very least.”
“By the Goddess, just what were they afraid of?” asked the Basilea in an awed voice.
“Good question,” said Thirrin, looking out over the room. “Let’s just say that you don’t build a cage of stone and steel to house a pussycat.”
“What are the other factors?” asked Cressida.
“Our sources have recently given us more information about Erinor’s battle-tactics,” Thirrin continued. “Apparently Artemesion is a land not only of high mountains, but also of wide and flat plateaus that stretch for miles between the towering peaks. Most of these lie thousands of metres above the level of the sea, and it was here that the feuding tribes fought their wars. The land was ideal for chariots, swift and strong ones, with razor-sharp scythes on their wheels, drawn by powerful armoured horses and crewed by two warriors: the driver and the fighter. The fighter is equipped with a bow. Not the usual compound bow of our own Hypolitan’s mounted archers – Erinor’s army has those too, in abundance – but a longbow, huge and powerful and with a range that is at least the equal of our own archers’ weapons. These chariots are devastating, and as soon as the wall around Artemesion was abandoned by the Imperial Legions, Erinor made her people dismantle their chariots and carry them through the mountains, and out into the lands of the disintegrating Polypontian Empire. Here they smashed aside all opposition. They shoot murderous waves of arrows that rain down on the enemy long before they come into range themselves, and then the armoured horses smash through what remains, the scythed wheels carving a bloody path through anyone who dares stand against them.”
“I’d have thought our ballistas would easily be the equal of the biggest longbow,” said Grishmak as he licked gravy from his fingers. “Especially those that Archimedes designed to use against the Sky Navy. Their range is enormous.”
“Yes, but they’re not mobile, Grishy,” said Cressida quietly.
“Precisely,” Thirrin agreed. “Any weapon brought against them is usually heavy and cumbersome and can easily be outrun. Even archers with bows equal to the range of those of Erinor’s Hordes are usually on foot, and fighting from fixed positions. These chariots sweep down on a region in devastating squadrons which so far have been unstoppable.”
“But they can only be used if the land is suitably flat and rock-free,” Grishmak objected.
“True, but the lands they’ve conquered so far have been just that. The central steppes of the Polypontian hinterland. And in the few places where it’s been unsuitable for chariot warfare, they’ve fallen back on yet another weapon.”
“Go on,” said Grishmak resignedly. “I dread to think what’s coming next.”
“You’d be wise to do so, I’m afraid,” said Thirrin darkly. “The Hordes have an unusual . . . cavalry of sorts. Huge beasts, reportedly bigger than a house, ferocious and unstoppable.”
“Elephants, you mean?” asked Maggiore excitedly. “As are supposedly used in the far, far east of the world?”
“No. If I understand the description of those particular mythical beasts, they have tails at each end, and are said to be noble in nature and loyal to their rider, even to the point of death. But these beasts are different: they’re savage, controlled only by steel and threat, they’re huge and have a head that is naturally armoured with three horns, and a neck that is protected by a circling plate of bone and tough hide. In battle they carry wide platforms on their backs, from which archers and slingers can rain death down on the enemy. And they fight in their own right too, trampling the opposition under their massive feet and skewering anyone who gets in
the way with their horns. But they can also be used in siege warfare, smashing down gates and breaching walls like massive living battering rams. In fact, three Polypontian cities have fallen to them already.”
“But I’ve never heard of any beast that sounds even vaguely like that,” said Maggie in puzzlement. “And yet every creature that walks under the sun is part of a genus or group with recognisably similar physical attributes which confirm their status as a species member.”
Thirrin shrugged. “I’ve no answer to that, Maggie. You’re the scholar, but if I remember my lessons from so many years ago, did you not say that there are isolated areas of the world where animals can develop in astonishing and unique ways? Where certain characteristics can become exaggerated according to the needs of their surroundings?”
“Very true, my dear Thirrin,” the old scholar agreed. “And I must say I’m most gratified that at last I have evidence that you did indeed listen to me occasionally. But to return to your point, I might also add that there are locations where species survive after all others of their type have become extinct. Perhaps, then, this could be said of the mountainous regions of Artemesion, and we may hypothesise that this beast is of some antediluvian species that has died out everywhere else.”
A hugely cavernous burp echoed around the room, and Tharaman held his paw delicately to his mouth. “I do beg your pardon. The gravy was exceedingly rich. Most remiss of me. But now I have everyone’s attention, might I ask if these thingies you’re discussing are edible, and how big are their steaks?”
Thirrin looked at her Snow Leopard ally incredulously; she sometimes wondered why she bothered. Here she was warning them all of impending doom and disaster, and all Tharaman could contribute to their emergency meeting was a question about the culinary possibilities of the enemy’s war-beasts.
Grishmak let out a bark of laughter. “Hah! You’d better hope they’re not too big for the palace ovens, Tharaman. I think you’ve become a bit too refined to eat your meat uncooked any more.”
“You know, I never thought of that. Perhaps I’d better have a word with Archimedo Archimedes. I’m sure he could find a solution.”
CHAPTER 9
Proper daylight didn’t happen in the normal way of things in the world Sharley, Mekhmet and Kirimin had entered. When it did occur it was usually a deep dreary grey, or sometimes a sort of glowing white as the perpetual mists and fogs reflected the light around. But in the day or so that the three friends had been lost in the strange Plain of Desolation, light had dawned four times and lasted for about half an hour at the most, and then night had taken control again. Actually, they found themselves preferring the night, because then most of the fogs disappeared and it was possible to see the sky. But even then things were still not normal. The moon was either full, new, or nowhere to be seen at all, with none of the usual in-between stages of quarters and halves. The stars encrusted the sky as densely as scales on a silver celestial fish, and none of them recognised any of the constellations.
After the boys had got over the shock of Kirimin leaping out at them again, they’d tried to become businesslike and give the impression that they knew exactly what they were doing. But Kiri soon saw through this, and ignored them when they tried to tell her what to do.
“Apart from the name, you’ve no more idea than I have about where we are,” she’d said to Sharley as he was telling her with great authority about the Plain of Desolation. “If you had, we’d have found the cave again by now and simply walked back through it to the Great Forest. We’re lost, it’s as simple as that, and none of us have any idea how to get back home.”
Sharley sighed. “All right, I admit it. I’ve no idea where we are, but I do know one thing: there’s no point hanging around here in the hope that we’ll find the grotto again. Dad told me lots of stories when I was little about things like this, and if mortal people in the stories got lost in magical places, they were in trouble. The only thing to do is to travel on and hope that another doorway between the worlds will appear.”
“But how will we recognise it?” asked Mekhmet in worried tones.
“Well, usually they’re in caves or tunnels, but not always. All you can do is keep your eyes peeled and investigate anything that seems unusual.”
“Unusual? In this place? Everything’s unusual,” said Kiri irritably. “There are bats the size of eagles, deer as small as mice and snakes that could swallow a mountain! How are we supposed to notice anything unusual when nothing is ordinary?”
“I don’t know,” Sharley admitted, his gammy leg beginning to ache as it always did in tense situations. “We’ll just have to trust to instinct, that’s all. I suppose the longer we’re here, the more likely it is that we’ll recognise something that doesn’t fit in with what passes for normal.”
“Then let’s hope we stumble on a doorway by pure chance,” said Mekhmet. “I’d hate to be so used to this insanity that I see an escape route to the natural world as something odd.”
“And another thing,” said Kirimin tersely. “What about food?”
“Well, perhaps we can hunt,” Sharley replied.
A sudden beating of wings announced the arrival of something, and they all automatically ducked as an odd-looking creature suddenly loomed out of the mists.
“What’s a flying monkey doing here?” Mekhmet asked, drawing his scimitar warily.
The creature swept in for a closer look, and then powered back into the sky as Mekhmet’s scimitar whistled through the air.
“What did you call it?” Kiri asked.
“A monkey. It’s a sort of small human being, but not as intelligent, and they’re also very hairy. People keep them as pets in the Desert Kingdom.”
“Well I don’t think this one’d make a good pet,” said Sharley, drawing his scimitar too. “It looks like it’d have your hand off if you offered it a banana.”
The creature flew in a little closer, giving the three of them a much clearer view of its small, red, scaly body, black-feathered wings and long forked tail. It had a sneering expression of amusement on its face, and it easily veered out of range whenever the boys swung their scimitars at it.
“Ah, mortals!” it suddenly said, as though all of its worst fears about stupidity had been confirmed.
“You can speak, then,” said Kiri.
“No. You must be having a nervous breakdown. I can’t speak at all,” the creature answered sarcastically.
“And you have a nasty tongue,” the Snow Leopard added evenly.
“So, what do you want with us?” Sharley asked.
“Nothing. I’m just curious,” it answered, sweeping in low again and grinning contemptuously.
“About what?”
“About whether mortals really are as stupid and pathetic as I’ve heard.” It paused, its head on one side as though assessing them. “And, yes, I think you are.”
“Fine. Well, now that you’ve reached that conclusion you can piss off and leave us alone,” said Sharley, raising his scimitar again threateningly.
“Or you’ll do what?” the creature asked in mock terror as it swept up out of range of their weapons. “Come on, tell me! I’d be shaking in my boots, if I was wearing any. What could you possibly do to me?”
“This!” Kirimin shouted, and gathering her powerful body to a crouch, she suddenly leaped skywards like a massive spring. Her huge paws stretched out and swatted the creature to the ground, where she pinned it in a cage of glittering claws.
The creature screeched and raged, but it was trapped, and the friends gathered round to inspect it.
“Ugly,” Sharley concluded. “Colourful, but ugly.”
“It has an ugly attitude too,” said Mekhmet.
“I’ll show you even more of my ugly attitude once I’m out of here!” the creature spat.
“Who says you’re getting out?” asked Kirimin quietly. “We might decide to crush you, or perhaps I could impale you on my claws.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
&
nbsp; “Why not?”
“Because . . . because . . . well, you just wouldn’t, that’s all!”
“I’m afraid your confidence is badly misplaced,” Kirimin answered, her voice low and threatening.
“Look, just tell us who and what you are and we might consider letting you go,” said Sharley firmly.
“I’m telling you nothing,” the creature answered angrily. “Let me go now, and I might consider not taking this any further!”
“And just what would taking it further entail?” asked Sharley. “Do you have Powers of some sort?”
“I think we can safely say that if he had, he’d have used them by now,” Mekhmet pointed out.
“Exactly!” said Kirimin in triumph. “He’s just bluffing.”
“Oh, am I?” the creature snarled. “Even those that don’t have Powers may know those that do; and some of us just might have some very Powerful friends indeed.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sharley in sudden suspicion. “Did someone send you to spy on us?”
“They might have done,” the creature answered airily, and then started to screech as Kirimin’s paw began to squash him into the ground.
“That’s decided it! Spies and traitors are always executed!” Kirimin roared.
“Wait!” Sharley ordered. “Let’s find out who he’s spying for . . . then you can destroy him.”
“No! No! I’m not spying for anyone! I was just curious to see mortals, that’s all.”
“Well, you’ve done just that. And now you’ve achieved that ambition, we can’t risk you passing on the information to anyone else – so, Kirimin . . .” Sharley gestured to the giant Snow Leopard, who prepared to squish the creature.
“No, wait!” it screeched. “I’m not spying for anyone; I’m just an innocent citizen of the Plains of Desolation trying to fill his dreary day with a bit of free entertainment! Is that any reason to kill me? Where’s the justice in that? I heard that the society of mortals was free and fair, and that no one was punished without just reason!”
Sharley raised his hand again, and Kirimin waited. “It’s certainly true that some mortal societies are free and fair, but how do you know that we’re from one of those? We could be from the Eastlands, where khans and potentates put people to death just because they’re bored, or perhaps we’re from the Westernholds, where it’s said people die every year in the name of what they call ‘justice’.”
