Blade Of Fire (Book 2)

by Stuart Hill

  The Vampire King and Queen now saw themselves as the champions of the great living and unliving multiplicity that was the universe.They were determined to destroy the hideous threat of the Empire, with its undiluted rationality and rigid, unthinking science, before it could do any more harm to the glorious sweep of their natural and supernatural worlds.

  The hugely ponderous shapes of the bomber galleons sailed slowly on, while around them the dart-like wasp-fighters tumbled and soared as they patrolled the skies for enemies. The Polypontian pilots were taking no risks. As much as they desperately hoped that the Vampires had left the war for good, they were not going to lower their guard.

  Nearby the warning howls of the werewolf lookouts sounded as the Sky Navy flew over the low hills that bordered the southern part of the plain of Frostmarris, and immediately wave upon wave of Snowy Owls rose from the massive living bulk of the Great Forest. In quick response, the wasp-fighters started to peel away from the bombers and flew to intercept the enemy squadrons.

  The Vampires watched and waited for the bombers that were now sailing over the plain. As they came within range, the batteries of giant ballistas all tipped and pivoted to target the advancing galleons like the many heads of one gigantic creature. They spewed out a flight of steel bolts, each with a flaming head that streaked a smoke trail through the sky. Many found their targets, smashing into the wooden hulls of the bombers or tearing through the canopy of the gas-filled balloons. Immediately, the sky-sailors swarmed over the rigging to fight flames, or swung on ropes as they tried to douse the blazing woodwork.

  With a roaring gasp the canopies of two of the galleons erupted into fireballs and they tumbled through the sky and crashed to earth with an ear-splitting rending of wood and steel. A huge cheer erupted from the housecarles on the defences, and they screamed encouragement as the ballistas continued to spit out their steel bolts with devastating accuracy.

  The admiral reacted quickly to the new threat, and the galleons began to climb away, but the ballistas followed their route, loosing bolt after bolt into the air ships as they climbed. Soon three more of the huge bombers were in flames. Dozens of the wasp-fighters swarmed back to rescue the sky-sailors, carrying them away to other ships, and then returning to take off more of the men who were desperately hanging over the gunnels of the blazing vessels. But for some there was no rescue. The fire raged through the wooden flying ships, and many threw themselves overboard, their clothing and hair in flames as they fell like miniature meteors to the ground.

  Down on the defences the ground troops watched the aerial battle raging above them. They were restless and desperate to fight, but the werewolf relay said Bellorum and his mad sons were still several miles away. Cressida found it all enormously frustrating, not only because the Empire could dictate the rate and style of fighting, but because she had no way of personally striking back at the hated Sky Navy. Her mother seemed amazingly relaxed, moving along the line with Grishmak and laughing and joking with the soldiers. She could only envy her restraint. Cressida’s very skin prickled with tension.

  “They’ll send in the land attack soon enough,” Tharaman said quietly, understanding her frustrations perfectly. “And then we’ll be far too busy to think of the air war.”

  “Oh, I know, but I just need to do something. It’s more than I can bear, just standing here, watching!” As she spoke, several wasp-fighters fell tumbling and spinning to the ground, and the victorious shrieks of the Snowy Owls echoed over the sky.

  “Patience, my dear, is a great virtue, and one that every military Commander should strive to cultivate. We must stand ready and unwavering for Bellorum’s land attack.”

  “I know that!” Cressida snapped. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything stupid like break ranks, or charge up and down the plain to draw the wasp-fighters down low enough for me to get a shot at them!”

  “Nothing was further from my thoughts,” said Tharaman patiently. “I merely hoped to calm you with a few well-chosen words.”

  “Well, it’s not working!” she answered crossly. She watched as the distant figure of her mother reached Eodred and Howler’s regiment. Even from her position standing with Tharaman and Krisafitsa, she could hear her brother’s laughter. For a moment she almost hated him for his cool head, but she took the thought back immediately. Wishing ill on anyone, apart from the enemy, before a battle was bad luck. But not only that, she was enormously glad that Eodred had found his military fire again. He was a warrior, with a warrior’s values and virtues. Even if the worst should happen in the war, at least he was guaranteed a place in Valhalla.

  “Perhaps we should have a small snack while we’re waiting,” Krisafitsa suggested, falling back on her faithful remedy of keeping everyone well fed.

  Cressida managed to smile despite everything. “You make it sound like we’re tired children getting tetchy.”

  “Well, we’re certainly getting tetchy,” the Tharina answered lightly. “And a little food can often distract from unpleasantness.”

  Cressida considered pointing out that a war with the Polypontian Empire could hardly be categorised as “unpleasantness”, but thought better of it. Tharaman was already burying his face in a huge mound of meat, and she had to admit she felt much calmer as she munched an apple one of her troopers had given her.

  In the opening minutes of the battle it had looked desperate for the Sky Navy. But the bombers climbed beyond the range of the ballistas, until they were able to look down on the powerful barrage of steel bolts arcing up to the limit of their range, before falling back to earth.

  However, in the hideous carnage and scramble of the opening moves, none of the Polypontian lookouts had noticed the Vampires calmly spiralling on thermals way above Frostmarris, waiting for the right moment to strike. His Vampiric Majesty had been quietly formulating his strategy and tactics. Not only must his squadrons stop the Sky Navy, but they would need to strike hard and decisively against the pending land attack if the defence of the city was to be truly effective. Bellorum and his sons might still be several miles away, but the Imperial army marched at an astonishing pace and would soon be advancing across the plain of Frostmarris. When that happened, His Vampiric Majesty had a little plan developing that would, at the very least, nicely delay the General’s strategy. A plan with a sweetly neat twist, that involved gunpowder and fire and using the enemy’s own weapons against him.

  But in the meantime the Vampires had an aerial battle to fight. The King called his squadron to him. After a few moments, shrieking hideously, the huge bats peeled away, formed into massive battle groups and swooped into the fray.

  Many of the wasp-fighters were still engaged with the Snowy Owls out over the plain, but seeing the danger, several of the squadrons banked away from their engagement and started to climb the spiral stairway of thermals, rising to the defence of the bombers. The sky-sailors began to break out muskets and cutlasses as the cannon crews prepared their pieces by loading them with grapeshot.

  Thousands of hideous Vampires flew in tight formations, yammering and screeching as they came, causing many of the sky-sailors to shudder in fear. Then, as they drew closer, the cannons roared a huge broadside from over fifty ships. Dozens of the giant bats fell, torn to pieces by the broken metal of grapeshot. Then countless more were ripped apart by the muskets and crossbows of the wasp-fighters. But most escaped, climbing the thermals to safety and immediately swooping back into the attack, smashing into the flimsy canopies of the fighters, tearing them apart and sending them tumbling and rolling to the plain below.

  Dozens more wasp-fighters joined the battle, firing volleys from their muskets and sending out a hail of wooden darts. The air was rent with screeches, howls and musket-shot, and it was impossible for the sky-sailors in the galleons to tell which side was winning.

  Orders were given for the Sky Navy to continue the advance on the city and to prepare the bombs. But before they’d sailed any further towards their target, new squadrons – this time
led by the Vampire Queen – flew in to begin their murderous attack. The cannons roared again, but they were no match for the mass of deadly bats which drew closer and closer to the ships until they swarmed over the decks, transforming into their Vampire forms and drawing their viciously serrated black swords. Their armour gleamed like wet hide in the bright sunlight, and their deathly white faces were quickly smeared with blood as they ripped out the throats of the Polypontian sailors.

  While his Queen attacked the decks, the Vampire King saw a new opportunity. He and his selected squadrons swooped up on to the canopies of the giant sky-ships, while the Snowy Owls dived into the fray, battling with the wasp-fighters and drawing them away from the exposed Vampires, allowing the King and his soldiers to work unmolested, tearing at the vulnerable balloons with sword, dagger and tooth.

  But it wasn’t to last. Imperial sky-sailors swarmed into view, expertly snaking their way up over the rigging with cutlasses clamped in their teeth and pistols in their hands, and a terrible fight for the control of the canopies began. The crew members fired wooden shot from their pistols and sent dozens of the Vampires crashing to ruin, but the King rallied his soldiers and they swept down on the sailors, tearing out their throats, or transforming into bats and plucking them from the balloons before sending them tumbling to the ground, hundreds of feet below.

  A roaring crackle erupted as the King and his squadron succeeded in setting fire to one giant balloon. But the rest of the bombers sailed on with the unstoppable progress of ponderous storm clouds.

  Moving closer and closer to the walls of Frostmarris, they opened their bomb flaps and made ready for the assult on the city walls.

  From her room high in her tower Medea watched the struggle with cold detachment as the aerial battle tumbled and raged high above the plain. If she applied her Sight she could see everything in pristine detail. She had to admire the Vampires. Here they were, fighting in a war not of their making, or choosing, yet they risked their undead existence in an attempt to destroy the Sky Navy. How completely unfathomable they were. She’d once applied her Eye to the minds of Their Vampiric Majesties and found almost nothing but an achingly long memory of years, and carefully stored-up resentments for which they continually plotted and schemed to gain revenge.

  Not surprisingly, Oskan was right at the top of a long list of hatreds, but none of their plans to rid themselves of his control had ever had the remotest chance of succeeding. It was all rather pathetic really, especially as Medea could also See, amongst the detritus of their undead minds, the vestigial remains of their once-human emotions. And, worse, the longer they had contact with the living, the more these emotions were likely to grow in strength. They could be in danger of developing human consciences again, and perhaps even a sense of loyalty and friendship.

  Medea shuddered at the very thought, and turned her attention back to the battle. Three more of the galleons were in flames and His Vampiric Majesty had just landed on the rigging of a fourth. But here, the sky-sailors were already waiting for him, armed to the teeth with cutlasses and pistols.

  Just then, a huge explosion rocked the very foundations of Medea’s tower. The first of the bombs had been dropped nearby, and was soon followed by the sound of falling masonry and the ominous crackle of fire. Her window, already open, had been blasted back on its hinges and all the glass shattered. For the first time she realised that this war between mundane humans could actually be a direct danger to her, and a blast of white-hot rage roared through her veins. How dare anyone damage her tower and endanger her life!

  With an intensity of concentration that made her physically quake and tremble, she drew power into herself, and moulded the air currents and atmosphere into a howling rush of wind that blasted across the sky and smashed into the flying ships. She watched in satisfaction as the huge galleons keeled over alarmingly, and the Vampires, Snowy Owls and wasp-fighters were literally thrown across the sky.

  But her tempest raged for no more than a minute, until she came to her senses. If she was not more careful her father would become suspicious again. Abruptly she cut the wind, and normality returned. All of the warships of the Sky Navy had been blown far back across the plain, four more of them had foundered, tumbling and spinning to earth, and more than fifty of the wasp-fighters had been ripped from the sky and dashed to pieces on the ground.

  Already, the cost to the Polypontians of the Sky Navy’s first raid on Frostmarris was enormous. They’d managed to drop only one load of bombs and yet altogether they’d lost eight galleons and over a hundred wasp-fighters. If such a loss rate was sustained, they would only be able to carry out another ten raids before the Sky Navy was wiped out.

  Medea watched all of this with a sense of satisfaction. In the streets below her tower, the units of housecarles and werewolves who’d been trained as firefighters were providing a show as they operated huge pumps under the direction of the engine-eer, Archimedo Archimedes, and played jets of water over the burning buildings. Some were breaking down doors and pulling out injured people, while others were ferrying the injured to the witches in the infirmary.

  Medea sighed happily. This was as close as the physical world got to excitement!

  But the sound of axes thudding into the door of her tower interrupted her enjoyment. As she listened it burst open, and she heard running feet climbing the spiral staircase. She turned to face the werewolf and the huge housecarle who burst into her room and skidded to a halt before her.

  The werewolf was first to recover from his shock. “Your Majesty, you’re safe?”

  “Untouched, as you see,” Medea answered coolly, ignoring the creature’s involuntary wrinkling of its lips as the distaste of her presence registered on its senses.

  “You must come with us, Your Majesty. The fire could spread,” the housecarle said.

  Medea looked at the tall woman until the soldier was forced to drop her gaze from black pupil-less eyes. “I can think of nothing in this entire mortal world that I ‘must’ do,” Medea said quietly. “The fire wouldn’t dare touch my tower.”

  Both the werewolf and the housecarle thought she was probably right, so they saluted and ran back down the stairs, relief at getting away from the hideous young woman, and her strange chamber, giving their feet wings.

  “And fix my door!” Medea called after them. “Or you’ll pay for it in ways you wouldn’t like.”

  Thirrin watched as the scattered squadrons of Vampires and Snowy Owls reformed over the plain. The freak wind had blown them like leaves in an autumn gale, but as far as she could see, none had been lost. She sighed in relief. Without them the city would have been completely destroyed by now. Not only that, but they’d also inflicted terrible damage on the Sky Navy and were even now preparing to help against the coming ground offensive. Dark and evil they undeniably were, but the Vampires were also valuable allies.

  She looked out towards the hills that flanked the southern part of the plain of Frostmarris, where Bellorum and his army would first appear. And if he followed the same pattern as his last invasion, that was also where he would set up camp.

  She ran her eyes over the defences for the umpteenth time. With her stood Tharaman and Krisafitsa, the human troopers of the cavalry and the rest of the Snow Leopards. Not far away, Cressida was bullying her particular squadron into looking the smartest and alertest of them all, and Grishmak was sharing what sounded like a very dirty joke with Olememnon while picking his enormous teeth with a twig.

  Why did everyone look so relaxed and at ease? She thought she’d scream if something didn’t happen soon. Even Eodred looked happy. He’d come out of his depression at last, largely thanks to Growlahowl, or rather, Howler, who stood with him now. They were proving to be great warriors. The pair of them had come up with a novel idea during their weeks of training: they’d formed a mixed regiment of werewolves and housecarles. Normally, the Wolf-folk fought in their own groups, complementing the human units, but the boys had mixed human and werewolf troops, and they c
arried shields painted with the insignia of a red wolf’s head. Even the Wolf-folk carried them, which was unheard of! They didn’t need any weaponry – teeth and claws were more than adequate. Still, it did mean they could raise a truly formidable shield wall, bristling with spears, axes, and the sort of grins that would make anyone with even an ounce of common sense run a mile.

  Thirrin smiled to herself. Eodred had even given up his horse to fight as a foot-soldier. He said it was because of the new tactics he and Howler had devised, but she knew it was in tribute to Cerdic, his lost twin, who’d been an infantryman. She was so happy that Cressida and Eodred seemed more settled. Only the unfathomable Medea remained unreadable and unreachable, while Sharley was too far away for his father’s weak Eye to see.

  The thought of her youngest son suddenly pierced all the careful defences she’d built against fear and sorrow, and tears ran down her cheeks. Quickly she wiped them away before anyone could notice; crying on the day of battle was a terrible omen. All she could do was hope that Sharley was safe and happy in his role as Regent to the Exiles. With no letters getting through, she had no way of knowing.

  She shook herself like a wet dog. She daren’t let herself be distracted by such thoughts and worries. The opening phase of the sky war seemed to be almost over, but the land attack was about to begin. Soon Bellorum and his sons would be advancing over the plain, and she was more than ready for them.

  CHAPTER 27

  It took four more days of riding to reach the edge of the fiery desert, and another four to pass through the mountains bordering Lusuland. Now the golden furnace was far behind them and in front was a land of green abundance. Wide plains and dark forests lay before them, stitched and embroidered with rivers of the rainy season, and here and there lakes placidly reflected the sun in a sheen of silver lustre that stained the very sky above them with a shimmering miasma of light.