by Stuart Hill
“We’re both in full agreement with you, Father,” said Octavius smoothly. “We simply await your orders and the task will be completed.”
Scipio smiled almost warmly at the confidence in his son’s voice. “Then let me explain the strategy I have devised.” He led them back to the table in the centre of the campaign tent and pointed to a relief map of the city and its surrounding defences.
“The Sky Navy will shortly be ready for operations again. Its task will be to flatten the city and break the morale of the defenders. After that, the land army will pierce the defences and isolate the enemy in small pockets. It should be simplicity itself to eliminate any resistance once the defenders are detached from the rest of their comrades. And that, in essence, is it.”
“As usual, masterful in its clarity and genius,” said Octavius. “But might I respectfully ask if the Vampire squadrons have been taken into consideration? After all, their record in action against the Sky Navy is impressive.”
For a moment Scipio’s face became a landscape of anger, but with a supreme effort of will he regained control, and smiled. “You need have no fears on that score. I am devising a little surprise for the Vampire King that will eliminate both him and his squadrons. Soon the sky will become just one more territory to add to the Imperial possessions.”
“Might one enquire as to the nature of this surprise?” Sulla asked.
“No,” his father answered. “I am still finalising the details, and for the time being the plan will remain secret.”
Both sons saluted, and Bellorum felt a surge of pride that he’d been blessed with such obedient and intelligent progeny whose energy and purpose so ably supported his own determination to crush the barbarian Queen. Bellorum was certain that the end of the Icemark was now in sight, and that victory would be his in a few short weeks, rather than months.
However, the defenders were still able to mount nuisance raids, and during the last week while the camp’s defences were being built, the Imperial soldiers had been attacked every night, and casualties were surprisingly high. According to reports, the freakish werewolves and some very tough housecarles, led by a young warrior matching the description of the remaining Lindenshield twin, had carried out the raids. But this couldn’t be confirmed, as no one had ever been captured. Even when individual raiders were injured, their comrades would take huge personal risks to carry them away to safety.
Bellorum was certain that such foolhardy acts of courage were a sure sign that the defenders were so desperate for numbers that they’d leave no soldier behind. It never occurred to him that a refusal to leave a fellow warrior for the Empire’s interrogators to work on simply showed a strong sense of comradeship. How could human beings and such monstrous aberrations of nature feel anything for each other? No, Thirrin Lindenshield and her band of freaks were obviously on their last legs. All he had to do now was pick them off just as soon as he was ready.
Bellorum almost smiled as he raised his goblet of wine to the distant walls of Frostmarris before turning back into his tent. In less than a week they’d begin the assault, and he needed to finalise plans with his Staff Officers. Any who were less than word-perfect in their understanding of the tactics would find themselves at the wrong end of a flogging. And perhaps, just perhaps, he might allow himself a hanging or two; the jolly little jig performed by a man hanging by his neck from the end of a rope might just liven things up a bit.
Archimedo Archimedes stumped through the streets of Frostmarris checking on the progress of work. He was in his usual foul mood, though this time it might actually have been justified. Some months ago he’d been forced to accept that Frostmarris could not be kept safe by means of his engineeering genius alone, and if the precarious defensive line of Vampire squadrons should be broken, then no amount of giant ballistas, search lamps and supplies of water could stop the city burning.
So he’d inaugurated a new phase in the defences of the city, in which deep spiral stairways had been dug down to the underground complex of caves far below the streets. Before his plans had been carried out, there had been only one way into the caverns, and that was through the undercroft of the citadel. But now a series of steeply angled corkscrew stairs throughout the city gave access to their shelter, and Archimedo didn’t like it. They were a testament to his failure to counter the attacks by the Sky Navy.
He came to the head of one of the stairways and stumped down it, noting as he went such details as head clearance, width of the tread and depth of the riser. It struck him that if any of the soldiers running down here to gain shelter from bombs should fall, they could cause a deadly avalanche of bodies. And in the worst-case scenario, the stairway could become blocked. The only solution would be to dig twin or even triple stairways next to each other and connect them with short corridors, so if one became blocked, people could escape to another.
But would there be time? The werewolf relay had already warned that the newly refurbished Sky Navy was almost ready to fly. He’d start his teams digging tomorrow. Even a few sets of double and triple stairways would be better than none.
He reached the bottom and looked about him. Torches burned brightly in sconces, and boldly painted arrows pointed the way to the shelters. He was looking for his Chief-of-Works, a woman whose good sense and practical abilities perfectly complemented his flights of inventive genius. Long experience had taught him that if Ariadne said a new idea was unworkable, then it was.
Archimedo walked along the narrow corridor that had recently been cut through the rock, and emerged into a wide cavern where his Chief-of-Works was arguing with a group of Vampires.
“I don’t care if this has been your barrack room for the past month; it’s now a bomb shelter, so you’ll just have to move your . . . your coffin things elsewhere!”
“Trouble, Ariadne?”
She turned as the engine-eer approached. “Ach, no. These ladies and gentlemen were just about to vacate the area – weren’t you?” she added with steely determination as she glared at the Vampires.
“Well, I don’t know. It’s most irregular. The Queen herself allocated this cavern to us,” said an effete creature that looked like a vicious classics master. “And I for one am determined to stay exactly where I am until I receive a direct order to the contrary from her.”
“That’s soon remedied,” said Ariadne briskly. “She’s only in the next cave but one, I’ll go and get her to shift you.”
“Not Her Vampiric Majesty!” the Vampire almost spat with contempt. “I mean Queen Thirrin.”
“Ach, man, she’s far too busy to worry about little squabbles over space. Move your arse now, or my fist might make contact with that snooty snitch of yours!”
“Aye, that’s right!” said Archimedo. “And I’ll be helping. We haven’t time to worrit about every little cave!”
“Well really! I find this entire situation most peeving!” said the Vampire, spreading his arms as they transformed into bat wings, and hissing threateningly. His comrades immediately joined him, the rattle of their leathery pinions and the angry threats of the engine-eers filling the cave.
“What is going on?” a voice of undoubted authority barked, and everyone turned to watch as a compact redheaded figure strode into the cave.
“Ah, Crown Princess, this . . . this woman has told us we must leave . . .”
“Madam, these Vampires are refusing—”
“We’re doing nothing of the sort! We’re simply questioning your authority to—”
“Oh yes you were—!”
“If I wanted a conversation with a vulgar little man I’d—”
“Vulgar I may be, but my abilities have saved your undead—”
“Enough!” Cressida shouted above the din, and silence fell. “Now, perhaps someone could explain to me exactly why you’re all arguing at such a pitch that you’ve disturbed the sleep of His Vampiric Majesty.”
The Vampire looked suitably embarrassed, but quickly leaped in before anyone else could speak. “Crown
Princess, these people have told us we must move from here, and as I was trying to explain, your mother herself allocated the cave to us as our barracks. Therefore, I reasoned that only the Queen had the authority to order us to be removed.”
“I see,” said Cressida wearily. Over the past few days there’d been several disputes between the Vampires and the digging teams, and by an odd coincidence she’d found herself on hand just as most of them had flared up. But being resourceful she’d used the small crises as an opportunity to hone her skills of diplomacy and find solutions without causing offence to either side. “Archimedo, I take it, then, that this area’s to be allocated as a bomb shelter?”
“Aye, it is, and yon fang-faced—”
“Thank you!” Cressia interrupted forcefully, and turned to the Vampire. “And can your . . . belongings be moved easily?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, but—”
“Fine! Do you know, the Queen was only saying the other day how gratifying it is that our allies have been so accommodating and understanding when it comes to the changes that are being made. She’ll be so pleased to hear that you and your comrades are continuing in that spirit of cooperation. I’ll certainly see to it that she learns of your willingness to help, Mr . . . ?”
“Christophoray Leela,” the Vampire simpered after a second’s delay, and he bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Christopharay. Now, I do believe there’s a vacant cavern this way. It’s closer to Their Vampiric Majesties and there’s plenty of room for all of you. Would you like me to show you the way?”
“Oh, please don’t put yourself to any trouble, Your Majesty. We can manage perfectly.”
Cressida smiled and stepped aside as the Vampires seized their coffins and carried them away on their shoulders with unnerving ease.
“All yours, then, Archimedo,” she said.
The engine-eer looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You’re as tricksy as a fox with a farmyard to raid, aren’t you?”
“I’m also as vicious as a wild boar with territory to protect, so don’t risk it, Archimedes!” she suddenly snapped, forgetting diplomacy.
“Nothing could be further from my mind,” he said, then with studied rudeness he turned his back on her and began to discuss technical difficulties with his Chief-of-Works.
Cressida considered kicking his legs from under him and loosening a few teeth with a well-aimed punch, but reluctantly abandoned the idea. There were times when diplomacy got in the way of personal satisfaction. Instead, she just turned on her heel and stalked off, walking briskly through the natural complex of caves and newly-dug corridors with complete confidence and ease. She’d made a point of securing a plan of the area from the engine-eers and had committed it to memory; you just never knew when such knowledge might prove not only useful, but absolutely vital.
Within five minutes she’d reached the foot of one of the new stairways, and quickly ran up. If her calculations were correct, she should be close to the city’s main gate, and from there a few minutes’ brisk walk would bring her to the outer defences.
She emerged into brilliant sunshine, and breathed deeply as a warm wind carried the scent of the nearby Great Forest into the city. The gate guards stamped to attention, and she nodded an acknowledgement as she hurried on through the entrance tunnel.
At this time of the day the Basilea should be reviewing her troops on their allotted section of the defences, and Cressida wanted a word about tactics. It was nothing vitally important, but in this quiet time after the ferocity of the opening battle, she liked to keep herself busy and interested. She’d even joined one or two of the raids carried out by Eodred and Howler’s regiment. She wanted to keep her fighting skills honed to perfection, and thought she might join another one that night. She wasn’t prepared to admit, even to herself, that one of the main reasons for going on the raids was to keep in close touch with her brother.
She and Eodred had reached a new understanding, mutual respect being the mainstay, but neither of them would even dare acknowledge the existence of affection. They were simply two warriors who appreciated each other’s abilities. They may have had their difficulties in the past, but now they were mature enough to put aside their childish spats and rub along together well enough.
Cressida ran up to the summit of the first of the defensive rings, slipped through the palisade and ran down into the ditch between it and the second ring. There she found the Basilea deep in conversation with Olememnon. The pair sprang apart as she approached, and she was almost certain Olympia was blushing, if such a thing was possible for an eagle-faced fighter like the Basilea.
“Ah, Cressida!” said Olememnon loudly. “How nice to see you.”
“Yes, it’s been a long time since breakfast,” she replied in puzzled irony.
The Basilea was still awkwardly bent in a curtseying position that must have been truly painful.
“Please, Olympia, stand up. You’re making my hips ache just to look at you,” said Cressida, who was beginning to feel embarrassed herself. She’d obviously interrupted something private, and didn’t quite know how to withdraw without making it worse.
“I, erm . . . I wanted a chat about the Hypolitan position on the defences,” she finally said, and the other two suddenly became enormously interested.
“Oh, yes!” said Ollie. “Funny you should say that, because that’s exactly what we were talking about, wasn’t it, Olym— I mean Madam?”
“Umm? Oh, yes . . . yes, we were, weren’t we? How odd, how strange, what a weird coincidence . . . yes.”
“Don’t you think if you dismounted the Sacred Regiment, their compound bows would have a devastating effect on the enemy’s advance?”
“Dismount the Sacred Regiment?”
“Only if they couldn’t be used as mounted archers, of course,” said Cressida, deciding to ignore whatever the situation was here, and battle on.
“Good idea, yes, compound bows . . . quite devastating, don’t you think, dea— Madam?” said Ollie, reddening for some reason.
“Yes, Ollie. I do.”
The sound of Olememnon’s pet name coming from that warrior’s rat-trap of a mouth suddenly made everything crystal clear to Cressida. Of course! Olympia and Ollie were having a . . . fling! At first, she was shocked. They were so old! The Basilea was at least forty, and Ollie was at least fifteen years older than that! How could they?
But then common sense reasserted itself. After all, Krisafitsa and her mother had been discussing this very thing only a few nights ago. Ollie had massive experience as a Basilea’s Consort, and Olympia would be able to draw on his knowledge whenever she needed to. Although, if you thought about it, Ollie’s expertise was available to the Basilea anyway; they didn’t have to have an actual relationship and indulge in all that other stuff!
But then suddenly Cressida realised that they simply wanted the other stuff, despite their enormous age. To her surprise the thought made her feel warm inside; people still needed each other even when they were incredibly old. Having decided it was a good thing, she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, you two. You don’t have to get embarrassed in front of me. I know what’s going on, and I approve. In fact, I think you should get married, and as soon as possible too. We could do with something cheerful to distract us from all the war and bloodshed around here.”
The couple managed to blush in unison, and Cressida grinned. They were quite sweet really.
“Well, thank you for your advice and insight, Princess,” Olympia finally managed to say. “That’s something worth thinking about, isn’t it, Commander Olememnon?”
“Eh? Oh! Yes, yes. Definitely. We’ll start thinking about it right away.”
“Good. Now that’s out of the way, perhaps we can concentrate on military matters. What do you think?” Cressida asked sensibly.
“Absolutely,” agreed Ollie, and his face assumed a suitably serious and martial expression.
But
it was all rather spoiled when the Basilea suddenly snorted with laughter.
Medea observed and absorbed all the city’s activity from her high tower. The war continued to take completely unexpected twists and turns that she found highly entertaining, and she applied her Eye with huge enjoyment. She’d expected the Sky Navy to end hostilities within a matter of days, but the Vampire’s countering moves had almost rendered it impotent. Even so, she could see that Bellorum still expected it ultimately to be successful, and was at this very moment calling it up the line to attack.
His land tactics were surprising too. Any other commander would have secured the high ground to the south of the plain of Frostmarris, established a fortified encampment and only then thought about attacking the city, but instead he’d arrived and then immediately rolled down on the defenders in a seemingly unstoppable attack. Even she herself had almost panicked!
If the city had fallen, she’d have been trapped and possibly even captured by the Imperial army! She’d fully expected her mother and the allies to be overwhelmed, and she’d been as shocked and relieved as everyone else when the Vampires had blown up the Polypontian gunpowder stores.
But the fact that the Imperial forces could have taken Frostmarris on the first day of the struggle for the city had concentrated her mind. She’d been postponing making a decision about her own role in the war until it was totally necessary, and as she’d believed that they’d be under siege for several weeks, she hadn’t thought that the time had yet come for a final choice.
She’d taken greater care since. The physical world was just as unpredictable as the Realms of Magic, and she’d learned to treat it with a proper respect at last. With this in mind, she’d established an escape route for herself through the Great Forest. The concentric rings of the defences ended just inside the trees, and if things became desperate, she’d slip through and disappear before the first Imperial soldier reached the citadel.
