Blade Of Fire (Book 2)

by Stuart Hill

  In less than two minutes the steady tread of marching feet began to sound across the night, and then the massed ranks of three hundred housecarles began to emerge from the textured shadows. As they drew nearer it became clear that their lines were made up of alternating human soldiers and huge, dark figures that marched in perfect step with them. Then, as they entered the pool of light thrown by two massive campfires and the torches that Mekhmet’s and Ketshaka’s troopers carried, the ferocious teeth, long claws and glittering eyes of the werewolves became apparent.

  A murmur like a gentle wind ran through the watching army, but died away to silence as the new arrivals stamped to a halt. Sharley was almost beside himself with excitement. At last, here were trained housecarles and some of the Icemark’s most loyal friends and allies, the Wolf-folk! He could have screamed with relief, but he knew he had to show restraint. One wrong move, or even the tiniest suspicion of treachery, and it could all go horribly wrong.

  Gently he urged Suleiman forward. The battle-trained warhorse whickered nervously, but trusting his rider he loyally followed commands. Sharley reined to a halt as a particularly large werewolf stepped out of the ranks to meet him.

  Mekhmet’s palms were sweating with tension. Sharley looked tiny before the huge creature that towered over him and Suleiman both. His friend could be crushed before his eyes, and there wouldn’t be time to do anything about it! Silently he offered up a prayer to the One, and tried to remember to breathe.

  Sharley wore no helmet or headdress, so that the red hair of the House of Lindenshield could be seen, and as the werewolf approached he smiled in greeting. Then he and the huge creature began to make strange growling and yelping noises that rose and fell with a rhythm almost like words.

  It took Mekhmet several tense moments to realise that they were actually talking. He was almost breathless with fear for his friend, and when Sharley dismounted and stood before the massive creature, Mekhmet thought he’d be sick. But he couldn’t afford the distraction of vomiting – he needed to see what was going on.

  For several more minutes the strange yelping and growling continued as Sharley stood before the monster like a small redheaded torch in front of a bank of impenetrable darkness. Then amazingly the werewolf slowly fell to its knees before the slight figure of his friend, and Sharley suddenly rushed forward and hugged it! Mekhmet let out an explosive sigh of relief, and was aghast to see that there were tears on the creature’s hairy face.

  Sharley took the werewolf’s paws, raised it to its feet, and turning to the army of allies he said, “Behold Captain Bone-splitter and her command of infantry, loyal allies and friends!”

  The release of tension spilled into the night in a glorious torrent of cheering. Spears beat on shields, horses neighed and zebras hiccupped. The Empire would look upon their ranks and tremble!

  “Gentlemen, the city is ripe for plucking,” said Scipio Bellorum, addressing the Staff Officers who sat in respectful silence around the map table. “The Vampire King is dead, the Vampire Queen has retreated to her fetid eyries in the far north, and the skies are ours alone.”

  He was enjoying himself enormously. His two sons, Sulla and Octavius, smiled with him, like corroded mirrors reflecting their father’s power.

  “The obvious consequence has been the unopposed bombing of Frostmarris. Our little Queenling no longer has a castle in which to sit, and soon she will no longer have a country to rule. Now, are there any questions?”

  “Yes, Sir,” said a young Captain of Dragoons. “When do we go in and wipe them out?”

  Bellorum’s smile broadened. The officers of the most recently arrived reinforcements had none of the reservations and worries of the more experienced soldiers. That may have had its disadvantages at times, but it was so refreshing to hear the note of enthusiasm again from his men. For too long the army had been fighting a two-front war: one with the defenders and allies of the Icemark, and one with their own pessimism.

  “We will ‘go in and wipe them out’, as you so eloquently put it, tomorrow night,” he answered.

  A murmur ran around the table as the veterans of the campaign muttered their worries. “But, Sir. The defences are still unbreached and the allies a formidable fighting force. We’ll lose thousands if we try to storm them.”

  “And you are . . .?”

  “Major Lucius Primus Orestus, Sir.”

  “I see that you’re an officer of the Dacian Shield-Bearers, Major Orestus.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Your regiment will lead the assault tomorrow night, targeting Queen Thirrin and Tharaman-Thar, and you will not retreat. Do I make myself clear?”

  The officer paled slightly. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Haven’t you forgotten something?” Bellorum asked, his voice silken ice.

  “Sir?”

  “It is customary at this juncture to tell me that your, admittedly suicidal, role in the battle will be an honour. Am I to presume from your reticence that you find your appointed task less than pleasing?”

  “No, Sir. It is indeed an honour, Sir.”

  “Oh good, I’m so pleased, otherwise I might have been tempted to send you and your entire regiment into battle unarmed and naked.”

  “Then the Queen would refuse to harm them. Her sense of honour wouldn’t allow it,” a voice clearly murmured.

  “Who said that?” Bellorum snapped, glaring round the table. “Sulla, Octavius, did you see?”

  “No, Father,” said Octavius smoothly. “But it would give me enormous pleasure to . . . question any suspects.”

  Bellorum quickly calculated the consequences and thought better of it. “No matter. When this war is won, due payments will be received by all my officers.”

  There was too much dissent in the camp, but searching it out would only cause more discontent. It was hardly surprising. An army camp was a microcosm of the government and land that it served, and at the present time the Empire was in turmoil. The Senate was pushing for Bellorum’s withdrawal from the Icemark so that he could deal with the war that was raging in the south.

  The Desert Kingdom had woken from its torpor with a vengeance, and five major cities and countless towns had already fallen to the Sultan and his hordes. And to make matters worse, he’d defeated an Imperial army in a set-piece battle less than two weeks previously. Venezzia and their allies the Hellenes had also seized ports and harbours and defeated two fleets in the Southern Ocean. It was all too painfully reminiscent of events that had followed Bellorum’s last invasion of the Icemark. But this time the rebellions and invasions had begun before his plans had been defeated. There was obviously collusion at work.

  Once the Icemark had fallen he’d strike south with a wrath that would become the stuff of legends! Governments would fall, the seas would be paved with Venezzian dead, deserts would be irrigated with the Sultan’s blood. The Empire would be saved and its borders extended . . . but first, the Icemark must be defeated.

  “Tomorrow night, then, gentlemen. We will attack by the light of the city in flames. You all know your positions and roles, and you all know what the Empire expects of you,” said Bellorum, his voice quiet and cutting. “Oh, and one further thought. You should know that I invoke the curse of the Deus Imperator. Silly superstition, I know; there is no such thing as the God of the Empire, and furthermore, it is a ridiculous belief that a government of such impeccable credentials of Reason and Logic should reject out of hand. But, times are as they are, and the belief that any soldier who does not give his all for his homeland will die by the slowest of degrees in pain and complete degradation, his name and family to be reviled and hated throughout the far lands of all the Imperial possessions, may provide the more reluctant among us with an added incentive.” He smiled around at his officers. “Oh, and believe me: superstition or not, it will work, because I personally will be the instrument of the curse. Look for me after the war is won; I will be standing at your shoulder in the darkened room; I will be waiting in the unfamiliar alleyway; mi
ne will be the knock at the door in the dead of night . . .”

  The officers stood, saluted, and filed from the map room in silence.

  The bombing had continued, day and night, for more than a week. The giant ballistas of the air defences had brought down dozens of the galleons, but many more sailed on to drench the city in fire and explosions. Few buildings remained unscathed, and in several areas entire streets had been flattened, or blazed uncontrollably.

  No one but the firefighters moved above ground in Frostmarris, and even down on the defences the soldiers were forced to hide away between land attacks in deeply dug shelters, as the galleons turned their attention to the concentric rings of earthworks that surrounded the capital. Sometimes they also bombed the forest, bringing down huge swathes of trees and briefly setting fire to the canopy before the flames mysteriously spluttered out. But the city remained the main target of the Sky Galleons and wasp-fighters; it hadn’t stopped burning for days, and the wasp-fighters poured more and more pitch on to the flames with every pass they made. It was as though they wanted to reduce the very stones to ash.

  On the defences, Thirrin and most of her High Command were all squeezed into one of the shelters dug under the outer ring of the earthworks. There was a lull in the bombing, but the werewolves hadn’t yet given their signal for the “all clear”, so they continued to wait in the twilight cast by a single oil lamp.

  “Is there anything to eat?” asked Tharaman.

  “Is there anything to drink?” asked Grishmak.

  “My belly’s rumbling louder than those bomb thingies. I don’t think I’ve had a morsel or crumb since—”

  “An hour ago,” Krisafitsa interrupted, “when you ate half an ox for breakfast. It really is fortunate we have no problems with supplies, thanks to the access we have to the forest.”

  “Are you sure it was half an ox? I thought it was about a quarter of a sheep,” Tharaman insisted.

  “Half an ox. I know because it was a leftover from the ‘small snack’ you had for supper.”

  “There should be a barrel around here somewhere,” said Grishmak distractedly. “Commander Gunhild usually has some small refreshments stashed away to keep her going through her watch.”

  “You nicked it yesterday, Grishmak,” said Cressida. “Don’t you remember, you said you were going to replace it?”

  “Oh, bum,” came the quiet reply.

  “They could be about to launch another land attack. Anyone want to take a peek and check?” asked Thirrin. Silence followed. “Oh, all right, I’ll go.”

  “There’s no need,” said Cressida. “The galleons are on their way back.”

  “How can you tell? You can’t hear them, surely?” said Thirrin.

  “Well, yes, actually. Can’t you? There! Didn’t you hear the creaking of ropes and canvas?”

  “No. Your ears must be very—” A huge explosion nearby drowned out everything, and was swiftly followed by other booms and rumblings all along the defences.

  “I suppose I could try earthworms,” said Tharaman mournfully. “That last explosion brought down quite a bit of soil from the roof and they’re all over my fur. I should imagine they’d be quite nutritious.”

  “Don’t you dare even consider it!” Krisafitsa snapped. “Disgusting things!”

  “Oh, I don’t know. At least there’s no bones, and if you think about it there’s probably more meat, pound for pound, on an earthworm than there is on the fattest ox.”

  “Oh, please!” said Krisafitsa. “Forget it, Tharaman – you’re not eating earthworms. In fact, come over here where I can give your coat a good clean. I’m not having them burrowing into your fur – heaven knows what damage they could do in the long term.”

  A fraught few minutes followed, during which toes were trod on, heads were bumped and chairs were knocked over while the huge King of the Snow Leopards tried to manoeuvre himself around in the tiny space. “Sorry,” he said sincerely. “Bit of a tight spot here.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Thirrin quietly. “Tighter than any of us have been in before, I’m afraid.”

  A silence followed. Everyone knew that she was referring to the war and to their almost inevitable defeat.

  “We’re not beaten yet, old girl,” said Tharaman at last. “Where there’s life there’s hope, and all that, don’t you know?”

  “Well, there’s life for some of us at the moment, certainly. But what about hope?”

  “There’s that too, my dear. Who knows what will happen. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  “Tharaman, you’re beginning to sound like a book of old sayings and clichés!”

  “Perhaps, but it’s true. We were pretty desperate in the last war, but Grishmak and the Vampires turned up in the nick of time. You just never know what’s going to happen.”

  “I think we know this time, though,” Thirrin insisted quietly. “There’s no one to come to the rescue at the last minute. We’re all here already, trapped in Frostmarris.” She fell quiet, but there was something in her tone that made them all wait for her to go on.

  “Actually – come to think of it – we’re not completely trapped, are we? Krisafitsa mentioned it earlier.”

  “Mentioned what?” asked Cressida.

  “The fact that we have access to the forest. The defensive rings are open-ended in the trees, where we presume we’re defended by the soldiers of the Holly and Oak Kings. At any rate, no Imperial soldiers have ever managed to get in that way.”

  “And what has that got to do with anything?” asked Grishmak.

  “Quite simple, really. Some of us could escape through the forest, go north to a port and sail to safety. Who knows, perhaps you could raise another army one day and come back. You could even go to Sharley and help him in exile . . .” her voice trailed away as she thought of her youngest child. The time was almost here when she’d close her eyes for ever and never see him again.

  “None of us would go, and it’s too late anyway,” said Cressida with determination. “Anyone with half a tactical brain could see that Bellorum’s ready for his endgame. If the big push doesn’t come tonight, it’ll be tomorrow morning, and no doubt the old monster’s watching our defences so closely that no one could slip away without him knowing it.”

  “All very true,” said Grishmak. “Which means we’re just going to have to make a fight of it. And who knows, we just might bloody Bellorum’s Imperial nose so badly, he’ll die of a haemorrhage. I certainly intend to try.”

  “You and me both. What do you say, Thirrin?” asked Krisafitsa, hoping to distract the Queen from her thoughts of Sharley.

  “I think I’m the most fortunate of women,” she answered quietly. “Who else could claim to have friends who were willing both to fight for her and to die with her?”

  “Yes, well, we’re not dead yet,” said Tharaman decisively. “Let’s see what the next round of fighting brings us.”

  “That’s easy to predict,” said Cressida. “The walls of the city are breached in several places, the citadel is virtually rubble and what remains is burning. The only defences we have left are these earth banks and our fighting ability. And if the shield wall is broken at any point, we’re lost. Bellorum knows this, we know it – in fact everyone from the smallest drummer boy to the mightiest warrior knows it. The next land attack will be the last. I suggest we make what peace we can with whomever and whatever we worship, and prepare ourselves for the end.”

  The room fell deathly silent as each of them digested this devastating analysis of their position. The enormity of it was overpowering. The Icemark was about to fall. They’d fought a long and intelligent campaign, thwarting almost everything that Bellorum had thrown at them. In fact, if their armies and resources had been equal in size to those of the Empire, the Imperial war machine would have been defeated months ago, and with a bit of luck they’d have captured the hated General and executed him. But as usual, they were just outnumbered – devastatingly so, overwhelmingly so. And now that the Vampires ha
d withdrawn they had no answer to the Sky Navy either.

  The only comfort they could possibly derive from their appalling situation was to know that their struggle would become legend. If they but knew it, their names were already known throughout the Empire and, ironically, the Imperial Senate was close to overruling Bellorum and suing for peace. Everyone, from the Emperor himself to the Inner Cabinet of Governance, was in awe of the Icemark and its allies. What a friend such a powerful and determined enemy would make! But for the time being Bellorum’s cronies still had control of the Senate, and the war would continue until all defenders of the Icemark were dead.

  Time was running out for Thirrin and her friends, and they had to accept it. Eventually, Grishmak scratched his massive head as though trying to dislodge all of the horror and pessimism. Then he shrugged. “Anyone know any good jokes?” he asked.

  But before anyone could reply, the mournful howling of the werewolves’ “all clear” sounded. The bombers had gone, and now the land attack would begin.

  CHAPTER 36

  The Great Forest rose up before them like a solid wall, and even with his army and friends riding beside him, Sharley couldn’t help feeling nervous – very nervous.

  “Well, this is it,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “The last leg of the journey. On the other side of the trees we’ll come out on the plain of Frostmarris where Bellorum and his hordes are waiting.”

  “I think it would be polite at the very least to announce our presence to the Holly and Oak Kings before we enter their realm with such a large army,” said Maggie. “And if we do succeed in making proper contact with them, we can formally seek their help by calling them to arms.”

  “Good idea,” Sharley agreed. “But I’m not sure how to do it. I’ve watched Dad a few times, but I didn’t ever expect to have to do it myself.”