by Stuart Hill
“Yes, I know what you mean, but I’ve also watched Oskan summoning the soldiers of the two Kings and there seems to be little that is actually formal or even truly magical about it. I suggest we use a bugler to blow a fanfare, then make it up as we go along.”
“Do we actually have a bugler amongst us?” asked Sharley. “The cavalries of the Desert People and the Lusu seem to make do with drums and pipes.”
“Well, try those, then. I don’t suppose the soldiers of the Holly and Oak Kings had ever heard a bugle before your father summoned them anyway.”
Sharley beckoned up a mounted drummer of the Desert People and a piper from the Lusu. “Do you think you can produce something between you that sounds like a summons?”
The troopers nodded, and after a brief consultation they rattled out a stirring rhythm and tune that echoed through the dark trees.
Silence followed, followed by yet more silence.
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” said Mekhmet quietly.
“It always took this long with Oskan too,” said Maggie. “Then there was always a huge blast of—”
Suddenly, the silent trees were waving and writhing in a roaring wind which then stopped abruptly, as if someone had opened a door on a storm and then slammed it shut.
“Like that, you mean?” asked Queen Ketshaka, picking leaves out of her headdress.
“Yes, but then we’d see either the Holly or Oak soldiers. Now, let me see, which King is ruling at this time of year? I think it’s the—”
A line of soldiers stepped out of the undergrowth wearing armour that seemed to be made from large and highly polished holly leaves.
“Holly King,” Maggie finished.
One or two of the horses whickered nervously, and a murmur ran through the ranks of the soldiers near enough to see the strange creatures that now stood to attention before them. Their eyes were as red as berries, their skin was the grey-green of holly bark, and the weapons they carried seemed to be made of wood!
Ketshaka said something nasty in Lusu, and Mekhmet called on the One for protection. Only Sharley and Maggie seemed happy to see the weird warriors. In fact, Sharley was almost beside himself with excitement. He’d called the soldiers of the woodland and they’d arrived. Just like they had for his dad! Quickly he settled down and urged Suleiman forward, trying to remember the sort of language he’d heard used whenever contact had been made with the Monarchs of the Wild Wood.
“Greetings to you and to your Monarch, His Majesty the Holly King, Lord of the Wild Places. Take to him the friendly greetings of myself, Charlemagne Athelstan Redrought Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, known as Shadow of the Storm, and also those of Crown Prince Mekhmet Nasrid of the Desert Kingdom, Beloved of the One and Sword of the Desert. Add to these the deep felicitations of Her Mightiness Queen Ketshaka III of Lusuland, the Great She-Lion and Mother of the Nation. We ask the permission of His Majesty to cross his realm with our army, which we have transported at huge effort and cost from overseas to bring relief and aid to my mother Queen Thirrin and to the besieged city of Frostmarris.”
The Holly soldiers regarded them all with blazing red eyes, and before anything more could be said, one of their number stepped out of the ranks and dropped to one knee before Sharley. He stood again, and the entire complement of treewarriors beat their spears on shields. For several long moments the two groups looked at each other in silence. The strange wind then blew up again, crashing and roaring through the trees and sending up great clouds of leaf litter. When all had gone quiet the soldiers had disappeared.
“Well done, My Lord,” said Maggie warmly. “You conducted yourself splendidly.”
“But I forgot to ask for their help in the fighting,” he answered, angry with himself.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. We can call them again just before we emerge on to the plain of Frostmarris.”
The infirmary had been moved down into the cave system even before the Vampires had withdrawn from the war, so the witches and healers had had quite a while to do as best they could in the conditions. Even so, a damp, dirty cave that had once been home to a colony of bats was hardly the ideal place to treat the wounded and dying.
They’d raised most of the patients off the floor and away from the oozing mud by improvising beds out of storage boxes and barrels, but some of the less seriously wounded had to perch on chairs as though they were sitting around at a social gathering. If it hadn’t been so appalling, Oskan might have found it funny, in a grim sort of way. It was the way they lolled about, sometimes settling to rest on each other’s shoulders as they slipped in and out of consciousness, like drunks at a party. For the Snow Leopards and werewolves with their huge bodies, the best Oskan and the witches could do was to throw down clean straw and check regularly that the mud hadn’t seeped through.
Oskan was making yet another tour of inspection in the lull between land attacks. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did this. He knew exactly how many supplies they had: clean bandages, virtually none; poppy and other drugs, virtually none; available ‘bedding’ for new patients, absolutely none; floor space for new patients, disappearing fast. Perhaps his inspections had become a sort of mantra, something that calmed his mind by its very repetition and hopelessness, as he tried to get through another day of the siege.
The Sky Navy was again bombing the outer defences and city, and nobody could risk trying to bring the wounded into the infirmary while that was happening. The relative calm allowed his thoughts to range further afield as he checked the wards, and they turned again to the mystery of the unfriendly Power within the walls of Frostmarris.
Of course, he’d been monitoring the activities of his ‘opponent’, as he saw her – at least he knew the source was female – and in the past few weeks her Abilities had grown and improved. He also knew she was young and not yet at her full strength, but he still couldn’t pin down her identity.
Just who was she? He’d probed the minds of every one of the witches, but their minds only showed a concern for the wounded, and fear for their own safety. All perfectly normal for a city at war. Once in the depths of his frustration he’d even suspected Medea, his very own daughter, of all people! And now, because the only building left undamaged in the entire city was his daughter’s tower, he felt his suspicions rising again. But when he’d secretly inspected her thoughts he’d found only confusion. Nothing unusual for an adolescent. And when she’d shown terrible pain over the loss of her brother all those weeks ago he felt as though he’d betrayed her. Medea was powerful, and he’d wondered if her Abilities could be used to protect the entire city, but surely even she would have offered to protect Frostmarris if it was at all possible.
He could feel his opponent now, looking out from the city walls, watching the Sky Navy and plotting . . . something. He caught his breath and concentrated his Power, sending a lancing probe through the ether. But it was too late. Walls of Adamant slammed down and he found nothing.
He came across a relatively dry spot on the cave floor and sat down. Like everyone else he was exhausted. He needed to be with Thirrin. Perhaps a little of her tireless energy would rub off on him and he could face yet another day under siege. He knew that of late even she was less energetic than she had been, but nonetheless just being with her would make him feel better. How long had he and his wife had together in the past few weeks? Impossible to say; but the time they’d had alone together he knew precisely: eight hours and forty minutes, and most of that had been spent sleeping.
Still, just sitting beside her during the bombing would be better than nothing. As long as the Sky Navy was at work even Thirrin was forced to stay still. He smiled weakly as he climbed to his feet and headed off for the defences. She’d be surprised to see him, and frown in that way she always did when he acted in a way she didn’t expect. But then, as always, she’d pat the seat next to her and make room for him.
If he followed the new passageways Archimedo had dug, he’d only have to make a dash
across a few metres above ground to the outer defences.
Oskan had almost reached the end of the new tunnels when without any warning his mind was suddenly crammed full with a sense of Sharley. He was riding a small and beautiful black horse, and next to him rode a dark young man of about the same age. They were deep in youthfully earnest conversation, then as Oskan watched, their mood seemed to change and they both laughed. The Witchfather heaved a sigh of relief. At least their youngest child was safe.
But then a deep and terrible sense of foreboding filled his mind. He gasped aloud and slumped against the wall of the tunnel, weak with a sense of his own helplessness. Sharley was in mortal danger. But there was nothing he could do. His son was too far away, and Oskan’s Powers were already stretched to their very limit by the needs of Frostmarris and its failing defences.
Oskan succumbed to despair.
But then his sense of duty and the needs of others reasserted themselves. He could do nothing to help Sharley; he could only trust to the truth of the vision he’d had so many months ago that had said he would return safely to the Icemark.
Clinging to this hope, Oskan straightened up and decided to keep his fears to himself. Thirrin must know nothing. She was virtually at breaking point herself; any extra burden could push her over the edge.
Sharley laughed again. All morning, Mekhmet had been telling him about the happenings of the camp, but if it was meant to stop him from dwelling on their being less than a day’s march away from the plain of Frostmarris, it failed utterly. He’d enjoyed the gossip and appreciated his friend’s efforts, but nothing could divert his mind from what lay ahead.
Sharley knew his army was nowhere near big enough to have much effect against Bellorum and his mad sons, but if they succeeded in keeping their presence secret, they might just have a chance of driving him back from the walls of the city. And if they could do that, then the defenders could ride out, and together they might finally be able to crush the old tyrant. But it all depended on secrecy and surprise, and with this in mind they’d been marching at night and resting during the day. So far it had all gone well, and by nightfall they’d be able to see the walls of Frostmarris.
To Sharley none of it seemed real. How could he, a crippled son of a warrior House, really be leading an army to defend his family and country? And yet here he was; he looked about him as if to convince himself it was all true. It was then that he thought he saw an odd greenish glow to both his right and left, far off amongst the trees. He was just about tell Maggie when the captain of the werewolves appeared and walked beside him.
“Your Majesty. We have company,” she reported in wolf speech.
“Company?” said Sharley. “What sort of company?”
“Ghosts, zombies and rock trolls.”
He immediately reined to a halt and told the others what the werewolf had said. Both Mekhmet and Ketshaka were hugely alarmed, but Maggie was interested.
“What do they want, Captain Bone-splitter?” he asked.
“They want to join us. They say they were drawn to the war from The-Land-of-the-Ghosts when Their Vampiric Majesties flew south to join the alliance,” the Captain explained in human speech. “And when they heard of the King’s death they’d already walked to the eaves of the Great Forest, so they decided to carry on. But when they came within striking distance of the plain of Frostmarris they didn’t know what to do next. Our arrival was a lucky coincidence.”
“How many are there?” asked Sharley.
“A thousand zombies, three hundred rock trolls, and who could even guess how many ghosts,” replied Captain Bone-splitter. “They’re barely visible and keep floating about, but . . .” She shuddered. “They’re truly hideous.”
Fear was their greatest weapon, simple fear. Invaluable on the battlefield, fear and panic could break an army. But the presence of the rock trolls was what excited Sharley most. A single troll was the equivalent of up to ten human soldiers, and Bone-splitter was saying that three hundred wanted to join them! The only problem was that they were completely unpredictable and uncontrollable, but if they were determined enough to march hundreds of miles to join the war, then presumably they’d be willing to take orders that would enable them to fight in it.
“Bring their leader to us, Bone-splitter,” Sharley said eagerly.
Within minutes a truly horrific sight stood before them. The smell of rotting flesh was overpowering, and whenever the zombie moved, small rivulets of putrid flesh fell to the ground with damp splattering noises, which made the horses blow and sidle in disgust.
Mekhmet and Ketshaka were horrified.
“What possible use could a moving corpse be to us in battle?” the huge Lusu Queen asked, her stony features deepening into frowning ravines of disapproval.
“My Lady,” said Maggie lightly, “there was a time when I would have been equally sceptical, but I witnessed them in action during the last war, and they are truly devastating. You see, they cannot be killed. They’re already dead. No matter what is thrown at them, they keep going until they reach their target and quite simply rip it to pieces.”
Ketshaka stared at the creature, her frown lightening slightly. “But they seem so clumsy.”
“And so they are,” Maggie agreed. “But how many soldiers do you know who would stand their ground against the prospect of fighting the living dead?”
She nodded. “I see. Then I remove my objections.”
Mekhmet also nodded in agreement. He didn’t dare open his mouth in case he vomited. He’d never realised how weak his stomach was before he got involved with these barbarians and their revolting allies. He just wanted the thing to go away.
“Can you control the rock trolls?” Sharley asked, disappointing his friend, who’d hoped the zombie was about to be dismissed and sent back to its own ranks.
“No one caaan!” the creature answered in deep and horribly fetid tones.
“An honest answer,” said Sharley, covering his nose with his hand. “Well, will they at least accept orders?”
The zombie shrugged, losing a pound of flesh, which oozed moistly into the earth. “If they are the same as their own wishessss!”
“Which are?”
“To fight the Empire and Bellorummmm.”
“Then our orders and their wishes coincide. Will they agree to fight with us and not against us?”
“You are alliessss. Our enemy is your enemyyyy,” the zombie answered, and added irritably, “They’re not stupid, you knowwww!”
“Are they not? Good. You may join us. March at the rear of the column, and maintain strict silence.”
“Most of us are dead, we don’t talk easily. Assss for the rock trollsss, they couldn’t be quiet if they triedddd.” The thing shrugged again, and watched sadly as more of its flesh slithered to the ground. “But the war should be noisy enough to drown out our approachhhhh.”
“One thing before you go,” said Maggie. “You told Captain Bone-splitter earlier that the Vampire King has been destroyed. Is this possible?”
“Bellorum ended his exisssstence. We have all wept and the Vampire Queen has withdrawn her squadronssss, leaving the city open to the Sssky Navy. But we want revenge!”
“What is a Sky Navy?” Sharley asked, struck by the odd name.
“Flying shipsssss. They bomb Frostmarrissss and the city burnssss.”
“Flying ships! How can that be? The Empire has no magic.”
“Scienccccce has made them.”
“How?”
The zombie shrugged again. “Ask your werewolvesssss. We found out about it from their relayyyyy.”
“Bone-splitter, is this true? Why didn’t you tell us before? What are these flying ships? How do they fly?”
The Captain was mortified. “Forgive me, My Lord. We’ve lived with the reality of the Sky Navy for so long, it never occurred to us that you wouldn’t have heard of them, even in Exile.”
Sharley was furious, but quickly saw that it was an honest mistake and contained his te
mper. After all, what difference would knowing about the flying ships have made to his plans? None at all. “How do they fly?”
“We’re not sure, but the Imperial scientists seem to have invented a gas that is lighter than air. They trap it in a huge sail they call a balloon, and it lifts the ships into the sky.”
“Fascinating!” said Maggie. “Ingenious. They must have produced huge quantities of helium and harnessed it in canopies. Quite, quite extraordinary!”
“It’s possible, then?” asked Sharley.
“Oh, yes. But it took a singular mind to put a gas to such use! Amazing, truly amazing!”
The drums rattled and beat out a tattoo all along the defences. This was it. This was the decisive battle. Thirrin stood with Grinelda Blood-tooth, the Captain of her bodyguard of Ukpik werewolves, watching a truly enormous enemy force marching over the plain towards them. Bellorum had surpassed himself; never before had she seen so many soldiers gathered together under one banner.
She called encouragement to her shield wall and felt the weight of doubt and fear fall from her shoulders. She could only fight and trust in the goddesses and gods. It was their decision now.
Beside her, Tharaman-Thar and Krisafitsa-Tharina narrowed their eyes as they too watched the unhurried advance of the Imperial army. “It’s strange, but now it’s come to it, I feel surprisingly calm,” said Krisafitsa. “I thought I’d be more conscious of the significance of it all.”
“Yes,” Tharaman agreed. “One always imagined one’s final battle would feel especially dramatic. But in reality, it’s just another fight in a lifetime of fighting.” He purred deeply. “Still, my love, at least now we may rest together in the long and endless night.”
Krisafitsa rubbed her cheek against her mate’s. “My only regret is that I won’t be there to see the cubs grow up. Will Kirimin be safe, my love?”
Tharaman’s huge eyes glowed to deeper levels of amber as he thought of their youngest cub. “She will live and grow and one day become the greatest Queen the Snow Leopards have ever known.”
