Thraxas of Turai
Page 20
Missiles rain from the sky. I turn a corner and keep going. For a moment my thoughts turn to Bishop-General Ritari and my investigation. What a waste of time that was. The entire efforts of my unit devoted to solving a case which nobody really wanted solving. Not Lisutaris or Ritari, certainly. Ritari was behind the deaths, Lisutaris knew it, and shamelessly concealed her knowledge, all the while putting pressure on me to implicate Archbishop Gudurius. I hope it all turns out to have been worthwhile. If Ritari is killed in the assault and Archbishop Gudurius ends up as the senior Niojan here, we’re going to look extremely foolish. It strikes me I haven’t seen Hanama for a while. Maybe Lisutaris has sent her to get rid of Gudurius under cover of battle. Nothing would surprise me. Except justice, I suppose. That would surprise me.
We come to a halt. Ahead of us the engineers have reached the wall. It’s an uncomfortable wait. Projectiles pour onto the barrier overhead. We’re close enough to the walls to see the assembled lines of Orcs atop them, hurtling missiles. Among them are sorcerers, now firing bolts of energy towards us. Lisutaris steps forward. ‘As soon as the engineers light the fire I’m sending in an extra spell to make sure the foundations crumble. Captain Thraxas, would you mind standing directly in front of me? There may be some flying debris.’
Makri steps forward. ‘I’m your bodyguard. I’ll do it.’
I grab Makri by both shoulders and shove her backwards. ‘Out of the way. This requires some bulk.’
Makri looks angry but as she steps forward, Lisutaris puts out her arm, blocking her path.
‘Captain Thraxas is more suitable for this, Ensign Makri.’
Above us, Lisutaris’s personal shield remains strong, a pale blue light protecting us against the intense barrage now coming from the walls. The noise is deafening as rocks, boulders, spears and arrows cascade down onto the sorcerous shielding. Major Erisimus appears at a run, his diggers behind him. ‘Fire’s lit, Commander.’ He salutes swiftly and disappears back along the trench with his men, their task completed. The noise above us intensifies. Lisutaris strides forward. Further back along the trench our assault force crouches out of sight, ready to move the instant the wall collapses. We turn the final corner. Ahead of us a great gash has been hewn beneath the city wall. The gap has been filled with wood which is now burning. In normal circumstances this would be enough to bring down the wall but Lisutaris, assuming that the Orcish sorcerers will be working to prevent this, is now about to help matters along. She raises her arms and begins to chant.
‘Commander! Dragon!’
We look up. Diving towards us is the largest dragon I’ve ever seen, so large it seems impossible it could fly. I can only imagine it’s been kept a short distance away, in the Stadium Superbius perhaps, grown to stupendous size, and launched at us for its one and only mission, to crush the trench and everyone in it. Lisutaris is obliged to break off her incantation.
‘Sareepa, Coranius, deal with it.’
Coranius the Grinder and Sareepa Lightning Strikes the Mountain both leap upwards till they stand above us on the ground at the edge of the trench. It’s an impossible move for a normal person and must be some sorcerously enhanced manoeuvre worked out beforehand. As I watch they fire off spells at the monstrous beast hurtling towards us. Lisutaris starts to intone her own spell again. I look back at the walls. The flames seem to be dimming, which shouldn’t happen. Lisutaris’s eyes go purple as she concentrates her power. Though I never had any talent for sorcery I can generally sense its presence and at this moment I can sense it everywhere. I’m guessing Deeziz the Unseen is right behind that wall, attempting to extinguish the flames and keep Lisutaris out. Purple sparks are shooting from Lisutaris’s fingertips. I step towards our Commander, ready to get in front of her as soon as she casts her spell. The noise above us is deafening. I try to focus my attention on Lisutaris but I can’t resist a glance upwards and I get a glimpse of the most terrifying sight. The huge dragon, wounded and dripping blood from the sorcery of Coranius and Sareepa is still forcing its way downwards. It hits the trench at the same instant that Lisutaris fires her spell towards the walls. There’s an explosion the like of which I’ve never experienced before. I’m hurled up in the air with dirt, masonry, bodies and bits of dragon battering me from every direction. When I come to ground I’m badly shaken. There’s dust and smoke all around. I drag myself to my feet, choking in the dust. I’m still in the trench though there doesn’t really seem to be a trench any more. It’s been damaged beyond recognition, flattened by the impact of the dragon and the effect of Lisutaris’s spell. And possibly, it strikes me, by something to do with Makri’s calculations, because that was one hell of an explosion and I can’t believe it was meant to happen.
Lisutaris is lying only a few feet away. She moans.
‘Anything broken?’
‘I don’t think so.’
I help her to her feet. Makri emerges from the gloom, a sword in each hand. ‘The walls are down,’ she says.
I take a step forward. My foot catches on something. I look down. It’s Coranius the Grinder. He’s dead. I notice a familiar scrap of cloth next to him. Part of Sareepa’s rainbow cloak. A few feet away lies Sareepa, her body in an awkward position. I kneel to check for a pulse. There’s none. Sareepa is dead too. Behind us a trumpet sounds, the signal for our waiting troops to attack.
‘Forward,’ says Lisutaris.
I raise my shield and take the lead as we advance through the smouldering ruins of the walls. Then I walk into Turai, first man into the city.
The End
Martin Millar was born in Scotland and now lives in London. He is the author of such novels as Supercute Futures, Lonely Werewolf Girl and The Good Fairies of New York. He wrote the Thraxas series under the name of Martin Scott. Thraxas won the World Fantasy Award in 2000. As Martin Millar and as Martin Scott, he has been widely translated.