by Dan Davis
Cedd cleared his throat. ‘I thought you wanted knowledge, not power.’
‘But you are giving me neither,’ Writer said. ‘And anyway, this kind of knowledge is power, is it not?’
‘Dear sweet little Maerwynn, surely you do not want to kill anyone?’ Cedd said. ‘You do know that’s what a battle is?’
Writer felt like punching him in the nose but she had to admit that his point of argument was a valid one. ‘Well, no.’ She did not want to harm anyone. ‘Perhaps I could therefore learn protection magic?’
Cedd raised his eyebrows at Bede, who shrugged.
‘I have been remiss. Bede shall instruct you,’ Cedd said, nodding. ‘After all, we need more protection than he alone can provide. And, you know that your elemental powers could provide even greater protection. What we could do is provide barrels of water and you could be prepared to put out fires that may engulf us.’
‘Fires engulfing us?’ she asked. ‘How would they do such a thing?’
‘The landships are bristling with cannon, as you know,’ Cedd said. ‘Some of them shoot cannonballs that have been heated in furnaces before being loaded into the cannon. A red-hot ball of iron will ignite anything it touches. We have heard that new types of cannonball have been developed. The ball is hollow and inside is filled with gunpowder or oil and other flammable things, as we are attempting to do with our own bombs. If these fools can ever learn to work together.’
‘Was Bacon correct?’ Writer whispered. ‘Is this an impossible task?’
Cedd bristled and she knew she had angered him, which pleased her immensely. ‘They are bordering on useless but every day there is a small improvement. And Cromwell is not here yet. And during the battle we shall have Bede protecting us. There has never been a more powerful protector mage, I am certain. But if his attention wavers then some cannon shot may get through and that is where you could save all of us.’
‘I am ready to learn,’ Writer said.
Cedd shouted at the mages to line up ready for the next attempt.
‘Join the others,’ Cedd told her.
She went and stood by the others.
‘What is this?’ The Alchemist Talbot said. ‘I know that you two are rogue alchemists, and I can forgive that because you were alchemists before the Guild came to these islands. And it is bad enough that you exposed a female to our secrets and allowed her to cast spells. But how dare you make this child, this... female child a part of our sacred rites? It is obscene and I will not stand for it.’
‘Steady on, Talbot,’ Charnock said.
‘It is not as though there’s much of a Guild left to worry about ancient traditions,’ Vaughn muttered.
‘Precisely,’ Talbot said. ‘We have been almost snuffed out. Our Lord High Alchemist is a useless, broken, drooling fool so who else can save what is left of our order?’
‘Shut your face,’ Bede snarled. ‘I swear we do not need him, Cedd. Let me kill him, please?’
Talbot’s face turned white as chalk.
‘No one is killing anyone,’ Cedd shouted. ‘Talbot, shut your face or I may change my mind. Now. This girl is the most powerful out of all of you.’ He held up a hand to the objections. ‘She most certainly is. But she is also almost entirely untrained. For now, she will provide another layer of protection to you. So be kind to her. And help her. Maerwynn may just save your lives.’
‘I thought Bede was supposed to protect us,’ Ashmole the destructor muttered.
‘I will protect you all,’ Bede said. ‘Never fear, boys.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Cedd said, scowling at Bede. ‘Yet even the strongest will can waver in the heat of battle. Even a single cannonball, if it should penetrate Bede’s protective shield, could kill any of us. Do not doubt that those blasted, unnatural landships will be rolling towards us and shooting their cannons ceaselessly. That is how so many of your brothers were killed, was it not? The cannons do not waver. They do not need to focus their power. They do not get tired.’
‘So we are doomed?’ Charnock wailed.
‘No,’ Cedd cried. ‘We must unite. Together, we can destroy the landships one at a time. We have conjuration, destruction, protection, divination, transmutation. All working to support each other. We will have our specially crafted bombs full of poison and flame. But we shall have to practice again and again until the battle to ensure success.’
None of them seemed convinced.
Cedd sighed. ‘We shall start again, from the beginning. Bede, get Maerwynn started on some apprentice protection spells.’
Writer could not keep the grin from her face.
Finally, she thought. Finally, she was going to become a real mage.
Weaver’s Raid
It was a cold morning and Weaver couldn’t wait to leave the camp and get riding. The Captain had chosen this morning to speak to her, which was unusual and she didn’t know what he wanted from her.
‘The armies are close. It’ll be a battle soon,’ Captain Smith said, holding her pony’s reins.
‘Everyone’s been saying that for ages. How do you know?’ Weaver asked, mounting Artemis. Her pony’s beautiful coat was brushed and shining like the face of the moon.
‘We’ve been crawling north for weeks now,’ Captain Smith said, mounting his own horse with an ease and swiftness that she could only marvel at. ‘How long have you been with my company?’ They cantered toward the rest of the company who waited a half a mile to the north.
‘A month now,’ Weaver said. ‘Nearly.’
It seemed madness to her that the army had to travel as slowly as the slowest landship. Why even have landships in the first place, she wondered? If it wasn’t for them, if it wasn’t for the wagons like the one Burp rode in and the one the Winstanleys had made, they would have found and attacked the King’s Army weeks before.
‘In that time you’ve done well. You have not shied away from anything we have asked you to do. So are you willing to get your hands truly dirty?’ Captain Smith asked.
‘I get my hands dirty every day,’ Weaver said, looking at them.
Smith chuckled. ‘I mean to say that so far we have been patrolling. We have had many run-ins with the enemy, of course. Like that time a few weeks ago, when you had that Cavalier Colonel or whatever he was and you let him go. No, no, it is done and dusted, I am not criticising you. But now it’s time to take you on a raid. Are you up to it?’
‘Yes,’ Weaver said.
‘You know what it means?’ Captain Smith asked.
Weaver scratched her chin. ‘Erm...’
‘We shall attack a Cavalier outpost. They have defensive positions in many of the tiny villages or large farms around here. The raid will net us some prisoners. That way we shall obtain information from the local commoners and perhaps Cavaliers. We must know precisely where the King’s men are. Sergeant Gore and the men want booty, too. It is not allowed, of course, but some of the men have strong feelings on matters regarding their personal wealth.’
‘Some booty?’ Weaver was confused.
Captain Smith sighed. ‘They want valuables. Our enemies invariably have finer equipment than we do. And ever since Gore won that sword and the pistol from that Cavalier colonel, everyone has been itching to get their own. The idea is to catch the horsemen when they are relaxing. Unprepared. That way we capture the men and their things. They have some lovely horses.’
‘What if they’re not where we expect them to be?’ Weaver asked. She wasn’t sure about this.
‘The locals in these parts are for the King. Alchemist sympathisers. We’ll ride out to one of the villages and ask some questions about where the enemy are. One place a couple miles away called Naseby. Supposed to be full of Cavaliers just lounging about. If they’re out on patrol, it matters not. We’ll nab the locals instead.’
‘What and you reckon some idiots in a village will know where the King is hanging about?’ Weaver scoffed.
Captain Smith chuckled. Perhaps not. But the men are spoiling for a proper fi
ght and you have to let them off the leash every now and then or else they turn on each other.’
‘What, fight each other?’ Weaver asked.
‘Absolutely,’ Smith seemed surprised that she could ask. ‘You know what they are like. They are fighting men, it is all they know and they need to fight. Inactivity is the worst thing for a soldier. Almost as bad as defeat. But I am lucky to have Sergeant Gore because he is the worst of the lot of them so he keeps the rest in line.’
Weaver ground her teeth. Sergeant Gore was nasty, thieving scum.
Smith glanced at her face and chuckled. ‘I know how you feel about Sergeant Gore. But he is as tough a soldier as they come. He is a brawler and not one of the men can take him in a fight, not with fists or swords or pistols and they all know it. So they toe the line.’
‘Gore don’t scare me,’ Weaver said, although he was the most frightening man she’d ever met.
‘Then you are even madder than you seem,’ Captain Smith said but he was smiling so it wasn’t meant badly or anything. ‘But the men have felt that the big battle is close for days now and if we don’t give them some fun they’re liable to break. Lose discipline. And also, Cromwell has standing orders that no man is to stop during a battle to steal the belongings of the enemy. So a raid is a rather nice way to make a bit of extra coin.’
Weaver thought stealing from ordinary people sounded pretty bad. ‘And you want me to come on this raid?’ She had no desire for coins or any weapons or anything. ‘Is this another one of those things that Cromwell asked you to do?’
Smith ignored her as they rode into the clearing where the company was gathered and waiting. Sergeant Gore growled at everyone to mount and be ready to ride.
‘Pay attention, everyone,’ Captain Smith said. ‘This morning we raid a village called Naseby, couple of miles north. Scouts say there’s a company of Cavaliers there who were out riding all night. Chances are they’ll be sleeping this morning. So we’ll ride in hard. Take their sentries fast but if they give the warning then we’ll still have time to get in and get out. We’re not taking the position. We want prisoners, horses and equipment. Shot and gunpowder. Then we ride hard back here.’
‘How many of them, Captain?’ a trooper asked.
‘Scouts said it looks close to a full company. Eighty men.’
There were groans and muttering. ‘Shut your faces,’ Gore shouted and they did.
‘How many villagers?’ someone else ventured.
‘I am not certain,’ Smith admitted. ‘Two hundred?’
More muttering and Sergeant Gore growled at them again.
‘Do not forget,’ Captain Smith said. ‘We have an asset that our enemy does not. We have Weaver.’ He gestured at her and all eyes turned to her. ‘She will balance the odds, will she not? Someone with her power? She will ride with me and, if there is trouble, then fall back to Weaver and she will protect you. Is that not right, Weaver?’
Weaver didn’t know what to say. She shrugged.
The men cheered her anyway and they rode north. Her heart thundered in her chest like the horse hooves did on the earth. The regular rolling thunder of dozens of hooves pounding into the ground again and again. It was a sound she had come to know and even love. It meant her company was around her.
But for all that, the thought of a proper battle with eighty enemy horsemen was frightening. The thought of it weighed heavy on her and the landscape passed by unseen.
‘There’s the village,’ Captain Smith said as they drew to a halt from across a field. There were houses over there. Fences outside the houses with sheep and goats and chickens inside the pens. A woman was hanging out billowing shirts. Two tiny children ran into view fighting with sticks and the disappeared again between the houses. Somewhere in the village, a dog started barking.
‘Where’s the sentries?’ Sergeant Gore asked. ‘Anyone have eyes on sentries?’ The word went up and down their ragged line of horsemen but no sentries could be seen.
Smith shrugged. ‘We’ll see them soon enough, I suppose,’ the Captain said, drawing his sabre. ‘Remember everyone. Prisoners and horses first. In and out and we reform here.’
Sergeant Gore drew the beautiful, ornate sword that should have been hers. ‘Follow me!’ Gore shouted, raked his spurs down his horse’s flank in a bloody line and charged off.
The men galloped with him across the field toward the village.
‘You stick with me, Weaver,’ Captain Smith ordered and then galloped off himself. She raced after him, urging Artemis onward. Her pony’s legs were shorter but she was a good runner, everyone said so and she was only a little way behind Smith.
The woman hanging out clothes shouted in terror and ran into her house.
Weaver expected to see a group of Cavaliers charging from between the houses but there was nothing. She expected a bang of muskets and a cloud of white smoke from the windows of the houses but there was nothing.
Gore led the men into the village between the houses at the edge. There were screams from inside the village as Weaver rode into it, following the Captain and the rest of the Company.
People ran down the street and her fellow troopers were chased them, whooping and shouting. Soldiers dismounted and ran into buildings.
Weaver and Artemis just wheeled around in the middle of it all.
‘Where are the Cavaliers?’ Captain Smith was shouting to his men. ‘Check everywhere. And bring me prisoners.’
A carbine went off further into the village but it was just her company trying to frighten the villagers.
Old men, women and children were dragged from their houses and from hiding places throughout the place. All were herded into the centre of the village where Captain Smith and Weaver waited.
Everyone was shouting at the poor, terrified villagers. ‘Where are the Cavaliers? Where are they?’
Sergeant Gore appeared on foot, dragging a scrawny old man behind him who was bleeding from the nose and mouth. He shoved the man to his knees before Smith’s horse and held the old man there.
‘This one says the Cavaliers ain’t here, sir,’ Gore said. ‘But we found a couple of horses and saddles back there on the other side of the village. A fire was still warm.’
‘So where are they, old man?’ Captain Smith said, sticking his chin out.
The old man looked sad. His head sagged. He looked afraid and defeated. Weaver wished she could help him.
Smith nodded once at the Sergeant and Gore slapped the old man about the head. The old man whimpered and covered his head with his arms. Yet Gore was huge and powerful and he just slapped the man’s arms aside and battered him left and right until the old fellow collapsed with a whimper. Gore dragged him to his knees again.
‘I shall ask you one more time,’ Captain Smith said to him in a reasonable tone. ‘And then I shall allow my Sergeant to become violent.’
‘Please,’ the old man said. ‘We are simple folk. The Cavaliers gave us no choice. Please, we want no part in this war.’
‘You are supporters of the King,’ Captain Smith said. ‘And you gave sanctuary to a company of Cavaliers and you will tell me where they are or I swear I shall fire your entire village.’
‘They were here,’ the old man nodded. ‘They left in the night. They said they would be back this morning.’
‘Where did they go?’
‘They rode west,’ the old man said. ‘That’s the only thing I know, sir, I swear it, sir. Please, do us no more harm.’
‘Send some men to the western side of the village, Sergeant,’ Smith told Gore. ‘We’ll head out in five minutes.’
Gore nodded and thumped the man on the back of the head and walked off, shouting orders. The old man crumpled to the road on his face and lay still.
‘It is shame they are not here,’ Smith said. ‘I’ll have to have words with those scouts. Those mindless, senseless, useless idiots.’
‘Is he dead?’ Weaver asked, looking down at the motionless old villager.
Captai
n Smith glanced down. ‘Quite possibly. Sergeant Gore does not pull his punches. Come on, let us get to the west. If the Cavaliers return while we are bunched together here in the village then we will be the ones getting trapped and destroyed. We may need your protection.’
Weaver followed him, looking back at the man lying on the ground. A woman ran over to him and rolled him over, slapping his face and crying. The man threw an arm across his face. Weaver was relieved he wasn’t completely dead, even though she didn’t know him and he was probably an enemy and everything.
At the western edge of the village, the houses grew further apart along the main road until the houses gave way to fields and hills and clumps of trees. But no horsemen.
A few more of Captain Smith’s company gathered.
Weaver watched the layered horizons and tree line across the field for signs of movement.
Something silver flashed. Metal catching the morning light from the east.
‘There.’ Weaver pointed.
‘What?’ Captain Smith called out. ‘Where?’
‘In the trees. I thought I saw movement.’
Captain Smith wasted no time and ordered the dozen men who were with them to form a line and ride out.
‘Sergeant Gore. Form a second line and be ready to reinforce.’ And with that, Smith and the line of horse rode forward toward the trees. They had advanced about two hundred yards, knee to knee, when there was a distant order cried. A line of muskets in the trees in front fired as one, coughing out a wide swathe of white smoke.
Four of Captain Smith’s line went down right away and the others swerved and slowed.
Weaver felt a drumming on the earth, through Artemis. It came from the left, the north. A line of Cavalier horse, perhaps twenty of thirty, charging the edge of Captain Smith’s line.
Without thinking, Weaver kicked her heels back and urged Artemis toward the enemy line. She did not have to get right to them, she realised and swerved Artemis to the west. All she had to do was get between Smith’s line and the Cavaliers.
The line was wide. They did not hold formation as well as her own company but then they did not need to. They were so many. The hooves drummed and she heard their cries of victory as they swooped down to smash through their battered enemy.
