Moontide 02 - The Scarlet Tides
Page 66
Then the other pilot-mages replied to her, and their shouts started ringing across the sky as they joined the pursuit.
His vision cleared and he returned fire, aiming not at the mage but at her upper mast, where he hoped her shields would be weaker. It worked: his mage-bolt burnt through the ropes lashing her sail to the mast, the triangular sheet of canvas tore away and fell over her and she started screeching furious imprecations as she tried to free herself. The bottom of the sail was still tied to the boom, which was making it even harder for her to struggle out from under the heavy folds. As she wrestled with the waxed material, she unbalanced the little craft and it slewed sideways before losing all momentum. It fell away behind him as he soared onwards.
Her companions were closing in though, so Ramon couldn’t risk staying to finish her off – not when a whole secret army – an army with magi! – was headed for Duke Echor’s oblivious right flank, where the Thirteenth were stationed.
He pulled the wind into his sails and fled, and as the two other Keshi windcraft dived after him, he sent his thoughts questing forward, filling them with as much intensity as he could manage.
He knew instantly that she would not hear him, for his mental voice had crashed into a gnostic veil cutting off all communications from the aerial scouts to the army. Such veils took a long time to prepare, and a whole heap of skill and experience.
They’ve got some rukking powerful magi – and they knew we were coming!
For a second a second horrible thought hit him: The Keshi captured Alaron and took the Scytale. But then the immediacy of his peril took over. Another blast of energy struck his shields: the other Keshi pilots were closing in on him. They must be pulling as much air into their sails as he was – maybe even more, for they were catching up with him. He gritted his teeth, decided he would have to risk ploughing into the earth and dived down into the fog, skimming the spears of a regiment of Keshi soldiers who bellowed in shock as he appeared above them.
They reacted immediately with a salvo of arrows that battered his shields, and then he was past them. The Keshi pilots were now almost level with him and he had to fight hard to keep his sense of direction as they played hide-and-seek in the roiling mists. Distances flew by as they exchanged ineffectual mage-bolts, and then, quite abruptly, he was out of the fog and into clear sky. Below him were the plains of Shaliyah, spreading for miles.
It had been – what? Two hours? Just two hours ago he had left on patrol, and in that time, the whole world had changed.
They have magi!
The plains had also changed: now they were full of fighting men.
Duke Echor had positioned his army so it was arrayed north to south, facing the city, which was currently disgorging rank after rank of Keshi, marching in good order, armoured and bristling, and fanning out in well-rehearsed precise formations as they streamed towards the Rondian lines. There were uncountable numbers of them massing at the northern flanks, preparing to attack.
Duke Echor’s army was arrayed to counter them, and as Ramon surveyed the deployment, it struck him that the duke could not possibly have been aware of the forces in the mist at the southern flank. He’d been out-thought and outmanoeuvred. This was not supposed to happen. And neither were enemy magi supposed to exist.
We’re in trouble …
Worst of all, from up here Ramon could see a great yellow-brown cloud on the far horizon, rolling in from the north like a massive boulder. A fierce wind was beginning to pick up too, and with a start he realised what he was looking at: a legendary Keshi dust storm. He’d heard that the natives believed afreet were responsible for sucking up the sands of the desert and hurling them across the plains, but whether magic-made or natural, this was not a good time for one to strike. He was beginning to think it was no coincidence.
He was just looking behind him, trying to spot his pursuers, when the first breath of the northerly hit him, buffeting his little craft. He turned her across the wind, trying to hold her steady, when he heard more Keshi cries, and the enemy skiffs shot out of the fog behind him—
To his surprise, rather than converging to take him down, the two Keshi windskiffs appeared to give up, for they wheeled and headed back towards the city at full speed. He exhaled in relief. It looked like the thought of facing a properly trained Rondian mage full-on was still intimidating …
Then he turned to face forward again and immediately realised why the enemy mage-pilots had fled. It was nothing to do with the innate superiority of the Western magi; the desert storm had to be moving impossibly fast, because in the few seconds he’d been looking away, it had blotted out half the sky. The wall of darkness was rolling inexorably towards the northern flank of Duke Echor’s army. Lightning flickered in its bowels.
It’s going to dump all over us. I’ve got to land before it hits …
He hauled on the sheets and dragged the tiller about, setting course towards the banners of the Thirteenth and travelling at a reckless speed. He suddenly realised that he was the last Rondian skiff still in the air. There was a sandy space before Duprey’s command group and he ploughed into it at breakneck speed. The moment he touched the ground, he was out of the skiff and running towards Duprey. The legion commander was shouting orders as his frontline maniples formed up. Ramon burst through the ring of men, shouting, ‘Legate! Legate Duprey! The enemy are in the mist in front of us, and they have magi!’
Everyone turned towards him. Impossible was the word in every mouth, but he did not give anyone a change to voice it.
‘It’s true, sir, I swear!’ he shouted. His eyes went to Severine as he cried, ‘We have to warn the duke!’
‘Wait, calm down!’ Duprey replied, raising a warning hand to stop Severine. ‘What are you saying? Are there renegade Ordo Costruo here?’ They’d all heard rumours of defectors.
‘There were enemy mage-pilots – Keshi! Three of them chased me! – and they have thousands of soldiers on the ground—’
‘Catch your breath, Sensini,’ the legate ordered. ‘You’re panicked.’
He said it as much to steady those around him, Ramon thought, but the words still stung. ‘Rukka mio! I am not panicked! They’re out there, huge numbers of them, and they have magi!’
He heard the whispers running like wildfire through the ranks as those in earshot passed the news back. Tyron Frand looked worried, but Renn Bondeau and the Andressans were dismissive. He didn’t care about them, but he could see Duprey closing up his mind.
‘I have orders to anchor the right and hold,’ the legate said firmly, ‘and that is what we will do.’
They were all standing on a rise below the cliffs where the wagons were placed, overlooking the dried-up riverbed, and as the legate spoke, Ramon realised the fogbank was drifting closer – almost as if it were alive. Or controlled.
‘Sir, I saw Keshi footmen, coming right at us. We’ve got to wheel right and set to defend,’ he tried again.
‘Sensini is spooking at shadows,’ Renn Bondeau snickered. ‘Ten to one it’s a herd of camels and a flock of birds.’
Ramon flushed. ‘Legate Duprey, please! They’ll be here in minutes.’
Duprey gazed at him steadily. ‘My orders are to hold here, and advance when the enemy break. I will follow those orders until they are countermanded! Return to your post.’ He glanced up at the ridgeline behind the legion. ‘Your place is with the baggage.’
The implicit insult burned, as did the looks on the faces of the other magi. He bunched his fists, turned to Severine.
Duprey turned away and addressed the gathered tribunes and magi.
‘We will deploy as ordered. This changes nothing, gentlemen, not unless Sensini’s report is verified. We will array for pursuit, not for defence. All of you, get to your positions now!’
Rufus Marle echoed the orders with a feral snarl, driving the men and magi away, his natural bloodlust clearly rising at the thought of a fight. Bondeau, Korion and the rest of the magi exuded their normal sense of invincibility. Even Kip was looking at him sceptically.
He turned back to Severine.
Her face was torn.
he said. In that instant he was being totally honest.
She flinched.
He bit his lip, but let her go.
After a moment he ran back to the skiff, leapt in and took it to the ridgeline above, where Storn and the Tenth Maniple waited. The ridge wasn’t terribly high, but it still afforded him views over the whole battlefield. Our front line should be up here, not down there – but Echor obviously thinks he’s untouchable. He thinks he doesn’t need tactics, just magi. The winds were still rising and the sand in the air was beginning to sting. Sol knew how much damage it would do when it hit the southern flank with its full force.
Storn hurried to his side and reported, ‘We’ve got the wagons unhitched—’
‘Then hitch them again,’ Ramon snapped at him. ‘Now. We need to be ready to move them.’
The tribune blinked. ‘What? But—’
‘I know you’ve only just unhitched them, but you need to listen to me, okay? So just do it.’
‘The men won’t like it, sir.’
‘The men will like it plenty when they realise what’s happening. The enemy is out there in that fog, Storn: they’re hiding there, waiting for us.’
Storn peered into the oncoming mist and sniffed, then looked puzzled. ‘It’s not moving with the wind, sir,’ he started.
‘Tell that to Duprey,’ Ramon grunted. He looked south, to the broken fortress at the near end of the line of hills, about a mile away. ‘Get that skiff loaded onto a wagon: there’ll be no more flying today. If we need to pull back, we make for that ruin to the south.’
Storn frowned. ‘Rondian legions don’t retreat, sir – we never have to.’
Ramon ignored that. ‘Have we got anyone scouting to the south? We don’t want to find a bunch of Keshi up our rukking arses.’
‘Col’s out there – and look: Korion’s been ordered to take his cavalry south, to screen our flank.’ He pointed away to the right.
Ramon peered along the tribune’s finger and saw a khurne rider far in the distance, at the head of a line of horsemen. Perhaps Duprey at least half-believed me … He fervently hoped so. ‘Then the Lesser Son had better keep his eyes peeled, because I saw Keshi out there.’ Ramon dropped his voice. ‘What about our special consignments, Storn?’
Storn looked about him warily before whispering, ‘All safely under wraps, sir. I have the promissory notes on my person. The gold and poppy are in the lead wagons. One of Echor’s staff was sniffing round while you were gone, but I fed him a line and he went away.’
Ramon bit his lip. That’s all we need … He looked at Storn and said firmly, ‘We’ll deal with one problem at a time, Tribune. Let’s get the wagons re-hitched and the lines set up. I want men above that dry riverbed, where the cutting climbs to this plateau – if the enemy break through Duprey’s men, that’s the only place we’ll have any chance of holding them.’
‘Rondian legions don’t break, sir. It doesn’t happen.’
Ramon strode along the ridge until he was overlooking the cutting, where a river had carved a path from the heights to the plain. The cliffs might not be that high, but they were surprisingly precipitous behind the Thirteenth. He stared out over the battlefield, straining his eyes to get some idea of what was happening. It was hard to tell, but it looked like something might be happening away in the north. He could definitely see lightning – and was that the invisible concussion of gnosis being unleashed?
Even as he watched, a great mass of Keshi flowed forwards like a dark shadow over the sand and struck the Rondian north flank. They recoiled in a cloud of billowing dust, and a cheer went up all along the lines, including among the watching men of his own maniple. For a few moments he felt his breathing ease. Perhaps he’d underestimated the might of their own forces.
But still the fog crawled closer to their position.
We’re right where the Keshi expected us to be, Ramon thought nervously. And they’ve got magi – how many? How skilled? Enough to make a storm and prime the weather to suit themselves? We’ve just got here, most of the men haven’t even rested from the march. The Keshi must be fresh, well fed and watered, and well rested … we have eighty thousand men and two hundred and forty magi – how many do they have?
At that, another highly unwelcome thought intruded: Would Emperor Constant lament if we’re all wiped out? Duke Echor’s army was almost entirely made up of vassal states – and looking at it from Pallas’ perspective, if the potential threat to the Crown that Echor posed was dealt with, the loss of the few Rondian legions would surely be acceptable.
For a moment he even wondered if the emperor had actively set this up. But to do that he’d have had to practically invite Salim to his planning sessions … and that’s impossible, surely?
‘Holy Kore!’ Tribune Storn exclaimed as the fogbank disgorged rank upon rank of Keshi infantry. He looked at Ramon with sudden fear, his earlier confidence wavering visibly. ‘You were right, sir!’
Si, thanks very much for noticing …
As each Keshi unit emerged from the mists they burst into song – prayers to Ahm, Ramon guessed – while above the noise of thousands of voices chanting to their god came the whip-crack voices of their officers. Trumpets brayed, and the Keshi forces surged forward.
Ramon watched the great wave of screaming men hurtling towards Duprey’s lines, and then raised his head and scanned he entire battlefield. That sight was repeated all along the southern flank of the Rondian battle-line, and still the enemy continued to pour out from the mists.
To his credit, Duprey reacted instantly. Within seconds, with Severine using her gnosis to relay his orders, Duprey’s officers were wheeling their units into defensive formations, packing shields. But the Rondian legions had been issued only with light javelins instead of the heavy pikes they would normally deploy for defending. Though the lines reset swiftly, precious moments had been wasted, during which no archers fired to disrupt the enemy. And quickly though the men responded, the lines had not managed to fully interlock before the first waves of Keshi soldiers struck them.
The sultan’s white-robed infantry stormed forward, bearing their distinctive circular shields. Some attacked the Rondian front line while others ran towards the gaps in the ranks, seeking to get through and circle behind. It looked like there were too many for the Rondians to contain – the din of their battle-cries made it sound like the world was filled with them – and then their arrows began to punch home, stinging clouds of them launched from behind the front ranks, raining down like sleet.
But terrifying as the massed Keshi attack was, the battle-magi of the Thirteenth knew their job. From his vantage point, Ramon could see Secundus Rufus Marle and Renn Bondeau, the magi with the lead maniples, below him as they cast shields overhead, domes of pale light that warped the air and slapped aside the storm of arrow shafts. Barely a single arrow penetrated.
The rankers responded with javelins, with a blast of telekinesis lending extra force to the thrown spears, and the front rank of Keshi tumbled to the ground, spitted.
&
nbsp; But still the enemy kept pouring onwards.
As the oncoming Keshi came within range of Marle and Bondeau, the magi lifted their hands, working in concert, and fiery orange liquid washed over the advancing infantry. Ramon could feel the rush of heat from where he stood, two hundred yards away and thirty yards higher, then truly awful bloodcurdling screams rose over the war cries. He flinched, and his nails gouged his palms. Fire was a hideous weapon, and he felt like he was hearing every individual, agonised shriek.
Marle and Bondeau did not rest. They followed their flames with Earth-gnosis, making the ground itself ripple until the Keshi were tripping over each other and sprawling amongst those already slain by spears and liquid flame. Then lightning crackled and the onslaught wavered as groups of armoured men were blasted apart by searing mage-bolts. The Keshi died in their hundreds in the successive waves of fire and lightning.
So far, so much as you’d expect, Ramon thought: Rondelmar victorious. But when he tore his eyes from the conflict below, he found the distant scenes were far more worrying. The sand-storm was enveloping the northern flank – and he could have sworn there were distant dark shapes moving in the yellow-brown clouds of sand and earth.
It takes weeks to create precisely the weather you want, so they would have had to know exactly where we were going to be, to the very day – and weeks in advance. How can they possibly have known—?
Then out of the east, flying serenely above the Keshi army, came a fleet of windships, each with that distinctive triangular sail. And now those sails bore the crescent and scimitar of Salim. They were aloft despite the oncoming storm … His jaw dropped. These Keshi are truly insane …
Ramon physically felt the doubt and fear that struck all down the Rondian line as the rankers suddenly realised that for the first time in their lives, they were facing an enemy with gnosis. The Rondian windships rose as if in answer, sails hastily unfurling to meet this new threat, but as if the appearance of their own gnosis-wielders had given them heart, the Keshi soldiers roared their approval and surged forwards with renewed vigour. Mage-bolts flew, but now they were coming from both sides, all the way along the line – and there were more flying from the east than from the west.