She tried to form a picture of the retreat — there was a scatter of Collegiates all over, on the ground and some in the air, making for the airships with all the speed they could muster, and some pausing to help those who really had been cut up. The numbers looked surprisingly hopeful. Did we actually get away with it?
‘Here with the wounded!’ Sartaea te Mosca called again, and then Gerethwy was hustling Straessa towards the curving hull of the self-same Windlass that she had arrived on — apparently someone had decided its hold would make a good infirmary.
She refused to end up in the hoist they had rigged up, instead climbing with fierce determination up the rope ladder, which made her head swim. Never stand near explosives again. Good rule to live by.
‘Is this all of you?’ Jons Allanbridge demanded, and she caught a brief glimpse of surprise on his solid, serious features. ‘Where’s the rest?’
The Mantids, she realized. The Felyen, they’re not coming back. They never were. A brief image, from the muster, of all those lean, grim men and women — the old, the young, children and babes in arms, all of them. All of them. The Felyal ends here. What have we done?
She staggered over to the rail, where one of Allanbridge’s people was hastily reloading the breach of his smallshotter. There were still a few trying to flee the camp, but she could see Wasps approaching, now, and she had the feeling that anyone who had left it this long had left it too late.
Stormreaders streaked over the Second’s camp, lashing down trails of piercer bolts and releasing the occasional bomb
‘Going up!’ Allanbridge shouted.
‘Wait!’ Three running figures below were just closing with the rope ladder.
The airship began to rise, but Gerethwy kept paying out the ladder to keep it within reach of them until all three had hold of it and were climbing.
She stretched out a hand and hauled up the first to reach the rail. Smoke-blackened beneath the ruined visor of a battered helm, it took her a moment to recognize Kymene. The two behind her were a pair of her Mynan saboteurs.
The two women just stared at one another, then the Mynan leader clasped Straessa’s shoulder in wordless solidarity.
‘The sky!’ someone was shouting. ‘The sky!’
The Antspider looked up, but saw nothing but the underside of the Windlass’s balloon. Then understanding came to her: the Sky.
The Sky Without was too late in departing, or perhaps it was just such a grand target that the Wasps had sought it out first. The immense airship still hung low to the ground, and Straessa could see Wasp airborne swarming over it, fighting on its decks, mad for revenge.
‘Hammer and tongs,’ whispered Allanbridge, next to her.
A moment later they saw a flash, something exploding below decks, towards the stern. Abruptly there was smoke pouring from the Sky’s hatches, and then Straessa could see fire glaring from the rearmost windows, working its way forward a cabin at a time. Soon there would be cinders alighting on the envelope, shrivelling the silk.
She sagged to the deck. Let it all be worth it. What are we, if none of this was worth it?
‘How bad?’ Tynan asked.
Mycella’s face remained calm, even as one of her healers attended to the arrow in her shoulder. They both knew that the wound was not what the general was referring to.
‘Almost half of my people, mercenaries and my own troops equally,’ she said softly. Tynan had heard how the fight had gone — how the Spider-kinden had simply not stopped throwing themselves into the fray, into that whirl of blades that the Mantis-kinden had put up — and how the Mantids had been happy to welcome them, given an opportunity to spill the blood of their oldest enemy. That sacrifice had saved countless Wasp lives and perhaps held the whole camp together.
‘The Empire will remember,’ he assured her.
‘Don’t make promises that you can’t keep,’ she replied wryly. ‘It’s enough that you yourself remember.’
Tynan turned to the Fly engineer. ‘Major Oski.’ All around them he could hear the sound of the Second Army counting over the cost, removing bodies and tending wounds, putting out fires. This was the crucial report, though.
Oski would not meet his gaze, which was a bad sign right now. ‘General, supplies are mostly intact. Splitting them up as much as possible, well, there was nothing there that made a decent target for them. Artillery. . sir, they took out most of our larger engines, and blew a couple of the firepowder stores, too. We have two greatshotters still in working order, one other that could be repaired if I’ve got two days. Of the rest, we lost seventeen of the ballistae we’ve been using against the enemy fliers, and Captain Bergild reports two Farsphex down as well.’
‘In summary?’ Tynan kept his voice level.
‘We’re going to take far more of a pounding from their air — our ability to keep them at bay has taken a serious beating. And, General — when we get there, we don’t have the engines to take down their walls. We’d have to assault with just the Light Airborne, and they’d have their orthopters harrying us all the time. . Sir, when you pulled back from Collegium the last time, well. . it’s not much different to that. I don’t see how we can take the city.’
Tynan felt a sick clenching within him. Not again! But they had been marching towards this moment ever since the order came. Where is that air support I was promised? His eyes met Mycella’s, and he saw her reading these conclusions from his face. She might not know the artifice involved, but she knew him.
‘The attack will proceed.’
Tynan started, suddenly aware of Vrakir standing beside him. There was a strange look to the Red Watch officer, a sheen of sweat on his brow.
‘Captain Vrakir. .’ Tynan started, but the man looked at him with such an expression that the general found himself unexpectedly silenced.
‘I speak with the Empress’s voice,’ Vrakir declared. ‘New weapons, new troops are coming. You will continue the march. Collegium will fall.’
In the resulting silence, Tynan merely stared at the man. It was as though a flash-fever had descended on Vrakir; as though. .
As though someone was speaking through him, something long-hidden rising to the surface at this time of need. He had the inexplicable feeling that, had he only asked an hour before, Vrakir would have known nothing about these new orders.
‘Sir.’ Colonel Cherten was now at his other side, one arm in a sling still spotted with blood. ‘You saw his papers. He carries the Empress’s authority.’
‘I will not waste the lives of my soldiers,’ Tynan said quietly.
Vrakir’s stare seemed to be fixed on something beyond him. ‘General, the Empress has full confidence in your loyalty and obedience.’
Something cold traced its way down Tynan’s spine — caused by the words and the weirdly distant voice combined. He was suddenly aware of Cherten being a Rekef man, almost certainly. . and how many others here? Who amongst his officers would oppose him, if he tried to steer them against this supposed word of the Empress.
And worse, he did believe it was the word of the Empress. He found within himself no doubt at all, and that scared him more than anything else.
‘Do not fear, General. You shall have your victory,’ Vrakir insisted. ‘Collegium shall fall to you.’
There were a lot of unhappy looks around then — not least Major Oski and Mycella herself — but Tynan had built himself a career based on loyalty first and foremost.
‘We march on,’ he confirmed. ‘Do what you can for the wounded, and get the army ready to move.’
Twenty
It had taken Che a day to exhaust the patience of the Sarnesh. While she had been heading forwards, they had been happy to follow her. When she had led them to the Empress herself they had been exultant. It had not mattered that Seda had then vanished into the forest, that the woman and her fellows had somehow left no tracks, or that the Nethyen might happen on them at any time. Che had led them so far, and Che would lead them to the Empress again. A decisive victo
ry for Sarn was imminent, and that was all that mattered.
A full day later, however, and it had become clear to them that Che was leading them nowhere. Not that they stayed still, but the Beetle girl’s path wound round and circled, doubling back and trailing off, so that by evening it was apparent that they had crossed and recrossed only a small patch of forest, and ended up where they had started.
They were going to report back, they explained the next morning, but it was obvious that their confidence in her had evaporated. For a moment the old Inapt mysteries had carried them along, but no further. They were rationalists and it was plain that Che was mad.
The others, Che’s own retinue, had stayed with her, but she could feel that their confidence was slipping, too, watching her through the hours of morning and then on past noon, and the day creeping away — and still no progress and no explanation.
Tynisa particularly. . Che was worried about Tynisa. ‘That was my father,’ she had said, and Che had stared at her and tried to convince her that she was wrong, but the girl had become more and more insistent. Her father had been there with the Empress, guarding her. How can that be, Che? And Che’s denials had fallen on deaf ears.
Then Maure herself had come and stepped between them and said, Che, she’s right. Simple words, but Che already knew inside that they were true. For, of course, the Empress had been present there when Tisamon died. Of course the Empress could call up Tisamon’s shade, especially since Tynisa had rejected it and cast it out.
One more thing to put right when we find Seda, Che had vowed. But they could not find Seda. The Empress had taken a path that they could not follow.
‘I don’t understand it,’ Che confided to Maure. ‘I can feel her still. She’s there. She’s not even far away. It’s just. . every direction I choose takes me further away from her.’
‘She has gone inwards,’ Maure confirmed. ‘I think. . she has paid some price or enacted some ritual that has let her through. I can feel the ghosts of this place all around, angry and confused. If we had come here alone, then we might have just walked in — assuming the Mantids didn’t kill us. Now, though, the division of the locals has tangled the way. The Empress has been able to buy or force her way through, but we cannot follow.’
‘Why not?’ Che demanded. ‘Doesn’t this place. .’ know who I am? But that would be a foolish line to take. ‘Then find me the price, and it will be paid.’
Maure just stared at her, and after a moment Che reconsidered what she had said, and sighed. ‘I mean, we will have to find a way in. We have to stop her, Maure. Last night I dreamt that. . this Argastos was calling to me. I could sense that Seda was nearing him.’
‘Che, this is a Mantis place.’
‘I know that, and I. . you mean the price?’
Maure nodded.
‘But blood? Hasn’t there been enough?’
‘Blood to the Mantis-kinden is like machines to the Apt,’ the halfbreed observed philosophically. ‘They see so many distinctions and divisions, where to us it is all just. .’
‘But I thought blood rituals were. . for the Mosquito-kinden?’
Maure closed her eyes for a moment, as though pained. ‘Blood is a symbol, Che — a symbol of power, violence, identity. Mosquito-kinden might have made it an art form, but blood was always the Mantis way. Be thankful it was the Moths that got to them first.’
Che blinked. ‘You’re talking about a sacrifice. I don’t think I can do that.’
Maure just shrugged. ‘It’s no magic that I was ever tutored in. It’s not the Woodlouse way, nor that of the Moths, for they have other ways of exerting power. But I have been trying to find the path in, and it is as barred to me as it is to you. If Terastos was a greater magician, perhaps he would have some way of circumventing it, but he admits that he’s out of his depth.’
‘There must be some other way.’
The necromancer shrugged again.
‘Che,’ came Tynisa’s soft call. ‘We’re not alone.’
The Beetle girl’s eyes opened wide, and she reached out, seeking. .
Fool, to become too focused on this. ‘Nethyen,’ she managed to warn them. ‘Everyone, ready to move.’
‘Where?’ Thalric hissed.
‘Away.’ But he was right. Even as they were moving off, Tynisa leading the way with drawn blade, every step took them further from their destination — that destination that could only be reached by travelling in some direction off the compass, off all maps.
And without that destination, that star to steer by, where could they go? They were deep in the forest of the Mantis-kinden, and they could not run forever.
Nonetheless, run they did. In Che’s mind appeared the Nethyen, a score of them spread out between the trees and closing fast — some of them already running alongside the stragglers, racing to get ahead of the fugitive band. She heard Thalric’s sting crackle and spit, but knew that he had hit nothing, merely making himself a target. Ahead, Tynisa stopped and turned, waiting only for a second to ensure that Che and the others were still behind her before springing into motion again.
Helma Bartrer was falling behind. The Collegiate woman was not used to such a chase — and since when was I? — and was making too much heavy going amidst the undergrowth, virtually bouncing off the trees. Che felt Terastos’s exasperation as he dropped back himself, to drag her onwards.
Thalric was ahead of her now, looking over to their left, and Che knew he could see the shadows of Mantis-kinden there. Maure was beyond him, almost catching up with Tynisa — a surprising turn of speed from her, but then she had been many years taking care of her own skin, and perhaps the Mantids would even spare her out of respect for her skills.
Amnon was just behind her, slowing himself to keep pace, ready to protect her from. . Che did not think he would have the chance to protect her from anything.
And I am not thinking! Was I not crowned by the Masters of Khanaphir? Do I have no authority? I should not have to run like a roach.
‘There’s something ahead!’ Thalric called out. ‘I see walls!’
She risked a glance, expecting the half-seen rounded structures of a Mantis hold, but instead caught a glimpse of a timbered frame ahead, curved, but no Mantis work. Nor any sort of building she knew except. .
Is that a boat?
Focus. And she tried to project her mind out, to thrust her authority and importance into the faces of the pursuing Mantis-kinden. The running made it harder, constantly stumbling and staggering, and then an arrow skipped past her, making her heart leap and throwing her off stride again.
Focus! There was a feeling within her, encapsulating all that had changed since she had lost her Aptitude, all that she had instead been gifted with beneath Khanaphes, and she threw it outwards, a wordless demand for recognition from the Mantids, from the forest, from the Empress herself had the woman not been so maddeningly elsewhere.
She had it. She felt their minds, felt them shudder as she reached for them. You will know me!
It was Amnon who broke it, ramming out a straightened arm and knocking her from her feet with a scream, all her efforts in vain.
What is he. .? Why did he. .? Betrayer! Her fury was something beyond her, a magician’s self-obsessed rage at being thwarted, and she twisted on the ground to reach for him, intending to do she knew not what, hands out and fingers crooked like a stage actor hamming a witch.
She saw the stroke that came for him, that might have been coming for her. It unfolded from the trees, but he was closing with it, blade out, and had got closer than the attacker had intended. Instead of meeting the razor-spined inner edges of those terrible weapons, Amnon was simply struck by the hard backs as the twin arms lashed out. He was thrown clear over Che, sword spinning from his hand, and she heard him land behind her.
The mantis loomed over her, arms folding back with an air of disappointment. It was a drab green mottled with black, save where its underbelly was paler, and its eyes were the colour of old gold.
&n
bsp; She heard Thalric’s yell, but she could spare him no attention. Those vast orbs were now her whole world.
The mantis twitched back, and the bright flash of the Wasp’s sting glittered across its carapace, to no visible effect. It went for Thalric with one arm, an elegant feint of a blow that sent him reeling away from its unexpected reach. Che could feel the creature as a knot in the weave of the forest, just as she could feel the Mantis-kinden themselves. And one in particular. She realized that the beast before her had a. . not a master but a companion, another mind, another pair of eyes, adding up to one formidable opponent, Mantis and mantis united.
It struck and, though she was watching, it moved faster than she could follow. The arms scything down and raking her up into their jagged embrace.
Thalric turned to see Amnon struggling to his feet, and Che — gone, no sign of her, just movement in the trees.
He turned, boots digging into the dirt, and let his wings carry him back the way he had come. ‘Amnon!’
The big Khanaphir threw himself forwards, but a Mantis-kinden woman leapt on him even as he did so, bladed gauntlet upraised. The two of them went down, and then Amnon had backhanded the woman off him. She turned, quick as a coiling centipede, driving for him again, but Thalric’s sting took her in the throat, snapping her backwards almost head over heels.
An arrow spun from between the trees and struck the Wasp full in the chest, and he himself went over, feet skidding out from under him. The force was like a strong man’s punch and his chitin breastplate cracked slightly under the force, but his mail kept his hide intact.
‘Where is she?’ he yelled at Amnon.
The big Beetle was looking about him wildly. ‘They took her! She’s. .’ He made an abortive little run into the trees, then backed off. ‘I don’t see tracks. No tracks at all.’
Like the Empress? Or perhaps they just flew, or. .
‘What happened?’ Thalric shouted.
Tynisa passed him, darting in between the trees and then skidding to a stop. ‘They’re coming for us!’ she shouted at him.
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