‘There must be another entrance to the city round here,’ Tiel said, his tongue flickering. ‘A roof access, maybe…’
‘Stand fast,’ Killop cried, and ran to the shieldwall.
The regulars slowed as they approached the clan’s Rahain soldiers, unsure of whom they were facing.
Killop peered through a crossbow slot. Ahead, the regulars halted in a line, and formed up their shields, out of range.
An officer stepped clear, and walked forward, two soldiers protecting him with their shields.
‘Who are you?’ he called out. ‘What unit do you belong to?’
Killop’s force stood steady and silent.
‘Who’s your commander?’ the officer shouted.
‘They out-number us chief,’ Tiel whispered, ‘three to one.’
Killop pushed his way through the tight ranks of his soldiers, and emerged onto the empty snow between the two forces. He walked forward until he was just outside the enemy’s range.
‘I’m the Chief of the Severed City,’ he cried out in Rahain. ‘The soldiers behind me used to be slaves, but now they’re free, and have chosen to fight for that freedom.’
‘Where is the mage?’ the officer said.
‘Attack and you’ll find out.’
The officer’s tongue flickered, and he glanced over at the plain, where the Holdings army was sweeping forwards.
‘The battle’s over,’ Killop said, throwing his voice loud enough for the ranks of Rahain regulars to hear. ‘The Holdings will tear down your war-mongering government and free all the slaves. It’s over.’
‘You fucking savage,’ the officer said. ‘Curse you, and the Sanang, and the Holdings.’
He spat on the ground, and returned to his own ranks.
Killop went back through his shieldwall.
‘Get ready,’ he said to Tiel. ‘Shorten the lines.’
His commander let out a series of blasts on his whistle, and the clan’s Rahain tightened the square, thickening their ranks. Ahead, the regulars started rolling towards them, their flanks overlapping the clan’s position.
Killop knelt by Lilyann’s side. He picked up her limp hand, urging her to wake, but she remained still. He stood, and drew his sword.
The enemy charged at the clan’s square, the two shieldwalls clashing in a loud clacking and slamming of wood. Bolts were being shot through any gap, and Killop saw soldiers hit in the face through their own crossbow slots.
He swung his shield from over his shoulder, and entered the chaos at the front lines. He reached out with his sword, and splintered shields with great hacking blows, his height and strength powering through the Rahain before him. The regulars pulled back, trying to lure him forward, but he kept close to his own shieldwall. Bolts flew towards him, and he ducked down as several bit deep into his shield. His own soldiers rallied round him, and charged, covering him with their shields, and pushing into the regulars. Both shieldwalls mingled and tore against each other, and Rahain fought Rahain in a ferocious tumult of violence. Shields were discarded, and swords drawn, and the snow ran red.
Killop waded through the bloody snow, his longsword lashing out. His mind shrank, and his sole thought was killing. His movements flowed with the ease of long experience as he piled through the ranks of regulars.
A cry of rage and blood came from his lips as his conscious mind retreated and his instincts took full control. Down, and down again his right arm swung, cutting through shields and flesh. He charged at two regulars ahead of him, cleaving one through from shoulder to waist. The other turned, and slipped over the side of the cliff in panic. Killop toppled after him, his range over-extended. A strong hand gripped his belt, and pulled him back onto the snow.
He landed on someone, and rolled off.
‘Larissa,’ he gasped, his senses returning. He looked up. Kellach warriors from eagle company were finishing off the last of the regular Rahain on the hillside.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, standing and brushing the snow from her chain mail. ‘Pyre’s arse, check the state of you.’
‘Lilyann!’ Killop cried, leaping to his feet.
‘The wee mage is fine,’ Larissa said. ‘Calm down. We saw the Rahain attack you from the terrace, and found a way up.’
‘The terrace is taken?’
‘All ours.’
‘Any machines left?’
‘Plenty.’
‘Have them fire on the Rahain.’
‘Already on it.’
He looked over the edge of the cliff, and saw Kellach squads in control of the remaining ballista, aiming them down at a steep angle over the ridge.
‘The Rahain army’s being destroyed,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t they fleeing back into the city?’
‘The gatehouse is blockaded,’ Larissa said. ‘Don’t know who’s holding it, but the Rahain can’t get in that way.’
They walked back to Lilyann’s shelter, a long splash of blood on the snow two yards from where she lay.
‘They got close,’ Larissa said.
‘I swore I wouldn’t leave her side.’
‘You had the battle frenzy on you,’ she said. ‘I saw.’
Killop went to the mage’s side, and shook her gently.
Lilyann stirred, and her eyes opened.
She lifted her head. ‘Anything left in that flask, Chief?’
Of the hundred Rahain that had formed a wall around Lilyann, thirty remained in fighting condition. Forty-two had died, and the rest had taken injuries. The Kellach stood around, stunned at the losses. Many broke down, and embraced the surviving Rahain, wailing lamentations with tears in their eyes. The Rahain soldiers looked almost embarrassed by their release of emotion.
A handful of Kellach had died in the assault on the terrace, and their bodies were brought up the ridge, and laid out next to their Rahain brethren. Larissa and Kalden spoke, then Tiel, as a bitter wind drove across the hillside. Lilyann stood by Killop’s side. She had been crying, overcome by the knowledge that so many had died or been injured protecting her.
The Kellach made up stretchers for the wounded Rahain, and they prepared to climb down the ridge. Scouts were sent running back to fetch the wagons from where they had been halted by the side of the mountain path, and Kalden summoned the warriors up from the terrace. There was still fighting going on in front of the gates below, but there was no discernible mass of Rahain soldiers left to aim at. Killop leant over the ridge and took a good look at the gatehouse fifty feet beneath him. Rubble piled out of both archway entrances, and there were heaps of Rahain bodies lying in a wide arc around them, shot through with crossbow bolts.
‘We’ve found a path down to the plain,’ Larissa said.
He nodded, and stepped back from the edge.
‘Shall we go and meet our new friends?’ she said.
‘Aye.’ He looked up. The sun was in the south, a cold winter’s noon.
The way down to the plain was long and narrow. As they descended, Killop watched the end of the battle. Holdings cavalry were now in command of the area in front of the gates, and the rubble from the entrances had been cleared. Troopers on foot were being funnelled through the shattered archways into the city, while Kellach Brigdomin warriors were lining up, waiting their turn to enter. Tents had been erected on the open area behind the army, with thousands of horses in guarded paddocks close by.
The last stretch of the path was a long steep flight of steps cut into the rock, with a switchback half way down. When they arrived at the bottom, the clan formed up into ranks on the brown and red streaked snow, the Rahain survivors given pride of place at the front, flanked by Kellach. Soldiers from the other armies turned, staring at the new arrivals.
Killop raised his hand, and they began marching towards the high tents at the rear of the army. Some Holdings troopers cheered when they saw them approach, while others stared at the Rahain soldiers in the midst of Killop’s force. The clan rounded a turn in the cliffside, and Killop saw the huge mass of warriors he ha
d not recognised from the ridge. The Rahain officer had called them Sanang.
They were about as tall as Holdings or Rahain folk, but their arms and shoulders were much larger. And, he noticed, they were all men.
They turned to face Killop’s force with the same mixed reactions that the Holdings troopers had displayed. Some, seeing only the Kellach on the flanks, started jumping and whooping, while others glowered.
‘Guess they’ve never experienced friendly Rahain before,’ Larissa said.
‘They look horrible,’ Lilyann said. ‘Who are they?’
‘Sanang,’ Killop said. ‘From somewhere up north.’
‘Look what they’re doing,’ Lilyann said, pointing over by the cliff face. Killop turned his head. Hundreds of Rahain soldiers had been herded against the cliff by Sanang warriors. They were being hauled out of the crowd in groups, lined up on their knees, and beheaded. Dozens of heads lay across the muddy churned-up snow, rolling down the slope to rest in heaps in the slush.
Killop swallowed.
He could feel eyes gazing at him, Larissa, Lilyann, Kalden, Tiel.
A few thirds before, he had killed surrendering Rahain soldiers without a moment’s thought or regret. Slaughtered them while they slept.
Why did this feel different?
His mind darkened. Without a word, he changed direction, and broke away from the marching clan, striding directly into the mass of Sanang.
‘The battle’s over!’ he snarled, shoving startled Sanang warriors from his path, his strength throwing some to the ground. ‘Do you fucking hear me? The battle’s over.’
He reached the red slush where the executions were taking place, angry Sanang gathering around him.
A Sanang in plate armour turned to face him, the officer in charge.
He put his hand up to stop Killop, and shouted something in a strange tongue.
‘These soldiers are prisoners,’ Killop cried, pointing at the huddled Rahain by the cliff.
The Sanang officer looked blankly at him, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Someone pushed Killop from behind, and he turned and swung his fist into the face of a Sanang warrior with a loud crack. He turned back. The officer had his sword out, and was shouting something at him, the words incomprehensible, but the intent clear.
The rumble of noise around them increased to a roar, as more Sanang gathered. They left an empty ring around him and the officer, who was swaying from side to side, his sword high. The officer laughed, and jumped at him.
Killop, his sword sheathed and his shield hanging off his back, held his ground as the Sanang sped towards him. He sidestepped at the last second, and the powerful sword blow glanced off his chest plate, sending sparks flying. Killop grabbed the Sanang’s wrist in a tight grip and wrenched downwards. He brought his knee up at the same time and snapped the officer’s arm at the elbow, sending him screaming to the ground.
Killop stood over him, his fists clenched.
He realised that chaos had erupted behind him, as his clan were piling into the Sanang ranks, trying to get to him. On the other side, a troop of Holdings cavalry were hurrying towards where he stood, Sanang leaping out of their way.
Horses burst from the crowd, wheeling about to surround him, their lances out.
‘Cease this violence!’ a woman shouted in Rahain from atop the nearest horse. ‘Order your soldiers to stand down.’
Killop raised his arm. ‘Clan, halt!’ he bellowed.
Beyond the ring of cavalry, he glimpsed his warriors pulling back.
‘Who are you?’ the Holdings officer cried.
‘I’m Killop, Chief of the Severed Clan.’
The officer glanced at the ridge, where smoke was bleeding up into the sky from the ruined machines.
‘Stand aside.’
Killop stepped back from the writhing body of the maimed Sanang. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his left hand holding his ruined right arm.
‘You have assaulted a commander of the alliance,’ the officer on the horse said.
Killop shook his head and pointed at where the sword lay. ‘I objected to the massacre of unarmed prisoners. He attacked me. I defended myself.’
Another Sanang in armour marched forward through the ranks of cavalry. He gazed down at the body of the commander, then up at Killop, his face an expressionless mask.
He said something to the Holdings officer, using a different tongue, lilting rather than guttural, but still incomprehensible to Killop. The officer answered him, and the Sanang nodded, and replied.
‘This is Agang Garo,’ the Holdings officer said. ‘Lord of the Sanang. He is satisfied that justice has been done in this case.’
Agang pointed at another Sanang, an older man, who came forward. He frowned at the injured man on the ground, then bent over him, and placed his hands on the broken arm.
The injured officer screamed, then passed out for a second. When he came to he grimaced, but stretched out his arm, and moved his fingers. He smirked at Killop, picked up his sword, and stood.
The Holdings officer addressed Killop. ‘Move your force back from the alliance armies, and bring your commanders to the Field Marshal’s tent. I trust there will be no more disturbances, Chief Killop of the Severed Clan?’
He nodded.
The cavalry about-turned, and trotted back towards the main Holdings forces camping out before the gate. Agang stood aside, and the Sanang cleared a path for Killop. He held his head high as he walked between the glowering ranks of warriors, each eyeing him with hate. At the far end, Kalden and Larissa were waiting for him.
Larissa slapped him. ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ She glared at him, her eyes red, then turned and disappeared into the lines of Kellach.
Kalden shook his head. ‘Next time you do that Chief, tell me first, eh?’
‘Aye,’ he said, as they entered the safe ranks of the clan. ‘I lost it back there. Sorry. Anyone get hurt?’
‘Just cuts and bruises,’ Kalden said. ‘I earned a few myself holding Larissa back.’
‘I’ll speak to her.’
Kalden stopped. ‘If she hadn’t hit you Chief, I would have done it myself.’ He spat onto the ground. ‘Every warrior here would die for you. Don’t waste their loyalty by running off and trying to be a hero on your own.’
‘Something’s changed in me,’ Killop said. ‘I couldn’t walk past, seeing what was happening, it tore at me.’
‘From what Bridget says, Chief,’ Kalden said. ‘It doesn’t sound like you’ve changed. More like you’re going back to the way you were, before your Holdings woman died.’
Killop said nothing, gazing at the thick lines of Kellach warriors around him, sprinkled with the few Rahain soldiers left. Tiel caught his eye, and bowed his head, a smile on his lips.
‘Let’s get clear of these other armies,’ Killop said, ‘until we know where we fit in.’
Kalden nodded, and started shouting out commands. As the warriors formed up, Lilyann came over to him.
‘That was stupid,’ she grinned, ‘but I’ve never been more proud that you’re the chief.’
‘You feeling all right mage? That was almost a compliment.’
They picked up the pace, and the clan began marching away from the cliffside, across the battlefield. Holdings troopers were out in groups, roaming the churned-up land, checking for survivors. Wounded were being loaded onto carts, and swords and armour collected.
‘I saw their mage,’ Lilyann said. ‘It’s the only explanation of how that man’s arm was healed. He must be a mage.’
‘So they have healers,’ Killop said.
‘I hate them.’
‘They’re probably just like everyone else.’
‘I laughed when you broke his arm, but.’
He glanced at her. ‘Get yourself ready, mage,’ he said. ‘You’re coming with me to meet whoever’s in charge.’
She frowned. ‘How long have I got?’
An hour later, Holdings troopers in shining
armour escorted Killop, Larissa, Lilyann and Tiel through canvas anterooms towards a tented hall. They had scrubbed themselves with snow, removing the blood and muck from their clothes, and had pulled brushes through their tangled hair. Even so, Killop felt filthy and worn amid the glinting splendour of Holdings steel and finery.
They entered the hall. It was half-full, with groups standing, talking, and troopers spaced out against the walls. At the end of the hall was a platform, upon which had been set a long table, where eight sat. Two had the dark skin of the Holdings, two were Kellach, two were Sanang, and the final pair were shorter than the others, with large, wide eyes. Rakanese, he guessed.
A stout old Holdings woman in uniform got up from behind the table, and beckoned them closer. The people in the hall hushed as they approached the platform.
‘I’m Field Marshal Howie,’ the woman said, ‘high commander of the army of the realm, and one of the council of eight, who lead this alliance, blessed by the creator.’
Killop and the others halted before the platform.
‘I’m Killop, Chief of the Severed Clan.’
‘Greetings, Chief of the Severed Clan,’ Howie said. ‘After witnessing your feats upon the ridge this morning, I should be welcoming you with garlands, as the heroes who allowed us to break through the enemy lines. Instead I find I’m reading reports of your assault upon our Sanang allies. You have also brought Rahain soldiers into our camp, provoking unrest and unease among the alliance troops.’ She sat, sighing. ‘And finally, we have reason to believe that you are harbouring a known criminal.’
Killop shook his head. ‘My clan’s not under your command. We came to your aid because we believe you’re here to overthrow the Rahain government, and free the slaves. The Severed Clan is open to Rahain as well as Kellach Brigdomin, and our Rahain soldiers fought and died to defend the clan’s fire mage. The same fire mage that saved your army.’
The room fell into silence.
‘And where is your sister?’ Howie said. ‘I don’t see her here with you.’
‘You’re mistaken,’ Killop said. ‘I’ve no idea where Keira is, and haven’t seen her for a year.’ He gestured to Lilyann. ‘Here’s the clan’s fire mage.’
The Severed City Page 39