Blade Of Fire (Book 2)

by Stuart Hill

  Her words reminded Sharley of exactly why he was there, and drawing breath, he prepared to begin the long processes of explanation and attempted persuasion. But before he could say a word the Queen went on: “We are happy to receive so important an envoy from the valiant kingdom of the Icemark. News of their mighty struggle and defeat of the Empire reached even as far from that glorious land as here. What mighty warriors they must be to have stopped the steel snake Scipio Bellorum in his tracks!” Her peal of laughter boomed high into the roof of the audience chamber, from where it echoed back with a shower of dust.

  “But no matter how powerful a country’s army, it fights better when allies stand with it in the time of war. And that, of course, is why you are here, Prince Charlemagne, my adopted son. You would ask if I will send my impis to fight in the cause of the Icemark, against the dreadful power of the Empire!”

  Sharley was amazed. What had happened to the niceties of diplomacy, and the complex language of negotiation? All he could do was draw breath and squeak, “Yes, please.” Hardly the most persuasive of speeches, but, arguably, succinct and to the point.

  “Well, of course I will! And not only that, but I will lead them myself! How glorious will be Ketshaka III in her panoply! How mighty will be her sword arm that will fell the enemy as the scythe reaps the ripe corn! How prodigious will be her immense impis of cavalry that will wipe the Imperial army from the land, like the careless hand of a giant brushing dust from his tunic!”

  Sharley gasped. He’d done it! Or, rather, he hadn’t; the Queen had offered to fight in the war and he’d not had to say a word to persuade her! He was dumbfounded. “But why?” he managed to ask, before realising he sounded less than grateful.

  Ketshaka turned her bloodshot eyes on him and laughed again. “Because, my adopted son, the Lusu are a people of contradictions. We are fierce and warlike as well as artistic and scholarly, and for too long we have known peace. Our enemies have withdrawn and there has been no opportunity for ‘the washing of the spears’. But now you have arrived, like a messenger from the gods of conflict, to offer us the gift of battle!”

  “Erm . . . you do realise that first we’ll have to cross a desert, then voyage across the sea and probably fight the Corsairs and Zephyrs before we even set foot in the Icemark?” said Sharley, wondering why he was pointing out all the difficulties and problems rather than just accepting the alliance with glee.

  “The Lusu are a knowledgeable people, as I have said. We are well aware of the size of the Greatest Spirit’s creation,” Ketshaka answered. “We have not lived our lives with closed ears. We know that far to the north it can be as cold as the mountains. We now also know that the people are without colour and have eyes like gemstones. And we are eager to find what other wonders have been created by the Greatest Spirit beyond our own lands!”

  Sharley felt the blood rise to his face in a great glory of a blush. An overwhelming wave of gratitude to this giant of a woman swept over him, and he ran forward and hugged her. Ketshaka laughed thunderously and, stooping, she swept him off his feet and swung him round again as though he was a child.

  CHAPTER 28

  Thirrin looked out over the plain. The bomber galleons had retreated, and only the wasp-fighters remained, circling above the hills to the south, where she expected Bellorum and his land army to appear at any moment. She scanned the skies until she found the Vampire squadrons above Frostmarris itself, regrouping in preparation for the next stage of the battle.

  It won’t be long now, she thought. Bellorum had planned this day for more than twenty years. He was thirsty for revenge and desperate to destroy the land that had defied him for so long.

  A thin howling from the werewolf relay rose into the air, and the Ukpik Wolf-folk of her bodyguard responded deafeningly.

  Grinelda Blood-tooth, the Captain of the Guard, curtsied. “Your Majesty, Bellorum has arrived.”

  “Where?” she demanded, scanning the hills to the south.

  “There, I do believe,” said Tharaman-Thar quietly.

  They watched as a forest of pikes pierced the skyline and the Polypontian army flowed into view. The wind caught the sound of fife and drum, and the marching music echoed eerily over the plain.

  “Well, now. Isn’t that a sight to darken the heart of even the most inveterate optimist?” Tharaman went on.

  “We’ve fought against overwhelming odds before, my dear,” said Krisafitsa. “And we’re still here to talk about it.”

  “Indeed we are, my love,” her mate agreed. And, laughing, he added, “Obviously your heart is far from darkened, dearest Krisafitsa.”

  “No, I somehow feel the One has other plans for our demise, lord of my heart. And even if I’m wrong, the Winter Night of Perpetual Moonlight awaits, so what fear should we have for that?”

  “None at all, my brave Tharina. Come, let us defend the homes of our allies, and thank the One for these greatest of friends.”

  Thirrin listened to the Snow Leopards talking and felt a huge swell of pride that they were prepared to sacrifice everything for the Icemark. Suddenly, her tiredness dissipated and she drew her sword. Laughing, she strode forward. Now was the time to rally her people; now was the time to straighten the spine and strengthen the spirit. Drawing a deep breath, she prepared to give the war cry of the Icemark, and her voice rose above the defenders as high and fierce as a hunting hawk.

  “The enemy are among us! They burn our cities and kill our children! Blood! Blast! And Fire! Blood! Blast! And Fire!”

  For a moment a silence fell on the allied army, but then out crashed their reply.

  “Blood! Blast! And Fire! Blood! Blast! And Fire!” And all along the defences the boys and girls of the drum corps rattled out a stirring fighting rhythm that had the soldiers of all species swaying and stamping to the beat.

  The huge roar of sound rolled across the plain and struck the Imperial army, so that all who heard it shivered. All, that is, but the three men who rode their horses with arrogant hand on arrogant hip. They merely smiled, their eyes glinting with ice.

  “At last, gentlemen, the city of Frostmarris,” said Scipio Bellorum to his sons. “Now we’ll see our new tactics taking effect. Once we’ve defeated this nest of freaks, witches and barbarians, the entire Icemark will be ours.”

  Sulla nodded, gazing ahead at the curtain walls and the defensive ditches. “It looks strong,” he said. “Its death will be costly.”

  “Undoubtedly,” his father agreed. “The Sky Navy has already felt the bite of these abominations. But the Alliance is a cornered beast and its continuing resistance is mere stubbornness. Gentlemen, they are as good as dead already; all we have to do is convince them of it!

  Octavius laughed quietly. “How surprised they’ll be when they feel the full force of our ‘Lightning War’; I dare say they’re expecting only the merest feint at their lines until we’ve established our camp. How deliciously naïve.” He laughed again, and added, “I claim the right to Lindenshield’s skull. It’ll look most striking hanging on the wall with my other trophies.”

  “It’s yours, Octavius,” his father said with a cold smile. “And unless I’ve badly miscalculated, you’ll be able to collect it today.” He scanned the defences as they advanced. “As you so rightly say, they’ll be expecting us to stop and set up camp before we attack. But we’re going to ride them down now, without pause, without ceremony; we’re going to roll over them like an unstoppable ocean. And when the tide ebbs, we’ll pick our way through the debris and detritus until we find the ragged remains of Thirrin Lindenshield and her sorry little clan.” Then, drawing his sword, he led his sons to the side and watched as the massive Imperial army continued its advance without pause.

  These were to be the final death throes of the small and barbarous land that had resisted the Imperial will for far too long.

  The Polypontian army marched onwards towards Frostmarris, flowing relentlessly out over the plain. Pike, musket, sword-bearers, cavalry, drum and fife formed
a huge steel battering ram. Behind them thundered the baggage and artillery trains, ready to drive the army on as it smashed through the defenders’ lines. Above them, the wasp-fighters had reformed and swept forward, ready to rain down fire and death.

  For more than ten minutes the enemy advanced across the plain before Thirrin realised what was happening.

  “Tharaman! They’re attacking now!”

  “Well, yes, my dear,” he answered in puzzlement. “I can see.”

  “No, you don’t understand! They’re attacking now! The entire army. Bellorum’s throwing everything against us. He’s not even stopping to set up camp! Look – it’s like an avalanche. They’ll just smash through everything, even the walls of Frostmarris. We could fall now, this very day. We’ve got to stop them!”

  The huge Snow Leopard looked out at the advancing army and suddenly understood. He towered up into the air and roared hugely.

  “Cavalry to arms! Cavalry to arms and advance on the foe!”

  All along the defences, troopers rushed to the horse lines while their Snow Leopard comrades formed ranks and prepared to attack. Amongst the Hypolitan, the stern-faced young women of the elite regiment of mounted archers also ran for their horses, and within minutes the Icemark response was riding out on to the plain.

  Thirrin, Tharaman and Krisafitsa led the Cavalry of the Icesheets, their now familiar formation of alternating horses and Snow Leopards fanning out into battle lines, while the women of the Hypolitan thundered ahead, bows drawn and ready.

  Cressida looked along the line of her own personal squadron, and with a nod to the ensign, the colours were unfurled. The proud striking eagle flew above them as they rode out, and she stared ahead at the hated enemy who were even now rolling down to meet them. She drew her sabre just as her mother drew hers, and stood in her stirrups. The pace was raised to a canter and the Snow Leopards let out the coughing bark of their challenge.

  But then, from nowhere, wasp-fighters swept down from the skies and the roar of musket shots crashed into the air. Several horses and leopards fell, and the fighters soared away to begin a second strafing run, reloading their muskets as they went.

  But this time the mounted archers were ready for them. They turned and charged, and as the aerial assault began the Hypolitan bows sang as one voice. Three hundred arrows ripped into the flying fighters, bringing down at least a hundred of them in a tangle of canvas and wood. Then, as the others swept overhead, the Hypolitan shot a second flight and brought down hundreds more, while the rest flew to the safety of the sky above the advancing Polypontian army.

  A great cheer rang out from the Cavalry of the Icesheets, but there was no time for celebration. Once more Thirrin stood in her stirrups, and her voice rose powerfully over the sound of their beating hooves. The pace quickened to a full gallop and they crashed as an avalanche of steel, tooth and claw into the Polypontian army.

  Cressida settled firmly into her war-saddle, her nose-guard scraping rhythmically against the rim of her shield, and led her cavalry squadron towards the front ranks. Her horse held its position in the galloping line as the enemy loomed, growing larger by the second, until they seemed to fill her entire field of vision. Then, with a huge raging roar and clamour, they struck! Steel, pike, sword and musket-shot rang out all about her as she hacked at the enemy soldiers. But as they drove deeper and deeper into the Imperial army, their progress became slower and slower. Soon Cressida was at a standstill, her horse courageously striking out with his hooves, while the Snow Leopards leaped at the enemy, beating at them with their huge claws.

  Over the hideous cacophony the high brassy note of a cavalry bugle blared out the call to regroup. Cressida turned about, fighting her way clear. Calling out her name, she galloped out of the melee, back to where her squadron could reform.

  As soon as they were all back in formation, her mother gave the call for the cavalry to attack again. Once more they slammed into the Polypontian ranks, the shock of onset reverberating over the field. But still the enemy advanced, heedless of its terrible losses.

  “It’s no good, Tharaman, we can’t stop them,” Thirrin screamed over the rage and roar of battle. “We’re lost. We can’t stop them.”

  The Thar sent out a mighty roar. “We’re not lost yet! Charge again! Charge again!”

  Up on the city defences Grishmak watched the struggle with a growing rage. “We can’t just stand here. The defences won’t hold them anyway unless we slow them down!” And he let out a high, blood-curdling howl that was answered by all of the Wolf-folk. “Forward, my people! Stop them, stop them! Rip out their throats and drink their juices!”

  Like the gates of a mighty dam opening, the entire allied army swarmed forward: Hypolitan and Icemark, Snow Leopard and werewolf. With a thunderous roar they smashed into the Imperial ranks. The enemy host shuddered with the force of the impact. Its pace slowed and for a moment its advance seemed to stall, but then the pressing ranks of the thousands upon thousands of soldiers slowly drove it forward, once again, towards the city of Frostmarris.

  High above the plain the Vampires and Snowy Owls circled leisurely on a thermal, watching the battle with indolent interest. They had fought and defeated the Sky Navy and were now taking a well-earned rest. The huge roar of onset drifted up on the warm air as the allied army smashed into the Imperial advance, and they observed the Polypontians’ momentary stall and their renewed push forward as though it was of no concern to them.

  But then the largest of the bats peeled away and wheeled down towards the battle, sweeping low over the Polypontian host before climbing again. His Vampiric Majesty had confirmed all he needed to know to put his plan into action. The time was almost perfectly ripe; the Imperial army was fully committed and couldn’t have withdrawn even if it had wanted to. The Vampires turned and headed off towards the city.

  Down on the front line, Thirrin watched as the Vampire squadrons swept away towards Frostmarris, and almost despaired. But, setting her teeth, she fought on in desperation as her army was forced back towards the city .

  She didn’t see the squadrons then rise up from the walls again, each Vampire bat carrying a flaming torch in its clawed feet. As they swept over the struggling front line of the battle, the Snowy Owls dived into the fight. But instead of joining them, Their Vampiric Majesties flew on, over the ordered ranks of the Imperial soldiers who had yet to strike a single blow in the epic fight, on and on, until at last they came to the baggage and artillery trains to the rear – the driving momentum of the Polypontian army – and down on them they swooped, screeching as they dived.

  As they reached the ground they stepped into their humanlike forms and, snarling and raging with hatred, they overwhelmed the unprepared soldiers of the gun-teams, smashed their guns and broke open the limbers that carried the armies’ gunpowder.

  “Oh, I say, I do believe we’ve found the chink in your armour, General Bellorum,” the Vampire King observed, a small smile playing around his lips.

  And with a screech the Vampires leaped into flight once again and dropped the blazing torches into the gunpowder below.

  * * *

  Fighting deep within the ranks of the Imperial army, Eodred and Howler had been filled with hope at the sight of the Vampires flying overhead, but as they’d swept on past, the Warriors of the Red Eye were forced to fight on alone.

  “Something’s happening, Eddie,” Howler shouted to him.

  The Icemark Prince laughed. “Something’s happening? What, you mean like a war?”

  “No, no, not that. Something else – something bad, if we get caught by it!”

  “Can it be worse than this?” Eodred yelled, splitting the skull of his opponent as he tried to spit him with his sword.

  “Yes!” Howler answered. Then, screaming with urgency, he shouted the order, “Testudo! Warriors of the Red Eye! Testudo!” Immediately, the soldiers drew into a tight crouching knot, their shields locked rigid in a surrounding wall with a tightly interlocked roof.

 
“What is it?” Eodred demanded, as he added his own shield to the protecting roof and crouched low. “What’s wrong?”

  “This!” said Howler simply.

  A massive roar and an ear-splitting crack crashed across the air as the entire complement of explosives for three Imperial armies blew sky-high. The shock wave sent cannon, wagons, horses, mules and human bodies flying through the air like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Flames bloomed in deadly beauty to engulf almost a third of the Polypontian soldiers, and beyond even that the debris of what had once been the baggage and artillery trains scythed in a deadly wave of shrapnel through the Imperial ranks.

  The mighty beast that had been the Polypontian army writhed in agony, and at last shuddered to a halt. A shocked silence descended on the battlefield. Thousands of the Imperial soldiers were unharmed by the explosion, but they were stunned by the devastation behind them. Regiment after regiment had been destroyed, and thousands more lay screaming in shattered and bloody heaps that were barely recognisable as human beings.

  Krisafitsa-Tharina rose up on her hind legs and roared mightily. “They are broken! They are broken! Drive them from the land!” And with a bellow of rage and triumph, the allied army pushed forward, smashing into the bewildered ranks of Polypontian soldiers.

  Deep amongst the debris of the shattered army a tight knot of shields opened like the delicate petals of a rare orchid. The Warriors of the Red Eye had survived. Their shields were charred and pitted with shrapnel, but thanks to their testudo, or tortoise formation, they stood unharmed.

  “The enemy is broken!” Eodred called, echoing Krisafitsa. “Strike now! Strike now and drive them from the land!” And with a roar the mixed regiment charged the stunned survivors.

  The discipline and strength of the Polypontian army finally gave way. With a despairing howl, they turned and fled from the terrible power of Queen Thirrin and her army of monsters.