Prince of the Icemark

by Stuart Hill

  The great din of battle rose up into the air, echoing back from the surrounding range of mountains and washing over the position of the Vampire King and Queen in the north of the valley. The monstrous monarchs watched the battle through their monoculars and tutted with impatience.

  “Well, really. How reckless! How unthinking! Did Romanoff expect to break this mortal King with one charge?” His Vampiric Majesty snapped irritably. “I think we’ve experienced enough of Redrought’s abilities to realise that wasn’t going to happen. And what exactly did our general hope to achieve without infantry support?”

  The Queen surveyed the ranks of Ukpik werewolves, Rock Trolls and zombies that surrounded them and nodded. “Quite. The numbers of the Ukpiks may not be as great as they could have been, and the trolls may be a mere shadow of their former strength, but they still heavily outnumber the human army and each and every one is worth four mortal soldiers in terms of fighting prowess.”

  The King continued to glare through his monocular. “Romanoff’s squandering every ounce of advantage we gained when we lured Redrought into our trap. If she continues like this our squadrons will be decimated!”

  “Then we must seize the initiative,” said Her Vampiric Majesty with urgency. “Sound the advance now and march in support of our people.”

  The King lowered his monocular. “Do we dare? The army’s loyal to Romanoff. Will they answer the call?”

  “The army will be growing as impatient as we are with the general’s recklessness. Sound the advance and see who will follow.”

  The King paused and then nodded decisively. He raised his hand, and after a moment’s delay a bugle sounded the advance. Others took up the call, the bright metallic notes echoing over the cold autumnal air, and with a convulsive heave, the infantry rolled forward.

  Smiling triumphantly Their Vampiric Majesties led the werewolves, Rock Trolls and zombies into battle. King Guthmok of the Wolf-folk joined the Vampire King and Queen, as did Prince Grishmak, and together they advanced at a brisk pace down into the valley towards Redrought’s position. The Vampire monarchs had to discipline themselves not to transform into their flying forms, which would have been much easier than walking. Both instinctively knew that it was important to be seen sharing the hardships of their infantry if they wanted to keep control of them.

  “If only it was possible to train a horse to carry us,” Her Vampiric Majesty said quietly as she delicately stepped around a pile of steaming dung. “Rock Trolls are so careless with their . . . droppings, and at least we’d be carried above it.”

  “Indeed,” the King replied. “But horses are such silly creatures; they seem to find our Undead status worrying.”

  “And yet, they will fight like the fabled tiger of the Southern Continent for their mortal masters!”

  “I rest my case, as the saying goes. Horses are silly creatures.”

  The infantry of monsters continued their advance, the bellowing of the Rock Trolls echoing over the valley and announcing their arrival. Immediately several squadrons of flying Vampires peeled away from the main phalanx and took up a position over the infantry. Whoever had issued the order obviously intended to attack the human shieldwall in a joint operation of air and ground attacks. Their Vampiric Majesties smiled quietly at each other; the fact that the army was now taking tactical orders directly from them could easily be seen as evidence of Romanoff’s slipping control.

  Down on the shieldwall the giant war-horns of the Icemark began to growl out a warning of the enemy infantry’s advance, and the fighting intensified as the human fighters tried to destroy the Vampire land forces before their reinforcements arrived.

  The Undead warriors began to withdraw, disengaging from the struggle and pulling back across the land until they stood out of range of spear, axe and bow. They were obviously waiting for the arrival of Their Vampiric Majesties. The squadrons of giant bats still doing battle with the archers also withdrew and wheeled away across the valley floor to gather over their advancing infantry.

  For a while the only sound along the Icemark lines was the exhausted breathing of hard-pressed fighters. Redrought shouldered his double-headed axe and stared out to where the enemy ground forces were marching towards them. The unadorned blood-red standard of the Vampire King and Queen could clearly be seen at their head, and he smiled grimly.

  “Warriors of the Icemark, be honoured by the presence of Their Vampiric Majesties!”

  A low murmur ran through the ranks, and the shields in the wall tightened. Redrought nodded grimly. Now they would be truly tested; the monsters’ army was about to attack as one, and all mortal resistance could be swept aside. Cadwalader stood on his shoulder and hissed at the approaching ranks. The cat’s legs were red to the shoulder, and his muzzle dripped with blood as though he too was a Vampire. All around him the air shimmered with the presence of the Spirits of Battle, and his golden eyes glowed with a primal light.

  Absently Redrought raised his hand and rubbed the cat’s cheek as he watched Their Vampiric Majesties draw nearer. “This is going to be a tough one, Caddy,” he said quietly. “If the Hypolitan don’t arrive soon they’ll find only an army of cadavers with a corpse for a King.”

  For the next few minutes the soldiers of the Icemark watched the enemy advance in silence. Then, when the army of monsters reached a point that was just beyond range of weapons, they halted.

  Only the bellowing of the Rock Trolls and the moaning of the zombies broke the silence as the two armies faced each other. After a while three figures emerged from the ranks and began to walk towards the Icemark lines. Redrought narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out exactly who they were, but in reality he already knew.

  The Vampire King and Queen stepped elegantly over the land, their black armour glistening in the cold sunlight, the Queen’s hand resting gently in the upturned palm of the King. Apart from the panoply of arms and armour, they were the epitome of grace and refinement as they approached the shieldwall. With them was General Romanoff, and though she walked behind her monarchs she managed to convey a sense that she felt no respect for them at all.

  Redrought stepped out of the Icemark ranks and headed towards them. He was immediately joined by Commanders Ireton and Brereton, who walked on either side of the young King in a show of solidarity and support. Seeing his approach, Their Vampiric Majesties stopped and waited in silence.

  Once he was within hailing distance, Redrought also stopped and quietly stared at the monstrous monarchs.

  “I see that you have brought that appalling creature with you,” the Vampire King said, referring to Cadwalader, who stood on Redrought’s shoulder and growled quietly.

  “He had a wish to see the faces of those he will escort into death,” came the reply.

  The Queen hissed and drew back her lips to reveal her fangs. Cadwalader did the same, and his fangs seemed larger.

  “Well, Redrought,” His Vampiric Majesty went on hurriedly. “We’ve graciously decided to allow you this one last chance to save your people. Agree to withdraw now, and we’ll allow you and your army to march back to your own borders with full honours and carrying arms.”

  “And of course, there’ll be no possibility of you attacking us once we’ve lowered the shieldwall and broken the defensive formation.”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “No ambush in the forests.”

  “No.”

  “Or in the mountain passes.”

  “Indeed not.”

  Redrought laughed loudly. “Somehow I just can’t quite bring myself to believe you. Strange, that, don’t you think? Why should I distrust the rulers of a land that for centuries have hated us, raided our borders, killed our people, and most recently mounted a full-scale invasion without warning? Why on earth should I think Their Vampiric Majesties capable of treachery?” The young King paused, one eyebrow cocked as though genuinely expecting an answer. Then he added, “Not only that, but why should I withdraw from a battle when my warriors have just utterly d
estroyed your aerial attack and repelled your ground offensive? So, considering that, now you can hear and accept my terms.

  “Lay down your arms, surrender unconditionally and agree to pay just reparations, to be set by my High Council the Wittanagast, for the damage illegally inflicted on my lands. Accept these terms now, and I may execute you a little more swiftly and a little less painfully than I originally intended.”

  The Vampire King’s eyes blazed with fury. “You stupid and contemptible boy! Do you really believe you’re in a position to impose terms? The only reason you are standing on our unholy soil at all is because you are too arrogant and too stupid to realise you’ve been lured into a trap . . .”

  “If I might suggest—”

  “You ‘might suggest’ precisely nothing, Romanoff,” the King interrupted the general. “The Queen and I are conducting these negotiations, and if we require advice we will tell you!” He returned his attention to Redrought. “Well, mortal boy, do you accept our terms or not?”

  The young King watched the exchange between His Vampiric Majesty and Romanoff with interest and wished he’d known of a rift earlier. But in the end he could only shrug; there was no time to use it to his advantage now. “I and my army will stand here until every one of your warriors are dead and until I have taken your Royal skulls and added them as decoration to my personal standard.”

  “Very well, boy, then die along with your contemptible little army,” said His Vampiric Majesty, and taking the hand of his Queen, he turned about and stalked back to his lines.

  Romanoff’s long strides easily kept pace with those of Their Vampiric Majesties, and with a proper show of servility she posed a question. “With all due respect, Your Majesties, may I ask what exactly was achieved by that short conference?”

  The Queen glared at her, but against all expectations she actually replied. “We thought it expedient to at least offer Redrought the opportunity to abandon his position.”

  “Then your offer of a safe passage was genuine?”

  “Of course not,” the King snapped derisively. “If he’d accepted, the shieldwall would have been lowered, his strong defences would have been abandoned, and a marching army is supremely vulnerable to attack. As Redrought himself pointed out, we could have chosen any number of ‘killing grounds’ from the forests to the mountains. Not one soldier of the Icemark would have reached home, and the costs to ourselves in terms of casualties would have been markedly lower. Surely even you can understand that, General Twitch-a-lot?”

  Romanoff ignored the jibe and nodded. “Indeed. But let us pause and consider a moment. The direction and duration of the fighting could be improved to our advantage,” Romanoff said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” Her Vampiric Majesty asked.

  “Well, while Your Majesties were . . . conversing fruitlessly with Redrought, I took the time to observe the line of his defences, and I believe I’ve spotted a weak point.”

  “Where?”

  The small party stopped and turned to scan the long line of shields and overturned wagons. “Observe the large drum horse that holds the centre of that part of the defence,” the general said, pointing out Beorg with his rider Theodred. “He is the anchor and key to the entire section. If I concentrate the attack there and bring him down, the wall will collapse.”

  The King nodded, reluctantly accepting the plan. “Very well, General, order up your units.”

  But Romanoff had already marched off, calling for her officers as she went, and falling into conference with them as they joined her.

  “It seems, my dear, that the initiative has been seized,” said the King quietly, as he watched his general laying out her plans.

  “Never mind, my dark delight,” the Queen replied with venom. “There will still be opportunities to remove unwanted personnel.”

  * * *

  All along the shieldwall the defenders prepared for the coming attack. The wounded had been carried to the centre of the position, where a contingent of witches and physicians were doing their best in difficult conditions. The human dead lay in quiet rows, the Vampires in a huge heap.

  Redrought tried to be everywhere at once and almost succeeded. His tall striding figure could be seen checking defences and readiness throughout the entire position, and wherever he went the fighters sent up a cheer for him and also for Cadwalader, who was in his habitual place on the young King’s shoulder. The huge fighting cat had become a mascot for the invasion force, and someone in the fyrd had even found time to make and raise a rough standard of a black cat with a blood-red snarling mouth and striking claws. Redrought gave his approval of the improvised banner and, more importantly, Cadwalader also voiced his appreciation with a gruff purr.

  Suddenly the bellowing and howling from the monstrous army of Their Vampiric Majesties began to rise to greater levels, and warning shouts sounded along the shieldwall. Soon the war-horns began to growl in answer, and the drum corps sent out a rattling rhythm. Everyone was aware that this would be the final stage of the battle. Here, victory and defeat would be decided; here, life and death would be apportioned.

  Kahin and her escort of Hypolitan cavalry rode through the forest in almost total silence. They’d entered The-Land-of-the-Ghosts four hours earlier, just as the sun had risen over the eastern arm of the Wolfrock Mountains, and they’d reached the tree line two hours after that. The soldiers had been riding with shields on their arms and lances couched from the moment they’d set foot beyond the mouth of the pass and it was obvious that they expected to be ambushed at any moment.

  White Annis rode beside Kahin on a mule that the Royal Adviser had insisted be given to the witch. Since they’d shared the shelter of Kahin’s tent, a friendship had developed between them. It seemed that they’d discussed every subject under the sun as they’d tried to while away the tedious miles of the journey, but now as they approached the eaves of the forest they were as nervously silent as everyone else.

  The sudden thunder of approaching hooves made the cavalry close ranks and glare along the path that meandered through the silent dark trees. Then, at last, a scout who’d been sent out an hour earlier galloped into view and they raised their lances. The scout reined to a halt.

  “Give your report, trooper Lazerides,” the commander ordered.

  “Ma’am. A battlefield lies ahead. Thousands lie dead.”

  “Are there more human than monster?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Are there more human dead than monsters?”

  “I . . . I can’t be sure. More monster, I think.”

  “You think?! Why didn’t you make certain? You know as well as anyone that the victor of a battle usually has fewer casualties!”

  “Ma’am, there were looters, and I used up all my arrows defending myself. I thought it best to report what I know rather than risk being killed.”

  The commander paused, then nodded. “Quite right. But the fact that there were looters from the enemy’s army doesn’t bode well for our comrades—”

  “No, Ma’am, forgive me,” the scout interrupted. “These looters weren’t enemy warriors; some of them were little more than animals and I could only distinguish between them and the scavengers because they weren’t eating the dead, but taking valuables from them. I gained the impression that they’d just come down from the hills and forests to take advantage of an opportunity. There were no Vampire soldiers or werewolf warriors amongst them . . . at least not living ones.”

  “I see,” said the commander. “Then there’s still some small hope.” She now turned to Kahin. “The decision must be yours, Madam Royal Adviser. Do you wish to go on?”

  “Of course, Commander. What’s the alternative? Turn back at the first sign of danger on a mission that’s almost guaranteed to be dangerous? I think not.”

  “Very well,” the officer said, and raising her voice, she ordered, “The escort will ride with bows strung.”

  In less than an hour the party was riding through a field of corpses
that lay in tangled heaps everywhere. Scavengers flapped heavily away or scurried off to the nearby trees as they approached. Obviously the numbers of the escort were now too great for any looters to attack.

  The stench was appalling and Kahin needed all of her willpower not to gag. White Annis seemed unaffected, but stared at the scene avidly, and the Royal Adviser soon realised she was looking for any survivors that she might help. But there were none. Even in the freezing autumnal winds, swarms of flies billowed over the field like black clouds, and though the dead may have been silent, those that fed on them certainly were not; a constant insect buzzing was interspersed with the calling of birds and the yapping of foxes and jackals.

  It still wasn’t clear who’d won, but Kahin thought there were far fewer human dead. She was shocked that nothing had been done to try and protect them from scavengers, but realised in the heat of battle there wouldn’t have been time for such things, and perhaps afterwards the army had gone in pursuit. Perhaps they were still in pursuit . . . or being pursued.

  After a few minutes the escort commander joined Kahin and saluted. “A request for orders, Madam Royal Adviser: Where exactly are we heading, and when will we know we’ve arrived?”

  “We’re heading for wherever King Redrought has decided to go, and we’ll have arrived when I say so,” she answered with energy. “Even among the chaos of the battlefield I think I’m right in saying that it’s pretty obvious which route everyone took.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” the commander agreed. “We’ll follow the trail, then, and see what happens.”

  The small party of one Royal Adviser, one witch and ten cavalry escort continued across the battlefield and up the hills that closed the north end of the valley. They soon entered the dark and brooding pine forest again, and its oppressive atmosphere quickly silenced all speech amongst them. The sun was still high in the sky, but the shadows of evening were already gathering beneath the thick green-black canopy of the trees. Soon it would be dark, and the thought of spending the night in the brooding forest wasn’t a prospect that pleased any of them.