“Where are you going?” the general asked the swordsman.
“To join the fight, Sirdar.”
“Then I'll take the long way,” Anhalt remarked with a cynical grin. “Perhaps seeing a legendary folk hero will boost morale.”
“Just try not to set me on fire and I'll be fine.”
Despite himself, Anhalt laughed at the vampire's droll reply. Heaven help him, he found Greyfriar an amusing companion.
They emerged topside to a land charred black. Tentacles of smoke coiled up from the ground, and fires still burned in various areas. The rough coughs of soldiers echoed through the wasteland, and weary men scrambled for their positions. The distant popping of gunfire came from the south.
Anhalt and Greyfriar grabbed a transport, a light halftrack rumbling along the rutted paths between trenches and crude blockhouses. Its steam-driven pistons fired madly as the small treads struggled for traction on the churned muddy ground. Anhalt crouched on the edge of a front seat next to a driver suddenly nervous to find the sirdar in the cab, and Greyfriar clutched a bracket and hung perilously on the running board. The camp around them seemed to be in a chaos of men and machines and horses.
“They only have to wait us out,” Anhalt shouted over the rattling vehicle. “Why attack so soon? Do vampires have no patience? You said time means nothing to them.”
Greyfriar shrugged and offered blandly, “Vampires are also prideful and sadistic. They don't like being challenged.”
“Oh really?” Anhalt displayed an expression of mock incredulity. He swore the swordsman was grinning behind his cowl.
Greyfriar said, “They can wait, but if they think they have the advantage, why hesitate to strike you down?”
“Do you think we are so susceptible?”
“No. You will not be easy prey until you are unarmed.”
“Do you think they suspect a final push is coming?”
Greyfriar paused before nodding. “Perhaps. You're backed into a corner. They would be foolish to think you would just welcome death. Maybe their increased assaults are meant to forestall your attack, or simply to drain your ammunition.”
As they drew close to the southern trench lines, which were festooned with pikes sharp against the sky, they heard gunfire rattling and, amazingly, men cheering. Hundreds of vampires were visible in the air, but they were pulling back, a much different scenario than Anhalt had anticipated. He leapt from the moving truck into a slimy mud hole. Greyfriar alighted gently next to him. They dropped into a trench where a young captain noticed their arrival and tried to tidy his torn uniform with bloody fingers. “We have the buggers on the run, sir!”
“I find that unlikely,” was Greyfriar's reply, much to boyish Captain Hereghty's affront. “Something else must have caught their attention.”
Anhalt climbed onto the fire step, shouldering in between soldiers who waited at the parapet with rifles ready, firing pointlessly at the vanishing vampires. He studied the retreating mob. It was clear the vampires were no longer interested in the rear lines of the Equatorian army. The creatures were rising into the low clouds rolling off the mountains to the south.
Suddenly, the rumble of cannons echoed through the valley.
“That was not our artillery,” Anhalt exclaimed, hope springing in him for the first time in weeks.
“A ship's cannon, sir! I'd stake my life on it!” Hereghty shouted. “Reinforcements have arrived! Rotherford has broken through!”
Eager words of salvation immediately started leaping down the line, and the counterattack was resumed on the retreating vampires with more vigor. Soldiers forgot their cold, forgot their hunger, and forgot their illness in a rush of mad exhilaration.
Greyfriar suddenly jerked upright, and his head pivoted to the southeast.
Anhalt took immediate notice. “What is it?”
“She's coming.”
“Who's coming?” Anhalt followed the swordsman's gaze with a rising sense of dread. “Flay?”
“Adele.”
“Here? She wouldn't come here.” There was a sudden silence as the general contemplated what he was actually saying. “Damn it! Of course she would.”
In the southern distance, the shadowy shape of an airship suddenly dropped out of the clouds, her descent rapid and foolhardy. Swarms of vampires surrounded her. She was a brig, and both Anhalt and Greyfriar immediately recognized the vessel. Edinburgh. No doubt, Anhalt's old friend and military colleague, Aswan Hariri, captained her. It didn't surprise him that Adele would have contacted Hariri for a mission so reckless. The man was more pirate than soldier, but his skill with a ship was unprecedented. Raucous cheers resounded down the line at sight of the brig, but began to fade as seconds passed and no more ships appeared out of the clouds. A single ship, and a small one at that. No fleet was coming to their rescue. Soldiers suddenly stood transfixed with dismay.
Vampires abruptly sloughed off the brig in great numbers, plummeting dead to the ground like swarms of dying birds. Soldiers watched amazed, pointed, and then resumed cheering.
Abruptly Greyfriar's tall frame reeled backward.
Anhalt turned. “What's wrong?”
“She's using her geomancy to burn a path to us. I can't go any closer.” His words were low and clipped. He was clearly in pain.
Anhalt felt nothing, but he understood that vampires were susceptible to some skill the empress possessed. He looked to the south, trying to discern what was happening. The staccato of machine-gun fire echoed, cutting through vampires still rising to intercept the brig. Already more creatures clung to the wooden hull of Edinburgh, crowding over the dirigible from which it was suspended. Scores of them were attacking the sail-crowded masts that extended from the sides of the dirigible. The black shapes were everywhere. Anhalt's chest tightened with fear for his empress. The small vessel could hold no more than a company of soldiers. By sheer numbers, the enemy would overwhelm them.
“Go to her!” Greyfriar commanded Anhalt. “Help open her way!”
The Gurkha general shouted to Hereghty, “Captain, we must secure the ground beyond our lines! Come on, form ranks and stand ready. Quickly now! Not a second to lose!”
Orders were relayed and men gathered at the edge of the trenches, clinging to their rifles and swords and pikes. Faces blackened with dirt and grime stared into the frozen land beyond their trenches where vampires rose and fell, swarming the little airship. Officers adjusted caps and tarbooshes and turbans. Swagger sticks swung smartly under arms with calls of “All right, lads! Look sharp now. Up and out. Mind your heads at all times.”
Captain Hereghty saluted Anhalt. “Ready, sir.”
“Very well,” the general snarled with pistol and Fahrenheit saber in hand. “Over the top!”
Whistles blew down through the trenches and machine-gun fire ceased. After seconds of silence, another whistle blew, only to be drowned out by the animalistic bellows of a thousand men as a khaki wave poured up onto the ground. Rifle fire commenced, popping across the field. Men ran and shot. Blades swung. Pikes jabbed at figures floating overhead. Some men stopped to execute burned vampires wriggling in the dirt.
General Anhalt could barely catch his breath from the excitement of the flood surrounding him, shouting and fighting. He yelled exhortations to the brave soldiers around him, even as his eyes searched the sky for the empress's ship.
Edinburgh tacked hard over and then righted in a strange maneuver. It had lost most of its forward momentum; there was no chance of outrunning the swarming monsters. No doubt, Captain Hariri was attempting to shake the creatures off, but those that lost their grip only veered back into place like black flies rising briefly from a disturbed carcass.
The ship was low enough and at such an angle that Anhalt glimpsed the deck. He saw the familiar red jackets of the White Guard, Adele's household troops, in a tight square around a lone figure, unmistakably a woman whose long auburn hair blew wildly in the wind. Their weapons snapped and flamed, bringing down any vampire that dared
come close. The brig continued to rush toward Anhalt, sweeping so low now that the mooring lines dragged the ground.
Edinburgh made one more hard tack and then, without a sound or fanfare, the vampires clutching the airship or drifting in the air around it burst into flames. Anhalt heard their horrible and satisfying screams as hundreds of bodies dropped like burnt cords of lumber.
Soldiers on the ground pointed up with shock.
“Look! It's the empress!”
“What in the name of hell is she doing here?”
“She is crazy like they say! Bless her!”
Then the ship was past and Anhalt turned to race after it like a child chasing an escaped kite. Troopers on the ground dodged charred bodies of the enemy crashing to earth while others grabbed hold of Edinburgh's lines. Soon great clutches of soldiers were scrambling after the mooring lines, as well as the legs of their comrades who were being dragged by the slowing airship. Aboard the brig, airmen frantically furled sails and vented buoyants. The ship lurched to a halt just inside the trench line of the vast Equatorian camp.
Once the brig was secured to makeshift mooring stakes, a gangplank descended. General Anhalt started to lope up, but he was met by Empress Adele striding down. She smiled wide, enhancing her Persian features. Her expression was open and friendly, an odd combination of girlish enthusiasm and mature intelligence, even wisdom. Her hair was unencumbered and went chaotic in the wind. She was lovely, but not stunning. Still, she exuded a personal authority that demanded attention.
She wore simple traveling clothes. A long corduroy skirt topped leather boots with a heavy Madras blouse, a thick fur-lined coat flying open over it all. She had her Fahrenheit khukri dagger, a gift from her late mother, shoved into her belt.
The lanky form of a hard-eyed army captain was close at the empress's elbow. Her White Guard in their khaki helmets, red woolen tunics, and blue trousers with white gaiters crowded behind her like a protective scarlet cloak. Anhalt had once commanded the esteemed White Guard. He knew these men well, particularly their new commander, Captain Shirazi. They were a select core of the regiment, the most loyal and toughest men who had accompanied him last summer deep into Africa with the exiled princess Adele. This group had bonded into a distinct unit, fanatically dedicated to the empress. They came to refer to themselves as the Harmattan, the fearful red wind of the Sahara. Adele couldn't go far without her loyal Harmattan swirling about her.
The general's stern demeanor didn't alter as he backed up so the empress could descend the gangplank, though it didn't seem to faze her. Her stride continued steady and measured, her expression remained regal, her head held high. She was every inch an empress and no longer the exuberant young girl he remembered.
Troopers who were gathering around the ship in great numbers began to chant her name. Adele inclined her head to the ranks, but he knew she was listening for only one voice among the multitudes. Her eyes scanned the gathering crowd, holding a trace of disappointment. Anhalt regarded her, his mouth a hard line. His right arm snapped up into a salute that he didn't release until she nodded. Then he dropped to one knee before her, head bowed. The whole battlefield around them followed suit in a rattle of arms and mail.
Anhalt heard Adele's breath quicken at the magnitude of her people's loyalty. He was proud that there was no sign of a haughty demeanor in her, only genuine gratitude for the troops' respect and adoration.
“Rise, Sirdar,” Adele said, extending her arm.
General Anhalt took her hand, and immediately felt weakness in it. “Your Majesty. Are you well?”
“I am,” she replied warmly, noting his expression of concern. “It is so good to see you, my old friend.” She scanned the crowd again and her voice held a trace of anxiety, “Where is Greyfriar?”
“He could not attend you.” When her concerned eyes darted quickly to him, Anhalt shook his head. “He is well, Your Majesty, merely…indisposed.”
Adele breathed a sigh of relief.
“Your arrival is most unexpected.” He raised a chiding eyebrow at her, then at the captain of the Harmattan. “And most foolish.”
There was a collective gasp. The gathered soldiers' surprised looks darted between the general and the empress. Adele stared sternly at Anhalt, but then after a moment laughed loudly, throwing her head back in delight. “Only you would be cross at me for saving your life.”
“Perhaps next time you could just send the ship without escorting it yourself.”
“Now where's the fun in that?”
“The Empire cannot bear your loss, Your Majesty.”
“Of course not, Sirdar,” she conceded with a sobering nod, “but in this case, my presence was necessary. It was the only way to break through the enemy lines and reach you. And to bring you supplies.”
He bowed and smiled at her. “Then you are most welcome.”
Captain Hariri came down the gangplank with desert robes flying, and clasped Anhalt warmly. “Just like old times, eh? But colder.”
The general grunted. “You really should at least try to resist going along with the empress's schemes.”
“I only follow your voluminous previous examples, effendi.”
Anhalt regarded Adele with a scowl. “I should have never introduced the two of you.”
“Adele!”
The empress spun toward the familiar voice, her entire demeanor swiftly altering from a woman in charge to a woman in love.
The tall figure in grey strode to her, his long hair blowing wildly along with the ends of his head wrap. Adele ran to him but immediately halted as Greyfriar stiffened in his tracks, exhaling a sharp hiss of pain. He took a halting step back from her.
Adele's face showed her own anguish. The geomancy still echoed in her veins.
“My empress,” he said, bowing low to her, not out of duty to crown, but out of reverence for the woman herself.
Anhalt observed the doomed pair. It had been months since they had last seen each other, and now they were held apart by the very power that had saved their lives. She could easily hurt Greyfriar, even kill him as she had the vampires swarming around her ship. Every time she practiced geomancy, she put him in danger. With time, so long as she didn't use her geomancy, she would revert back to normal. Until then, they could only stare at each other across a distance of a few feet.
“I'm so glad to see you,” Adele said. “How are you?”
“I am quite well. And you are very lucky.”
“Really, I won't be scolded by both of you. This was the only way. Admiral Moffet has been trying for three weeks to break through the Gap with little result other than mounting casualties and three lost frigates. We feared for you.”
Anhalt waved them to follow him out of the icy wind and away from the ears of the men. “Your Majesty, shall we step out of the bitter cold into the merely frigid?”
Instructing Hariri to begin unloading Edinburgh, Adele accompanied Anhalt and the trailing Greyfriar into the tunnels. The Harmattan fell into step around them. They made for the deepest section, heavily fortified for the command staff. Once inside the rude dirt-walled situation room, with Shirazi and the Harmattan guarding the closed doors, their council resumed.
“What of Rotherford at St. Etienne?” Anhalt asked.
Adele responded, “He succeeded in taking the town, but since then he has been hard-pressed by sizable packs. Communication is sparse. Little word comes or goes from his command now.”
Greyfriar asked from the farthest corner of the room, “What packs are attacking him? St. Etienne was a small clan. They shouldn't be able to match a force the size of Rotherford's.”
“We don't know,” the empress said, rubbing her gloved hands together to fight the chill.
“I don't understand,” the swordsman muttered. “Something is wrong. Something is happening I don't know about.”
General Anhalt furiously stoked a coal stove into a faint orange warmth. “Nevertheless. We will withdraw from Grenoble to reinforce St. Etienne. Now that t
he way south is clear.” He offered a nod of gratitude to Adele.
She hesitated a moment and then smiled. “I have a better option.”
Anhalt's lips pursed, knowing that he wasn't going to like this alternative. Neither would Greyfriar, judging by the way he crossed his arms, and by his next response.
“No,” he said.
Adele threw up her hands. “You haven't even heard my plan.”
“I know it involves you doing something dangerous, otherwise you would not be here. I cannot believe that your government allowed you to come on this errand.”
“Well, Commons was told I was going to Damascus to tour a factory. What they don't know won't hurt them.”
Anhalt asked, “You are planning something dangerous, aren't you?”
“No, of course not. But I was thinking I would enter Grenoble and destroy the clan there.”
Anhalt and Greyfriar both exploded.
“Absolutely not!” the latter shouted.
“You are no longer a defiant princess!” Anhalt roared. “You are the empress! The sovereign of Equatoria. You cannot be seriously considering—”
“I am deadly serious.” Adele's brown eyes darkened like a desert storm. “My foolishness with Senator Clark delayed us for so long. Our army is bogged down because of me! I will do everything that is within my power to lead a victorious campaign without the further waste of lives!”
Greyfriar stepped forward and grabbed her arm. Smoke rose from his gloved hand, but he did not relinquish his grip even when Adele attempted to pull away. “This was not your fault! Winter was always going to be a factor.”
She retorted, “We had a better chance taking this city in the heat of the summer! Do you deny that?”
“No, but even so, no monarch fights on the front lines.”
“My father did!” Adele pulled her arm from Greyfriar's smoldering hand. Her expression softened at the pain she caused.
“See reason, Your Majesty,” Anhalt interjected. “There is no rationale for placing yourself at risk.”
Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) Page 3