The Unsound Prince

by Warwick Gibson

  The centre of the enemy attack, however, posed more of a problem. At the front of each company of foot soldiers strode two waxen giants in extravagant armour. They were head and shoulders above the foot soldiers, and spikes coming from their shoulders and heads made them look much bigger again.

  Ultrich understood the tactic. The Xaanian commanders were using the Gorlen as shock troops. They hoped to burst open the League lines and spread dismay, sapping the soldiers’ will to fight.

  Ultrich’s resolve hardened. He knew the League forces were more than a match for such psychological warfare. He watched as hand-picked axe men took up positions in the front of the League lines.

  Each of them was protected by a champion on either side. Swordsmen whose job it was to keep the Xaanian troops at bay. If the axe men were given enough time, they would be able to inflict terrible damage on the Gorlen.

  A small smile came to Ultrich’s lips. The Gorlen were a good two paces in front of their supporting troops, and that would help. There was such a thing as being too confident.

  The Xaanian forces were approaching fast, and then the Gorlen smashed into the League troops. The Gorlen drove on through the League lines with the sheer weight and power of their attack, but they didn't notice the League forces flowing round them, letting them through, and isolating them from support. The League infantry pushed back the Xaanian troops following behind.

  Ultrich used his farsight to watch one determined axe man go into battle. He was a veteran, judging by the first touches of grey in his hair. The man had sacrificed most of his armour for speed, and dodged smoothly under the great sweep of the opposing Gorlen’s sword. He stepped as he did so, placing himself behind the creature. The swordsmen on either side followed him, taking on the last of the Xaanian troops, clearing an area for the axe man to do his work.

  Ultrich could see a lifetime of effort reflected in the axeman’s broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Without pausing, the veteran placed his feet solidly, and began hewing away at the middle of the Gorlen’s back.

  The thick fabric that held the front and side leather armours in place gave way. The axe continued to move rhythmically, over and under. It was cutting through the waxy material of the Gorlen in the same way it would cut through the trunk of a tree. There was no blood.

  The Gorlen seemed unconcerned for the first few strokes of the axe, and then it shuddered in protest. Stepping to one side it moved away from the irritation behind it, but the axe man moved smoothly with it, keeping to his task. At last the Gorlen turned, one massive arm driving an equally long sword toward the man.

  One of the axeman’s champions, a swordsman almost as impressively muscled himself, saw the movement and reacted. He whirled in one smooth movement, and drove the edge of his sword into the join between the plates of armour at the Gorlen’s elbow. He cut the arm almost through in that one blow. The forearm and sword swung sideways toward another of the League swordsmen, to be cut off completely.

  The veteran never paused in his grisly work.

  Moments later, higher on the back of the creature than he’d expected, his axe bit through the shell of the slave spirit that animated the creature.

  The Gorlen dropped, lifeless.

  All along the front line, the same contest was decided in favour of an axe man or his opposing Gorlen. The giant creatures disappeared under the onslaught, or they bested the squads sent against them, and pushed deeper into the League lines.

  The middle of the battlefield disintegrated into milling knots of fighters. The most successful League companies broke through the Xaanian lines, and turned to attack their enemies from behind. Where the Gorlen had survived, Xaanian forces were almost through to the tents and supply depots.

  It was mayhem.

  Porteous was down at the operations tent waiting for Ultrich to decide what they should do next. Sergeos and Cinnabar stood silently beside Ultrich on top of The Lion. Their anxiety showed clearly on their faces. They looked in the direction of the Legatus for instructions.

  Ultrich made his choice. Of the three options he’d discussed with Porteous, using the cavalry still looked the best. He called out a short code word. The spirit walkers relayed it to the tent far below.

  The war horns sounded briskly, and armoured horse swept along behind the League lines. They turned and charged across the centre of the battlefield. The League troops tried to make passages for them, forewarned by the war horns.

  The armoured horse rode hard at the Gorlen, smashing them down and trampling them underfoot.

  Ultrich lowered his head. The armoured cavalry had done their best to avoid the League infantry, but there had been casualties on the League side. He heard a cheer, and lifted his head. The cavalry charge had cleared the centre of the battlefield, pushing the Xaanian forces back. It was then Porteous sent out his reserves of Lancers.

  The trampled Gorlen rose eerily from the ground. Broken bodies straightened, and missing limbs regrew. It was then the Lancers rode them down. They skewered the Gorlen with their long spears, driving the weapons home until the Gorlen bristled with them. Occasionally a lance struck one of the slave spirits. The League troops cheered as a Gorlen went down, and didn’t rise again.

  The Xaanian commanders must have felt their losses were enough, and the loss of so many Gorlen more than they were prepared to accept. War horns sounded up and down the line, and the Xaanian forces began an orderly retreat.

  Ultrich looked down on the plains as the battlefield cleared. He saw little space between the bodies, almost nothing of the sparse mountain grasses that grew on the High Steppes. He thought of dragging the dead back to the tent lines, but he didn’t think the League would have time for that. The Xaanian commanders would be eager to push on to some sort of conclusion.

  A short time later he was was proved right. His heart sank as he saw the way the Xaanian lines advanced. This time the Gorlen came forward in one long line, shoulder to shoulder. Infantry ten deep marched close behind them. Every archer the enemy had sent shaft after shaft raining down on the League troops. The League infantry raised their shields for protection, and that opened them to the Gorlen attack.

  Ultrich realised the new Xaanian strategy was likely to push through the centre of his lines, and take control of the entrance to the pass. Once they had done that, the Xaanian forces would be able to block the retreat of the League flanks into the pass. Many would be surrounded and killed, or dispersed across the plains. They would be finished as a fighting force.

  Ultrich called out a new set of commands, and the spirit walkers relayed them to Porteous.

  The League flanks began to fall back behind the League centre, retreating into the pass. The Xaanian forces howled and clashed their weapons, sensing victory.

  The League forces in the centre charged the advancing Gorlen, trying to push back the attack. They were desperate to gain some time for their comrades to retreat behind them, but the axe men and their champions found their tactics didn't work this time. Shoulder to shoulder, supported by troops, the animated creatures weren’t easily overcome.

  The League forces were pushed back into the entrance of the pass, and the withdrawal behind them became more frantic. Cavalry ferried archers to the sides of the pass, where they scrambled up the hills to gain more advantage. Supply staff were desperately loading wagons, and ferrying the contents back into the pass. Ultrich saw the operations tent being collapsed. Porteous and his staff were preparing to shift the command centre to a safer place inside the pass.

  The League forces were still streaming into the pass from the flanks when the Xaanian attack closed off the entrance. The League troops in the centre had been pushed relentlessly back by the advancing Gorlen.

  Ultrich couldn't think how to remedy the situation. It looked like much of the League army would be trapped outside the pass and destroyed. He could think of nothing that might reverse the League fortunes.

  “Is that Gosan down there?” called Cinnabar suddenly. She was using her far
sight to try and understand a growing concentration of cavalry just inside the entrance to the pass.

  “I think so,” said Ultrich, once he’d found where she meant. He tightened his focus on a figure that seemed to be giving orders. An image of Gosan sprang up before him, so close he could have touched the League commander.

  “That’s him all right,” he said. “The cavalry are forming up behind him, so they must have finished transferring archers to the hills inside the pass.”

  There was a pause.

  “I wonder what he’s up to?” said Cinnabar. Then the massed cavalry began to move forward at the canter.

  The Xaanian line had closed off the right side of the entrance completely, though not until the bulk of the League forces on that side had slipped through, but the enemy were less well established on the left. There, the League infantry inside the pass were battering at them on one side while their comrades trapped outside the entrance were making equally desperate attempts to rejoin them.

  “He’s going to charge the blockade!” exclaimed Ultrich. He realised how dangerous the move was for the League troops in the way. He bypassed the normal chain of spirit walkers to talk directly to Porteous. His chief commander was deep inside the pass, and about to set up a new operations tent.

  To his credit, the old soldier did no more than start upright in his saddle as a ghostly outline of Ultrich appeared before him. The apparition urged him in a booming voice to sound the ‘disengage’ signal on the left side of the pass. Once Porteous had got the message, the phantom apparition disappeared with an audible pop.

  “I might have overdone that,” said Ultrich. He was breathing hard as he sat heavily on a cloth-covered bench of sods the Prias spirit walkers had built nearby.

  “You think so? I could hear you from here!” said Cinnabar, but she was smiling. That was an improvement over the icy aloofness of the last few days.

  The war horns sounded below, and the League forces inside the entrance scrambled out of the way. Moments later Gosan and his cavalry smashed into the Xaanian troops, pushing them aside like a plough turning a field.

  The attack had the desired effect, punching a hole in the Xaanian lines. The League forces tore the hole wider, until they had secured a corridor against the hills. Then they kept it open, though many paid for their bravery with their lives, until at last all of the League troops had made it inside the pass.

  The Xaanian forces hesitated. Their plan to break through the centre of the enemy lines with the Gorlen had failed, and they were unsure what to do next.

  “That’s what comes of being unprepared,” snorted Ultrich. He quickly relayed instructions to Porteous below for an orderly retreat while holding the entrance to the pass. It was one of the many strategies they had rehearsed over and over again with his commanders.

  The rest of the League withdrawal went like clockwork. The retreating infantry gave way to the Xaanians grudgingly, buying time for the cavalry and supply wagons to move deeper into the pass. Finally they climbed past the wall of logs that was the last line of defence.

  The makeshift road up the side of the palisade was cast down, leaving only a sheer wall of logs facing the invaders. Other preparations had also been made. The ground below the wall was studded with jagged stones to discourage cavalry and slow the attack.

  The last of the League infantry scrambled up the steep sides of the pass. They joined the archers behind barricades that now ringed the hillsides. That left the grassy plain to the advancing Xaanian forces, but it was a hollow victory. The League army was still mostly intact.

  The troops behind the barricades jeered derisively as the Xaanian forces set up new lines below them. The enemy soldiers were careful to stay well out of bow shot.

  A short while later, Ultrich gathered with his senior commanders on a makeshift watchtower overlooking the pass. Dusk was falling. The short climb to the top had left some of them, and not always the older ones, out of breath. The Legatus diplomatically surveyed the League's defences while he waited for his commanders to catch their breath.

  The palisade was disappointingly thin when seen from above. It rose well above the plain, but the walkway along the top could only hold two or three abreast, and that was not enough against a determined army.

  The long lines of barricades, twisting and turning along the sides of the pass, had been even more hastily erected. How long would it all hold together?

  For the moment, however, Ultrich had some discouraging news for his commanders. He turned to them with a heavy heart.

  "Yeltar held his fallback position around Thebes for as long as he could. He had fresh troops from Wensh and Martilees, and a column of our own armoured horse, but the cost of holding the Gorlen back was too high."

  His commanders looked from one to another, afraid to ask just how bad the situation was.

  "He has retreated into Thebes itself," continued the Legatus. "His forces are attempting to hold the outskirts while every ship they can signal on the Trading Seas gathers in the harbour to take them off. Wensh sent its forces in troop carriers, which has been a help, but it’s in the lap of the gods whether enough ships will arrive in time.”

  There was a long silence. Every one of those present felt deeply for Yeltar and his troops. The thought of the Independent Kingdom forces possibly trapped and massacred at Thebes lay unspoken among them.

  It also boded ill for the League. If the Independent Kingdoms fell, it wouldn't be long before a Xaanian army would be at The Gap to the west. From there they had easy access to the Wild Marches, and then the Scion Kingdoms. Ultrich couldn't imagine the League holding out on two fronts at the same time for long.

  He tried to find something encouraging to say, but he didn't get the chance. The whistle of air being compressed over leathery wings grew louder. Ultrich knew immediately what it meant. He pulled Cinnabar to him and transported them both away, just as a giant winged creature landed heavily on the watchtower. It began clawing the structure apart, its long neck and serrated teeth stabbing at the commanders as they scrambled for safety.

  Ultrich landed heavily on the walkway of the palisade below. Cinnabar sprawled awkwardly where she'd landed beside him. He rolled over, and looked up at the watchtower. It give way under the extra weight of the creature. Then the watchtower toppled, as if in slow motion, down the hillside.

  He reached for Cinnabar's hand, and lifted both their outstretched arms from the planking to point at the demon creature. It shrieked its frustration, and beat its enormous wings as it struggled its way into the air again.

  He felt her body tense, as she understood what he wanted. He poured all their spirit fire into the winged creature, focusing on one point and building spirit energies there. He held the intent until it felt like he would burst. The nightmare vision veered out over the pass, and burst into flames from the inside out.

  Ultrich slumped back onto the planking, pulling Cinnabar back with him.

  “I can sense another seven round the pass,” he said tiredly, “and that’s not all of them. It’s going to be a long night.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then put a comforting arm around him.

  “That’s why we need to face them as a team,” she said softly. Ultrich could feel her sending out a spirit call, bringing all the spirit walkers they had at the pass straight to them.

  He relaxed, just for a moment. She felt good beside him, and he allowed himself a few more moments of peace. Then he rose shakily, and prepared for a long and desperate vigil through the night.

  EIGHTEEN

  Mudge and his companions were somewhere in the Royal Palace, but it was hard to tell where. He surveyed the room they were using as a hiding place with trepidation. He was beginning to feel that running away didn’t suit him at all.

  Rough benches were stacked along one wall. Tables in a somewhat better condition were pushed together along the end furtherest from the door. There was no way out apart from the way they’d come in, and that didn’t please him either.r />
  Andrian had found the room off a long corridor in the depths of the palace, and Mudge guessed they were somewhere in the servants’ quarters. Regardless of where they were, Andrian had insisted they rest until Butha was able to catch her breath. At least they had lost their pursuers for the moment.

  Mudge suddenly realised something, and he kicked himself for being an idiot. Ochren had been right. The travellers should have entered the Royal Palace together. He had always thought of this journey as some sort of solitary quest, but it wasn’t so.

  His situation also helped him understand his father better. The Legatus was a man who worked with the nations around him. He had made alliances from the very beginning, and then forged the different countries and kingdoms into a team. That was why the League was such a peaceful, prosperous place today.

  When he had taken on the Empress by himself, there had been only his strengths, and sometimes his strengths weren’t enough. Jago and Luce, and the Mesoans, even Butha and her family, had tried to fill in the gaps where they could. In fact they had a better understanding of what friends were for than he did, and it showed Mudge that some of his assumptions had been flawed from the start.

  He thought how selfless the others had been, how they had been prepared to lay down their lives for the good of the Karnatic League if necessary. All that time, he had been thinking about his own journey.

  The realisation hurt, but at least there was still time to change things.

  The prince concentrated, sending out his spirit senses to locate Ochren and the others. Using his spirit senses would tell the Empress where he was, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Once his companions were back beside him, the next step would be to confront the dark sorceress. He needed to bring this thing to an end, whichever way it played itself out.

  Mudge smiled to himself as he looked at the map of the area in his head. Eight golden sparks of life stood out from the rest, their colours tinged by their close connection to him. They were moving in single file through the labyrinth of lanes and alleyways behind the Royal Palace. They hadn’t left Xianak as he had ordered, or tried to make their way back to the League lines. They had decided to follow him into the palace. Their loyalty was almost too much for him to bear, but he pushed the emotion aside. He would tell them what he owed them later. If they all survived.