The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7)

by Christopher Mitchell

‘Good morning, everyone,’ said Colonel Falstead of Hold Elance. ‘Now that we’re all present, I want to go over today’s order of advance, following the plan as devised by Captain Greenhold.’ He nodded to a tall, handsome Holdings man, who bowed at the crowd of officers, then gestured to a large map that had been pinned to the side of the canvas. ‘As you all know,’ the colonel went on, ‘a full battalion of Rahain soldiers has been seen approaching up the road from the south.’ He pointed to the map with a long rod. ‘In the first phase, we shall advance under conditions of complete silence and darkness to the east, crossing the road here, several miles ahead of where the Rahain have camped for the night. After that, we shall split into three columns, then circle round the hills that line the east of the road. First Squadron will cleave off first, and advance from the north; Fifth Squadron shall continue on to the south, while the other three squadrons will remain in the centre and cross the hills by this pass. At dawn, the Rahain battalion should be deployed along the road, and the three columns will form up and charge. Lances will be employed to drive the Rahain from the road and into the marshes to the west. Do not pursue them. Our objective is the supply train they are escorting. Once it has been secured, we shall move up the road, and re-form here, in these woods some twenty miles north of where we shall first cross. Understood? Any questions?’

  ‘I have one, sir,’ said Captain Amber Holdsmith.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘what’s to stop the Rahain from consolidating in the marshlands and hitting us with bolts while we extricate the supply train?’

  ‘Good question,’ said a voice from the edge of the meeting room.

  Everyone turned. Thorn was standing by the sheet of canvas that divided the tent in two, dressed in her cavalry uniform. Keir frowned as the officers stared at her. He didn’t need to go into their minds; he knew what each of them was thinking. Their desire for Thorn was the main reason they had disobeyed the governor’s orders and joined her on the expedition, and Keir hated them for it.

  ‘Is the stormwitch here?’ she said.

  Keir glanced up. Several officers glared at him as he walked over to stand by Thorn.

  ‘Ma’am?’ he said.

  She turned to face the officers – one colonel, five captains and over a dozen lieutenants.

  ‘To answer the question,’ she said, ‘the stormwitch and I shall protect our flank until the baggage train has been successfully taken into our possession.’

  ‘But, ma’am,’ said Captain Greenhold, ‘I must protest. Your ladyship should not be putting herself into harm’s way. My plan has you and the young fire mage at the rear of the central column, in a position of safety.’

  ‘Thank you for your concern, Barnaby, but you need not worry about us. The baggage train will give us the supplies we need to press on to Anamindhari with all haste. That is our priority.’

  ‘Then I shall remain by your side, my lady,’ Barnaby Greenhold said, bowing low. ‘It will be my privilege to ensure you come to no harm.’

  Several of the other officers narrowed their eyes at the handsome captain, and Keir bit his tongue. How he loathed them all. He had pried into their minds a few times when they had first set out, but had give up the effort, sick of the thoughts that went through their heads whenever Thorn was present.

  She gave Barnaby a slight nod, and the colonel cleared his throat.

  ‘Officers of the expeditionary force,’ he said, ‘we break camp in ten minutes. To your positions, if you please.’

  They filed outside as troopers began to dismantle the large tent. The force had few wagons with them, having travelled at speed over the previous three days in order to intercept the Rahain; and those they had were loaded with tents and equipment. The officers dispersed to their squadrons, and orders were issued to runners to have the horses made ready.

  Keir lingered as Barnaby leaned close to Thorn to talk in her ear. Her face remained expressionless as he went on, and Keir wondered what she really thought of the arrogant young officer. He was older than Keir by many years, being in his mid-twenties, and played the part of a valiant cavalry captain with practised flair. Keir hated him.

  All around them was a low hubbub of sound, as troopers prepared to leave. The wagons were hitched and pulled away, and a group of troopers approached, each leading a mount. Keir scanned them, until his eyes fell on Monty, and he smiled. A trooper handed him the reins and saluted. Keir put his hand up to rub the side of Monty’s head, then grabbed the saddle and hauled himself up.

  Barnaby noticed him and emitted a low laugh.

  ‘I admire your spirit, young man,’ he said, ‘but we won’t be riding. With no light, we’d only stumble and lame our mounts. And we wouldn’t be wanting that now, would we?’

  Keir’s face burned as if a summer’s sun in the Holdings was scorching it. He lowered his eyes, and dismounted, saying nothing.

  ‘This will be your first real battle, I imagine?’ Barnaby said.

  Keir glared at him. ‘I destroyed the Rahain army at Rainsby.’

  ‘Of course you did, but you were standing up on a tower, I think, yes? That’s not quite the same as charging into battle and facing the enemy close-up, as I’m sure you’ll come to understand.’ He put his hand on Keir’s shoulder. ‘It’s alright to be scared.’

  Keir shrugged it off. ‘I’m not scared.’

  ‘How very brave of you, however, in my years of experience I’ve often seen bravado quickly turn to fear in those unaccustomed to combat.’ Barnaby smiled. ‘I’m sure you’ll do fine.’

  The noise picked up as lines of troopers returned from the overnight paddock leading their mounts along the track that led to the river. They passed by the central area where Thorn stood, each saluting her as they went by, their faces tired but determined. The colonel nodded his farewell, and set off, holding his mare’s reins as he led the Second Squadron down the track.

  Captain Barnaby bowed to Thorn. ‘My lady, I must go now to lead my squadron through the darkness towards the hills, but I shall return, I swear, once we’re in formation and ready to charge the enemy positions.’

  ‘My thanks, Captain,’ she said, as he straightened and turned away, a trooper handing him the reins of his mount.

  A pair of sergeants arrived. One was leading two horses, and she passed the reins of one with a sapphire-coloured sash across its flank to Thorn. The other sergeant nodded to Keir.

  He frowned, wishing Sergeant Demi had come along on the expedition; but she had remained behind to guard Kelsey, and besides, she couldn’t ride a horse. She was also, he suspected, relieved not to have had to disobey the Empress’s orders.

  The sergeants led Thorn and Keir into line behind a double file of troopers of the Third Squadron, and they got underway, following the path through the darkness. Every tenth rank had a small lantern, its shuttered light pointing downwards at the terrain, and reflecting back the sparkling frost. Keir kept Monty’s reins wound round his hand as they marched along the track, two abreast, with Thorn to his right. She was standing to the left of her grey stallion, and he to the right of Monty as they walked.

  ‘You’re being very quiet,’ she said to him after a while.

  ‘I thought we were supposed to be. Isn’t that part of Barnaby’s wonderful plan?’

  ‘You don’t need to be jealous,’ she said, her voice almost inaudible.

  ‘I’m not. Why would I be? I just don’t like stuck-up cavalry officer-twats. Never have.’

  ‘Captain Greenhold has a fine military mind, and as for the other aspects of his behaviour, it’s nothing worse than I’ve dealt with many times before. Don’t for a moment imagine that I’m blind to the reasons that inspired some of the officers to accept my invitation to join this expedition. I spoke to each one of them personally, and flattered them, I admit it; but you must think of the prize at the end, and not let these petty distractions divert your attention from what’s important.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  She gl
anced at him, and he felt his heart race in the darkness. ‘You are the stormwitch, and I am the soulwitch; we are the pivot around which this world will turn. The Empress knows it; and soon the Rahain will too. Our destinies are entwined.’

  Keir tried to speak, but her words had made his spirits soar. He took a breath; he felt good, and hopeful about the battle. His tiredness seemed to lift.

  ‘The next time,’ she went on, ‘that Barnaby Greenhold tries to patronise you; just nod and smile. Don’t give away what you’re feeling. I’ve watched you; your emotions are always on display. You might be able to read minds, but I can read faces.’

  ‘I can’t read your mind.’

  ‘No, you can’t. Thank Karalyn for that; I do daily. It gives me a power over you that others lack; no, that’s not right. It balances the power between us, and removes your advantage.’

  Their eyes locked. He yearned to know what she was thinking, but had to be satisfied with her smile instead.

  They forded the river in silence, the horses splashing their way through the shallows, then continued onwards. The ground rose, and Keir could discern the large, dark block of hills to their right. After an hour, they paused on the track as First Squadron peeled off from the rest of the column and formed up on a gentle slope. The sky was starting to lighten ahead of them as the rest of the force continued on. They passed the ridge of hills and turned south as the darkness receded into a grey gloom. Fifth Squadron separated from the others and continued on southwards while the other three squadrons turned west, back towards the hills. There was a low saddle between two peaks, and the cavalry troopers climbed in three double columns; winding through the knee-high grass across rough gravel underfoot.

  The three squadrons halted when they approached the brow of the saddle. Sergeants walked down the line, relaying quiet instructions to the troopers to get ready. The forward formations fanned out into ranks, remaining just below the level of the brow, and out of sight from the road on the other side.

  Captain Greenhold appeared as Keir and Thorn were preparing to lead their mounts to join the second wave, which was assembling behind the first. He bowed to Thorn.

  ‘Any sign of the Rahain, Captain?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. The scouts have seen them, just where we thought they’d be. They should be directly opposite us shortly. If you would take my advice, which is kindly meant, you should both remain here until the first and second waves have finished their charges, and then approach.’

  ‘I think we may be needed before then,’ Thorn said.

  ‘Nevertheless, ma’am, I urge you to stay out of danger for as long as possible. Many unexpected things can occur in a frontal charge; perhaps you should leave it to the professionals?’

  ‘Did you not hear what she said?’ muttered Keir.

  Barnaby glanced at him. ‘I know you’re excited, young man, but you’re no cavalry trooper.’

  ‘I can ride as well as anyone.’

  ‘The art of war is rather different from galloping around the Holdfast paddock, no?’

  ‘I’ve done formation training.’

  Barnaby laughed. ‘Excuse me, but no. The cohesion of the cavalry must not be compromised by an eager boy.’

  Keir’s anger surged, and he glared at the captain.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Barnaby went on, ‘you should choose another time to show off in front of a lady.’

  Keir’s fist flew out and connected with Barnaby’s chin with a crunch, sending him sprawling to the ground.

  ‘Keir!’ cried Thorn. ‘Stop at once.’

  She ran to where the captain lay on the gravel and knelt by him, as several troopers stood around in silence. Barnaby groaned, blood trickling from his burst nose and lip.

  Thorn glanced up at Keir. ‘You should apologise, now.’

  ‘I will not,’ said Keir, putting a foot into a stirrup and vaulting up onto Monty’s saddle. ‘I didn’t come on this expedition to be treated like a child; I came to fight.’

  He dug his spurs into Monty’s flanks and his mount responded, climbing the slope at a trot.

  ‘Wait,’ cried Thorn.

  He turned his head, keeping a tight grip on the reins. Thorn was standing by Barnaby, who was being helped to his feet by a pair of troopers.

  ‘You can stay here,’ he said. ‘I’m sure Captain Greenhold will do an excellent job of protecting you.’

  ‘I don’t need…’ Thorn said, the rest of her words drowned out by the cold breeze as Keir guided Monty up the hillside. He passed the second wave; a forest of steel, horseflesh and upright lances, and many of the troopers turned to stare up at him. His helmet was still hanging from a saddle strap, and they could see his face in the growing light.

  ‘The stormwitch!’ shouted one, and a low swell of noise rose up from the troopers as they climbed into their saddles. Keir passed through them and reached the first wave. He entered their ranks, the troopers round him saluting or slapping him on the back as he passed. He nodded to them and smiled.

  The captain of Fourth Squadron greeted him as he squeezed into a gap just behind the front line of cavalry; the brow of the hill just yards away.

  ‘Helmet on, sir,’ said the captain, gazing back at the eastern horizon, where the light was strongest. ‘We’ll be moving off shortly.’

  Keir nodded and placed the steel helmet over his head, fastening the strap that went under his chin. Around him, the men and women of the first wave were brandishing their heavy lances, their mounts treading the ground in anticipation. Keir had no lance, but as he had never trained with one, he was happy enough with the longsword hanging from his left. He tried to remember the lessons his parents had forced him to take; of how to swing a sword from horseback, but his senses were absorbed with the sights and sounds of the hillside; the massed cavalry ready to charge, and the growing tendrils of light across the grey, overcast sky. It started to rain; a cold shower of heavy drops, which pattered off the steel helmets and breastplates of the troopers.

  The first rays of the sun split the mountains behind them, and the captain raised a whistle to her lips and blew. At once, the front rank of the thick formation began to move off, climbing the last yards of the hillside to arrive atop the saddle-shaped brow. The second rank waited a moment, then followed, and Keir spurred Monty up the gravel slope.

  ‘It’s good to have you here, sir,’ the captain said, a red plume attached to her helmet. ‘The troopers see you at the front, risking your life with them. Whatever happens, sir, no one will ever say you are a coward.’

  Keir nodded to the captain, rain dripping down his helmet and onto his cheeks. For once he didn’t care what people thought of him. He wasn’t trying to show off; he wasn’t trying to prove anything. He was a Holdfast – he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone. All he wanted to do was fight.

  The second rank reached the summit of the brow, and the lands to the west opened up before them, a wide, flat area of marshes and fens. Below them, the slope sped down to the road at the bottom of the hill, where an entire Rahain battalion were spread out, with wagons, columns of soldiers, and several wheeled throwing-machines. Keir gazed at them. The line of Rahain stretched out to the left and right as far as he could see, moving slowly along the wide, rutted road.

  The whistle sounded again and, with a cry, the first and second ranks took off, streaming down the steep slope towards the road. Behind them, Keir knew that the next ranks were following, but he kept his eyes ahead, steering Monty down the rough hillside, while trying to keep up with the seasoned troopers around him. The wind cut his face like ice, and the roar of noise made by the horses as they clattered across the gravel and rocks filled him like a rush. His hands gripped the reins, and a cry left his lips. Ahead, the Rahain were staring up at the charging cavalry. Officers were marshalling the soldiers into lines, and crossbows were being unslung and loaded.

  Keir’s heart soared; he had never felt anything like it as terror and elation tore through him. The ground began to level, and the fr
ont ranks of cavalry increased their speed, their lances lowered. Keir drew his sword, clinging onto the reins with his left hand. Crossbow bolts punched through the air, some deflecting off armour, others striking riders and their mounts.

  With a sickening crunch the lances of the cavalry collided with the ranks of Rahain foot soldiers. The noise grew deafening and Keir blocked it out as he charged onto the road. He swung his sword at a Rahain soldier, but Monty’s speed took him past and his blade sliced through the air. The cavalry began fanning out to the left and right, cutting through the soldiers, who, pressed between the horses and their own comrades, began spilling down the roadside into the marshlands beyond. Keir chased the last soldiers from the road in front of him, and leaned forward in the saddle to aim another blow. His sword came down, striking a soldier’s steel helmet. The blade slid down the rounded surface and bit deep into the soldier’s shoulder, at the same time sending a numbing force back through Keir’s arm. He grimaced, almost dropping the sword, then watched as the soldier he had struck slipped off the road and fell face down into the fens, his arm bloody and mangled.

  Keir sheathed his sword to rest his arm and turned Monty round. The area of road next to him had been cleared of Rahain, and their bodies littered the ground where the charge had swept over them. Ahead and behind, the cavalry were continuing to fight their way north and south along the road, while more were still joining them from the hillside. A crossbow bolt flew past his head and he glanced at the marshlands, where the Rahain were beginning to reform, protected by the thick fens and rushes. Several dozen were bunching together, huddled waist-deep in water, aiming their crossbows at the advancing cavalry as the rain pelted down.

  Keir spurred his mount, turning back from the edge of the road as bolts pierced the air. He urged Monty round and they sped off to a line of abandoned wagons, joining other troopers gathering there to avoid the bolts. Most of the cavalry were safely out of range, but those closest to the marshes began to succumb to the torrent of missiles. Horses screamed as they fell along the side of the road, riddled with bolts.