CHAPTER 21
Captain Hain looked
around at the army and felt a strange surge of exhilaration. ‘Damn
but it’s a sight,’ he said, nudging Sergeant Deebek with his elbow.
‘Shame the major’s missing it.’
Behind his helm
Deebek grinned as best he could, his mangled top lip lifting on one
side to reveal the ruined gums underneath.
‘Reckon ’e’d agree,
sir. I ’eard ’e were sent to play spies in Byora ’til ’e’s fit for
duty. Can’t see ’im takin’ that over an honest fight.’
The entire Cheme
Third Legion was lined up in tight ranks, as though on the parade
ground. Ahead was the Second, and the other side of a copse, the
lighter-armed troops of the First. Lord Styrax’s favoured shock
troops, his minotaur clans, were a few hundred yards north,
alongside a division of light cavalry. On their other flank was a
legion of Chetse, what was left of the Crocodile Guard bolstered by
fresh recruits from the now-quiescent Chetse cities.
Hain had lingered on
the sight more than once; he’d never believed he would see the day
a legion of the Ten Thousand marched under Menin banners. Once each
of the commanding tachrenn had kneeled to Lord Styrax, the enlisted
had started to see him as something other than a conqueror: they
saw a peerless warrior, a Chosen of the Gods who truly deserved the
title.
‘Don’t hope for much
of a fight today, Sergeant,’ Hain warned. ‘I doubt they’ll
dare.’
They had skirted the
Byoran marshes and gone up through the Evemist Hills and just
crossed the Narkang border. Now they stood less than a mile from
the fortress town of Merritays, Narkang’s first line of defence
against aggression from the Circle City that had never materialised
until now. Four square stone towers were connected by defensive
earthworks and enclosed a small garrison town, accessible only by
drawbridges attached to each tower. Some two miles behind Merritays
stood a market town that had grown up in its protective
lee.
Hain watched the
First Legion advance to within bowshot of the defensive lines. The
earthworks were built in two enormous steps and looked down over a
water-filled ditch. There was a neat stone wall on each level.
There weren’t many soldiers on view at the moment; Hain knew they
wouldn’t commit their strength until the Menin
attacked.
‘What’s the plan
then, Captain?’ Deebek asked conversationally.
‘You think General
Gaur tells the likes of me?’
‘But you might ’ave
seen summat, I reckon we ain’t ’angin’ around for a
siege.’
‘You’re right there,’
Hain admitted, ‘but I still don’t know what’s planned. Shut up and
we’ll both find out.’
‘Right you are, sir,’
Deebek said. He reached out and gave the axe resting on Hain’s
shoulder a tap with his fingers, then balled his fist and thumped
it against his chest.
‘Fer luck, sir,’ he
explained without embarrassment. The medal he pulled out next was
one he’d won ten years previously and he kissed it, as he had
before every fight since.
Hain didn’t comment.
The axe was the one Amber had used to kill the Chosen of Tsatach;
if the men now considered it a talisman, all the better. Ten
minutes later, they heard the drums beat out the command over the
whisking wind: Advance to enemy.
Whatever General Guar planned, they were certainly going to get
some sort of a fight today.
The Second Legion
headed for the nearest of the towers. There was a scramble of
movement on the earthworks in response as archers moved out to face
the Menin troops. The Third Legion went up to the Second’s right
flank, five regiments in the lead with the rearguard division
mirroring them at a short distance.
Hain’s regiment was
in the vanguard, nearest to the Second Legion. They were all
expecting the next order and as soon as it was given they began to
move forward, heavy shields raised against the expected volley of
arrows. As the first began to fall a prayer to Karkarn whispered
through the ranks, causing Hain to grimace. The pace was swift and
steady, with Hain chancing quick looks through the spear-rest of
his shield to check when he would have to give the
order.
An arrow smashed into
his shield and exploded into splinters, causing him to miss his
step for a moment, but the soldier behind him half-caught him on
the shaft of his spear and shoved him forward, back into
place.
‘Bastard,’ Deebek
growled beside him. Hain looked over and saw blood on the exposed
side of the sergeant’s scarred nose. A splinter of the arrow’s
shaft protruded from the small cut.
‘There go yer looks,’
Hain laughed with the men around him.
‘Aye, sir.’ Deebek
glanced back at the man who’d steadied the captain. ‘Soldier, you
trample ’im next time, ’ear me?’
Still smiling, Hain
chanced another look. Arrows were still dropping, but far fewer
than he’d expected. Either the garrison was under-strength, or they
were keeping the bulk of their men back. As the front rank neared
the ditch Hain could see it wasn’t going to be easy to negotiate.
The slope was almost sheer on each side and the dozen ladders they
carried weren’t going to be long enough, unless the water was only
a foot deep.
‘Regiments to halt,
defensive position,’ came the shouted order, and Deebek instantly
relayed it at the top of his voice. The troops slowed to a stop and
the front rank kneeled behind their shields, allowing the second
rank to rest their own shields on those in front.
‘Come on, General,’
Hain muttered as he peered left and right, ‘don’t let us be the
decoys.’ He saw movement to the right and called forward to the
front rank for information.
‘A company’s left the
line, sir,’ called a trooper. ‘Handful o’ men - what in the name of
the Dark Place are they doing? They’re just standing with shields
raised - and some’re just sittin’ down on the grass behind. Ah no,
someone’s lying on the ground too, reaching forward with
summat.’
‘Mages,’ Hain and
Deebek said together.
‘Aye, sir, can’t see
what he’s doin’ but there’s summat up down there. Some sort o’
white mist fillin’ the ditch.’
‘Any mages on the
rampart?’
‘No, sir, but the
archers are after ’em now.’
‘In that case: ready
to advance,’ Hain said, raising his voice. He didn’t know what was
about to happen, but you didn’t need an entire division to shield a
few mages.
‘Piss and daemons,’
exclaimed one of the men in the front rank, ‘that wind just got
fuckin’ cold.’
‘Ice then,’ Hain
muttered to Deebek. ‘They’re freezing the ditch; Lord Styrax did
just that in the Numarik campaign once.’
‘It
work?’
Hain shook his head
and Deebek chuckled nastily.
‘It didn’t then, but
it was Verliq himself who broke the ice. A mage has got to be
fucking strong to shatter half a yard of ice; I reckon King Emin
won’t have any of those spare, not for a pissy border
town.’
Hain lifted his
shield a fraction, realising the archers were directing all their
efforts at the mages. The mages were taking their time completing
the spell, but Hain wasn’t surprised. They would be weaker than the
Chosen, and it was a long stretch of water. Fortunately for them,
the ballista-stations couldn’t reduce their elevation enough to hit
them, and the shields were proving more than a match for the
archers, given the groan of ice Hain could hear. The Menin archers
were peppering the rampart to give them as much cover as possible
and before long the trooper reported the mages were retreating
again.
‘Looks like we’ll get
that fight after all,’ Hain muttered as the order to advance was
yelled and repeated by every squad sergeant. He saw the first rank
drop gingerly down on the ice. One soldier lowered his shield as he
tested the ice underfoot - only for a second, but a sharp-eyed
archer noticed it all the same and put an arrow through his
neck.
‘First blood!’ came
the cry from those around him, ‘Heten Sapex!’
‘Shift yourselves!’
Hain roared as the name was repeated around the regiment in Cheme
tradition.
His troops obeyed
without a moment’s hesitation and raced forward, several losing
their balance on the ice but propelling themselves forward as best
they could until they reached the other side. More men piled into
the shallow impression, the first six ranks of each division, and
the ladders were passed forward.
The front rank,
pressed against what small cover was afforded by the earth wall,
took the ladders and hoisted them, pulling them flat against the
slope and locking their arms to hold them fast. The second rank
began the terrible scramble up; Hain watched them with the familiar
jangle of fear and excitement flooding through his body as he
waited for his turn.
A loud roar came from
their left and the Chetse warriors barrelled towards the remaining
space in the ditch. As in all the Ten Thousand, the bulk of the
Crocodile Legion didn’t carry shields, only the first few ranks.
The rest wore oversized bronze pauldrons, vambraces and one-piece
helms to deflect axe blows, and many even eschewed mail shirts,
going shirtless to display their painted barrel-chests. Each man
bore the legion emblem and Styrax’s Fanged Skull in ochre and woad,
along with ritual scars and invocations to Kao, Karkarn’s berserker
Aspect.
They had waited for
the Cheme troops to draw the worst of the artillery before making
their move, but as soon as they arrived Hain saw the focus turned
towards them and a ballista bolt smashed bloodily through the
leading knot of four. The next dozen were cut down by arrows before
they even reached the far side of the trench.
Hain gasped as he
watched the first few reach the lower edge of the rampart. The
bare-chested warriors threw themselves at the earth wall, using
their enormous axes to climb up it, oblivious to the damage being
done from above.
‘Mad li’l buggers!’
Deebek cackled, seeing Hain’s surprise, ‘let’s move afore they kill
’em all!’
They started up the
ladder, Hain in the lead with his shield shipped over one shoulder.
An arrow glanced off his exposed pauldron, but he ignored the
impact, intent only on getting to the top. The first few up there
were fighting for their lives, defending the breach furiously until
help could arrive.
As Hain scrambled
onto the stone-topped rampart and swung his legs over, he had to
throw himself flat on his back as a spear swung wildly forwards. He
grabbed the shaft and yanked it back, kicking at the man’s knee
while he got a better grip on his own weapon. Recovering his
balance Hain hopped up and hacked at the man’s head, felling him
with one blow.
He looked down the
trench, a walkway no more than an arm-span in width. His troops
were barely able to fight at the moment as they stood two men
abreast on each side of the breach and kept behind their shields as
the defenders battered at them frantically. Hain made his choice,
roared a curse in Menin and charged, swinging his axe down over a
soldier’s shoulder to catch the man pressing him back. There was a
yell and a spear flashed forward but Hain dodged it and reversed
his grip on the axe, stabbing forward with the spike that killed
Lord Chalat.
They moved forward by
inches, driving with shields and lowered spears into the terrified
defenders while more troops swarmed up the ladders. Renewed roars
of bloodlust came from the Chetse end, telling Hain that the crazed
warriors had a breach of their own and were bloodily expanding it.
After five minutes of fighting Hain found himself at the corner,
looking up at a narrow cleft in the earth that led up to the next
tier.
‘Keep moving,’ he
roared, pounding the backs of the soldiers in front. ‘Heten
Sapex!’
‘Heten Sapex!’ came
the reply as the first two charged up the cut steps, shields held
high.
One was taken down by
an arrow from the darkness, but the other found an enemy in front
of him and barrelled straight on, smashing into the smaller
westerner and knocking him to the ground. Hain followed up quickly,
hammering the butt of his axe against the man’s chest. There was a
crack and a scream of pain, and Hain heard nothing more as he
continued on, swinging his shield back around just in time to feel
the thud of three arrows slam into it.
One passed almost
straight through before catching on the steel rim, another glanced
off the boss at the centre of the shield. The third went through
shield and chain-mail to embed itself in his bicep. He gasped in
pain, but he kept moving, unable to stop, even to break off the
shaft.
The first blow on his
shield ripped the arrow free, and Hain howled as he thrust forward,
off-balanced by the wound. The spike of his axe missed its target
and he slipped sideways onto one knee, but the welcome sight of
Sergeant Deebek charged into view in the next moment. The westerner
dropped screaming, Deebek’s spear lodged in his armpit, and Hain
struggled back to his feet.
On they fought,
through the shadowed cleft and back out into the pale morning sun
as they reached the larger upper level. There were more soldiers
there, but the Menin went through them like butter, cutting a
bloody path until the overwhelmed defenders threw down their
weapons and the Menin were able to stream down the other side of
the rampart into the town beyond.
Hain paused on the
rampart, ordering a pair of soldiers to corral the prisoners. He
dropped his shield and checked his arm, which was bleeding freely.
Cursing, he unhitched the chain-mail and shoved his fingers
underneath. The wound was shallow but wide.
‘Private, wrap this
tight,’ he ordered, pulling a piece of cloth from around his neck.
As the man was doing as ordered Hain paused for breath and looked
at the prisoners they had taken.
‘Piss and daemons,’
he muttered, ‘I know they’re smaller here than back home, but this
lot’re the fucking dregs.’
The soldier looked up
as he pulled the rag tight. ‘Aye, sir, and not much fight in ’em
either.’
The flow of blood
stemmed, Hain set off after his regiment. There was a wide
killing-ground where the steps opened out at the base of the
earthworks, but not enough defenders to plug it. They had retreated
to defend the towers and the gates attached to them, the thin lines
of soldiers already looked outnumbered. He searched around and
found his regimental banner in the thick of the fighting at the
northern tower. By the time he got there, there were barely a dozen
shields defending the fortified door to the tower.
Hain inspected the
gate while his men killed the last of the enemy. He was trying to
work out how to drop the drawbridge and admit the rest of the army,
but as far as he could see it was controlled by a mechanism on the
top, bound by steel clamps and far out of reach.
‘That ain’t openin’,’
Deebek opined, appearing as if by magic at the captain’s side.
‘Cables’re cut.’
He pointed to the
right of the steel clamps and Hain realised he was right; the
drawbridges were never going to be dropped without significant
work.
Hain turned and
looked at the neat garrison town enclosed within the four ramparts.
The only movement he could see was that of the Chetse warriors
charging down the streets and kicking in doors to root out the
remaining defenders. What he didn’t see was civilians, fleeing,
screaming, fighting, or any of the above. There was a strong smell
of tar in the air, but a noticeable absence of panic.
‘Town’s been bloody
emptied,’ he muttered.
‘No surprise; they
know they’re on the front line.’
‘But where’s the rest
of the garrison? This was too easy.’
There was a
splintering sound as the door to the tower began to give
way.
‘Get that door open,’
Hain bellowed, suddenly desperate to see what was going on outside
the ramparts.
The soldiers
redoubled their efforts and hacked furiously at the door, and in
half a minute it was sufficiently weakened that they could break it
down. The men inside didn’t put up much of a fight - most threw
down their weapons, and any who didn’t were easily
dispatched.
As soon as he could
Hain was up the spiral stair and onto the upper level, looking down
at the earthworks and the troops beyond.
‘Karkarn’s horn;
never trust fucking scryers when they’re sure they’re right,’ he
growled, thumping his fist against the stone wall. ‘There’s the
rest!’
Out of the tower
window he could see a mass of enemy troops, the best part of a
division, he guessed, surrounding the minotaurs, while a second
division advanced towards the hastily retreating Menin cavalry.
Their speed of attack had been turned against them.
Most of the rest of
the army were already at the ramparts, following the order to get
as many men inside as fast as possible. A few officers were
starting to shout orders to reform their units, but it was a
disordered mess. For the next few minutes the minotaurs would be on
their own.
‘Get back out there,’
he yelled, ‘get that fucking drawbridge open!’
‘It’s bust, sir,’ a
soldier shouted back from the walkway above the gate. ‘Ain’t movin’
no time soon.’
Hain fought his way
back down the stair, furious at his powerlessness. He battered
aside the soldiers in his way and made his way to the broken door,
but before he reached it he heard shouts of panic that sent a chill
down his spine. He ran into the sunshine, axe at the ready, and
stopped dead.
‘Oh Gods,’ said
someone nearby.
Hain could only
gape.
A burning figure
stood at the head of the central street, reaching out to the
nearest building. A dirty plume of smoke was filling the air above
it. The timbers of the building burst into flame with terrifying
eagerness, but it was the figure Hain gaped at. This wasn’t the
Aspect of Death, the Burning Man, nothing like: this was a wild
thing of whipping flames and jagged, brutal movements; this was a
Chalebrat - a fire elemental, savage and mad.
‘Gods preserve us -
this king’s too like Lord Styrax for comfort,’ he whispered before
remembering himself. ‘Fifth regiment, form ranks!’ he shouted at
the top of his voice.
Startled faces turned
and stared incredulously at him.
‘Did I fucking
stutter?’ he bellowed. ‘Shift, you bastards! No man of the Third’s
going to run away from a bloody elemental, and I don’t fancy
burning!’ He gave the nearest man a shove forward and it stirred
the rest into action. ‘We ain’t getting out o’ here in a rush, so
it’s time to fight!’
He didn’t need to
point to the ramparts to make his point. There were troops swarming
down, others starting back up, and a massed crush at the bottom of
the stairs where men had left the high-walled walkways and caught
their first sight of the Chalebrat advancing towards them. Some
were staring in shock, others fighting to get back up the way they
came, but meeting a solid wall of men coming the other
way.
The sergeants of the
regiment took up the call and Hain left them to it as he ran
forward to yell at the confused mass piling over the ramparts. The
Chalebrat gave an unearthly screech and drowned out what he was
trying to say, but that had the same effect as the message to
retreat was at last shouted back at those behind.
The elemental was
taller than Lord Styrax, and had elongated arms of fire. A handful
of Chetse mercenaries charged it as he watched, but two were
smashed aside before they even brought their axes to bear. The
others struck, but did no obvious damage and their frantic blows
were soon halted as the elemental engulfed them. Once they were
dead the elemental stopped and looked all around it, hunting for
more to kill.
The Chetse had
unwittingly bought him the time he needed. Hain gestured for his
men to advance, while muttering, ‘Now if I could only remember
about Chalebrat, - come on, Gess, think!’
For a moment the wind
turned and engulfed him in a cloud of dirty black smoke. He coughed
and flapped ineffectually, trying to clear the air around
him.
‘Sir!’ Deebek called
as the regiment trotted up in formation, ‘you sure ’bout
this?’
Hain forced himself
to straighten. ‘Nope, but we’re doing it anyway! Fore company, go
left and flank it. Rear company, we’re going straight.’ He took a
breath to clear the last of the smoke from his lungs and raised his
voice. ‘Work in squads, strafe it and go clear - every time you hit
an elemental it weakens, so we need to hit it enough to send it
running. Keep it turning and go for it when it turns after another
squad.’
Hain caught the eye
of a company lieutenant and pointed to the streets on the left. The
man saluted and trotted off, half the regiment following him. The
rest were already formed into ten-man blocks, ready to move at his
order. The first two squads pushed forward. The small town was
built on a simple grid: an outer ring of barracks, within which
were warehouses and official buildings, each surrounded by a square
of small, single-storey homes. Hain guessed the intention was to
have easily demolished houses around each to prevent fire from
spreading, but that relied on the fire not moving of its own
volition.
The first squads
peeled away and headed down the right-hand avenue, while the
remaining three squads advanced slowly. The Chalebrat had moved out
of sight, but the fresh flames leaping from a rooftop pinpointed
its position pretty well. Hain, leading one squad himself, paused
and waited for the other company to come around and catch them up.
His men were hugging one side of the street they were on, the other
side was aflame and the heat growing increasingly
oppressive.
As soon as he saw a
group of men appear from behind a house up ahead, Hain gestured to
the warehouse and told them to circle around it before leading his
own men around the corner. There they saw the Chalebrat hammering
its fists against the closed door of a warehouse. The wood
blackened under its touch, gobbets of flame remaining like
fire-arrows wherever it touched. With a yell, one of the squads
he’d sent around charged forward, shields raised and spears
levelled. The Chalebrat retreated a step in surprise, then
screeched its defiance as the squad barrelled towards
it.
‘Move!’ Hain shouted
as he watched the attack.
The first few spears
just passed through the elemental’s body, but at last one caught
its arm and it looked like it ripped a piece of flame away. The
Chalebrat roared and grabbed at the spear, jerking the man from the
end of the rank and dragging him towards it. Another man threw his
own spear over-arm at the creature; it missed, but distracted the
Chalebrat for long enough for the captured soldier to scramble
away.
‘So becoming solid
enough to grab a spear must take more effort,’ Hain muttered, ‘and
when it is we can hurt it more.’
Seeing Hain’s unit
advancing, the Chalebrat hopped forward to meet them. Hain led the
squad at a run, his men behind him, spears levelled. As the
Chalebrat slapped a burning palm down onto one shield, three
soldiers managed to score hits. The spears passed through its body
with ease, but now they just had to keep on doing the same
thing.
A third squad came
forward hard on Hain’s heels, but the creature was ready for them
this time.
As Hain turned his
men around he heard screams; the Chalebrat had leaped right into
the centre of the squad and engulfed them all in licking flames.
The fourth and fifth fared better, passing and striking almost as
one before peeling off on either side of it.
Now the Chalebrat saw
soldiers all around it and hesitated, confused by the choice. At
last it picked a direction, but as soon as it began to move the
squad retreated and another closed in from another
angle.
Hain bellowed above
the din of cracking flames from the warehouse and two more squads
advanced from between buildings, moving at a fast trot with their
shields and spears held high.
As the remnants of
the decimated squad screamed in agony nearby, their skin blackened,
their weapons abandoned, the creature appeared
confused.
It barely moved as
the two new squads approached - until they were close, when the
elemental jumped forward and tried to smash through the interlocked
shields with its fists. As soon as it had chosen a target, the free
squad lurched towards it, their spears lowered, and passed it at a
trot.
Three or four
spear-heads passed through the Chalebrat’s body without apparent
effect, but as it struck down at the squad, the company lieutenant
slashed up with his scimitar and as elemental arm met sword there
was an explosion of fire.
Hain heard his
lieutenant cry out as he fell to the floor, but the clash drove the
elemental back too.
‘Come on,’ Hain
roared, axe held high, and the circling squads obeyed, charging
forward as one. Hain was the first to reach it and once again he
led them past, strafing to get its attention off the beleaguered
squad that had faltered. The elemental turned to follow them before
it saw the remaining units.
Slashing wildly at
the air, the Chalebrat tried to back away, then realised there was
nowhere to go and turned towards Hain’s squad. He yelled at them to
stop, and his élite troops obeyed, hunkered down behind their
shields and set their spears forward.
The elemental
thrashed at them with a long whip of fire, but it burst harmlessly
on their shields and within seconds the remaining squads were
behind it, impaling it on their spears. The Chalebrat reeled and
turned, snapping spear-shafts with savage slaps.
Now’s our chance, Hain realised, and he pushed his
way through the shields. Ignoring the scorching heat he ran forward
as the elemental battered away the never-ending wall of spears. His
eyes watering, his skin tightening, he could feel the Chalebrat
like a brand pressed against his exposed lips and chin. Hain hacked
upwards at its arm, and was rewarded by an impact. The contact
drove him back a step, but he forced himself on, eyes half-closed
and swinging blindly at the yellow glare.
The elemental
screamed again and again, the light intensified and Hain felt a
blow to his shoulder that knocked him over, but in the next moment
the fires winked out.
Hain felt himself hit
the ground and kept on rolling, abandoning his axe in a desperate
attempt to put out any flames. When his mind registered cheers
coming from all around him he stopped and blinked up. After the
glare of the Chalebrat the smoke-tinted sky looked blessedly dark
and cool. He fought his way to his feet and took a breath, gasping
with pain as the skin on his lips split and blood spilled down his
mouth.
‘Sir!’ he heard an
urgent voice call as hands went under his armpits and helped him
up. ‘Sir, you ’urt?’
Hain blinked again
and at last the blurs resolved themselves into shapes. ‘Gods,’ he
croaked, realising it was Deebek’s mangled features right in front
of him, ‘can’t be in paradise yet.’
He heard the words
slur and felt blood spill from his mouth, but the twisted grin on
Deebek’s face told him the injury wasn’t as serious as the pain in
his face suggested.
‘Don’t worry, sir,
there’s a special’un fer the likes o’us.’
‘The ugly?’ Hain
asked drunkenly, prompting a roar of laughter that showed him far
more of Deebek’s remaining teeth than Hain needed.
‘Bloody heroes,
sir!’
Hain looked around at
the cheering soldiers, then down at the scorched earth underfoot.
There was a shapeless, blackened patch at his feet about a yard
across, but no other trace of the Chalebrat.
‘Bloody heroes,’ he
repeated before half-spitting and half-dribbling more blood from
his mouth. Someone pressed his axe into his hand and Hain held it
up to roars of approval from the survivors.
‘Well, boys,’ he said
as loud as he could, wincing at the effort of a smile to make the
old sergeant proud, ‘you wanted a real war and an enemy worth
fighting. Looks like we got one.’