A Shout for the Dead (34 page)

Roberto managed to smile. 'You're a credit, Centurion, but we are not facing a conventional army. You can't fight the dead with arrows. And they are backed by magic. There is an Ascendant with them.'

The stare became a gape. 'The wind
...'

'Yes. The wind. And worse will be to come, I'm sure. It may be a killing ground in here but it's also a tunnel to direct his filthy power. Trust me.' Roberto held the centurion's gaze. 'The Claws will destroy them in the open. Their artillery will be out of range. Our cavalry can rip them apart. They have no horses.'

The centurion nodded. 'I'll give the order.'

Chapter Twenty-Four

859th cycle of God, 35th day of
Genasrise

Roberto sent the border force through the cavalry drawn up on the Claws' left flank. Kell and Nunan had deployed in classic fashion across the wide open spaces cleared behind the castle. Designed for mass camps, staging and transport for the invasion of Tsard, the ground was on a slight slope down towards the river and also ideal for battle.

The front line of the hastati sarissa phalanx stood a hundred yards from the castle walls and its huge double gates. Between the hastati maniples and the second infantry lines of principes, stood their archers. Equipped with long bows made from Sirranean wood, the archers were well in range of the gates. They were backed by scorpion bolt-firers placed behind the lines of triarii. Gladius maniples flanked the phalanx and wide out, cavalry waited. The whole army was on a slight crescent.

It ought to be a massacre but Roberto couldn't help but be scared for the and legion. Conquord elite they might be but it wasn't the Tsardon that worried him. Standing with the twin generals and waiting for the gates to be thrust open, he was fairly sure that whatever dead remained would be coming through them.

'What we need are stones to squash them,' said Nunan, reading his mind.

'And how is the repair effort going?'

Nunan blew out his cheeks. 'A day. Maybe more. Every rope is frayed, every hinge is clogged. It was a very effective tactic'

'Then we cannot worry about what we won't have.'

'How many dead are there?' Nunan's enunciation of the word was indicative of the scepticism across the legion.

'As few as thirty, as many as who knows?' said Roberto. 'Just don't underestimate their effect.'

The pounding on the bridge gates had ceased. The Tsardon had begun to appear in castle windows and on the battlements looking out into Gosland. Above the chatter of the legion in the first light of dawn edging into the eastern sky, Roberto could hear the enemy advance and their songs of triumph. A little premature; most of them would have no idea what confronted them immediately outside the castle gates.

'They won't get past the sarissas. We'll do what you did inside. And we'll take the Tsardon force right here and end this.'

'I hope so,' said Roberto. 'It's why we're all standing here.' 'Can I ask you a personal question?' 'You don't need permission, Pavel.'

'I've never seen you scared before,' said Nunan. 'We're five thousand strong here. There are not enough of them to challenge us. What's going on?'

Roberto nodded. 'Through the whole war and the rise of the Ascendants during the last war, you never actually saw them cast, did you? Not until now. That bastard wind. But I saw things I never thought to see. Power that I still don't believe any man or woman should control. And that was when they were young and inexperienced.

'While I assumed Gorian was dead, I was happy enough because the others have grown into responsible individuals. But out there, beyond that castle, stands Gorian and he is not constrained by any thought of morals, the rules of war or respect for man.

'Yes, I am scared. Scared because he has found some way to animate the dead and send our friends against us as killers. But I am also scared by what he has not revealed. This battle is one event in a new war. And beyond it, we must look to hunt him down and kill him.

'But what of the damage he will cause across the Conquord until we do? And who but an Ascendant can really kill an Ascendant. What have we created here, Pavel?'

'Then let us destroy him now. Break this Tsardon force and march into Tsard on the hunt for Gorian.'

Roberto looked at Nunan and couldn't force himself to believe that would be the result. Even less could he explain why.

'Hang on to your courage, General Nunan. You may need it before sun blesses the ground this morning. I know I shouldn't speak this way but you have to guard as best you can against what horror might come through those gates, or around the castle walls. The legion will look to you and Dina. You above all, cannot be seen to flinch.' Nunan nodded curtly. 'And I will not.'

The gates of the castle blew open and a hurricane struck out.

'Hold! Hold!' Adranis's shout was lost in the gale that emanated directly from the castle gates and howled around its walls.

He was on the left flank, Kell on the right. Horses were nervous, their riders barely keeping them in position. Buffeted by the wind, some had been knocked from their saddles and struggled to remount. The noise was incredible, the dust thick and the main force of the wind blew directly into the exposed maniples of infantry. An invisible, unending wave.

Sarissas were snatched from hands, pivoting up and tumbling away end over end, carving into the ranks behind. Anything loose was ripped off. Shields, swords, helmets, flying backwards to strike mayhem into the maniples and men in their paths. Legionaries were cut and bludgeoned down. Bodies blew and tumbled. Tents and braziers were plucked from the ground and were lost in the dark.

And now the whole legion was flat on its face, braced against the gale. It was impossible to tell which were alive and which wounded or dead. Devastation in moments. But Adranis could not hear the screams, just the roar of the wind. A shout from the throat of God. It bawled at the Bear Claws. Biting, scratching, blinding dust scoured into exposed faces. Gusts strong enough to uproot trees and laced with chill, stinging water rendered the legion all but helpless.

Adranis couldn't see across the line as far as Kell and the right flank cavalry. God-surround-him, he couldn'r even see the castle gates any more. He peered into the darkness with slitted eyes, trying to make out anything in the new fall of night. The ordered infantry lines had been literally blown apart and he must be able to react when at last the wind died away.

He had no idea if any of them could hear him. Perhaps the man next to him. Adranis leaned out of his saddle and dragged him close, yelling into his ear.

'We must be ready,' he bellowed into the wind, it will be sudden. Pass the message.'

The man nodded. A rending, clattering sound carried out on the wind. Adranis's horse took a nervous pace back. A huge shape barrelled across his vision left to right. An onager. Three of his cavalrymen were swept away by it, gone in a heartbeat and it smeared its way headlong into the hastati lines. His horse reared, threatening to throw him. He clung on to the reins much as he did to his courage.

Adranis fought to control his breathing. There were other onagers still standing on the river bank. He prayed that Roberto was safe. Prayed that the next catapult didn't pick him up and fling him to his death. But there were no more. Like the earlier storm, the hurricane faded like thin cloud before the solastro sun. Dust and misty rain hung in the feeble light. Adranis peered hard towards the castle, certain that the Tsardon would advance. His horse calmed under his hand but to his right, the infantry was in disarray. He had but one choice.

'Claws! Ride for the hastatii. Look to the castle. Sweep and turn!'

He raised his arm high above his head and brought it down, jabbing his heels into his horse's flanks. The animal sprang away, happy to be on the move. His numbers were depleted, perhaps two hundred would follow when the order and intent were seen. He gambled that Kell would think the same.

Adranis directed his horse at a slight angle that would take him in front of the hastatii and towards the castle gates. He had his shield set against enemy arrows and he released the reins to draw his sword, controlling the horse with thighs, knees and heels.

Vision was poor. He could see movement at the castle but it was indistinct, enemies in the dust. Adranis searched the gloom ahead. He could see something, and at the edge of his hearing, there were horns. Kell's cavalry. He smiled. Seemed like for the first time in a long time. They all knew the drill, it was long rehearsed. Admittedly the training grounds were usually well lit but the theory was the same. Buy time, unsettle the opposition.

Adranis felt a rush of adrenaline and pushed his horse on faster. Hornsmen in his detachment saw the oncoming Kell, and sounded the warning and standing order tones. The beat of hoofs sent a glorious shudder up his spine. Hundreds of horses ridden by the Conquord's finest ripped up the ground, closing at a full gallop.

At forty yards distance, Adranis leant in with his left knee, taised his sword and begin to turn. Kell, at the head of her hundreds, mirrored his move. In the midst of chaos and growing despair, it was a drill completed to perfection. Adranis brought his five-wide column alongside Kell's. They drove forty yards towards the castle before breaking left and right to a final blast of horns. Legion cavalry. Discipline, order, victory. Adranis had to stop himself shouting.

Aware of his vulnerability, he sobered and looked right. Tsardon were pouring from the gates to form up into a fighting line. Pikes were already set against a cavalry charge and Adranis would not risk one. He didn't need to. The enemy were already making cautious moves rather than the headlong advance they had surely expected. Bowmen fired down from the castle walls but it was disordered, not threatening.

Adranis switched his gaze ahead. Not fifty yards in front of him and walking at the Claws' far left flank were around thirty figures. The dead. Adranis growled.

'Like my brother said. Time to go back to God.'

He set his shield arm low and his blade for an upward sweep. The dead hadn't seen him or didn't care. They did not flinch nor change their pace. No defence was raised against the mass of horseflesh about to engulf them. The rear of the column wouldn't even know a blow had been struck. These dead would be ploughed under, destroyed. Adranis looked forward to sending the Tsardon his message.

Adranis's horse tossed his head and shudder ran down his flanks. And five yards from the backs of the dead, the animal sheared away sharply towards the enemy lines. Adranis was caught completely by surprise and was flung from the saddle, crashing to the ground and landing heavily on his shield arm, his sword flying from his grip.

Pandemonium consumed him. Horses slewed left and right. Hoofs were dug into the ground, riders catapulted from saddles to land in the midst of the dead. Others ploughed through from behind, unable to stop. Adranis tried to get his shield above his body. A hoof thudded into his back and spun him over. Pain speared through him. His shield arm was broken. Adranis drew up his legs, making himself as small as possible. Another hoof clipped his shield, dragging his broken arm wide. He howled in pain. A third hit the back of one leg behind his knee. He felt a bone crack.

Every hoofbeat travelled through his back, vibrating along his body. He could sense the pace of the gallop drop as the rear of the column saw the trouble ahead and reined in. Adranis could see horses all around him. Someone was shouting his name but in the crush of man and beast, he doubted anyone could see him.

Thete was movement behind him and horses backed away quickly, leaving him suddenly exposed. He heard nervous whinnies and the unmistakable sound of animals bolting. And away to his left, a roar from the Tsardon lines and a fresh thrumming through the ground sent a barb of fear through him. He had to get up, get away.

Adranis dragged himself to his knees, feeling faint with the pain and with his vision fogging badly. He blinked. There was movement nearby, fallen cavalry trying to gather themselves. There was movement everywhere. Horses stamped and snorted, refusing to move close. More were fleeing back to the Conquord lines. Others, riderless and confused, followed on. The Tsardon were marching quickly across the open ground. To the right, Kell was doing her best to break up the advance. But the Conquord lines were a mess. Onagers had destroyed parts of the formation, precious few sarissas were in evidence and the whole seemed to be shifting, nervous despite horns and flags demanding order and focus.

Worse for Adranis, he and his isolated few riders had drawn the attention of the dead. They had turned, or had been turned, and were moving directly at him. Ten yards and closing. He tried to rise but his left knee collapsed under him and he pitched once again to the dirt.

Fighting to remain conscious, Adranis dragged his shield from his broken arm and leaned on it with his right to drive himself to his feet, favouring his right leg, his left barely touching the ground. Arrows had begun to fall. One of his men, just upright, was struck in the back and fell face forwards.

Tears were on Adranis's cheeks. He turned towards the Conquord lines. He was sixty yards from them and the same from the Tsardon. Soundless, the dead were moving closer. He shivered, heard the shouts from his friends, saw archers and gladius infantry rushing forwards to provide him with cover and began the agonising march to safety.