Moontide 02 - The Scarlet Tides (70 page)

‘We are. The rest of the rukking army isn’t. Send a rider.’

‘Echor’s got reserves,’ Storn argued.

‘That’s an order, Tribune.’

‘You don’t know war, sir,’ Storn replied, babbling. ‘Sometimes it can look bad – worse than it is. The thing is not to panic.’

‘The thing is not to rukking die,’ Ramon countered. He closed his eyes and sent a call arrowing out.

<
Ramon? Are you all right? We can’t see anything down here
.> She sounded overwhelmed.

He longed to just magic her away. She was made for parlours and parties and pretty dresses, not for this nightmare.

It was as if she hadn’t heard him.
.> She shut him out, but he could sense her exchanging thoughts with other farseers down the line.

He hissed in frustration. ‘I’ll go myself,’ he told Storn. ‘Duprey won’t shift.’

The thought of his only mage leaving him galvanised the tribune and he grabbed Ramon’s arm. ‘Sir, I’ll send someone, right away.’ He shouted orders to a messenger while Ramon turned his attention back to the battle below.

Fifty yards below them, down the treacherous slope, visibility faded as the dust turned the day to a grey-brown twilight. He began to lose any sense of what was happening further down the line. There was only enemy all round them. He saw Bondeau hurling fire, breaking up another attack, and Duprey, shouting for calm. He could just make out Severine, still with the legate, relaying his commands.

He tried to call to her again but she was sending, to someone further north.

Ramon shouted, projecting his voice into Duprey’s mind,

Duprey whirled and looked up at him.

Duprey’s temper exploded.

Severine burst in.

Duprey whirled and both shouted and sent,

Ramon sensed Severine’s mind reel from what was virtually a
mental assault, but Duprey barely noticed; he was casting about for some way to save his men. More arrows sheeted from the gloom and the eerie cry of the Keshi sounded again, the battle-prayer of Ahm carried triumphantly on the winds. The ground began to rumble, the pounding of many, many hooves.

Ramon cursed.

she wailed, then shut him out again, bending all her thoughts to trying to contact Echor’s aides.

Ramon held his head in anguish and for a wild moment contemplated swooping down and snatching her away. Around him, the rankers of the Tenth Maniple watched him, their faces shaky.
I’ve got to stop worrying the men
, he thought, but it wasn’t easy to look calm when you knew things were falling to pieces.
They can see what I see, and they’re not stupid
.

It occurred to him that he should fix that.

‘Storn! Move the Tenth Maniple twenty paces backwards!’

‘What?’ The tribune looked mystified.

‘Just do it!’ He was beginning to think that Storn wasn’t the man to deal with this sort of situation either. He doubted anyone in the army was.
Has anyone here ever been on the losing side in a battle?

Below him the disaster continued to play out, though only the gods knew what was truly happening now, for the sand-storm had enveloped the centre, cutting off almost all visibility. Behind him Storn was shouting orders, and slowly the Tenth Maniple began to shuffle back, even as they craned their necks, trying to keep watching as the disaster unfolded below them.

‘Move them back another ten!’ he shouted at Storn, conscious of all the ears and eyes on him. Now they couldn’t see the battlefield, they were taking their cues from him.

Right, look calm, damn it
.
Keep it simple. Do the obvious.

‘Ready the supply wagons for moving,’ he told Storn loudly, trying to sound like he knew what he was doing, though really, he was making it all up as he went along.

‘Hitch up the oxen and horses again. Let’s get the stores clear of
the storm. We’re going to shift them to that old fort to the south of us. Move!’

Following orders seemed to relieve the rankers: someone was in charge, and action made them feel like they were doing something positive, that they had some control. Ramon clung to that feeling too, despite the evidence of everything he could see below.
Someone will do something! Papa Sol, let it be so!

‘Get someone out to Seth Korion’s riders,’ he told Storn. ‘Tell him to come west and guard our flank.’
If any Keshi cavalry get among us, we’ll be in all kinds of shit
. ‘Move it!’

As the Tenth Maniple went to work behind him he went back to the rim of the ridge, wondering what he could do.
We’re a legion of hard-arsed mutineers
, he reminded himself,
but all I’ve got are the sappers and supply men. Rukking wonderful
.

But so far they were doing just as they ought: beasts were being led to wagons, newly erected tents were being pulled down and packed up …

And all the while, the dust-storm rolled closer.

Ramon could make out groups of enemy magi now, as they began to move into support of the Keshi on this flank, seeking to engage individual Rondian gnosis-wielders in duels. Rufus Marle had come under attack; as he started trading mage-bolts with several Keshi magi, his protection of his maniple faltered, just as Ramon had seen happening all the way down the line. The surging wall of howling Keshi hit the front rank, which buckled, wavered and reformed as desperation lent the legionaries newfound strength. They hurled the enemy back in desperation, but all the time, they were being pushed steadily against the base of the slope behind them. The battle was now boiling at the foot of the small cliffs at his feet.

This is it.

she called back, and now he could see her, huddled in Duprey’s shadow while the legate blasted away at the wall of Keshi that were threatening to crush them against the rock wall beneath
Ramon’s vantage point. She was only sixty yards away, but it felt like miles.

he shouted back.

He saw her tugging on Duprey’s sleeve, pointing upwards, and at first the legate seemed to berate her, then at last it looked to Ramon like he was coming to his senses. He began pointing about him, directing centuries to his left and right, ordering them to pull back to either side of the low cliffs and seek places to climb. He looked upwards, towards Ramon, cursing inaudibly, then he grabbed Severine’s shoulder and shouted something into her face. The girl looked stricken, then she rallied.

She kissed Duprey’s hand, which Ramon thought strange at first, and then he understood.
Someone’s got to give the rest time to get out of there.

He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to Mater-Luna, because only the Queen of Madness was going to get them out of this.

Severine soared upwards on Air-gnosis, mage-bolts and arrows deflecting from her shields as she landed at his side. She was in tears, and he had to force himself to resist the urge to throw his arms around her.

Instead, he made himself focus on the practical. ‘Get to the baggage train, secure your things,’ he shouted. ‘We’re pulling back to that fort. And tell Seth Korion – I’ve sent a messenger, but who knows if he’s found him in this Helish mess.’

She nodded mutely, then fled towards her tent. When he watched her go, it was with a feeling that if he closed his eyes, he’d never see her again. Then the first tendrils of the sand-storm struck, whipping a swirling, stinging blast of dust over him, and he lost her in the haze.

Papa-Sol,
he prayed with all his heart,
look after her.

He spurred back to the defile, where men of the Fourth and Fifth Maniples were streaming up, marching at double-time even as they hunched over, seeking some protection against the searing winds. More men were coming from the north, broken units of other legions, still disciplined, but on the edge of flight. He waved them southwards.

The entire valley was obscured now, shrouded in shadows, but the Keshi seemed immune to the conditions, emerging like ghosts from the swirling dust, wailing their unearthly prayers and selling their lives dearly. He saw them hit Duprey’s front line again, and felt the gnostic concussions as the legate tried to do the work of a legion. Others tried to aid him: Marle was there, swearing and cursing as he blasted away, and now he could see Coulder and Fenn, the two magi from Brevin, and one of the Andressan magi, though he couldn’t tell whether it was Hale, Gerant or Lewen, and that bothered him, for he felt he ought to know who was likely to be selling his life so dearly, allowing as many of the Thirteenth as possible to escape.

But they were almost out of time.

‘Sir? We have to go.’ Storn plucked at his sleeve. ‘I’ll put our wagons in the van. We’ll get the stash out, sir.’

‘Food and water, Storn,’ he replied automatically. ‘If we get out of this, the last thing we need is that damned poppy.’

Storn’s face fell. ‘But we’ve got hundreds of thousands of gilders’ worth,’ he whined.

‘Abandon them—’ He stopped, and then said quickly, ‘No, wait, I’ve got an idea.’

‘We can save it?’ Storn’s eyes filled with hope.

‘Absolutely! Bring the wagons to the ridgeline, quickly as you can, man!’

‘Here?’ Storn looked left and right. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see.’ Ramon felt energy coursing through him. The Thirteenth was completely nose-deep in shit, but he’d had an idea – something that might buy them a little time – and that was something to cling to.

It took several minutes to get the wagons hitched up and wheeled over to the cliff. He gestured to where he wanted them, then turned and checked on the rest of the Thirteenth, streaming away south, running as fast as armour and burdens permitted.

Below him, Duprey and Marle’s maniples still held the riverbed defile, but yard by yard they were giving ground, and some of the Keshi were beginning to look up at him.

‘What do you want us to do sir?’ Storn asked as his men gathered about the carefully positioned wagons.

Ramon dragged his eyes from the chaos below and looked at the tribune. He worked out the correct spot first, then he showed it to the men. Then he told them what to do.

The men looked at him, completely bewildered, and Storn’s mouth gaped open. ‘But, sir – it’s worth
thousands
…’

Ramon laughed grimly. ‘Just do as I say, Tribune, and exactly when I say so.’

*

It became a matter of time and timing. There weren’t that many enemy magi here yet, but the number of white-robed Keshi soldiers was rising all the time.

Ramon watched as Bondeau extricated his maniple, wheeling it to the left and up the long slope to the north of their position, right into the shadow of the oncoming storm.

Meanwhile Kip’s maniple, the Ninth, were already there, parting to let Bondeau’s exhausted men through, then closing behind them. The Schlessen battle-mage was singing, his guttural bass ringing down the valley. With his helmet gone and his blond hair flowing free he looked every inch the barbarian as he faced the pursuing Keshi. He’d discarded his shield somewhere along the way and had just his giant Schlessen zweihandle, the famous two-handed sword of the northern tribes. Even from where he watched, Ramon could see gnostic energy crackling along its long blade.

As the Keshi struck, Kip launched himself at them, dragging his men behind in a whirlwind of brutal fury. Ramon could sense Kip drawing on Earth-gnosis for extra strength, and he could see the result, for with every blow he was cutting men in half, shearing straight through armour, sword-blades and spear handles and all. He was like a giant straight out of his people’s legends. But just as he began to hope that Duprey and Marle might take advantage of Kip’s efforts and win free from the bottom of the ridgeline, the hammer fell.

The Keshi ranks parted to allow through a shrieking wave of
cavalry, held in reserve by the Keshi commander until just this opportunity. The riders made straight for the exhausted men and magi clustered about Duprey just as a cluster of gnosis-wielding enemy joined the fray.

Some of the newly arrived Keshi started countering Duprey’s defensive spells, while others attacked, mind to mind. As Duprey’s magi defended, the Keshi cavalry, lances lowered, thundered straight into the locked shields of the rankers.

Outnumbered and facing the charge, without magi protection or even pikes, their javelins gone and arrows spent, the rankers were overwhelmed. The Keshi riders hammered right over the top of them, spitting men like pigs or tossing the bodies aside, then flailing and slashing down on the reeling soldiers, the hooves of their mounts doing as much damage as the riders’ blades. The noise was horrifying and the iron reek of blood filled the air as friends and foes alike fell in droves.

Then the first enemy reached the magi. Coulder, facing to his right and trying to keep a man from Duprey, never even saw the scimitar that took him in the back of the neck and almost decapitated him.

Fenn howled as if his own child had died and let his wards drop for just an instant – but that instant was time enough for a lancer to slam through a gap and ride him down. As the two battle-mages from Brevin fell, Duprey sent mage-bolts left and right, screaming his defiance.

Ramon turned to the men about him. ‘
Ready? Now!
’