Prince of the Icemark (11 page)

Kahin blinked in surprise. Redrought was displaying the sort of male irritation she hadn’t experienced since her husband had died and her grown-up sons had left home. This wasn’t the petulant, childish anger of a boy, but the petulant, childish anger of a fully grown man. Kahin’s own bad mood evaporated and for a moment she felt almost nostalgic for the verbal battles she’d enjoyed for thirty years before her dear husband had passed on. She’d had similar conflicts with her sons over the years, their ferocity sometimes made deeper by her motherly love. With her daughters it had all been quite different; a glacial coldness had given
their
arguments an
intensity that could last for months, and beyond.

She wasn’t in the least bit worried by Redrought’s snarling, knowing exactly how to disarm him. “My Lord must laugh if he wishes, and act overall as he sees fit,” she said submissively. Then, seizing his hand, she kissed him on the cheek and smiled.

Redrought stared at her in puzzlement as she curtsied and left the room, all the time nodding at her own wise thoughts. “Keep them confused. They’re easier to handle that way.”

Redrought rode his war horse Hengist under the canopy of the Great Forest with a deep sense of destiny. They’d left the eaves of the woodland behind more than an hour ago, and his small army was now concealed under the dense spreading foliage, safe from the prying eyes of any sky-patrolling Vampires.

The young King knew that they were entering the final phase of the war. If he lost the next battle then it was difficult to see how human rule in the Icemark could go on, even if he wasn’t killed. But if Their Vampiric Majesties were defeated, they had the enormous advantage of being able to fall back on The-Land-of-the-Ghosts, regroup and attack again. All the benefits seemed to be with the enemy: they had an escape route, a larger, more experienced army and the psychological plus of having finished off the last Royal host that had marched against them.

Redrought could only hope that the New Model Army’s victory over the werewolves was enough to bolster their morale. Behind him the reformed cavalry trotted smartly in units of double file. Their new standard of a galloping horse on a red background snapped in the wind of the bearer’s
speed, and the two huge drum horses he’d commissioned towered over the ordinary mounts and were about as broad as small hills. Redrought had named them himself using the old language of the Icemark; one was Beorg, meaning mountain, and the other Scur, meaning storm, and they would be the anchor of the cavalry, moving forward or standing like living fortresses as the lighter horses fought around them. They each carried two massive kettle drums, slung either side of the saddle, and they were ridden by twin veterans of many of the Icemark’s wars. Theodred and Theobold seemed almost as tall and broad as their horses and had grey beards that were plaited and stuffed into their belts. They carried doubleheaded axes and had the sort of faces that could turn fresh cream into cheese with one glance.

Redrought had discussed tactics with Commander Brereton. He and Commander Ireton had replaced the generals who’d been so pessimistic before the battle against the werewolf army. Redrought now turned in his saddle, and looked back to where the commander was riding just ahead of the new standard. Brereton was the only one in the entire army he knew well enough to talk to comfortably, and there was something he needed to ask. Something that had nothing to do with tactics, strategy or even the generalities of warfare. Something much more personal. He beckoned Brereton up and waited until he drew alongside.

“Any developments?”

Brereton looked at him quizzically. “Since setting out a few hours ago? No, My Lord.”

Redrought shifted in his saddle. “No . . . well, no . . . I suppose not . . .”

“Perhaps there’s something else you wish to discuss?”
Brereton was well aware of the extreme youth of the new King and the fact he might need support and encouragement.

“No, not really . . . But . . . I . . . well, I don’t actually remember my mother.”

The cavalry commander retrieved his eyebrows from where they’d climbed on his forehead at the surprising turn in the conversation, and said in measured tones, “No, My Lord.”

“Everyone knows she died giving birth to me,” Redrought said. Then, succumbing to a blazing blush, he blundered on. “Look, what I’m trying to say is I don’t know what it’s like to have a mother.” He looked around him and lowered his voice. “And I suppose Kahin . . . Kahin Darius, my adviser, is the closest I’ve got to one.”

“Ah . . . and?”

“And I wanted to ask if I said goodbye to her in the right way . . . assuming of course that you know about such things and have a mother. That you remember, I mean.”

“Yes, My Lord. In fact she’s still with us. Ninety years old and still ready to give me a good clip round the ear if I need it.”

“Really?!” said Redrought in amazement. Clearing his throat nervously, he went on. “Anyway, the thing is, I formally said goodbye to the household this morning, including Kahin, but I left her a small present where I knew she’d find it. Just a little thing . . . nothing much, but when I saw her at the formal farewell, her eyes . . . you know . . . looked funny.”

“Ah . . .” said Brereton significantly.

“Have I upset her or something?”

“No, My Lord, you don’t have to worry about that. She was probably touched by your present.”

Redrought frowned. “Touched? It was all right, then? The
present, I mean.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Good,” he said and smiled, allowing himself a moment of peace before the immediate and more pressing crisis of the war reasserted itself. “Now, about the coming battle,” Redrought said, relieved to be returning to more familiar ground.

“My Lord?”

“Can you see any difficulties with the proposed pincer movement?”

Brereton was beginning to get used to the sudden changes in conversational direction when talking to the King. “I can see no difficulties at all, always assuming that there will actually be any ground forces to oppose us.”

“You mean because of the destruction of the werewolf army?”

“Quite. It may be that Their Vampiric Majesties are conducting a purely aerial war, attacking the city with flying squadrons, rather than infantry.”

“True,” Redrought agreed. “But I can’t believe the approach to Bendis is going to be unopposed by troops on the ground. Once the Vampire King and Queen see our army heading there, they’ll have to try and stop us with a land force. Perhaps they’ll place half their army between us and the city, while the other half continues the attack on the walls.”

“There is of course another possibility: the enemy may have replaced the werewolves with some other . . . creatures from The-Land-of-the-Ghosts,” Brereton pointed out. “We can’t assume we’ll only be facing Vampires.”

Redrought nodded. “The scouts we sent out before we began the march should have information about that soon
enough. We’ll just have to be ready for whatever’s waiting for us.”

They continued to discuss the upcoming battle, examining every permutation and problem they could think of, but in the end they both knew that everything depended on the Vampire King and Queen, and how they’d react to the arrival of the Icemark’s New Model Army.

Eventually Commander Brereton withdrew from the Royal Presence and left Redrought to examine the possibilities alone. But after a while the King shook his head and stretched as though physically sloughing off the unknowable and unanswerable. Suddenly the image of Cadwalader leapt unbidden into his mind. He’d left the cat in Grimswald’s care back in Frostmarris, not wanting to risk his pet’s life in a second battle. But when he went to say goodbye to the animal just before he set out, Redrought found the large basket he’d caged him in had been ripped apart and was empty. Obviously Cadwalader had objected to his prison.

For the first few hours of the journey Redrought had kept an eye out for the animal, thinking he might be following the army. If he’d seen him early enough he could have caught him and sent him back to Grimswald, but by now it wouldn’t be worth the effort of ordering an escort of cavalry and however many soldiers it would have taken to drag the cat back to Frostmarris. Eventually Redrought concluded Cadwalader had just gone hunting rats in the palace kitchens after he’d escaped from his basket. At least he thought, the cat would be safe from the Vampire King and Queen. But he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. There was a strength and a power in the huge black animal that Redrought found deeply impressive. Not only that, but he was still
enough of a boy to find the soft fur and deep purr of his pet a comfort.

*   *   *

Their Vampiric Majesties sat on their twin thrones in the cave that had become an improvised audience chamber. The Vampire King was admiring the play of light in a glass of red wine he held, while he enjoyed watching his Queen questioning General Romana Romanoff.

“So tell me again, my dear General, why exactly is it that the Hypolitan city is still resisting several days after you said it would have fallen?” The Vampire Queen smiled with exquisite coldness and waited for an answer.

“They’re refusing to follow the accepted laws of warfare, Your Appalling Monstrousness,” Romana replied with as much offended confidence as she could muster. “They’re using the barbaric bodkin arrow against the trolls!”

“Oh, how yawn-making,” the Vampire King interrupted. “Do we have to discuss technicalities? Just explain what you mean in simple terms, General.”

“Very well . . . that creature Saphia Eressos is leading the so-called Sacred Regiment of the Hypolitan in the defence of the city gates, and they’re using arrows that are condemned as barbarous by the majority of the civilised world. They can pierce the thickest armour and even the hide of the trolls. We’ve lost hundreds already.”

“Yes, she’s an interesting individual, isn’t she?” observed Her Vampiric Majesty. “I’d imagine she’d make a fascinating dinner guest; all sorts of stories involving the letting of blood and the ripping of flesh.”

The general shrugged as well as she could while her neck
and shoulder were twitching with stress. “I’ve no idea, Ma’am. All I know is that she’s effectively stopping my trolls from breaking into the city and ending Hypolitan resistance.”

“Yes, she’s quite brilliant,” said the Vampire King. “I’ve watched her in action. Brave and at the same time intelligent, in a reckless sort of way. Quite formidable. I’ve sent in several squadrons with the sole purpose of eliminating her, and very few of them came back.”

“Well, unless things improve soon, I will personally lead an assassination squad against her,” Romanoff spat.

“General!” the Queen exclaimed in mock horror. “But what of the accepted laws of warfare, and the undoubted disapproval such an action would bring from the civilised world?”

“Laws and disapproval apply only to mortals. I am above such petty restrictions.”

“I’m relieved to hear it, Romanoff,” said His Vampiric Majesty. “We really need to take the city before the new King of the Icemark decides to put in an appearance. We haven’t time to worry about niceties when facing a firebrand like him, judging by what our spies have told us.”

“Does he worry you, my dear?” the Queen asked with concern. “We’ve seen his type come and go so many times over the centuries. Even if they’re successful for a while, it’s simply a matter of waiting until their mortality catches up with them. Death soon purges the world of the most dangerous of mortals, and this
Redrought
is the same as all the rest.”

“So true, but it cannot be denied that he could thwart our plans of conquest, mortal or not. Decades of planning could be brought to ruin by this . . . stripling.” For a moment the
King’s normally unemotional face registered annoyance. “Do you know, sometimes I feel that the order of the universe needs a dose of deep revision. When mere mortals can disrupt the intentions of the Undead there seems to be little in the way of natural Justice.”

“Forgive me for intruding on what may have become a private conversation,” said General Romanoff pointedly, “but I think we should remember that all of these mortal warriors are aware of the weaknesses in the defences of the Undead. Please do not think that this King will pass up any opportunity to kill Vampires, no matter what their social status. His plans go beyond the mere defence of the Icemark, and so simply waiting for him to die isn’t really an option.”

“Are you implying that Redrought would dare to try and molest our Royal Personages?” Her Vampiric Majesty asked in outraged tones.

“Undoubtedly. The House of Lindenshield is on record in declaring all Vampires vermin, ripe only for extermination. And after killing his brother and invading his land, I see no reason why this King should think otherwise.”

“Well, really, how vexingly impudent!” His Vampiric Majesty almost spat. “If it wasn’t for your disapproval, General, I might even consider leading a flight of squadrons against Frostmarris immediately, and seek out this . . . this petty scion of a third-rate dynasty! Let him come here and compare his lineage with ours and let us see then who exactly is vermin!”

“Coming here is certainly his intention,” the general pointed out. “But I don’t think that comparing the length of your respective . . . pedigrees is what he has in mind.”

Their Vampiric Majesties both looked at their leading
strategist and each quietly reached for the other’s hand. In one simple statement, Romanoff had unwittingly announced the turning of the tide: the Vampire King and Queen were no longer leading an invasion, they were now fighting a war of defence.

S
aphia sent the arrow deep into the troll’s throat. For a moment its small, hating eyes opened wide as though surprised, but then it clawed at the shaft and wrenched it out, dragging most of its windpipe and thick gouts of black blood with it. It fell like a landslide and immediately Saphia leapt onto its corpse, from where she continued to send a hail of arrows into the massed ranks of the troll army.

With her stood Athena, matching her friend arrow for arrow as they led the Sacred Regiment against the attack. The gate was still threatened, and its wood was scarred and blackened by the fire the trolls had set, but the women of the elite fighting unit had forced them back with their vicious bodkin arrows.

For a moment it seemed that the trolls would withdraw completely, their huge, hulking forms milling about in confusion. Despite their size and their thick armour-like hides, they’d been completely routed by the Hypolitan. But then a gigantic Vampire bat descended from the sky, transforming into the form of General Romana Romanoff as it did so.

“We’re honoured,” said Athena, nodding at the Vampires’ head strategist as she strung another arrow to her bow. “The general herself has come to lead her troops.”

“Then she’ll die too,” Saphia replied, directing her warriors to pile up the massive corpses of the dead trolls to form a barrier in front of the battered gate.

The Sacred Regiment had come through a small “sally port” or doorway that was secreted behind the curve of one of the gateway’s defending towers. It would only allow two people through at a time and could be easily defended by a single warrior, but even so, Saphia made doubly sure that the guards inside had securely bolted it.

“No retreat that way, then,” Athena observed drily.

“None. I want the trolls to think we’re trapped so they throw everything at us. That way we’ll wipe most of ’em out before
they
have to retreat,” said Saphia with a grin.

“Either that or they’ll wipe us out.”

“No chance. They’re strong and brave in an unthinking way, but they’re stupid.”

“You’re forgetting the general. She’s far from stupid.”

“Hmm. We’ll have to kill her quickly.”

A sudden bellowing warned of a troll charge and the two friends ran to the barrier of corpses. The Sacred Regiment stood ready, arrows already strung and bows drawn.

“On my order!” Saphia shouted.

But something was different. The trolls were carrying huge slabs of stone like shields. The lead trolls swayed and rolled as they advanced, but they kept in step and the edges of their shield rocks overlapped, presenting an impenetrable wall. Other trolls held slabs above their heads protecting the horde from the rain of arcing arrows.

“It’s a testudo!” shouted Athena incredulously. “Just like the housecarles of the Icemark use! Our arrows can’t touch them!”

“Romanoff!” Saphia spat. “She’s become their brains.”

“Aim for their feet!” Athena ordered, and immediately a hail of arrows skimmed low over the ground and sliced into the thick gnarled legs of the trolls. Dozens fell, opening up gaps in their shieldwall, and instantly a second wave of arrows crashed into the breach bringing down more trolls. But then Romanoff was there, steadying the line, reforming the shields and directing the younger, more agile trolls to carry their slabs low to protect the testudo’s legs.

“Bring her down! Bring her down!” Saphia bellowed, and leaping onto the barrier she shot at the general.

Romanoff smiled and saluted ironically, before stepping behind the rock wall. The troll testudo now rolled forward unstoppably. Even the vicious bodkin arrows with their solid steel heads bounced harmlessly off the rock shields.

Athena could smell the choking stench of the creatures as they closed in on their position. The Sacred Regiment sent wave after wave of arrows against the advancing monsters but only a few fell, and their position in the wall was immediately filled by other trolls. With Romanoff acting as their brains the creatures were unstoppable. Soon they’d be near enough to use their massive war hammers and stone clubs. Unless the elite
regiment of the Hypolitan could stop them, the gate would fall, and with it the city.

Saphia leapt onto the barrier of corpses again and Athena joined her. Together they brought down almost a dozen trolls, but it was like throwing pebbles at a tidal wave. Giving the order, the two friends joined the other women as they fell back against the gates. From the battlements above a hail of rocks, arrows and spears rained down on the testudo, but still it advanced.

At last, with a great bellow, the trolls cast aside their shields and charged, their war hammers smashing all before them. Saphia leapt into the attack, her sword hacking deep into the tough hide of the monsters. With her stood Athena and together they became an island of resistance to which the Hypolitan fighters rallied.

Redrought peered ahead. The trees were definitely thinning. They’d come to the northern eaves of the Great Forest at last. Quickly he called a halt and Commander Brereton joined him.

“Once we’re beyond the trees we’ll advance in battle order,” the young King ordered.

The commander nodded. “I presume I will command the left wing and Commander Ireton the right, as already discussed?”

“Yes, and I’ll lead the centre.”

A subdued buzz washed through the army as they realised they’d almost reached the northern border of the forest, but they had been ordered to keep silence until they advanced into battle, and the murmur faded away. It was imperative that the enemy had no idea of their presence until they were ready to reveal it.

The march continued until the trees began finally to give way to the wide grasslands of the province of the Hypolitan. Once again Redrought called a halt. He sat on his horse beneath the huge form of the last oak in the Great Forest. If he stood in his stirrups, he could just make out the distant walls of the city of Bendis. Above it storm clouds seemed to roil and roll, and he realised he was watching an attack by countless squadrons of Vampires. The Hypolitan were still resisting.

He reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, something large and black dropped from the branches above him. It landed on his shoulder and with a cry he snatched at Hengist’s reins. But the horse stood solid and immovable as though there was no danger.

Desperately Redrought scrabbled at his shoulder and felt fur. A deep throaty meow followed and he let out an explosive sigh of relief. “CADWALADER!!”

The cat meowed again in agreement.

“What are you doing here?! How did you find me?!”

No answer was forthcoming apart from a thunderous purr, and Redrought laughed in delight. “You’ve come to join me in battle again, eh? Well, it’s going to be a tough one, I hope you’re ready for it.”

Cadwalader let out a sudden yowl that echoed back through the brooding forest, and the army cheered in response. The warrior cat was well known to all of them; it was he who’d set his teeth to the werewolf King and turned the single combat with Ashmok in his master’s favour. He was the luck and the spirit of the New Model Army. His presence had to be a good omen.

*   *   *

The Hypolitan were holding their own against the Rock Trolls for the moment, but Athena could see how hopeless the position was. In desperation she shouted, “Where is the Icemark? Where is Redrought?

And almost in answer a faint rumbling seemed to thrum through the air.

DUM dum-dum! DUM dum-dum! DUM dum-dum!

Drums! War-drums!

For a moment there was a lull. Everyone held their breath and even the trolls paused, their small stupid eyes blinking as they tried to understand the new development.

Then into the silence a single distant voice sounded. “The enemy are among us! They kill our children, they burn our houses! Blood! Blast! And Fire! Blood! Blast! And Fire!”

Immediately an answer crashed back. Unmistakably, wondrously, miraculously: “BLOOD! BLAST! AND FIRE!! BLOOD! BLAST! AND FIRE!!”

The women of the Sacred Regiment let out a shout of delight, and the cheer rang around the walls of the entire city. King Redrought had come as promised! King Redrought and his new army were here!

The huge drum horses Scur and Beorg moved forward like living mountains and their riders, Theodred and Theobold, continued to beat out the war-beat on the massive kettle drums that were slung either side of their saddles.
DUM dum-dum! DUM dum-dum! DUM dum-dum!

As one the army swung forward, and now lesser drums, carried by a corps of young boys and girls, began to rattle out a rhythm in counterpoint to the steady, heavy beat of Scur and Beorg.

At first the army maintained a moderate pace, conserving energy for what lay ahead, but Redrought wanted to be sure the Hypolitan knew he had arrived. Again he gave the war cry and again the army replied. And now, on his signal, huge horns began to growl out a sustained note that echoed and boomed over the plain.

For several long minutes there seemed to be no reaction to their advance, but then a great swirl of Vampire squadrons rose up from the battle over Bendis and a faint cheer from the defenders sounded into the air.

“INCOMING!” Redrought bellowed, and immediately the infantry formed a gigantic testudo. The cavalry, too, closed ranks and the troopers raised their shields over their heads and thrust spears through the improvised roof, so that it bristled with deadly steel. But still the hideous raging of the approaching Vampires grew steadily louder.

“Archers make ready!” Redrought ordered. The pressure and horror of the battle forced him to put aside every last vestige of his boyhood. The entire army was looking to him for leadership. He couldn’t afford to show any doubts or fears. Only Cadwalader knew what he was feeling, and the huge cat rubbed his face against his cheek, while his entire body vibrated with a comforting purr.

“We can do it, Caddy,” the boy-King whispered, burying his face for a moment in the thick fur. “We can beat these bastards, we just need to keep faith in ourselves.”

The cat meowed in reply and then stood on his shoulder, his fierce yellow eyes glowing with the light of battle.

The Vampire squadrons were now almost on them and their screeching filled the air. “Archers take aim!” Redrought ordered, and holes appeared all along the roof of shields as
bows were drawn and targets selected.

Suddenly the enemy was with them, and the entire world seemed to be filled with screams and the rattling of their leathery wings.

“SHOOT!”

Arrows erupted from the moving fortress of the army and scythed into the squadrons. Vampire warriors fell in ruin, their Undead existence cut from their corpse shells by the wooden shafts of the arrows.

“Shoot at will! Bring them down! Bring them down!”

Arrows continued to spit from the testudo, bringing down more and more of the enemy, until at last they were forced to withdraw. They flew off in formation, circled, swept low and then, as one, stepped out of flight and into their human forms. Rank after rank of Undead soldiers in black armour now advanced against the Icemark army, and the shields of the testudo once more became a wall as the infantry marched to meet the threat.

Redrought raised his sword and sang out the first notes of the cavalry paean. As one, his troopers added their voices to the song, and the horses leapt forward. Hengist threw back his head and squealed out the challenge and Cadwalader yowled into the wind of their speed as they charged. The new battle-flag of the Icemark snapped bravely, its image of a white horse against a red background stretched flat against the sky.

They crashed into the Vampires, smashing aside the first ranks so that they flew through the air in a tangle of black armour. Slowly the momentum was lost as more and more of the Undead warriors pushed forward and the horses were brought to a halt.

Cadwalader leapt from Redrought’s shoulder and drove his claws into the throat of a Vampire. Desperately the Undead fighter tried to wrench the cat free, but the animal raised his head and snarled before sinking his long needle fangs into the Vampire’s flesh and tearing open his windpipe.

Hengist now reared back and struck at the Vampires with his iron-shod hooves as Redrought hacked at them with his long cavalry sword. All along the line the horses of the cavalry followed suit, and the Undead warriors began to slowly fall back before the deadly hooves.

The first engagement of the battle ended in a matter of minutes as, with a despairing shriek, the Undead commander ordered the withdrawal and the Vampire squadrons rose up into the air and flew away. A great cheer rose from the Icemark army. First blood was theirs, and the enemy was routed.

Redrought paused long enough to redress the ranks and then they advanced again. This time the cavalry spread out in a long front with the infantry behind. The massive forms of Scur and Beorg held the centre just behind the King and the standard. The steady beat of their huge kettle drums set the rhythm for the march and the war-horns still growled out their challenge.

Ahead the city of Bendis drew steadily nearer. The rolling clouds of flying Vampires were still attacking the walls, but now Redrought could see the enemy’s land forces in more detail. He drew breath sharply. Rock Trolls! Twice the height and width of the biggest human and five times stronger!