Prince of the Icemark (26 page)

The news of the general’s death swept over the field like a storm-wind, and with a wail the entire army of Their Vampiric Majesties began to scramble away. Slowly at first, but then with increasing speed, the ranks of the zombies and Rock Trolls, Vampires and werewolves streamed away from the battlefield like a receding rip tide.

R
edrought rode as close to Athena as he could. He was a little shy with her at first; after all, once the Spirits of Battle had left him, he’d realised that she – and everyone else, for that matter – had seen him naked. Fortunately, his soldiers had managed to find enough clothing amongst them to cover his blushes. But despite the death and mayhem that surrounded them, and the elation of the rout, he still managed to remember he was nothing but a gangling, odd-looking boy who was besotted with a beautiful young woman. Even the relief that they’d both survived the ordeal of war – so far – wasn’t enough to overcome the most spectacular display of blushing he’d managed to date, or the stumbling and stuttering that went with it.

Behind his confusion, though, Redrought was feeling something for the Princess that he’d never felt for anyone before: enormous pride. She’d arrived at the battlefield with almost perfect timing and had attacked the flank of the Vampire army with such ferocity that the enemy hadn’t realised that her force was tiny in comparison to their own numbers. The fact that her mother the Basilea had been with her somehow didn’t impress Redrought anywhere near as much.

After the enemy retreat, the young King and the victorious allies had slept overnight in the dense forests of The-Land-ofthe-Ghosts, and Redrought had spent an entire evening sitting happily with Athena beside a campfire, receiving continuing reports from scouts and preparing for the march on the Blood Palace the next day. It had only ended when Basilea Artemis had pointedly escorted her daughter to her designated sleeping place, which just happened to be a roll of blankets next to her own.

The following day had dawned bright and crisp and, after a hurried breakfast, the army set off for the Blood Palace to arrest Their Vampiric Majesties and bring them to account for the invasion of the Icemark and countless other war crimes.

Of course, the shattered remnants of the Vampire King and Queen’s army could have reformed and be preparing for a last stand in defence of the monstrous monarchs. But this seemed unlikely; so far, scouts had reported nothing but scattered bands of fleeing soldiers. There were no reports of any werewolves at all. Perhaps they’d simply returned to their mountain holds, and in the case of the Ukpiks, to the Icesheets of the far north. But Redrought was determined to be ready for all possibilities, and his soldiers marched in full armour
with weapons drawn.

Despite the possible dangers, the young King rode in a contented silence beside the Princess, but his peace was suddenly interrupted by Athena’s voice. “The scouts seem to think we’ll reach the Blood Palace in less than a couple of hours.”

“Yes,” Redrought agreed. “I’ll only believe this war’s over when the Vampire King and Queen are finally dead.”

“Who or . . .
what
do you think will rule in their stead?” Athena asked quietly. “I mean, a country can’t just govern itself, can it?”

“I don’t know, I suppose not, but to be honest I don’t really care. Let the land fall into total anarchy!”

“But couldn’t that be dangerous, for us I mean? We do share a border with them.”

“Could it be any more dangerous than it’s already been? At least if the country’s in chaos and leaderless they won’t be able to organise an invading army any time soon.”

“No, I suppose not,” Athena said, but she sounded less than convinced. Then she added, “Perhaps Their Vampiric Majesties have gone into exile.”

“Yes, perhaps. But if they have I’ll hunt them down; they’ll never have peace until I trap them somewhere and drive a stake through their Undead hearts!”

Athena looked at the boy she was beginning to suspect she loved. He was such a mass and mess of contradictions: ugly in an attractive way; painfully shy and yet a leader of armies; gentle-hearted and at the same time ferocious and unforgiving. Which part was the real boy, and which part did she love?

She was an intelligent young woman and it didn’t take her long to realise that all these traits were integral to the young
King and she loved the sum of all his parts. Redrought was a warp and weft of contradictions, that was what made him fascinating.

They continued in a companionable quiet for several miles while Redrought received a constant stream of messages from different parts of the allied army. The Basilea and her Consort had been appointed as rearguards, an important and honourable role that Athena couldn’t help thinking Redrought had personally assigned as a means of keeping her parents out of the way for a few hours. She soon came to the conclusion that she could also add “devious” to the list of his character traits.

Then after about an hour a scout came galloping back along the forest track the army was following. Redrought immediately called a halt and waited quietly.

“Vampires! Vampires, My Lord!” the scout called as he approached.

“Where and how many?”

“Thousands, Sire. Beyond the eaves of the forest. They’re lining a road that seems to lead to a large palace in the distant hills.”

“Lining
the road, not defending it? Not blocking it?”

“No, My Lord. As far as I could see, they’re just standing along both edges of the roadway.”

Redrought frowned in puzzlement and called up Brereton and Ireton to consult with them. It was soon decided to proceed with caution and in full battle readiness. The orders were passed along the line and the army set off again. Soon they reached the edge of the forest and they could clearly see a wide paved road meandering away across a valley floor and apparently leading to a large building in the distant foothills.

“The Blood Palace,” said Redrought, though it was the sight of thousands of Vampire soldiers on each side of the road that held his attention. None of them showed any signs of preparing to resist the allies’ advance, and after a few minutes’ pause, Redrought gave the order to march. The housecarles marched directly behind the young King and the Princess, their shields interlocked and spears levelled. The rest of the army was also ready and prepared for treachery. But as they drew level with the first Vampire warriors they saw that they had laid their weapons, shields and helmets at their feet, and as Redrought came level with them, each soldier dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

“They’re surrendering!” said Athena excitedly.

“They have little choice,” Redrought replied, though he couldn’t help grinning broadly as he said it.

But soon it was the brooding presence of the Blood Palace that began to hold the attention of the allies. The road crossed the valley floor and began to climb the foothills towards a narrow plateau, where the large many-pinnacled building stood in its high arching elegance. Despite its beauty there was an atmosphere of morbidity about it that made the advancing victors shudder. The many windows were blank and black, and shadows gathered in the crenellations and carvings that festooned each arch and doorway. It was as though the palace itself was a living entity that sensed its enemy’s approach and resented their presence.

By the time Redrought, Athena and the other members of the High Command had reached the base of a large flight of steps that led up to a pair of huge double doors, each and every soldier of the allied army felt almost as threatened and afraid as they had when fighting the Vampire army. Only
Redrought kept his true feelings hidden and glared up to the palace doors that were closed against him. Quickly he dismounted Hengist and waved up Beorg, the giant drum horse that had stood so bravely against the werewolf attack. Theodred, his rider, had been killed in the battle, so his saddle was empty, and in a matter of moments the young King had climbed up, released the harnessing that held the war-drums in position and urged the huge horse to climb the steps that led to the Palace. Cadwalader was in his usual place on Redrought’s shoulder, and as they began to climb he raised his voice in a deep-throated yowl.

The steps of the staircase were shallow and wide, making it relatively easy for a horse to climb, and quickly Athena urged her own nimble-footed pony to follow, while the rest made their way on foot. At the top, Redrought rode across a wide terrace to the palace doors, where, drawing his axe, he struck the woodwork three times with the haft. The doors boomed hollowly like a drum, but as the sound died away nothing happened. He struck again and waited. Still the doors stood closed and locked against him.

He withdrew a short way and, drawing breath, shouted, “I am Redrought Athelstan Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Bear of the North, King of the Icemark, Liege Lord of the Hypolitan and commander of the armies that have brought your power to its knees. Open your doors that I may enter and pronounce judgement on those criminals known as Their Vampiric Majesties!”

His words were greeted with silence, and nodding to himself he rode up to the doors again and made the giant horse rear so that he struck at the woodwork with his massive hooves. Again and again he smashed at the doors until at last
they splintered, cracked and then finally flew open to crash back against the walls inside.

Redrought now rode through and into a wide audience chamber, which stretched away to a distant dais where two thrones stood. The room was packed with terrified courtiers who grovelled on the floor as the King and his psychopomp cat rode by. Cadwalader stared around the audience chamber, his eyes a blazing yellow and his voice a deep growl that echoed over the air. All of the courtiers withdrew as far away as possible, hugging the walls and staring with terrified eyes at the creature who had destroyed the Undead existence of General Romanoff.

Beorg’s hooves clopped loudly over the elegant black-and-white tiles that stretched in geometric patterns towards the dais where Their Vampiric Majesties sat, quietly waiting in their finest state robes. As a result of their encounter with Redrought in the battle the Vampire Queen was wearing a sling for her broken arm and the King had a black eye, but neither injuries seemed to detract from their perfect poise. Redrought looked to neither left nor right, but rode directly to draw rein before the twin thrones.

“I am—”

“With a voice as loud as yours I should imagine everyone from here to the Southern Continent has heard who you are,” the Queen interrupted. “Please, just get on with whatever you feel you have to do before we all expire of boredom.”

But Redrought was no longer the boy the Queen had hoped to belittle. He held her eye in an unblinking gaze and repeated. “I am here to judge your crimes, dead monarchs of a dead land. How do you plead?”

“Well, really,” said the King petulantly. “How would you
plead in our situation? We are rulers who have ruled as we saw fit. We own to no guilt; we reject all accusations of crime and we demand to be treated with respect by our fellow monarch!”

Redrought’s axe smashed the armrest of the King’s throne, missing his elegantly placed hand by inches. “As you respected my brother at the Battle of the Plains?”

“He fell in battle as a warrior King; surely an honourable death for the ruler of a warrior race,” said the Queen defiantly.

“You allowed him no honour! His body was defiled, torn apart by werewolves, and his tomb lies empty even now; an incomplete memorial to a lost King.”

“Well, I’m sure we’re perfectly contrite about that,” Her Vampiric Majesty replied. “But such are the fortunes of war.”

Cadwalader hissed and stood on Redrought’s shoulder, making the monstrous monarchs cower back in their thrones. “Must you bring that filthy creature everywhere with you?” the Vampire King asked in pained tones. “It’s hardly conducive to civilised conversation.”

“But haven’t you always said that the Icemark and its Royal House of Lindenshield is anything other than civilised?” said Redrought. “How can you expect anything more than mere barbarity from me and my people? How can you plead for respect for your positions as monarchs and rulers of your lands when the Icemark’s King is a loutish boy? How can you hope for mercy when that quality is only to be found in the genteel and refined and civilised? After all, I think it’s obvious to all who meet me that I’m nothing but a loud and boorish King of an uncouth and backward land.” He paused and smiled with all the warmth of the tundra, before he went on: “Therefore you’ll hardly be surprised when I tell you that I
have appointed myself as your judge, jury and executioner, and that now, at this very moment, I am about to mete out your sentence!”

He then raised his axe and swinging it around his head, he prepared to strike.

“REDROUGHT!!”

The voice cut through the horrified silence like a razor through silk. The young King stopped in mid-chop and turned in his saddle to see who’d dare interrupt his Royal Justice. “Oh, of course,” he said and almost smiled. Then, remembering where they were, he added: “What on earth are
you
doing here?”

Kahin now strode forwards from the ruined doors where she’d been standing and made her way to the dais. “What am I doing here, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I’m stopping you carrying out an execution that you and our homeland would have cause to deeply regret.”

“Regret?!
How could I ever regret the death of the monsters who murdered my brother, invaded my land and killed my people in their thousands?”