Prince of the Icemark (3 page)

“There’s always hope, Your Majesty, and besides, more and more survivors are coming in every day. Soon there’ll be enough to defend the walls, and if you send out a summons to all of the cities that remain free in the south they could send . . . say, half their garrisons to help build up the numbers.”

Redrought looked at the old merchant sharply. “You’ve thought this through carefully, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. We must defend ourselves. We cannot surrender to the Undead and the monsters. The Icemark
is decreed as a human kingdom by Ahura Mazda, the Wise God himself. It is ruled by humans, populated by humans and it must be defended by humans. Send out riders now to the free cities and call in their garrisons. Their Vampiric Majesties are foolish enough to think we’re beaten, so now is the time to take them by surprise and strike back when they least expect it.”

Redrought remained silent for several long seconds, but then he nodded and stood up. “Come with me, there are maps and charts in the Campaign Room. We’ve a counter-attack to plan.”

K
ahin sat quietly in the sunshine that blazed through the window and lay in broad bars of transparent gold over the floor of the Campaign Room. The place was sparse and spare with just a round table occupying the middle of the space, a selection of chairs and a large map of the Icemark pinned to the wall. There were a number of red pins stuck into the map, showing the disposition of the army, and many more black ones showing the overwhelming strength of the enemy. No one had bothered to change the positions since the battle. Perhaps the truth was just too devastating.

The last few days had been chaotic. Several officers who’d survived the battle had made it back to Frostmarris, but none of them were particularly high-ranking, so Redrought was still
firmly on his throne and slowly growing in authority every day. On his own initiative he’d set the officers drilling and re-training the other survivors of the army, and already they were looking like a proper fighting force again − at least, they did to Kahin’s old merchant’s eyes. But there were other reasons to hope: there had been replies from the free cities of the south that were still untouched by the war, as Their Vampiric Majesties and their allies still only held the north, and all of them were sending half their garrisons. Soon they’d be able to defend themselves and perhaps even strike back at the enemy.

Kahin was waiting for the young King to arrive. Exactly what advice she could give that would be any use, she didn’t know. She knew nothing about warfare apart from the tales in the Avesta – the Holy Book of her people – that told of battles fought against mighty enemies that were eventually levelled by the power of Ahura Mazda, the true God. But none of them had been Vampires, zombies and werewolves, and neither had those battles been fought in northern lands that were frozen solid for six months of the year.

Still, all of the earth was created by and belonged to Ahura Mazda and therefore His will would be done upon it. The fact that the people of the Icemark were heathens who worshipped a Mother Goddess, of all peculiarities, would make no difference to the True God, Kahin was almost sure. Besides, she was a mother and grandmother of ten children and more than thirty grandchildren, and if she could control them and their squabbles as well as run a thriving business, no doubt she could help a young King to run his country.

A noise at the door interrupted Kahin’s thoughts and she turned to see Redrought walking in. He still had the slightly haunted look of one who’d seen too many horrors, but this
was now overlaid by a sense of purpose and an energy that seemed to literally fizz out of him. His red hair raged around his head so that it seemed to be on fire. In fact, Kahin thought, it almost made the King look like an angel with a red halo. Admittedly he made rather an
earthy
Being of Light, but right now in the country’s history, a divine intervention of any sort would be welcome.

“Kahin! Kahin, the smithies have already started to deliver the new weapons!” Redrought shouted happily as he strode into the room. “At this rate we’ll be re-armed within the month.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, My Lord. Let’s hope that Their Vampiric Majesties allow us the time to reach this landmark.”

“Yeah . . .” Redrought answered, visibly deflating. Then almost immediately he brightened up. “But there’s no sign of them yet, and in the meantime survivors of the battle are still coming in. We could be up to a quarter of our strength at this rate!”

Kahin watched Redrought’s mood dipping again as he realised the full import of what he’d just said. It was time to boost his faltering confidence. “Never mind, My Lord. Surely with armies, as in all things in life, it is
quality
rather than
quantity
that counts. Our soldiers are undoubtedly ‘blooded’ as the saying goes, plus they certainly have experience of fighting the enemy. Invaluable commodities, I would say.”

“Yes!” Redrought boomed as his spirits revived. “We know what to expect now. There’s nothing worse than facing an unknown enemy.”

Kahin privately thought that fighting an opponent that you knew to be stronger and better than you would actually be far worse, but she kept her opinions to herself. The young King’s
morale was far too fragile to withstand any sort of cynicism.

“Have any more of the garrisons from the southern towns come in yet?” Kahin asked, smoothly turning the subject to an area where she knew there was good news.

Redrought grinned and dropped into a chair that protested loudly. “Yes. Contingents from Learton and Middleburgh have been spotted on the road. They should be here by noon tomorrow. That’s almost a thousand new fighters,
and
they’re bringing extra weapons with them!”

Kahin nodded. Good news indeed. If all of the reinforcements brought additional shields, swords and axes, they could be re-armed far quicker than they had dared hope.

Redrought looked at his new adviser. He knew full well that the old merchant was desperately putting a positive slant on every bit of news that came in as she tried to ensure that he remained as optimistic as possible. And in fact he was quite happy about this. He needed as much morale-boosting as he could get. He was sixteen years old and a newly appointed King to a country that was already half lost to a powerful enemy. What was the point of giving him the unvarnished truth? He already knew
that
. What he needed was to be told that anything was possible . . . even the
im
possible.

“Will My Lord be training with the army today?”

“Of course, for as long as possible. I’m only here now to find out if you’ve heard anything new.”

“Alas, Sire, you know as much as I.”

“Right, well, I’ll get down to the training grounds then . . .”

They were both interrupted by the arrival of Grimswald. “Your Majesty, the guards have sent word that a contingent of witches wish to see you.”

“Witches, eh? White of course?” asked Redrought.

“Of course, Your Majesty. They’re led by Wenlock Witchmother herself,” Grimswald said.

“Come on, then, Kahin. Let’s see what they want.”

The old body-servant watched them go, then began to tidy the room.

Redrought led the way through the winding corridors of the citadel while Kahin almost had to trot to keep up with him. The boy may have been only sixteen, but he already had the stature of a man, and his long, muscular legs took strides that ate up the distance with an ease that had the old merchant panting.

They burst into the Great Hall with a power that had all of the guards posted around the walls stamping to attention. “Where are they? Where are they?” Redrought boomed. Kahin had noticed that the young King often boomed, even when he thought he was talking quietly.

“Ah!” Redrought went on. “There they are.” Waiting quietly, and making as much impression with their silence as the King did with his noise and bluster, stood the witches.

Redrought bounded up the dais and crashed down into the throne while Kahin followed at a statelier pace and stood quietly on his left. But by this time Redrought’s exuberance had started to ebb as the presence of the silently waiting witches made itself felt.

“You, er . . . You, er, may come forward,” he said.

The silence continued while the oldest witch stared at him unblinkingly. She was dressed in ragged grey robes and she leant heavily on a long staff, but a deep sense of energy and pure
vitality
seemed to beat from her in waves. Redrought was almost squirming under the scrutiny of the old witch, but at last she nodded as though he’d learned his lesson.

“We’re not used to being kept waiting, Redrought Athelstan Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield. Your brother and father were far more polite.”

“His Majesty came to see you as soon as he was informed of your presence,” said Kahin, quietly defending Redrought. “No slight was intended.”

The witch turned her unwavering gaze on the merchant, but found her equal in Kahin’s unflinching stare. After a trial of strength she nodded and the ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Well, Kahin Darius, I see that you’ve gained promotion since the last time I bothered to observe you. The role of Royal Adviser suits you well.”

“And you, Wenlock Witchmother, remain as observant and as powerful as ever. Any help that you can offer in this time of grave crisis will be received gratefully.”

“You divine my intentions perfectly, Madam Royal Adviser. Do the Zoroastrians harbour a witch in their ranks?” Wenlock Witchmother asked with playful irony.

The old merchant smiled guardedly. “Let us just say that the intuition of a life long lived has afforded me an insight into your motives, Witchmother.”

Wenlock grinned mischievously. “Whenever you feel the need to develop your Gifts, you know where to find us.”

Redrought had been watching this exchange in silence, but now he felt it was time the dignity of the Crown was acknowledged. This had nothing to do with any sense of personal pride; he still felt that he was just holding the position of King until such time as the Wittanagast should appoint someone more suitable to the post. Even so, until that happened it was his duty to make sure everyone treated the Crown with due respect.

He took a deep steadying breath and tried not to look at the formidable Witchmother. “Look, when you two have finished sparring with each other, perhaps . . . you know . . . perhaps it’d be a good idea to get down to business . . .whatever that is. I’ve got other things to do, you know . . . I mean . . . we
are
at war, and I’m a busy . . . man. Yes . . . man.”

The last bit came out uncertainly, but Redrought couldn’t have said anything quietly even if he tried, so the volume at least was impressive.

Wenlock Witchmother turned her eyes on the young King and decided to allow him his Kingly dignity. “Well, Your
Majesty
, as your adviser . . . intuited, I and my witches have come to proclaim our loyalty and offer any help that we can give.”

“Great!” Redrought boomed, happy that things seemed to be going the way a Royal audience should. “What can you do?”

“Perhaps it would be better if I explained what we will
not
do. And first and foremost is the fact we will not kill or use our Powers directly against the enemy, unless they use Black Magic. Remember, Redrought, werewolves in and of themselves are not evil. They’re fierce and vicious, of course, and they’re your enemy, but that isn’t a good enough reason for us to kill them. The Vampires are a different matter, but even they have something hidden deep within them, if they but knew it.”

“Then what
will
you do?” Redrought asked, beginning to wonder if the entire audience was a waste of time.

“We’ll try to defend the walls of the city with a protection spell,” Wenlock answered. “Though in all reality, defensive Magic works best when the enemy doesn’t know it’s in place,
and the werewolves will definitely be looking out for our intervention.”

Redrought’s frustration overrode the awe he felt for the old witch, and he raised his hands and banged them down on the arms of his throne. “So you won’t kill werewolves or Vampires and your protection spells are next to useless. How fortunate we are to have you as an ally, Wenlock Witchmother!”

“I’m glad you think so, cub of the House of Lindenshield,” the witch snapped. “Remember there are many things that we can offer a war-torn land. It is the power of witchcraft that can, at times, divine the thoughts of the Goddess herself and tell of her future plans.”

“Then tell us what her plans are now, if you can, and let us know what Their Vampiric Majesties intend to do!” Redrought said bitterly.

“As My Lord knows full well, the Goddess reveals her thoughts to those with the Sight only as and when She wishes! We cannot demand that this knowledge be given.”

“Then we can only hope She wishes to show us her thoughts soon, otherwise I’m not exactly sure what you have to offer your country, Wenlock Witchmother!”

“Do you not, oh wise King Redrought?” the old woman hissed with quiet venom. “Then let me begin by offering advice: do not blaspheme against the Goddess who is your Mother and the Mother of the entire world! And then let me go on by reminding you of the healing Powers of witchcraft, because when you’re wounded and on the point of death, it’ll be my people and their skills that will bring you back!”

Redrought guiltily remembered how White Annis had helped him when he’d fled the battle, and after a long silence he nodded his acknowledgement. “Your help will be gratefully
received, Witchmother,” he said as quietly as his nature allowed.

The old witch stared at him, but this time the King returned her gaze with an unwavering eye. “You’re growing, My Lord,” she said at last. “And for that reason the White Witches of the Icemark will help you.”

A silence fell and both Kahin and Redrought thought the audience was at an end. But then White Annis stepped from the ranks of those who stood behind the Witchmother.

“I’ve brought something for you, King,” she said abruptly after a brief smile of greeting, and held up a large sack that heaved and squirmed.

“Thank you,” said Redrought uncertainly. “What is it?”