Spook's: The Dark Army (The Starblade Chronicles) (18 page)

The cannonballs had been arranged into long rows between the guns. I remembered that County gunners usually stacked theirs in neat pyramids. But I acknowledged that everything seemed well organized here. I could not fault it. I noted the large tubs of water to cool the barrels; they were prone to overheating and then exploding, which could send shrapnel in every direction. The canvas bags of gunpowder were kept well away from the water.

The central gun would be fired first. Gunpowder had already been tipped into the mouth of the cannon before being rammed home with a long rod. Now one of the gunners lifted a heavy cannonball, inspected it and then, with a nod of approval towards his sergeant, hefted it upwards and rolled it smoothly into the long barrel.

Finally the sergeant barked a command in his best parade-ground voice. He was speaking Losta, but I assumed that the order was ‘Fire!’

There was a reed fuse sticking out of the top of the gun and another soldier lit it, then stood well clear. All the gunners had their hands over their ears. We were standing about a hundred yards away, but I did the same – I’d experienced the deafening thunder of an eighteen-pounder before.

The gun carriage jerked back a few paces and the cannonball hurtled through the air towards the monstrous varteki, to the rear of the front line. Even with my hands over my ears, I could still hear the shriek of its passage through the air.

It struck the ground about thirty yards short of the enemy, sending up a cloud of dust, then bounced twice and flew into the line of waiting Kobalos. Distant screams and groans from the fallen Kobalos filled the air. But the line quickly closed to fill the gap.

A cloud of smoke hung over the central gun, but the trajectory of all three barrels was adjusted: there was the clicking, metallic sound of ratchets.

Less than a minute later, the three cannon discharged with a simultaneous clap of thunder, followed by the banshee wail of the projectiles falling towards our enemies. This time they struck their intended target.

I knew immediately that we had caused serious damage to the enemy. The screams and bellows didn’t sound human. Horrible shrieks rent the air and unsettled our horses even more than the noise of the cannon.

Within a minute a second volley had struck the same area, and after a third fusillade, the guns were repositioned, each now seeking out the remaining varteki. They were firing at will, but the targets were found again and again, and I noticed a smile spread across the sergeant’s face in recognition of a job well done.

This was the first stage of a battle in which our smaller army would try to break through the lines of a force that greatly outnumbered us. So far, so good. It had begun well.

As for my own part in this, little was required of me other than to survive and reach safety. When the time came, I was to ride close to Grimalkin, Prince Stanislaw, Alice and Jenny, surrounded and protected by his personal guard.

I couldn’t understand why the Kobalos didn’t attack now. It seemed crazy to stay in the same position and take such punishment, especially when their army was so much larger than ours. I
could
understand that the rank and file might be required to stand firm under withering fire, to show discipline or bravery. But the varteki were being targeted; our gunners were rapidly depleting their most powerful weapon. Did they too have weapons that could kill over a distance, or would they use some sort of dark magic against us?

I wondered what part Alice intended to play in this battle. On first seeing her, Grimalkin had exclaimed, ‘This changes everything!’ So would Alice use her powerful magic to help our cause? At the moment she was just standing beside Grimalkin, staring at the Kobalos lines.

I patted Jenny on the shoulder, then walked across to stand beside Alice. ‘Are you going to use your magic against the Kobalos?’ I asked her. ‘We’re going to need it.’

Alice nodded. ‘Not yet, but the moment will come when I can make a difference. I’ll use it then, Tom, and not before. I only have so much strength and I want to make it count.’

Suddenly a dark orb fell through the air towards the gunners and splattered wetly over the central cannon – a yellow brown goo with streaks of white like excrement dropped by some gigantic bird. I looked up just in time to see the next one coming, travelling in a high arc from the Kobalos lines. This landed on the cannon on the left. Their targeting was extremely accurate, I realized.

‘They are probably using big catapults,’ Grimalkin explained calmly. ‘They are every bit as accurate as our cannon. Soon we will see how effective their missiles are.’

I watched as the barrel of the central cannon began to steam, and I heard a hissing sound; the surface of the metal was bubbling and spitting. Seeing the threat, two of the gunners staggered towards it with one of the smaller tubs of water. They intended to try and wash away the noxious substance, but they were too late.

Suddenly the whole barrel began to twist and distort. They backed away as it began to spray out globules of molten metal.

The third projectile missed its target by a few feet, landing on the ground near the sergeant and two of the gunners, splattering them with yellow-brown droplets. They reacted immediately, running around in circles and beating at their faces and heads; they were screaming in agony.

I shuddered in horror as the sergeant’s blue jacket steamed and blackened as if consumed by invisible flames. The skin on his face and hands began to bubble and fall off in long strips.

The second gun was already beginning to suffer the fate of the first: the barrel was distorted and would clearly no longer be of use. Seconds later the third gun was also silenced.

Whatever means they had used to launch those deadly orbs, the accuracy of their targeting had proved to be at least the equal of ours. I looked up fearfully, but could see nothing. They had simply ended the threat from our guns.

Everything fell silent. For a moment I thought the Kobalos might be using dark magic against us. The silence grew and intensified, and then a cold wind suddenly sprang up, blowing towards us from the massed ranks of our enemies. Snowflakes began to whirl down out of the ominous grey sky.

And a dark thought winged its way into my mind. We might well be dead soon, slain in the first big battle between humans and Kobalos. Valkarky would expand, bringing ice and snow to cover for ever what had once been green.

Was it a coincidence that the snow was falling just as the battle started? Was Golgoth already starting to blast us with cold?

Could this be the first snow of the final winter, one that would never end?

DISTRACTED BY THE
snow, I had failed to notice something else . . . when I next glanced across, the enemy line had changed. The central section seemed to be bulging outwards. Then I heard the distant thunder of hooves and my heart lurched. The Kobalos cavalry were charging towards us.

In response, there was a single bugle call from somewhere close to Prince Stanislaw, and our archers began to sprint forward into the space between the ruined guns and the advancing enemy.

This was part of the plan that Grimalkin had put forward. The original intention had been to send the archers forward earlier to protect the guns and prevent them being overrun in the event of such an attack as this. Now that the guns had been destroyed, they would still attempt to halt the enemy cavalry.

The two thousand archers got into position rapidly, forming two lines facing towards the enemy cavalry. Within seconds they had each nocked an arrow from the quivers on their backs, aimed their longbows and, at a shouted command, fired.

The arrows fell in a long downward curve, swooping like a flock of predatory birds, sharp beaks seeking out the flesh of the enemy. The trajectory seemed perfect and I tried to estimate the result.

The snow was thickening and it was hard to see now, but the enemy seemed unaffected. Back in the kulad I had noted the armour worn by Lenklewth; his warriors had been no less well protected. It had overlapping plates with few chinks to allow an arrow to penetrate. The helmets covered the head; only the narrow visor or the join at the neck were vulnerable. Our arrows were unlikely to cause harm.

This first fusillade had been a way to release tension, exercise muscles and engage the skills of our archers before they got down to the real business. Grimalkin had been quite clear on what would happen next: they would not use the same tactic again.

Now they simply waited, allowing the enemy cavalry to get closer. The two lines of bowmen were offset; the ones in the back line were positioned so that they could fire between the two men in front of them. They drew back their bows as one, no longer aiming high but straight ahead.

The foremost of the Kobalos cavalry were less than a hundred yards away now, and still our archers did not fire. I could hear the thunder of the hooves; see the fierce eyes of the enemy glaring through the narrow slits in their helmets. My hand gripped the hilt of the Starblade where it still rested in its scabbard. If the archers failed to halt them, the Kobalos would be amongst us in seconds.

When the enemy riders were less than fifty yards away the archers finally fired.

Polyznia had excellent blacksmiths, able to forge first-rate weapons. At close range their steel-tipped arrows could penetrate metal, flesh and bone. Horses screamed and fell. Kobalos warriors pitched forward, many dead before they hit the ground. Those that followed couldn’t halt in time and went into their fallen comrades, crashing down in a tangle of limbs, the living intertwined with the dead.

Enemy riders were now circling to the rear, trying to find a way through the piles of bodies to reach us. The archers fired again and more Kobalos were flung from their saddles to join those already on the ground.

Again and again flights of those deadly arrows struck home until there were none left to attack. Not one Kobalos warrior had retreated: they were prepared to fight to the death with no concern for their own survival. That made them a truly formidable race.

In the distance the enemy lines looked unchanged. Although they had lost perhaps a brigade of cavalry, they no doubt had many others in reserve.

However, rather than waiting for the next attack, the archers retreated, summoned by a bugle call. As they rejoined our ranks, another thin high note cut through the cold air. In response, the largest detachment of our cavalry began to move forward in two long columns, which would join together beyond the fallen Kobalos.

These were the blue-jacketed elite, the Polyznian lancers, all polished leather and shining buckles. They did not wear helmets, and each fair-haired rider carried a long lance across his right shoulder. Their mounts were immaculately turned out, as if for the parade ground rather than a battlefield, but the men exuded confidence and determination.

When they reached their positions, I heard another bugle call – the order to charge.

With a thunder of hooves, they galloped into the swirling snowflakes, heading directly towards the Kobalos lines.

It was exhilarating to watch that charge. It filled me with hope but that was tempered by nerves and fear. This was the moment of truth because their advance was also our own signal to move.

It was intended that the lancers would cut a swathe through the ranks of the enemy, clearing the way; we would follow as best we could. The plan was that each of the remaining cavalrymen would allow an infantry soldier to share his horse. Those foot-soldiers left behind would have to run and fight as best they could, although some of our lancers had volunteered to offer protection during the retreat.

Swords already drawn, the prince’s guard fell into position around us. Grimalkin had already leaped onto her horse; I clambered up onto my mount and gave Jenny an encouraging smile as she did the same. I noticed that Alice was still on foot; she was staring intently at the distant lancers, who were closing with the enemy.

Her face was very serious and she was frowning slightly. Alice still had the appearance of a pretty young girl but I could see something else; I could see the mature woman that she would one day become; I could see her determination. Radiating from her was the power of a will that would tolerate no opposition to her intentions.

I had assumed that Alice would share Grimalkin’s horse. To my surprise she came over and pulled herself up into the saddle behind me, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. I looked over my shoulder in surprise, but the guards were already moving forward and I had no chance to speak.

We advanced, our trot soon becoming a canter. We were heading straight towards the enemy lines, following the path of the lancers. I sensed a horse and rider go down somewhere on my left: whether they’d been hit or the horse had stumbled I didn’t know – the result would be the same, the rider trampled and left for dead. It was vital to stay in one’s saddle and keep moving with the rest.

The snow was falling thickly now; although I could hear a few faint screams and shouts, everything seemed slightly muffled and distant. Our route was clear, but there seemed to be fighting somewhere far to our right; there was a clashing of swords as humans battled Kobalos. Prince Stanislaw was ahead of us, and we were still protected by his guard. I looked around for Jenny but couldn’t pick her out; as long as she didn’t fall off her horse, I reflected, she would be fine.