Last Battle of the Icemark (17 page)

He suddenly felt a need for simple human contact. Walking over to where Thirrin stood in the window, he gathered her into a hug. Grishmak found them still locked in the embrace when he burst into the room several minutes later.

“Put him down, woman, you don't know where he's been!” he said, grinning hugely and revealing his enormous teeth.

“What is it, Grishy; anything important?” she asked, still in Oskan's arms.

“Could be. The southern border guard have just sent a message by the werewolf relay saying that they have a Polypontian officer asking permission to enter the country.”

“Oh, yes? Who, exactly?”

Grishmak grinned again. “General Andronicus.”

“What?” Thirrin barked, leaping out of Oskan's arms.

“I thought that might get your attention,” laughed the werewolf King. “He's got over two thousand cavalry with him, and he says he's just come from fighting Erinor herself.”

Thirrin paced excitedly about the room. “He lost, then, as predicted.”

“Yes, but he seems to have bloodied her nose, even though he only had a scratch force of garrison troops and veterans. Didn't have any artillery either, by all accounts.”

“He's giving information freely?”

“To whoever will listen. But he says he wants to see you as soon as.”

“When can he get here?” Thirrin asked eagerly.

Grishmak frowned as he thought things through. “His horses are pretty well foundered apparently. Seems to have ridden directly from the battlefield with hardly any rest. Even bypassed Romula itself saying in the circumstances the capital's indefensible.”

“Could be a week before he reaches Frostmarris, then.”

“Judging by the way he's just thundered across the Polypontus, I'd give it four days. He'll probably rest his nags for twenty-four hours and then set off again.”

Thirrin stopped. “Grishy, send a message via the relay. Tell Andronicus we'll meet him in Learton – that's halfway between here and the Dancing Maidens. You, Tharaman and Krisafitsa can come with me. Oh, and tell Olympia and Ollie they're coming too.” She suddenly laughed in elation. “At last we'll be able to talk to someone who's actually fought Erinor!”

Oskan watched as the two warriors then went into the minutiae of military planning, and felt about as useful as a chocolate teapot. It was amazing the way Thirrin could snap from one mode to another; just seconds earlier she'd been a terrified mother afraid for her child. And now she was the strong leader of armies with no thought for anything but weaponry, troop movements and supply. Or so it would seem to anyone who didn't know her. Oskan was very well aware that she'd simply learned to compartmentalise her problems; it was the only way she had even the vaguest chance of functioning on so many different levels.

Even so, he couldn't help feeling the smallest spark of
contempt for the warrior mind; distract it even for a moment, and all other thoughts were forgotten, or ‘compartmentalised'. It was lucky for the Icemark – and even the world in general – that
he
had a brain that could cope with more than one thought at a time. But he supposed he couldn't expect too much from simple mortals. Their lives were so short and insignificant, it was wrong to expect them to be aware of
higher matters . . 
.

He checked himself in horror; where did these thoughts come from? He'd swung from needing the basic human contact of Thirrin's arms, to a deep contempt for mortal frailty, in a matter of moments. How did these thoughts find their way into his brain?

Not daring to seek an answer, he dragged his thoughts back to the present, and coughed politely, hoping to attract Thirrin's attention. After a few minutes of being ignored, he said, “I'll just go and see if dinner's nearly ready, shall I?” He waited for a reply, but, getting none, he added: “Yes, fine. I'll do that, then.”

And he walked away from the gathering of warriors, wrestling with a growing sense of anger and disdain.

Maggiore Totus slept peacefully in a shaft of sunlight that pooled over his desk and chair. He'd just finished reading through one of the illuminated manuscripts of his
History of the War Part II
, which had recently arrived from the scriptorium of the Holy Brothers on the Southern Continent. Of course his work had been available for scholarly study a matter of months after Bellorum and his sons had been defeated in their second attempt to add the Icemark to the empire, but these were special editions, destined to grace
the libraries of Thirrin's allies.

He'd been mightily pleased with the superb scrollwork along the borders of each of the volumes' vellum pages, and the illuminated capital letters that began every chapter were works of art in their own right, but it was the individual illustrations of major characters and battles that pleased him the most. The artists in the scriptorium had let their imaginations run wild, and both Grishmak and Tharaman-Thar were truly mountainous and horrifying creatures with enough teeth and claws to furnish an entire army of monsters.

Maggie was happily imagining their reactions to their portraits when he fell asleep with the ease only ever achieved by the very young and the deeply venerable. He snored now in happy oblivion as the world accumulated the new histories he would write in the future. The pool of light in which he slept deepened to a rich honey colour as the sun sank towards the horizon, and he might have slumbered right through the night if Cressida hadn't suddenly hammered on his door and almost leaped into his room.

“How can you sleep, Maggie, when the country's heading for war?”

The old scholar snorted into shocked wakefulness and blinked owlishly at the Crown Princess. “One would need to be an insomniac if sleep was only allowed in the Icemark when it wasn't under threat of conflict.”

“Ha! Very true, Maggie! Very true!” Cressida said with a grin, and grabbing a nearby chair she slammed it down facing the old man, and sat down heavily.

Of all the Royal children, Maggiore thought, it was the Crown Princess who was the most like her mother, and also like her grandfather Redrought. She was loud – not to say
explosive – aggressive, argumentative – and yet at the same time loving, sensitive to the needs of others, and downright bloody annoying. She also very rarely indulged in social visits, so, settling his spectoculums squarely on his nose, Maggie gazed at her enquiringly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“Nothing!” she answered in breezy surprise. “Does there have to be a reason to visit my old tutor and friend?”

“Yes.”

“You old cynic.”

“Yes.”

She looked sharply at him for a moment or two, then finally gave up. “Oh, all right! I'm just annoyed not to be going with everyone else to meet General Andronicus!”

“Hmmm?” Maggie said non-committally.

“Well, I wanted to be there when we finally meet someone who's actually fought Erinor. I mean, I could be useful.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes. I've got one of the most militarily analytical brains in the High Command. All right, I know Mother and Ollie will be more than adequate in their debriefing techniques, but for a sharply incisive insight you can't really do better than me.”

“Umm.”

“I know that Mother thinks it would do me good to hone my administrative skills, and master the day-to-day running of the country's internal affairs, and the only real way to do that is in her absence; learning by my mistakes and all that. But even so, the arrival of Andronicus is a hugely important event, and I ought to be present.”

“Ah.”

“Oh, yes, you might argue that I'll be able to read detailed reports, and that the man himself will be here in the capital in a week or so anyway. But none of that will give me the sort of insight that a first-hand interview would reveal.”

“Um-huh.”

“And it's no use saying that I'll probably be able to spend weeks talking with the man while we prepare our response to the threat posed by Erinor. The fact remains that I'll have lost the initial unsullied
freshness
of the first interview and debriefing.”

“Ah-hah.”

“I mean, I suppose a really incisive and analytical mind might argue that I'm simply behaving like a spoiled brat who's disappointed because everyone else is going off on a treat while I have to stay in my room and do my homework. But I'd counter that argument by stating that such an opinion could only be expressed by a truly cynical and judgemental outlook.”

“Hmmm.”

“Look! I really believe in the validity of my arguments, and your attitude doesn't make me change my opinion one iota!”

“Umm.”

“Oh, all right. Have it your own way!” she shouted. “But I still say I'm better suited than anyone else to debrief military personnel.”

Maggie winced as the door slammed behind her. He sighed gently and reflected on the pitfalls of the overly analytical mind, before pouring himself a sherry and leafing through the illuminated manuscripts again.

Cressida erupted into Eodred's and Howler's room, making them both leap to their feet in shock.

“Cor, sis, have a little thought for my heart!” her brother said feelingly as he slumped back into a chair. “I thought it was Erinor and her Hordes.”

“That bloody man!”

“Who?” asked Howler. “Eodred?”

“No. Maggiore Totus! I've just spent a fraught few minutes explaining exactly why I should have gone with the party to meet Andronicus, and . . . and he . . .”

“And he what?” asked Eodred.

“Well, he, he disagreed with everything I said.”

“That's unusual. He's normally politeness itself.”

“Oh, he was
polite
,” said Cressida, removing a mail shirt and six pairs of dirty socks from one of the chairs and sitting down. “He just stonewalled everything I said.”

“Are you sure?” asked Howler, who'd seen Cressida in what she believed to be conversation before.

“Of course I'm sure! He just sat there and . . . and looked
disbelieving
, no matter what I said.”

“Right,” said Howler, returning to the bone he'd been gnawing and putting his feet back up on the table.

“
You're
doing it now!” she almost wailed. “And take your feet down!”

“Sis,” said Eddie calmly. “This is mine and Howler's room, and if we want to dance on the tables in hobnailed boots we'll do so. Now calm down, sit down and pipe down. And when you've done all that, have a drink of this sherbet. Mekhmet gave it to me before he disappeared. That's a point, I wonder what's happened to him and the snottling.”

“Don't forget Kirimin,” said Howler, crossing his feet comfortably on the table and wriggling his hugely clawed toes.

Cressida seethed silently for a few moments, her eyes
almost bulging from their sockets. Then she let out a frustrated scream, leaped to her feet and stormed through the door, slamming it behind her.

“I believe that's what's called a ‘dramatic exit',” said Howler, still gnawing the bone. “Have we got any salt?”

C
HAPTER
14

C
ronus's dead black eyes regarded his granddaughter appraisingly. “I think the time has come, Medea, to test your abilities.”

“Test my abilities? Don't you think they've been tested enough?” she asked, as irritably as she dared.

“Frankly, no. Not if you are to retain your present lofty position within the Darkness,” he replied as he sat back comfortably in Medea's great chair. Of course, his real reason for wanting to push her powers to their absolute limit was one of simple appraisal. He needed to know where her strengths lay, and whether she was strong enough to be of use in the upcoming invasion of the Icemark.

“Then test away, Grandfather. Do your worst!” she said as she paced the skull-cobbled floor of the Great Hall. “I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.”

“I do so hope you're right, Medea,” he said as he secretly gathered the strength he needed. “How, for example, would you react to this?”

Suddenly the hall was filled with three giant Ice Demons, their wings clattering and battering at the air as they rolled
and hopped along the floor towards her. Tusks burst from their mouths like splinters of rock, and a stench of blood and worse billowed around them in a thick and choking smog.

Medea stood her ground, and with a wave of her hand three Ice Demons of her own leaped into the world.

Immediately she seized control of their minds, and with a roar they charged the demons of Cronus. They met in a tangle of limbs and wings; a great bellowing filled the hall, and black blood splattered the ice-white ceilings in a fine tracery of gore.

Cronus applied his power, and his creatures surged forward in an explosion of unstoppable ferocity, tearing wings to tatters and wrenching limbs from sockets. Medea's Demons were borne slowly back, their sharply clawed feet slipping in the welter of slimy blood as they scrabbled for grip.

Rejecting all idea of surrender, Medea sent a burst of homicidal hatred into her creatures. Now they fought back with insane power, ripping and gouging, smashing and tearing until Ice Demon met Ice Demon in an immoveable wall of fighting intensity. On and on they fought, their simple minds controlled by two of the most powerful Adepts in all Creation. Medea trembled and quaked with the effort of fighting her grandfather through the proxy of her Demons, but Cronus too was feeling the strain. This was the first time he'd personally experienced her strength, and he was almost impressed.

With a final effort he sent a surge of power into his Demons, which was translated into the tearing-off of heads and the disembowelling of all that remained. With a great roar of triumph, they trampled their enemies and swallowed huge slobbering mouthfuls of skin and bone, and then they turned on Medea.

Howling and snarling, they stalked slowly towards her, their eyes glittering with insane glee, saliva pouring unchecked from their mouths. But then, with an almost contemptuous wave of her hand, she set them alight and watched impassively as they shrieked in agony. When they were incinerated to ash, Medea restored the pristine brilliance of the Bone Fortress, removing blood and oily smoke damage from ceiling, floor and walls, and restoring the shattered skulls of the cobbles to their former perfect domes.

Cronus sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, and then, standing, he set off towards the main doors, a nimbus of ice crystals eddying around him.

Medea watched him go and smiled triumphantly as his parting words reached her across the freezing air.

“Well done, my dear. I think we might be ready.”

General Valerian Honorius Andronicus gazed ahead to the city of Learton. He could clearly see the reception committee of Queen Thirrin and her High Command waiting before the gates, and quite frankly he was fascinated. It was this woman and her alliance with talking beasts and monsters that had finally defeated and destroyed the Bellorum clan, arguably the greatest monsters the known world had ever produced. But the fact that he, Andronicus, had been an enemy of the late general and his sons, and that he'd bitterly opposed the war with the Icemark in the Senate, gave little comfort now as he approached this almost legendary woman and her hideous allies.

Behind him the two-thousand-strong regiment of cavalry clattered along in smart and disciplined lines, their fierce young faces glaring rigidly ahead, their thoughts and fears
masked by their martial frowns. Andronicus's own misgivings were hidden behind his habitual half-smile and ironically quirked eyebrow. Bellorum had favoured an icy expression when dealing with friend and foe alike, and he'd thought his rival's open friendliness both weak and ineffectual. In fact, the two generals had differed on many points; unlike Bellorum, Andronicus firmly believed that exercise should be restricted to the young. As a result, he had what he termed a ‘comfortable' figure, but which his wife had fondly described as ‘fearsomely fat'. However, as most of his belly was now encased and restrained in his smartly polished breastplate, he simply looked large and imposing.

The Polypontian cavalry drew closer to the city, and Andronicus could see the citizens milling around the road behind cordons hastily thrown up by the housecarles of the garrison. They were mainly silent as they watched the Imperial troopers draw closer, their emotions definitely mixed. The last time such uniforms had been seen in the Icemark they'd wrought havoc and mayhem and murder. And yet now here they were approaching their Queen as potential allies against a new threat from the south. In all reality, to the ordinary people of the Icemark, rumours of Erinor and her Hordes were so far in the distance that they hardly seemed a threat at all. Most of them were far more worried to see Imperial cavalry on their home soil again.

Andronicus was close enough now to make out details, and the Queen's red hair shone out like a beacon. But it was the stupendous sight of the Snow Leopard Thar and Tharina that held his gaze, as well as that of Grishmak the werewolf King. As an opponent of the war against the Icemark, he'd never actually seen such creatures before, and even from a distance
their presence was overpowering. But Andronicus wasn't the second most famous Polypontian general for nothing, and he unconsciously straightened his spine as he approached. This challenge would be met with the same fortitude with which he'd fought his wars, both military and political.

Judging himself close enough, he held up his hand and the cavalry reined to a halt. A silence of an almost tangible quality now settled over the day. The people watched proceedings with suspicion, and the Imperial troopers frowned on all about them. Only Andronicus smiled gently, and after a few minutes of silently regarding the surprisingly slight figure of the Queen, he urged his horse forward.

Thirrin and her companions didn't stir, and the sharp clip-clop of Andronicus's horse's hooves on the flagstoned road jabbed small knives of sound deep into his ears. But then at last common sense prevailed; they were not enemies, they were not at war, and they shared a need to control a growing military disaster in the south. Why should he be nervous? Why should any of them be anything other than happy to be in each other's company? With this thought Andronicus relaxed, and his smile broadened into a genuine and warm greeting.

By this point his horse had reached a comfortable distance from the Queen and her party, and he drew to a halt. Andronicus then saluted and bowed in his saddle. He straightened up and gazed in wonder on the group before him.

“Your collective Majesties: Queen Thirrin; King Grishmak; Tharaman-Thar; Krisafitsa-Tharina and Basilea Olympia, may I say it humbles a man to be in the presence of such living legends. It is truly my honour and pleasure to greet you.”

“General Andronicus,” Thirrin replied quietly. “I suppose
I should say ‘Welcome to the Icemark.'”

Understanding her reluctance and reticence entirely, he smiled again and was just drawing breath to reply when his stomach rumbled as enormously as only an enormous stomach could, and housed as it was in the steel sounding chamber of a breastplate, the noise of it floated over the air and even reached the ears of the watching masses.

“There sits a hungry man,” said Tharaman and chuckled.

Andronicus's eyes widened as he heard the refined voice emerging, incredibly, from the cavernous mouth of a wild beast, but he quickly recovered. “My apologies to one and all, but I've been on uncommonly short rations over the last few weeks, and I must say that I miss my tuck!”

“Nothing worse,” Tharaman said sympathetically. “The only real drawback to campaigning, in my opinion.”

“Precisely so,” said the general, warming to the huge animal. “Do you know, I only had time for half a dozen eggs for breakfast and less than half a loaf.”

“Nowhere near enough for active service!” said the Thar in outraged tones.

“We must get you fed, General,” said Krisafitsa. “There's a feast of welcome prepared. There are just the formalities of greeting to complete and we can go in.”

Andronicus bowed again. “Madam, I am forever in your debt.”

“What about drink?” Grishmak asked. “If you like beer we do a particularly fine brew from the South Riding.”

“Nothing better than beer after a hard ride, in my opinion, and if rounded off with a bottle or two of a warming red wine then all the miseries of this mortal life are relegated to their proper positions as mere irritations.”

“Ha! A man after my own heart!” said Grishmak. “If you'll allow, I'll appoint myself as your guide through the many fine brews of the Icemark. You'll be surprised at the variety!”

“I will be the most willing of travellers,” Andronicus replied, and smiled again.

Thirrin watched her friends' tentative moves to establish a relationship with the Polypontian general, but found herself totally unable to do the same. How could she possibly even communicate with a man who represented the very nation that had tried to destroy her land twice; the very nation that had killed her father and son and countless thousands of citizens of the Icemark? Let none have any illusions here; the only reason Andronicus was sitting before them on his horse at all was because the Polypontus was in dire and desperate straits. If the circumstances had been different he might even have been leading yet another invasion against them! She looked now at his laughing face and saw only an enemy.

But then, deep in the recesses of her mind, a small voice started to speak:
The only reason
you
ever made an alliance with the Wolf-folk and the Snow Leopards was because the Icemark was in dire and desperate straits! And yet look at what friendships have grown from an alliance of need. Could the Icemark even function now without the Wolf-folk? Would your life be complete without Tharaman, Krisafitsa and Grishmak? An alliance of mutual convenience can grow into something far more powerful . . . given the chance
.

Thirrin nodded to herself, then shrugged. There were times when bravery and daring were needed in the field of diplomacy even more than on the battlefield. Taking a deep steadying breath, she made a decision, cleared her throat and said: “General Andronicus, the cooks of the Icemark
produce a pie that meets with the approval even of Tharaman-Thar and his staunch eating companion Olememnon, Consort of the Hypolitan Basilea. The opinion of a man of your gastronomic standing would be greatly appreciated by the kitchen staff.”

Andronicus was immediately aware that Thirrin had fought and won a monumental battle with her understandable prejudices, and he smiled warmly. “Ma'am, nothing would give me greater honour than to judge a pie that has such credentials of recommendation.”

Thirrin tried a small smile in return. “Then let us go in and sample the feast that has been prepared.”

The Great Hall of Learton's citadel had been scrubbed and polished for this first meeting between Thirrin and the most important Polypontian soldier to enter the Icemark since Bellorum himself. The city had been rebuilt by Archimedo Archimedes after it was flattened by the bombs of the Sky Navy, and it was now a marvel of design and detail, or so Archimedes insisted.

The hall was crammed with tables, at which sat the Polypontian cavalry and the werewolf and housecarle garrison of the city. But instead of the boisterous roaring and gaggle of laughing, shouting voices that usually accompanied a feast, there was only a low-key buzz, like a hive of depressed bees.

At the top table Thirrin looked out over the hall and watched nervously for trouble. None of the garrison had wanted to share a table with the Polypontian troopers, but in the interests of trying to integrate the factions she'd insisted that the seating plan placed every Imperial soldier between a housecarle and werewolf. This meant that on each table there
were about thirty Polypontians to sixty garrison soldiers. She admitted to herself that it couldn't have been comfortable for the ‘guests', but thought it might be a useful lesson for them to find out what it felt like to be heavily outnumbered.