Prince of the Icemark (23 page)

As soon as the following army had caught up with the scouts Redrought set the drum corps of young boys and girls rattling out a stirring tattoo, and gave the note himself for the fierce battle paean that echoed back from the surrounding peaks as every soldier began to sing. Then, standing in his stirrups, the young King drew his sword and led the way down into The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.

Kahin rode a sturdy mule and, as Their Vampiric Majesties were probably more than distracted by Redrought’s invasion, she didn’t think it mattered one jot that she had an escort of ten of the Hypolitan cavalry that had originally been left behind to garrison Bendis. Even if Vampire scouts did spot her, she’d be a mere whisper in comparison to the bellowing battle cry of the New Model Army. She also had two mountain guides to show the way and two wagons to carry tents and supplies. If she had to climb mountains in the face of approaching winter, then a woman of her age and dignity
should be allowed a few comforts.

Following the invasion force had hardly been difficult; the smell alone would have been enough to guide them. You can’t march twenty thousand soldiers, three thousand horses and assorted camp followers off to war, without leaving behind enormous piles of . . .
debris
, as Kahin delicately described it to herself.

For company she had White Annis, who’d given Cadwalader to Redrought. The witch had originally been assigned to healing duties in the infirmary of Bendis, but when it became obvious that the injuries and illnesses that had occurred during the siege were all being easily managed, she’d asked to join the healers who’d been sent with the army. Even though White Annis was a witch, Kahin was pleased to have the company of another non-combatant. The soldiers and other military types were fine human beings, but they did have a different outlook on life from that of an elderly merchant of the Zoroastrians. And, as Kahin was to find out, different from that of a witch who’d spent most of her life trying to repair the damage that soldiers inflicted on each other.

After the first full day’s march, camp was set up with swift efficiency, and Kahin soon found herself sitting alone in a large tent complete with table, chairs and even a divan. She ate her supper alone, listening to the soldier escorts laughing and talking around their campfire. Her dishes were cleared away by a polite orderly and then she sat in silence. She tried reading for a while, but the official reports and briefings were as dry as dust and she found herself nodding off.

Finally she pushed back her chair with vigour and strode out into the night. It was freezing; the tent had hardly been what you might call comfortable, but outside it was colder
than anything Kahin had ever experienced before. There was a thick layer of frost forming on the guide ropes of her tent, and her breath plumed into the air like steam from a kettle. Most of the soldier escort and guides were sitting next to a blazing fire and passing around a flask of something warming. Their happy camaraderie only heightened her own sense of loneliness and she turned back into her tent. But just as she was reaching behind her for the flap that covered the entrance and supposedly kept out the cold, she noticed a figure sitting alone over a very small fire.

It was White Annis. Kahin had noticed during the day’s journey that the witch was a quiet and reserved woman, and even though she was only a little older than some of the soldiers, she obviously found their boisterous conversation and laughter a little overwhelming. The elderly merchant stood in thought for a moment, then nodding to herself, she strode across to White Annis’s fire. The witch looked up as she approached, then politely stood and curtsied.

“Why are you sitting alone?” Kahin asked.

“Oh, no particular reason, it’s just that the others are a little noisy for me,” Annis answered, confirming the Royal Adviser’s suspicions.

“I see, but your fire’s hardly enough to keep you warm in this weather. Why don’t you go to your tent?”

The witch seemed surprised. “I wasn’t issued with one. I’m only a healer.”

“Surely no one can expect you to sleep out in these conditions! Haven’t you been designated space in the escorts’ communal shelter?”

“No . . . but that’s all right. I prefer the peace of the open sky and I’ve enough blankets to keep me warm.”

“Nonsense!” Kahin exploded. “Gather your things now. You can bed down in my tent. What’s the point of sending a healer to the war-front if she arrives half dead from exposure?”

White Annis winced as the Royal Adviser’s voice cut decisively through the freezing air, but she did as she was told and had soon packed her single bag.

“Is that all you have with you?” Kahin asked incredulously.

“I don’t need much.”

“Evidently. Well, come along. You can spread out your blankets next to the brazier, you’ll be warmer there.”

Kahin led the way to her tent and escorted the witch inside. Annis reminded her of some of her more timid grand-daughters, and she soon realised it was a simple matter to speak quietly and in a friendlier way to make her more comfortable.

“Now just put your things down there and then come and sit with me,” the old merchant said kindly as she placed a folding chair next to the one she’d been sitting in earlier. “I’ve got a kettle, something that calls itself wine and some herbs and honey, so we can have a warming drink.” She bustled about mulling the wine, refusing all offers of help from the obviously nervous witch. “No, I’m quite happy doing this for myself. I don’t often get the chance to cook or do anything domestic nowadays. The price I’ve had to pay for being a Royal Adviser.”

Once everything was ready she poured the drinks and handed a steaming mug to Annis. “There, that should warm your bones; it’s my grandmother’s recipe, it came with her from the homeland more than sixty years ago.”

The witch took a sip and smiled. “It’s delicious, and I can detect some interesting herbs. Your grandmother must have
been a powerful witch.”

Kahin had long ago got used to the idea that not all witches were evil, but it still jarred when someone suggested that she or some of her relatives might have supernatural Powers. “Witchcraft isn’t allowed by my religion, Annis,” the old merchant explained calmly. “But perhaps it’s fair to say that Grandma Babis was an instinctive healer and wise woman.”

Annis nodded, remembering that the Zoroastrians had some strict laws that seemed strange to those not part of their community. “Whatever she was, her recipe is delicious.”

Kahin smiled in return, pleased at the compliment. “Remind me, and I’ll write it down for you later.”

The witch nodded again, and then, with a show of confidence that surprised Kahin, she changed the direction of the conversation. “Wenlock Witchmother tells me that you’re hoping to guide the King towards a . . .
gentler
settlement with Their Vampiric Majesties after the war.”

“There are no guarantees there’ll be an ‘after the war’, Annis, at least not for humans. Redrought has yet to fight his battle, and who knows how that will go?”

“As the Goddess decrees,” said the witch. “But if he does win he’ll want revenge for the death of his brother, and for all the others who’ve died.”

“Yes,” Kahin agreed, deciding to speak openly to Annis, as the Witchmother had obviously been happy to do so. “But Wenlock tells me there are certain
indications
that Their Vampiric Majesties might prove useful in the future.”

“Possibly, yes. But only if Redrought actually survives for long enough to produce an heir, and even then his little Princess must grow up and meet and marry her helpmate who’ll stand beside her through all that is yet to come.”

Kahin looked at the witch sharply. “You’re telling more than Wenlock revealed. How much do you know?”

“Only what I’ve said, and perhaps a little more.”

“A little more?”

“Yes: if it happens at all, the heir will spring from Redrought, of course, and the mother will be one the King already knows.”

“If they survive the battle,” said Kahin quietly.

“If they survive the battle,” White Annis agreed. “And the same could be said of the mother of the Princess’s future husband.”

“And who is that?”

“That information is hidden for now. But we know that she’s a witch, and that the father of the child will be a being of great Power.”

“A
being?
Not a man, then?”

Annis shot her a glance. “There are those with greater strengths than mere humans.”

“I see,” said Kahin slowly, and suppressed a shudder. “But the child will at least
appear
human?”

“Completely, and in fact in almost all ways he will
be
human.”

“Well, that’s a comfort,” the old merchant said ironically.

“You have no reasons to fear, Kahin Darius,” White Annis said in authoritative tones. “If these things come to be, the heir and her helpmate will be people of honour and integrity; people who will be revered throughout the world. She will be a mighty warrior, but also a maker of peace between those that have never known friendship before. And her helpmate will be a man of great Power who will be the strongest of foundations for all that they build together.”

The Royal Adviser looked searchingly at the witch as she considered her own role in trying to bring about a future that could see a Queen of the Icemark married to a partner who was less than human. But there was something about Annis’s confidence and obvious belief in the pure
rightness
of this possible future that she suddenly decided to stop worrying and accept whatever would be.

“Well, then, if this golden couple are ever going to come about, I suppose we’d better do whatever we can to help.”

“Yes, Kahin Darius,” the witch agreed. “And now, can I have some more of that mulled wine? I seem to have finished mine.”

T
heir Vampiric Majesties stood surveying the New Model Army as it advanced into the valley. Their own force occupied high ground at the north end of the wide depression in the floor of the country’s highest plateau. They were surrounded by the peaks of the Wolfrock Mountains, which slowly gave way to forested foothills that in their turn thinned out to the wide grassy floor of the valley.

The monstrous monarchs stood on a large boulder that rose above their army, allowing every soldier an unimpeded view of their Liege Lord and Lady. The King and Queen’s elegant black armour gleamed darkly in the brilliant sunshine and they gave the impression of being only vaguely interested in the arrival of their sworn enemy.

“Well, my dear,” said His Vampiric Majesty, “I do believe that this situation is what is termed ‘The Final Showdown’ in the far lands of
A-mer-ika
.”

“How wonderfully vernacular,” said the Vampire Queen, raising a small silver monocular to her eye and watching Redrought’s advance.

“Isn’t it? I’ve heard tell that the A-mer-ikans have a simply divine way of taking language and transforming it into something astonishing and quite beautiful . . .”

“Fascinating,” Her Vampiric Majesty replied in bored tones. “But what, my dear, of our problem of the moment?”

“The mortal army, you mean? Well, having relinquished all responsibility for tactical decisions to General Romanoff, all I can say is we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Where is she at the moment?” the Queen asked darkly.

“Preparing herself to achieve the greatest possible victory, no doubt,” the King replied. “Which will, of course, gain her the greatest possible credit and advantage.”

“Of course,” said the Queen. “Though it must be said that since Redrought ascended the throne of the Icemark, victories have been rather scarce.”

The distant rumour of the advancing army echoed along the valley. The mortal soldiers seemed to be singing, and the ferocity of the sound was almost worrying.

“Were it not so dangerous for our own position, one could almost wish failure on our paramount general,” said the King in vicious hissing tones.

“Oh, how right you are,” the Queen replied. “But let us not forget that war can often present opportunities that are quite unexpected.”

“Meaning?” the King asked, as he too now raised a
monocular and watched Redrought’s advance.

“Meaning that in the heat of battle, none can really know the source of the flying arrow or the owner of the decapitating blade. Even the greatest leader can succumb to the vagaries of misfortune, while her army remains intact and undefeated.”

His Vampiric Majesty smiled benevolently on his Consort, and taking her hand, kissed it gently. “My dear, you have an unbeating heart that is the deepest, most uncompromising shade of black.”

“Thank you. But I feel we must concentrate on King Redrought. I’m afraid that once again he is doing the unexpected.”

The King turned his attention back to the advancing army. “Well, how simply irksome. He seems to be refusing to attack our position as Romanoff so carefully planned. In fact he’s taking up a position on that rather insignificant mound in the centre of the valley.”

“Yes,” said the Queen. “You know, despite his boorishness and desperate youth, this mortal King is in danger of becoming almost interesting.”

“Isn’t he?” said His Vampiric Majesty. “Oh dear, what will Romanoff do now? Do you know, I believe the A-mer-ikans would say that Redrought’s being ‘a pain in the ass’.”

“Why? What have donkeys got to do with it?”

“I’ve really no idea, it’s just another example of their colourful vernacular,” replied the King cheerfully. “Oh, do look, I believe Romanoff’s decided to lead her squadrons against the mortals’ position. This might even prove interesting.”

“Indeed?” said the Queen, raising her monocular again.
“Might I suggest a small sherry-wine while we observe proceedings? I find that refreshments add an almost festive air to the delight of deathly warfare.”

“What a marvellous idea,” said the King, waving up a chamberlain. “Oloroso, of course?”

“Of course.”

Down on the valley floor Redrought gave orders for the wagons of the baggage train to be turned on their sides. All the equipment they’d been carrying, including huge amounts of arrows and other ammunition, now stood in the centre of the defensive ring he was building, along with the horses of the cavalry. There weren’t enough carts to completely surround the hill, but he had them placed at spaced intervals, and filled the gaps in between with shieldwalls raised by the housecarles. The wooden walls of the overturned wagons were defended by the fyrd and dismounted troopers of the cavalry.

The only horses that would take part in the crucial early stages of the battle would be the giant drum horses Beorg and Scur. It would be their job to anchor the weakest parts of the widest shieldwalls, on the north and south sections of the defensive ring. Their twin riders, the veterans Theodred and Theobold, would beat out the fighting rhythm for the house-carles, along with the boys and girls of the drum corps.

The walls were established in lightning order as Redrought, Ireton and Brereton directed the operation that the army had practised again and again ever since the spies had first reported the existence of a low hill in the very centre of the valley.

At first the young King felt almost calm as he prepared his defensive position. The entire army was now committed to the
battle. There was no going back, all they could do now was fight and win . . . or fight and lose. He hoped he’d see Athena again, but he was realistic enough to realise he might have said his final goodbye to her a few days ago in the Great Forest. For a moment he paused and stood in silence. Of all the sweetness there was in life, it was Athena he’d miss more than anything if he fell in the coming battle.

He watched as the soldiers hurried to secure their position. He felt almost removed from events, and the energy and resolve seemed to drain from him. But a sudden thumping weight on his shoulder and a familiar yowl brought him back to himself.

“Hiya Caddy! Are you ready for the fight?”

The huge cat yowled again in reply, his voice oddly deeper than it normally was.

“Well, send as many of the Vampires to hell as you can for me, won’t you! And stand with me no matter what, I think it’s going to be a long day.”

The warrior cat suddenly stiffened on his shoulder and hissed. Recognising the warning, Redrought scanned the skies and found what he’d expected: Vampire squadrons rising up in billowing waves from the enemy positions.

The defences were now ready, and after nodding to Brereton and Ireton to join him, the young King strode to the highest point in the very centre of the position. Drawing his sword, he held it above his head and gave the war cry of the Icemark.

Immediately all eyes were on him and he smiled at his soldiers. “Warriors of the Icemark, the enemy rises up before us and the time has come to fight and end the threat to our homes and our loved ones once and for all. We must hold
our position no matter what. We must stand here as solid as the rocks of the land in which we were born. Let the Vampires and werewolves, let the trolls and the zombies break against us like the seas that surround the shores of the Icemark. And may the enemy shatter and withdraw like the waters of the receding tide! We are the headlands of our home, warriors of the Icemark; we are the fields and trees; we are the farms and the villages, the cities and towns of the land in which we were born. We are the people of the Icemark, and we stand here to fight for the ones that we love. Stand now, solid, immovable, unbreakable. Rise like an island from this sea of monsters that would engulf us, and listen for the coming of our salvation. Listen for the sound of our victory, for it will come if we stand now like the rocks of the land in which we were born.”

Redrought paused and, drawing breath, he gave the war cry of the Icemark once again. “THE ENEMY ARE AMONG US! THEY KILL OUR CHILDREN, THEY BURN OUR HOUSES! BLOOD! BLAST! AND FIRE!!! BLOOD! BLAST! AND FIRE!!!”

His voice fell silent, but the sound resonated on the still, cold air like the notes of a large bell after it had been struck. The army remained deathly quiet, and for a moment, Commanders Brereton and Ireton feared this meant the soldiers were rejecting the war and their leader. Then, slowly, a murmuring and whispering rose up from the soldiers as each and every one beat haft, handle and hilt against shield, until gradually the sound rose to a great rattling roar that echoed back from the surrounding hills and reached the ears of the enemy where they stood in their ranks.

Then out crashed the army’s reply to its King: “BLOOD! BLAST! AND FIRE!!! BLOOD! BLAST! AND FIRE!!!”

Almost in answer a distant screech from the Vampire squadrons wavered through the air. Redrought smiled. Opening his arms wide, as though to embrace his soldiers, he gave a final salute and sent them to their positions.

Since the death of his brother in the Battle of the Plains the young King had thought long and hard about how to counter the Vampire squadrons’ ability to land inside a shieldwall and so destroy it from within. Now he’d see if he’d found a solution. The archers took up a stance in the very centre of the defence: rank upon rank of longbows, arrows already notched to the string, each man and woman waiting in silence for the enemy to come in range.

Everyone knew General Romanoff would try to deliver a decisive knockout blow in the first few minutes of the battle. It was the archers’ job to fend off her attack and stop it dead. Over the air came the hideous screech of the Vampires again, and the archers watched as the King himself joined them and took up a longbow.

“Wait until you can smell them,” Redrought called with a tight smile. “Let it rain bats and blood!”

The entire army watched in silence as the huge billowing waves of the squadrons flew down on their position. Beneath the giant bats a shadow gathered, like a storm cloud blotting out the light of the sun, and the air pulsated with the dull clatter of their leathery wings.

“We can hold them! We can hold them! Make every arrow count!” The King’s voice rose over the growing clamour of the enemy’s approach. “Bring them down! Bring them down!”

As one the archers raised and drew their bows, waiting for the order to shoot.

Screeches and howls filled the air and a sudden wind
blasted over the human soldiers as the Vampire squadrons pushed the air before them. Then the great billowing bank of the bat formation split into battle units, and with tearing, terrifying screams they dived.

“SHOOT!”

A wave of arrows leapt skywards and tore into the bat squadrons. Hundreds fell in the first seconds. The longbows sang a bitter song, sending arrows to rip again and again into the ranks of the Vampires, but still they dived into the killing zone. The creatures smashed into the ground, which now ran slick with Vampire blood, and the air rang with shrieking.

Redrought called out encouragement to his archers, his eyes never leaving the sky as he shot arrows at the heaving mass of Vampires. All around the defensive ring, shields were raised above heads in the testudo formation, making a roof that bristled with spears. In the centre of this the cavalry stood in close formation, lances angled skywards, creating a forest of steel where no Vampire could perch.

For almost half an hour the squadrons swept down on the human defenders as the longbows sang their deadly song and the creatures dropped like black rain. But then a single screeching voice rose above the din, and half the Vampire squadrons rolled back, away from the defences, until they hovered over the plain beyond range of the longbows. As the soldiers of the Icemark watched, the Vampires landed, stepping out of flight and into their human shape.

Warning shouts ran around the wall and the drum corps struck up a fighting rhythm as each and every housecarle and soldier of the fyrd prepared to fight. Redrought scanned the advancing line of Vampires and, setting aside his longbow, he drew his sword and strode down towards the defenders,
Cadwalader by his side.

He was aware of a glimmer in the air and wondered if the Spirits of Battle were being drawn to the warriors of the Icemark. He’d seen them possess Saphia when the assassination squad of Vampires had tried to kill him and Athena. Perhaps now some of his soldiers would go Bare-Sark during the fighting? In many ways he desperately hoped it would be him, but deep in his heart he was beginning to think he might be in some way unworthy. He’d been in battle several times now, and even when the situation was desperate the Spirits of Battle had never possessed him.

For a moment doubt filled him and his pace slowed, but then Cadwalader gave his battle yowl and leapt onto his shoulder. Immediately Redrought felt the strength and determination of the witch’s cat, and together they joined the defence as the soldiers cheered and made room for their King and the warrior cat.

Before them the line of Vampires advanced with a fey elegance, their black armour glistening in the cold sunlight and their marching steps creating a mesmerising rhythm almost like a dance.