The Crown of the Usurper (38 page)

  "You heard the first captain, fall in," barked Caaskil. "Muuril, Gelthius, get here."

  The two men of the Thirteenth approached with brisk steps and stopped a couple of paces form the officer, rapping their fists to their chests in salute.

  "You've had good experience of butchering these Salphor cunts, don't let me down," said the captain, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Gelthius was, in fact, also a Salphor. He raised his voice to address everybody in the dorm. "Fall in, two lines, to report to the armoury. You have your shields and spears back, lads. Don't fucking dishonour them again."

 

Though Caaskil's company was under strength, it contained a fair number of veterans from the Thirteenth and was positioned to hold the flank on the right-hand end of the line as the Twenty-first Legion formed up in the dark. Coloured lanterns were used to denote the mustering areas and in the gloom Gelthius could see kolubrid-riding messengers moving back and forth between the companies as Lutaan tried to get his line in order before the Salphors arrived. Bodies of men marched out, armour and spearpoints gleaming in red and green and blue and yellow, depending on where they were gathering.

  The noise of the army was louder even than the sound of people evacuating their homes just a few dozen paces behind the line. Lutaan had made the brave, or possibly duty-bound decision to protect the whole city – Marradan had a wall to defend the inner reaches where the palaces, precinct and nobility were found, but it had outgrown those defences several years before. Gelthius approved of the decision, not only for the sake of those whose homes would have been sacrificed to the Salphors, but also because it would force the enemy into a decisive attack. One way or another, the Twenty-first would have to be beaten tonight; no drawn out sieges. With the empire is such disarray, there was no guarantee of aid from the other cities or provinces had the enemy been given the chance to encircle the city to starve the people of Marradan.

  That the enemy were attempting a night attack spoke either of brilliance or utter stupidity. Gelthius knew from personal experience that most Salphors liked to raid other tribes after dark, but it was a long stretch from a few hundred men descending on neighbours' pastures and farms to executing a full battle in the pitch black. The defenders of Marradan had been taken surprise by the approach of the Salphorian army, but even the Twenty-first, now bloodied at Menesun, were more organised than your average Salphorian raiders.

  "This is a bit of overkill for some hairy bastards that have come down for a bit of fun," remarked Loordin. "How many of them do you think there are?"

  "About ten thousand, give or take a few hundred, the scouts said," said Caaskil, emerging from the darkness having overhead the legionnaire's question. "We need you pig-worriers because the Twenty-first is only four thousand strong."

  On hearing this, Gelthius started to have second thoughts about taking sanctuary behind the city wall. His face must have shown his concern, as a cruel smile twisted Caaskil's lips.

  "Don't worry yourself, Second Captain Gelthius." Caaskil put sarcastic emphasis on Gelthius' rank. "If we each kill two men, we'll win. On the other hand, if you want me to slit your throat now and save your friends the trouble, then just speak up."

  "These ain't my friends, right enough," answered Gelthius. "Free country peoples, I reckon. I wonder what's got them so heated up they think they can come into Ersua and have a go?"

  "Not a question to be asked now," replied Caaskil. "Don't know, and I don't care. Feel free to take some prisoners to ask later, if you like. Let me know if you see anyone you recognise."

  Realising that any meaningful discussion with Caaskil would be fruitless, Gelthius simply nodded and lifted his spear in salute. Sensing that the Salphor would not give him any further sport, Caaskil moved on towards the back ranks, speaking to the men from the Twenty-first, ignoring those who had been taken from the Thirteenth.

  It was not chance, Gelthius realised, that the front ranks were filled with prisoners from the Thirteenth. Not only were they the toughest fighters in the company, they would be the first to fall.

  After shifting position twice more, as the line extended further duskwards to respond to the latest reports of the scouts sent into the night, the prisoner company finally found themselves about three hundred paces from the outlying buildings of Marradan, with the rest of the army stretching out at an angle to hotwards and dawnwards. A brief calm settled on the legion and Gelthius felt again the sense of foreboding that had marked the beginning of every battle in which he had participated.

  It did not help that this particular struggle seemed entirely pointless. He was, by oath, a man of the Twenty-first. But Captain Lutaan, this city and this enemy, meant nothing to him. At least the Thirteenth had saved him from Aroisius' rebels and he had felt some comradeship with them; Ullsaard had also favoured him and was worthy of his service.

  "What's the point?" muttered the captain.

  "We're still Thirteen, all the way to the bone," replied Muuril, sensing Gelthius' mood. The two of them had hardly swapped words since the episode when they had been clearing the snow; they had nothing to say to each other except such communication as was required for two men sharing a bunk bed. "I'm fighting for you and Loordin, and the rest. I fought for the general and the king, but first always for the man behind and next to me."

  Gelthius looked at Muuril and could not stop a smile.

  "The man next to me will be Captain Caaskil," said the Salphor. "Want to change places?"

  "We'll see everybody right, don't worry," said Muuril.

  The two of them fell silent again, made awkward by the threat of sentiment. Fortunately distraction was not long in coming. From between the buildings on the outskirts of the city, catapults hurled balls of twine and tar into the air, inside each a small flask of lava. When each missile crashed down, several hundred paces from the city, the balls exploded into flame, lighting the battlefield. Another salvo followed shortly after, spreading a line of fire almost half a mile long in front of the waiting legion. Between the flames advanced the Salphor warriors, beneath banners of tattered cloth, round wooden shields held up, axes and spears in their hands.

  "That's Aegenuis' colours," exclaimed Gelthius, pointing his spear at a large shaft at the middle of the army from which fluttered four ribbons, alternating red and green. "We could be in trouble. Captain Caaskil!"

  The company commander heard his name being called and returned to the front rank with a few more words of encouragement to his men.

  "What?" he demanded

  "You have to send word to Captain Lutaan. This is the king's army. Aegenuis' own army."

  "So?"

  "If the king leads, there will be more than ten thousand warriors around," said Gelthius, picking his words carefully. He did not want to sound frightened, but in truth he was. "Aegenuis is a canny commander; if the other men haven't been counted you can bet they're not far away."

  Concern appeared on Caaskil's face and he called out for a messenger. Moments later a kolubrid rider came around from the back of the company. Caaskil stomped away to converse with the serpent-borne messenger. When the captain paces away, Gelthius heard a whisper from behind him. He could not make out was said and turned around to Loordin, who was the second-ranker.

  "Play dead," Loordin said again, his voice barely audible.

  "What?" replied Gelthius.

  "Oh, for fuck's sake," said Loordin, rolling his eyes. "Ask Muuril. Pass it on."

  Confused, Gelthius turned to the sergeant, keeping his voice quiet.

  "What does 'play dead' mean?"

  Muuril was taken aback and he glanced over his shoulder at the ranks behind before answering. Leaning close to keep his voice low, he explained.

  "It's an old trick of Ullsaard's. When the company captain falls, the rest of the first few ranks start to go down as well. The enemy step over them to get at the rest of the ranks, thinking they're dead, and when the call's given, them that's pretending get up and attack them from behind."

  "And what good will that do?"

  "Just do it," said Muuril. Captain Caaskil had finished talking to the kolubrid messenger and was returning to the company. "If that cunt-hole Caaskil goes down, you go down just after."

  "What if I really get cut down?" said Gelthius, not sure whether Caaskil was part of the plan, or if he was meant to be genuinely killed. Gelthius was not convinced that the Salphors would simply ignore a man who went to ground.

  "Then you're not going to fucking care, are you?" Muuril replied quickly.

  When Caaskil had taken up his place in the front rank, Gelthius readied his spear and shield. He felt the presence of Loordin behind him as the rear ranks packed in. Ahead, the Salphors were organising into warbands, the men of each tribe gathering around their leaders. Skirmishers with bows ran ahead of the main line, moving in the shadows cast by the lava fires. Though they were silhouetted against the flames, they had little chance of seeing their targets; Lutaan had ordered the lights of the city and the mustering lamps put out where possible and so the Askhan legion was all but invisible in the night.

  The catapults and spear-throwers started the battle, launching bolts and showers of fist-sized rocks at the Salphors. The Twenty-first had barely enough kolubrids for their messengers and so the task of forcing the enemy into an attack fell to the war machines. As bronze-headed shafts plunged through their ranks and stones rained down on them from above, the Salphors edged closer and closer. The shouts of the war-leaders could be clearly heard along the line, urging the archers to move in and loose their missiles at the engine crews. The skirmishers were understandably reluctant to get too close to the Askhan phalanx. Gelthius translated this debate, much to the amusement of Caaskil and the others around him.

  "I don't like it, not this," said Gelthius, still looking ahead. "This ain't right."

  "What's the problem?" said Caaskil. "Afraid for your friends?"

  "They're too bad, even for Salphors," said Gelthius, unable to articulate his worry any better than that. He could not shake the feeling that the army in front of him were being terrible on purpose, perhaps to ensure that they were the centre of attention. "Why do they keep advancing? Why not pull back and wait for dawn to even the matter?"

  "Don't fret, I sent word to Captain Lutaan about what you said," replied Caaskil, his mood becoming sincere. "If it is Aegenuis and he's got another army out there, it'll be spotted before they can do any damage. Right now, we have ten thousand Salphor bastards in front of us. Concentrate on them."

  The Salphors seemed convinced that their weight of numbers would carry the battle; despite all experience and past battles to the contrary. Under attack from the engines and their skirmishers all but useless, the Salphorian chieftains withdrew the archers and called for the advance to continue. The bowmen melted back into the warbands, swapping bows for knives and spears.

  "All quiet!" came the hushed command from the company to Gelthius' left. "All quiet!"

  The legion had not being make much noise before, but as the order was obeyed, every man standing as still as possible to minimise clank of wargear, an unsettling silence descended. The grunts and shouts and tread of the advancing Salphors were the only sounds to be heard; even the war machines had stopped their bombardment to conceal their positions.

  Afraid to blunder straight into their waiting enemies, the Salphors slowed their advance. Gelthius glanced up and was pleased to see a cloud-filled sky. There was not a patch of starlight to be seen, and the glow of the sliver of the moon cast barely a shadow.

  From the left, quite some distance away, a shout broke the stillness: an order for a company advance. Spears crashed once on shields, ringing back from the buildings behind the line. The Salphors responded, drifting towards the noise, away from Gelthius. The enemy were bunching up, getting in each other's way in the darkness, losing the advantage of their numbers as they tried to find their enemies.

  Something pale appeared in front of Gelthius and he almost jabbed with his spear as a half-naked figure resolved from the gloom. The boy was only thirteen or fourteen summers old, one of the messenger corps.

  "Captain Lutaan wishes the companies of the right to advance by one hundred paces. Quiet as you can, he says."

  After hearing Caaskil's acknowledgement, the youth vanished again, navigating his way back to the command staff by some means unknown to Gelthius.

  "Slow pace, keep steady," whispered Caaskil. The order was passed back from rank to rank. Gelthius felt Loordin's shield press against his back as Caaskil raised his arm, barely visible even to Gelthius beside him. The captain's hand came down and Gelthius took a pace, counted one-two, took another pace and so advanced into the darkness. The clink of harness could not be prevented, but for a body of more than a hundred men, the company made almost no noise, and Gelthius was not sure if the other companies to his left were advancing at all. He had to trust that Lutaan was not hanging the former prisoners out like bait, as he had the companies advancing more audibly on the far left of the line.

  They had made seventy-five paces when Gelthius heard the rustling of grass ahead. He thought it was the wind, but then something flickered across one of the fires, no more than fifty paces ahead. More followed, and he realised there were warriors directly in the path of the advancing company. To say something to Caaskil would be to reveal their position.

  It did not matter, a moment later a shrill war shout cut the air and the ground ahead seemed to rise up into a thicket of barbed spears and double-bladed axe heads. The Salphors had kept a second line of warriors hidden, advancing on hands and knees after the first, and Lutaan had ordered Caaskil straight into them.