Faerie Wars 03 - Ruler of the Realm (39 page)

He left the flyer and strode out on to the main cavern floor. The Nighter reinforcements were stretched before him, waiting as patiently as the demons in the desert. There was much less of a bustle than the last time he'd been here. All the preparations had been made, all supplies and armaments laid in and readied. It was an army awaiting final orders, as close to action as a drawn bow. The question was, what order to give.

So far, Hairstreak had held this vast army in reserve. But he would have to commit it soon. He was furious with Blue. If she'd only understood the urgency of the situation, his decision was made. An alliance against the demons was the only sensible course. Everything else was madness. Yet that madness might be forced on him. Could he afford to wait until tomorrow? And what if Blue decided to reject a treat? Should he throw the rest of his forces against the Faeries of the Light? Or should he turn them first on Beleth's legions?

There were close on a million demons waiting in the desert. The creatures had no fear of death. Once they marched, they were relentless as ants. They kept coming, wave after wave, however many you killed. More to the point, if Beleth had managed to portal in an entire army, he could portal reinforcements if the need arose. There were an awful lot of demons in Hael. Another million fighting demons would be nothing to him, or another two, or three or even ten. The possibilities were too hideous to contemplate. The only hope would be to score a fast, decisive victory, then
close the portals
before Beleth could react. Close them, sabotage them, keep them closed. For ever, if possible. The Nighters could do without their demon servants. The price had just grown too high to pay.

The other obvious approach was to throw his entire might against Blue herself, hope to score a quick victory there before Beleth moved. But what were the chances of that? He was fairly sure he could overrun the Faeries of the Light eventually. But soon ...? Unlikely. And even if it only took him days, there was no guarantee Beleth would not attack at once.

General Procles, the senior field commander, had already emerged to greet him, flanked by three of his aides. Hairstreak waited until he was within earshot, then called out, 'Send your men away, Graphium - this is private.' He dismissed his own people with a casual wave.

Procles was a tall, thin man, slightly stooped for a soldier. There was a deferential air about him that belied a steely character beneath.

'I take it the mission was unsuccessful, Lordship?' he said promptly.

Hairstreak shrugged. 'My niece will not give her decision before tomorrow. Perhaps not even then.'

'Will she stand down her forces in the interim?'

Hairstreak shook his head.

'Do we know why?' He was a shrewd General.

His question really meant,
Is there room for compromise or negotiation?

'She does not trust us.' Hairstreak sighed. 'Perhaps we have given her some cause.'

Typically, Procles let it go. 'Do you have a contingency plan? In the event of her refusal?'

Hairstreak sighed again, more deeply this time. 'A desperate one, Graphium. That's why I sent our people away. I want you to hear what I have in mind and I want your opinion. Then, unless you can convince me there is another, better way, I want you to take immediate action. Immediate,' he stressed. 'I cannot say how much time we have, so speed is essential.'

Procles nodded gravely. 'I understand, Lordship.'

Hairstreak held his eye. 'This is how I analyse the situation. If we are overthrown by the Faeries of the Light, that will be a tragedy. If we are overthrown by Beleth, that will be the greatest disaster in the history of the Realm. Neither ourselves nor the Lighters would ever recover. Our world would become a slave state with the demons as our masters. Do you concur so far?'

Procles nodded again. 'Yes.
If we are
overthrown.'

Hairstreak said, 'Clearly, we will endeavour to secure ourselves against either eventuality. We may even succeed, but I doubt it. I believe we might defeat Beleth or we might defeat Blue, but we will not defeat both. Anyone who thinks so is a fool.' He stared at Procles, who shrugged slightly. Hairstreak went on, 'It is my conclusion that, in such circumstances, we must ensure the defeat of Beleth as our absolute priority. Do you concur?'

'Of course. This is precisely why you have offered an alliance to the Queen.'

Hairstreak said. 'She may easily refuse it. Blue is obsessed with fighting us. She does not -
will
not - see the greater threat. And it may be too late by the time she comes to her senses. Let me speak frankly with you, Procles

'Of course,' Procles murmured.

'Our pre-emptive strike has not been as successful as I anticipated. The Faeries of the Light are now counterattacking Yammeth Cretch. Our troops are holding them at the moment, but if Beleth moves, we are lost. Thus -' he took a deep breath, '- it is my conclusion that we must throw every available man into a massive attack on Beleth's forces in the desert. Not merely the reserve troops here, but our forces presently engaged with the Faeries of the Light.'

'Even though the Queen has not agreed a ceasefire?'

'Yes.'

Procles looked stunned. 'You're prepared to leave the Cretch and city undefended?'

Hairstreak nodded sourly. 'Effectively, yes.' He shrugged. 'Oh, we can deploy a few militias of men who are too old or too ill to take part in the main offensive. They may delay the Lighters a little, but frankly I am prepared to sacrifice the entire Cretch - should it come to that - for the sake of a quick victory over Beleth.' He hesitated. 'But there is one more thing

Procles waited.

Hairstreak said, 'Not all Nighters live within the Cretch. Simultaneous with our attack on Beleth there must be an immediate uprising by every loyal Faerie of the Night throughout the Realm. We can set the Realm alight within hours and with luck this may keep the Lighters occupied just long enough for us to dispatch Beleth. If that happens and if we can close down the portals again and if we don't lose too many men in the process, we may then turn our attention to the problem of Queen Blue. Possibly we may have enough strength to depose her, if we cannot defeat the Faeries of the Light completely.' He stared at Procles. 'I would appreciate your comments.'

'There are a great many
ifs
in your plan, Lordship.'

'Do you have a better one?'

Procles shook his head. 'No, Lordship.'

'Then set the contingency in place. Our commanders are to act on it as soon as they are able. Preferably tonight.' Hairstreak turned on his heel and strode back to his flyer. As he climbed aboard, he added half to himself, 'And pray to Darkness this is the right decision.'

Pyrgus stopped, locked by a weird, almost overpowering sensation of unease.

'What's the matter?' Nymph asked at once.

'Something's wrong,' Pyrgus said. By his reckoning they were very close to where they'd left the flyer, so close all he'd been thinking about was getting back. But now ...

He looked around. The Trinians, who'd been escorting them cheerfully until now, had disappeared. The desert stretched endlessly behind them, rocky, desolate and bare.

'Nagel ...?' he called out urgently.

The orange dwarf materialised at once from behind a rock. 'Eeper dahn!' he hissed, glaring.

Pyrgus looked at Nymph.

'He wants you to be quiet,' she told him.

'Ask him what's going on. There's something wrong.'

Nymph started to speak, but before she could utter a word, Nagel put a finger to his lips, caught her by the hand and led her crouching up a rocky outcrop. Pyrgus stared after them for half a second, then followed.

It was almost a repeat of what had happened when they topped the rise and saw the Hael legions camped in the deep desert. Following on Nagel's urgent signs, they raised their heads carefully.

A small contingent of men wearing the grey-black uniform of the elite Nighter Scout Regiment was moving grimly across the desert in the direction of Beleth's waiting legions.

'God of Light,' groaned Pyrgus. 'Those are messengers. Hairstreak's joining up with Beleth. He has to be. We'll be facing them both now.' He looked around for Woodfordi. The palace needed to know about this new development at once.

Nagel said something in a whisper.

'We must pull back from this position,' Nymph translated. 'There may be more following. If we stay here we'll be discovered.'

The Trinian was already on his way to lower ground. Pyrgus and Nymph scrambled after him. For a frustrating fifty minutes they followed the Trinian tribe, moving silently from cover to cover, until Nagel called a halt in a shallow crater ringed by a sulphurous fumarole fog.

'He says we're safe here,' Nymph explained.

Pyrgus's nose wrinkled. 'I can see why.' To Woodfordi he said, 'Can you talk to my sister - Queen Blue? Can you talk to her directly?'

Woodfordi shook his head. 'Doubt it, sir. Her Majesty doesn't usually have a CC handy. Word is she doesn't hold with us for some reason, sir.'

'OK, put me through to Madame Cardui again. She can relay the message.'

'Yes, sir.' Woodfordi sank down into his impossible squat and crossed his eyes. After a while he uncrossed them again. 'Can't seem to make the connection, sir.'

'Why not?' Pyrgus demanded. 'Doesn't the Painted Lady have her CC handy?'

'It's not that, sir. It's Orion. He's not responding.'

'Who in Hael is Orion?'

Woodfordi said soberly, 'Hardly in Hael, sir. He's the Communications Angel. So it's more like "Who in Heaven is Orion", sir, if you get my meaning. Calls himself Military Guide and Spiritual Gatekeeper, but that's only because he likes wearing uniform. Most of them go nude up there, on account of the balmy weather.'

Despite the urgency of his situation, Pyrgus frowned and said, 'I didn't know we were in touch with Heaven?'

'Military secret, sir.' Woodfordi tapped his nose.
'Need to know
sort of thing. Shouldn't really have told you, but I expect it's all right, you being royal and all that.'

'Why can't you get through?' Pyrgus asked, getting back reluctantly to the matter in hand.

'Think it might be this place, sir,' said Woodfordi earnestly. 'Reception wasn't great earlier, to tell you the truth. Lot of volcanic activity round here. Ground stresses always influence the energy flow, throw up trapped lightning fields. Affects the network. Sort of like transportation portals in reverse. I'll keep trying if you like, sir, but my guess is it won't improve until we get out of the deep desert.'

But suddenly Pyrgus wasn't listening. He had the look of somebody struck by a sudden idea.

'What?' Nymph asked.

'Portals!' Pyrgus said. He looked around urgently. 'Nagel, you called the demons
Fluid Dark.
Does that mean you've seen them in the desert before?' That's what it had to mean. Nobody had names for things they'd never seen before. Nagel nodded. 'Yar,' he said.

'Where do they come from?' Pyrgus asked. He had the air of somebody pushing down a rising excitement.

Nagel pointed. 'Ohr ere way yorboat hores alk sides tha ate if.'

Pyrgus's ears must have been starting to attune because it almost made sense to him. But he turned to Nymph all the same.

'Over there, the direction he's pointing, about an hour's walk away. Apparently it's beside something they call the Great Cliff.' She stared intently at Pyrgus. 'What is it?'

'Look,' said Pyrgus excitedly. 'There's an army of demons in the desert: we saw that. But we never thought to ask how they got here. Well, did we?'