“But why?” Coilla’s words burst out louder than she’d meant. Some of the singers turned to glare at her. “They’ve brought us nothing but trouble this far,” she ended more quietly.
“I just don’t want to risk them falling into the Unis’ hands,” Stryke said.
Coilla looked at him strangely. “Are you sure you just don’t want to share them? You’re getting mighty possessive about the damn things if you ask me.”
“Yeah!” Haskeer said. “You won’t even let me touch them any more.”
Jup smirked. “Not since you went crazy.”
“Shut up about that, will you? It was just the humans and their fucking plague, all right?”
Before anyone else could speak, Krista’s chant reached such a high pitch that it was on the limits of hearing. The sound seemed to knife through Stryke. The Priestess and her acolytes were swaying backwards and forwards now, their faces alight with rapture.
“How can they stand that shrieking?” Jup whispered.
Alfray spoke, dispelling Stryke’s mood. The old orc indicated Krista’s unearthly hymn. “Think it’ll work?”
“I bloody hope so,” Jup said. “A battle’s a battle, and all that, but I’m sick to death of everybody being after us.”
For a moment an unusual sense of optimism held the band.
Then alarm bells sounded again and somebody shouted, “There’s another army out there!”
“Oh,
fuck!
”
In the sudden silence that filled the holy place, Jup’s words rang out somewhat louder than he intended.
Dashing to the walls, the orcs swarmed up to the walkway. As far as the eye could see there were soldiers marching, horses trampling, banners rippling. But with the smoke from the fires still burning in Ruffetts, and perhaps five hundred bonfires on the enemy side, nobody could see clearly for more than a few feet. But they didn’t have to be able to see clearly to realise that the army of the besiegers had more than doubled in size.
Squinting, cloths tied around their faces to keep out the choking fumes, the Wolverines watched the endless tide of men and horses rolling black across the crests of the hills. By the time the newcomers’ vanguard had reached the Uni camp there was no sign of the rearguard. Just an endless swarm that covered the landscape from one side of the horizon to the other.
Stryke closed his eyes in despair.
Haskeer was the first to find his voice. “Now the shit hits the windmill.”
But suddenly the Uni camp was filled with shrieks. Coughing, Coilla said, “Doesn’t sound much like a joyous reunion to me.”
Jup leapt up and down in uncharacteristic glee. “They’re
Manis!
Look, there are orcs up there, hundreds of ’em! The Manis have come to lift the siege!”
“You’re right!” Coilla said. “They’re attacking the Unis from the rear.”
“There’s dwarves!” Jup pointed excitedly at the first group of his own people he had seen in a while. “A whole mass of ’em!”
Haskeer sneered, “So what? They won’t make a difference unless they’re being paid well.”
Jup grabbed him by the throat. “Says
who
, goat breath?”
Before Haskeer could reply Stryke pulled them apart. “We don’t have time for this. Can anybody see whose army it is?”
Batting windblown sparks out of the smoky air, the Wolverines peered through the shimmering waves of heat.
“Don’t know,” Coilla decided. “Don’t care. There’s more of them than there is of the Unis and that’s good enough for me.”
Stryke rested his hands on the palisade. “This is gods-sent. We’ve got to get out there and help.”
Inside Ruffetts View a frenzy of activity burst out, with Rellston snapping commands left, right and centre. Runners took his orders and within a short time forces were mustering. Foot-soldiers forced their way through the crowds to line the streets near the northern gate. Meanwhile, riders were saddling up and pushing their way from the stables so they could form up around the small pool in the square.
The Ruffetts commander had his work cut out, sending citizens to the walls while the townswomen were left to battle the fires still raging in the poorer quarters, where houses were built mostly of wood.
Stryke pushed his way through the throng, wishing he hadn’t told the enlistees to also assemble by the landmark pool. The noise was appalling. He dodged as a horse shied at the din, and shouldered his way through to the edge of the muddy water.
He wasn’t surprised to see that even in the crowded square the humans had left a space around Corporal Krenad. Two hundred orc warriors were enough to give most beings a sense of respect.
“Ready for the charge, Corporal?”
The deserter’s face split in a grin. “Much better than skulking around inside these poxy walls, sir. If you want a good sally, I’m your orc.”
They had to shout to make themselves heard. Now a strange quiet fell on the muster.
Climbing into the saddle of a horse Krenad had brought him, Stryke found out why. High Priestess Krista Galby was walking through the square. Despite it being so packed, the inhabitants of Ruffetts still found space to make way for her.
Serene, Krista had a brief word with Commander Rellston, then headed for the Wolverines. Stryke heeled his horse forward to meet her.
She rested a hand on his leg and looked up into his eyes. “Once someone has felt the power of the land, it will grow in them,” she whispered. “Sooner or later, the land won’t be denied.”
Suddenly she wasn’t serious at all. With a gleam of exaltation in her eye, she straightened. Though she hardly raised her voice, her next words rang through the square. “Let each of you know that you fight for the land. So the land will strengthen you, bring the power of the earth into your hearts. Open yourselves to the power of the earth. Know that the wind is the earth’s breath, and that we fight for the land’s well-being. For the land will not be denied. Too long has it shed tears for its despoilers. Now, as the power of the earth soars above your heads—” from the geyser a plume of coruscating pseudo-flame leaped higher, by chance or by design “—your spirits will be renewed, in this life or the next, and the blessings of the Manifold Path will be above you and before you. They will be behind you and on either hand, to guard and guide and shield you as the land’s own.” Her hands rose in a graceful gesture of benediction. Then she vanished into the crowd.
Rellston’s command burst into the silence. “Open the gates! At the trot!”
Flanked by Coilla, Jup, Alfray and Haskeer, Stryke held his restless horse in place by sheer muscular power.
Once more the square was filled with noise. Under its cover, Coilla said, “If anything happens to you all the stars will be lost at once. Split them up between us, Stryke.”
“No chance.” His automatic refusal brought her chin up stubbornly. He added persuasively, “They belong together, Coilla. I don’t know why, they just do.”
Already the first columns of trotting men were at the gates.
“Either that or you’re just too possessive to let them out of your grasp,” she said.
Secure in the centre of her army, Jennesta stared down from her chariot on the hilltop.
A seething battle was under way in front of the squalid, smoking settlement. Trapped by the steep sides of the valley, pinned down by her loyalists and those pathetic human and orcish renegades, Hobrow’s Unis were grimly digging in.
She laughed. “Pitiful, aren’t they, Mersadion?”
“Yes, my lady.” Unconsciously, the general’s hand lifted to touch his scarred and blistered cheek. “But there are still twenty thousand of them.”
The queen’s eyes glittered. “Your point?”
“That . . . that it will be a great victory for you, my lady.”
“I like a great victory. And so should you, General. Because if I don’t get one, you don’t get to live. Do I make myself clear?”
Mersadion bowed to hide the hatred he could feel inside him. “Indeed you do, my lady.”
“Good. Then arrange for a three-pronged attack. I want our humans ready for a frontal charge. Yes? Were you about to question my orders?”
“No, my lady. Never.”
“That’s right. We mustn’t let ourselves get carried away, must we? I want the orcs on that ridge over there, ready to attack from the cover of the trees. The dwarves can take that hilltop on the left. When my humans feint with a charge, those stupid Unis won’t be able to spread out sideways to encircle the charge. But some will be lured forward and
that’s
when our flanks will attack theirs. Simple, you see?”
He did indeed. “It’s brilliant, my lady.”
“Of course it is.” She smiled down on the sea of glittering pikes and swords below her. “And while we’re at it, Mersadion, I want the harpies ready to fly once that Uni rabble has committed itself to a charge.”
What’s left of them,
the general thought, turning away to pass on his orders. Why the queen had chosen to pleasure herself by setting the harpies on each other the night before, he could not fathom. Although insanity couldn’t be ruled out.
Fortunately Jennesta was happy. Excited. Girlish even, at the thought of the bloodletting to come. She flicked her reins and began trundling her scythe-wheeled chariot to the front ranks of her vanguard. Once she was in position, she had Mersadion give the signal for the charge.
Step by step the horses flung themselves forward, gaining momentum. Knowing she looked magnificent, all aglitter in the sun, Jennesta thundered down on her enemy, sweeping her army out around her like a jewelled cloak.
This was going to be easy.
Kimball Hobrow could scarcely believe it. Just moments ago, he had been in charge of a besieging force that outnumbered the heathen scum in that wretched little dump below. He couldn’t lose. He could even pity the stupidity of those Manis, laid out before him like ninepins, waiting for the will of God to bowl them aside as a testament to His power.
And now he was facing not one but
two
armies. Armies that made his own forces look like a temple picnic.
“What’ll we do, sir?” said the sweat-streaked custodian before him.
“The Lord’s will,” Hobrow said, outwardly calm despite the first stirrings of panic in his breast.
“Is it a test, Father?” Mercy asked, turning her innocent-looking face up to his.
“It is, daughter.” He raked the trembling custodian with a glance as the ground began to shake beneath Jennesta’s chariot charge. “Why? Do you think the Lord has abandoned us? Is our faith so weak?”
“N . . . no, sir.”
“Indeed not. We shall slay these unbelievers. The Lord’s name will ring down glorified through the ages. If He is with us, how can we lose?”
The custodian could not find words. He shook his head as Hobrow made a blessing in the hot, dusty air.
“Get back to your place, man! Do the Lord’s will!” Hobrow had already dismissed him from his thoughts. He beckoned to two of his inner circle. They trotted obediently to him. “I have bad news for you,” he told them. “I know you long to take part in the glorious slaughter but the Lord has other plans for you.”
Both of them actually looked regretful. “Tell us, master,” they chorused.
“Guard my daughter with your lives, for did not the Lord command us to protect the innocent?”
They nodded, awestruck at the responsibility.
“Then take her to safety.” Hobrow stooped, his angular body looking like some strange bird as he bent to kiss Mercy’s brow. She bent her head in submission to his authority, but he had already gone.
One glance was enough to show him that the tatterdemalion force from Ruffetts View was no more than a few hundred beings. Already he could see the Whore, riding down on him in a glitter of gold and steel. Her front rank crashed into the Unis’ pikemen with a shock that transmitted itself through the ground. For a moment he could even see the Queen, screaming in rage as one of her horses impaled itself on one of the deadly weapons.
Smiling to himself, Hobrow swung up into the saddle and galloped into the fray. How could she be so stupid? When had a cavalry charge ever broken through a solid line of pikemen? The Lord was with him indeed.
This was going to be easy.
As the dark mass of Jennesta’s army shocked into the foremost rank of the Unis, Stryke spearheaded his orcish cavalry unit at their rear.
Although they were going uphill, not the best of tactics for a charge, their opponents were in confusion. Hobrow’s soldiers had fired a single scant volley of arrows, most of which had fallen short. Firing downhill made it hard to judge distance.
“I guess the best of Hobrow’s archers are up at the sharp end,” Coilla said, crouching low over the neck of her racing mount.
“I ain’t complaining,” Haskeer replied.
The Wolverines thundered on. The smoke was thinner the further from Ruffetts they went, but the battle above was raising so much dust it might as well have been fog. The grass was grey with it, and even the sun was no more than a faint ball hanging halfway up the sky. It didn’t stop the sounds of battle, though, and the very ground was trembling beneath the pounding hooves.
Stryke looked to his right. As agreed, Rellston’s cavalry was sweeping down on Hobrow’s flank from a gentle slope. The Unis’ own horsemen were somewhere up ahead, out of sight behind the shifting mass of the fighting. The Wolverine already knew the enemy would keep their horses at the major battlefront against the unexpected Mani army.
To either side, having set off some minutes earlier, Rellston’s foot-soldiers were beginning to form into lines. The front row wielded short stabbing swords while their comrades levelled long lances. From behind them whistled flight upon flight of javelins. They plunged into the Unis’ flanks. Some clattered off shields, but others found their mark and a ragged chorus of shrieks had Stryke and Coilla grinning with maniacal pleasure.
Only fifty yards before the orcish cavalry punched through the Uni lines. Twenty . . . Ten . . .
From straight overhead came unholy screams of laughter. Confused, the Wolverines looked upwards and recoiled.
A dozen winged creatures came out of the dust cloud, stooping down on the dumbstruck Unis. Hobrow’s archers never knew what hit them. From behind the harpies swooped on them, dragging struggling bodies up into the air then hurling them down upon their comrades. A grisly rain of blood spattered on men and earth alike.