The Icemark Chronicles: The Cry of the Icemark (41 page)

Several had been shot by their own comrades, who had quite rightly been convinced that they were possessed, and others had thrown themselves from the battlements in the dead of night rather than face the horror of what they knew stood just behind them. And when the surviving members of the garrison had finally decided to risk sheltering in the forest, it was the ghosts who had followed them down to the gates, whispering and laughing on the edge of their minds, watching them set out into the storm that raged and howled beyond the barbican.

The ghosts and spirits-of-place were pleased with events. The Queen had returned, and some of the people, and the rest of the folk would one day come back and they could slip back into their minds, becoming the warp and the weft of legend and stories — becoming the fireside companions of long winter nights, living their lives for a while in the minds of the breathing, in the blood that still flowed, in the feelings that still thrilled to nerves that still sensed.

For a night and a night, the ghosts flowed through the streets, being careful not to frighten these soldiers of the land and their allies. For a night and a night, the guards on the walls were aware only of a light now and then or a sound like laughter caught on the wind. But then the ghosts settled back into their shadows, and waited again in the dark of the city, in the cellars and attics and lost secret rooms — waited for their people to return and give back the strength to their legends.

Elemnestra arrived in the city two days later. There were now thirty thousand soldiers garrisoned in the barrack blocks and in the houses throughout Frostmarris. The north road became a lifeline of supplies from the province of the Hypolitan, and was patrolled daily by cavalry. Over the next few weeks the plans of defense were put in place. It had early been decided not to stand siege locked up in Frostmarris, and so a series of deep trenches and embankments of earth were painstakingly dug from the frozen land of the plain. Concentric defensive rings surrounded the city, extending out to the eaves of the forest at the point where the road entered it. The thirty thousand soldiers were stretched a little thin in some places, but it was hoped that in the spring the fyrds from different parts of the country would come to help. There was also the question of the allies. The Wolffolk gathering was continuing, it was reported, but progress was slow. It could be well into spring before the muster was complete. And the Vampire King and Queen remained as elusive and enigmatic as ever. They were a law unto themselves, and would arrive to help if and when they chose.

In the meantime the Wolffolk scouts continued to spy on Scipio Bellorum, and reported massive troop movement coming through the pass from the Empire. In the south of the country where the general was based in the city of Inglesby, the first breath of spring could be felt. There wasn’t exactly a thaw, but at night the stones of the houses no longer cracked in freezing temperatures, and during the warmest parts of the day the ice and snow looked as though it just might start melting, given a little more encouragement.

Bellorum, like all brilliant generals, was well attuned to his surroundings and felt the change in the air. He smiled his grim smile and sent more messengers through the pass. His armies were gathering, and soon he’d be ready to unleash his attack.
Before him lay a four-day march to the capital of this little land, but he was too sensible to strike north without first securing his rear. He’d learned his lesson during the winter when he’d lost thousands of troops in a blizzard on a reckless mission to seize the capital. But now he was once again in full command of his instincts. There were two cities and three major towns in this Southern Riding, as it was so uncouthly called by its inhabitants, and
they
needed to be captured and garrisoned before he moved on Frostmarris. Nothing would be left to chance this time. The Icemark needed a war that was precisely planned and ruthlessly executed, and both precision and ruthlessness were his forte.

He stretched his elegant legs out to the fire burning in the hearth before him and called the servant for wine. There were at least another ten days or so before things really got under way, and like many old campaigners, he was determined to enjoy the luxury of rest while it was still available. His general staff officers could handle the bread and butter of the logistics; as a true artist of war, he’d wait until the canvas was ready for the master’s hand.

Thirrin and Oskan looked out over the plain from the highest point of the city’s battlements. The moon was half full, and the frozen land glittered under the subtle light like a tray of frosted diamonds.

“Do you remember the journey to the Hub of the World?” Thirrin asked. “It’s odd, but it seems as if it happened only yesterday, and then again in another life, both at the same time.”

“Yes,” Oskan agreed. “Yesterday and years ago. I’d never have believed it while it was happening, but now I feel that it was one of the best times of my life. Nothing to think about
but the journey ahead. Nothing else to fear but the fact that we might die, which somehow helped to make everything else seem completely unimportant.”

Thirrin snuggled down farther into her cloak, then said, “Do you know, there was one point when I could have wished the journey would last for all time. We’d just seen the northern lights, the sky seemed on fire, and the werewolves were pounding on through the dark, and I felt completely … at peace. There’s no other way of putting it. I’m sure if we’d died then, we’d have just traveled on into forever….”

Oskan looked at her. “Hey, where’s my warrior-queen, ready to fight for her place in Valhalla?”

“She’s just a bit tired, Oskan. And scared.”

He stopped his jaw from dropping open just in time, but then recovered quickly. “Well, as to that, I bet the most seasoned housecarls are wetting themselves. We’re facing Scipio Bellorum and his disciplined madmen. You’ve got a right to be scared; we all have.”

Thirrin didn’t answer for a while, then when she finally spoke, some of the usual steel had crept back into her voice. “I don’t want you to think I’m scared of dying. It’s not that. It’s not that at all. It’s more that I’m afraid of failing, of letting down the House of Lindenshield. I’m carrying centuries of expectations and responsibilities. Everybody wants me to tell them what to do, and at the same time they want me to live up to the legacy of all the Ironsides, Bears of the North, and Spear Maidens. And sometimes it’s just too much….”

Unable to think of anything constructive to say, Oskan put his arm around her shoulder and said, “I’m happy for you just to be Thirrin.”

At that moment the heavy tread of a housecarl sounded
outside, and they leaped apart as though scolded. Approaching along the narrow walkway was the captain of the guard, and with him walked Tharaman-Thar.

“Report, Captain Osgood,” Thirrin barked a little too sharply.

“All’s quiet, My Lady. Apart from one idiot who slipped on the steps and has probably broken his wrist. If My Lord, Oskan, could have a look at him —”

“My Lord Oskan has enough to do without tending to every half-drunken housecarl who misses his footing on the ice.”

“It was a cavalry trooper, actually, Ma’am,” Captain Osgood answered.

“Well, whoever!” Thirrin snapped again. “My adviser’s too busy.”

The captain saluted silently and moved on to complete his rounds, leaving Tharaman-Thar to look searchingly at his ally.

“I’ve been thinking about the healing side of things, Thirrin. Captain Osgood has just reminded me,” said Oskan. “We’ve got most of it organized, but the witches with their healers’ skills aren’t here yet, and we’ve still got a way to go before the infirmary’s ready. Converting an old stable to a place of healing takes a lot of work, and I’ve been shirking my share of the effort. I think I’d better go and help.”

“Whatever you think is necessary,” Thirrin answered, recognizing the good sense of his words but still in an uncertain mood after Oskan’s embrace.

“Good, I’ll get on to that now, then. And while I’m at it, I’ll take a look at that trooper’s wrist,” he said, and scurried off as though feeling guilty about something.

“The Queen and her Warlock seem uneasy,” said Tharaman-Thar when they were alone.

Thirrin looked at him, annoyed. “It’s quite bad enough being only fourteen without having to fight a war and run a country as well. Do you wonder that ‘the Queen and her Warlock seem uneasy’?”

“No, I suppose not,” said the leopard. “But sometimes even warriors have to admit they’re just people before all else. And queens who are still girls, and warlocks who are still boys, should allow themselves to be young once in a while.”

“We haven’t the time, Tharaman.”

“No, I suppose not. There are many who are looking to a time after the war to start living their lives again.”

“If that’s an unsubtle attempt to tell me there are people worse off than myself, save yourself the effort. I’m well aware of that, but it doesn’t make it one bit easier to deal with my own problems,” Thirrin answered irritably. “To be really honest, I think if anybody did derive comfort from the fact that ‘there’s always someone worse off than yourself,’ they’d have to be a pretty sad and sick individual. If I’ve sprained my wrist, I’m not made happier by the thought that someone somewhere has broken their leg!”

“Well, that’s telling me,” said Tharaman humorously. “Now that I’ve been put thoroughly in my place, might I humbly suggest that we go inside and have some more of that delicious mulled wine we had earlier with Olememnon?”

Thirrin suddenly smiled and hugged the huge leopard. “Oh, I’m sorry, Tharaman. I’ve been snappy with everyone recently. I suppose I’m fed up with waiting for things to start happening. I just want to get on with it and reach whatever conclusion is destined.”

“Well, that goes for me, too. But while we’ve got a breathing space, let’s try and enjoy it.” A deep rumbling purr
vibrated through his chest, and he laughed. “Olememnon has challenged me to a drinking contest. The first one to fall asleep is the loser. I think I’ll take him up on it now.”

“Is that a good idea? Elemnestra won’t be pleased.”

“Won’t she? Good. Come on, you can be referee.”

S
pring slowly awoke from its winter sleep, stretching out its greenery and new life from the south. Rivers and streams started to flow fiercely with snowmelt, and the earth began to emerge from the deep layer of ice as the cold released its iron grip.

On the battlements of Frostmarris, sentries could smell the rich soil of the forest and the green of new growth when the wind was in the right direction, and everywhere wildflowers were raising delicate petaled heads to the sun. At first the contours of the land were blurred under a shimmering white haze of snow flowers, but gradually, as the temperatures began to rise, other colors seeped from the earth: cool blues, brilliant yellows, and rich, fiery reds. Soon the woodlands and plains around Frostmarris were steeped in a weaver’s workbag of colors and lay open beneath the sun like the page of a beautifully illuminated manuscript. From the walls of the city, the housecarls would watch as the Snow Leopards, unaccustomed to a world without ice, raced and capered over the fields of dazzling color, the height and distance making them look like kittens playing on a richly woven carpet. Out on the plain, the
engineers could now dig the defensive embankments and trenches with much greater ease as the frozen land thawed. The protective rings around the capital now reached in three rows from the Great Road and the eaves of the forest in the south, then swept in a large unbroken arc east, before slowly turning back on themselves to flow west to a point north of the city and higher up the Great Road. The engineers, under instruction from Queen Thirrin, extended the ditches and embankments only a matter of a few yards into the Great Forest but, oddly, the undergrowth around and between the open ends of the defensive rings seemed to grow to an incredible density in a matter of days.

Now that travel was so much easier, the fyrd began to march in from the outlying towns and villages, boosting the Icemark’s defending armies to almost sixty thousand. The city and citadel were soon loud with orders and marching as the fyrd was retrained to reach the new standard that was now expected. And once again the Snow Leopards had to get used to the open-mouthed awe of people who had never seen such amazing creatures.

But with the new season and hope came ominous reminders of Scipio Bellorum. The road from the south was soon crowded with refugees fleeing from his soldiers. His war had begun, and the land was being ravaged. The first town had already fallen in the new campaign, and among the civilians were several contingents of housecarls who’d withdrawn in the face of hopeless odds to act as a rear guard for the refugees and to fight again in the army of the Queen. These soldiers gave valuable information to the commanders of the defense force, and Thirrin, hearing their news, sent out calls for archers, particularly those who used the longbow.