The five kilometres to the dam had never seemed so far, there were so many Insects scurrying about between us and the winch house. It would be hours before we could cut our way there and open the gates.
Our skirmishing cavalry had been out since first light, preventing the more adventurous Insects getting too close to the mustering troops. The Ghallain prickers’ horses were skittish, being not used to Insects. The men were unruly, but disciplined by long experience working together. They dashed and wheeled in small charges, hurling javelins at attacking Insects. Those with the swiftest horses offered themselves as bait to break up larger groups, luring them in different directions, and their comrades swooped to surround them. Their seemingly effortless efficiency was a pleasure to watch. I swept over, hearing them calling scores to each other.
‘Thirteen!’
‘Fourteen!…Hey, Jant, away! You Eszai will get your turn later!’
‘You’re crazy, Vir Ghallain! There’s Insects enough for everyone here!’
He laughed. ‘There won’t be when I’ve shown Summerday and Lowespass how real men can ride!’
I shook my head and headed back to our lines, wondering how long he would wait before Challenging our new Hayl. The wind was beginning to shift to the south. Lightning would appreciate a good tailwind to add force to the arrows but it was also blowing our scent towards the swarm near the lake, stirring them up.
The main force was drawing up into two deep blocks of roughly equal size, one about ten metres behind the other. The first block would have to break through the Insects, with the reserve formation offering support and engaging if those in front started to waver. In such a large force the Select units were interspersed with the inexperienced General Fyrd to provide an example and keep them fighting.
The centre of the first body was a solid phalanx of pikemen led by Lourie, stationed astride the road to the dam. They stood sixteen deep and, once engaged, their lowered pikes would present an impenetrable forest of points to the Insects, who would simply impale themselves on the barbed shafts trying to get at the men. They wore greaves and breastplates but trusted in the six metres of ash and steel they wielded to fend off Insects better than any shield. Behind them came a triple rank of javelin-throwers commanded by the Javelin Master, in their front line. They would hurl their missiles over the heads of the spearmen should they be hard-pressed by Insects. They were unarmoured and when their ammunition was exhausted they would pull back to the munitions carts following the troops at a safe distance to rearm.
Guarding both flanks of the phalanx were thousands of heavy infantry: solid blocks dripping with chain mail and shining plates, with tall rectangular shields and spears. In addition each carried a mace, axe, or Wrought sword to destroy any Insects who broke through their shield wall. They were a patchwork of colours as they drew up by battalion, each with its standard flickering in the breeze, and within that by division and company. Each square seemed tiled with smaller squares, in five hundreds, and smaller patches still, in fifties. The commanding Eszai stood in their front lines: Tornado and Serein on the left flank nearest the reservoir, the Macer and Sapper on the east flank by Cyan’s tower.
The second body of troops were lines of archers, predominantly Awian, and more shield men in reserve, mostly Morenzian. The archers were on foot, their captains and wardens mounted, with Lightning clearly visible on his white horse in their centre. Those on horseback directed the shot of the footmen, who would be loosing blind over the heads of the ranks in front. In the open, archers cannot be left to face Insects alone so they shot high and indirectly, relying on the sheer weight of arrows to impact into the Insects’ backs. The Awian ranks were typically orderly, each soldier turned out in blue livery and gleaming helmet, but more spacious to allow each man sufficient room to draw his longbow. The Morenzians were a motley contrast; only their officers and the richer fyrd were armoured. But a sea of banners fluttered above them, proudly proclaiming the village or Hacilith district from which they’d been raised. Each man in their jostling ranks held a shield and spear provided by the Castle and wore a sword, from Wrought. The Armourer and the Blacksmith led this infantry reserve.
Slightly to the rear on each flank of the second block of infantry were the armoured lancers. Eleonora held the left with the Tanager and Rachiswater lancers; and Hayl held the right with detachments from Eske and Shivel. They rode in discrete wedges, ready to intervene quickly if Insects threatened to envelop the archers and infantry.
The aristocracies of Awia and the Plainslands found it increasingly fashionable to arm as lancers, but I thought it an unnecessarily hazardous way of fighting. I couldn’t help but remember how the last mass cavalry charge I had witnessed at Lowespass turned out. Still, the casualties probably helped keep inbreeding amongst the nobility under control.
Finally, directly behind the reserve block, the Imperial Fyrd rode onto the field together: a bright red square. They took position in the exact centre of the line, and in the centre of that, the Emperor on his midnight black stallion. Above him flapped the Sunburst, the largest banner on the field. Frost, mounted on an immense destrier, trotted to his right surrounded by the company of her bodyguard, Riverworks’s foremen and navvies. She was to take command of operations when we reached the dam.
The whole host was centred on the metalled road leading to the dam’s walkway, though only a few men in the deepest part of the mass were actually walking on it. It emerged from under the leading pikemen’s feet, and stretched ahead of them, bisecting the expanse of ankle-deep mud that they would have to cross.
Occasionally tiny gaps opened in the battle lines, where a man was having a piss, and his fellows on either side were trying to shuffle out of the way of the splatter, because none were allowed to leave the line for any reason. I curved up, gaining height to about five hundred metres, until the whole host was arrayed in browns and splashes of colour below me; pennants, padded jacks and white armour bright against the mud. There were the many-shaded blue backgrounds and individual devices of Awian manors; the greens and devices of Plainslands manors; the red hand of Morenzia. All the fyrds of the Fourlands bar Cathee, Brandoch and Ghallain’s infantry were represented.
Behind the fighting troops, auxiliaries of all kinds trailed through the canvas city back to Slake Cross, industrious as Insects. A constant pony cart relay brought up supplies of arrows and javelins to stockpiles behind the ranks. Wagons laden with stacks of stretchers swayed through the mud to the forward dressing stations, where orderlies fussed over them. Water-bearers staggered under dozens of canteens they would carry to the men once underway. Swarms of boys tried to sell apples from barrels to the stragglers. Whores were doing a roaring trade in the tents with young fyrdsmen who didn’t want to die as virgins. A party of artillerists tried to lever a cart-mounted repeating ballista out of a ditch. Squads of Gayle’s mounted provosts brandished their truncheons as they trotted between the pavilions and alongside the road, scaring skivers back to their units.
I heard Lightning’s horn calling thinly into the sky. Each Eszai carries his or her own signal to call for the Messenger but it has taken me years of selective deafness to convince them that just because I can fly I can’t answer them all at once. Now they have learnt only to use them in truly important cases. I wheeled back over the tumult.
Lightning had ordered his Select to bunch up, clearing a strip of ground for me to land on. It simply looked brown, but as I dropped closer it looked like someone had decided to plough a pond.
I came to earth in front of his horse, peeling off the top layer of mud in a sliding flurry of feathers, probably just as Lord Melodrama had planned. ‘This had better be good! Even if I can get airborne from this muck, I’ll be carrying half the field around with me all day.’
‘Hush.’ He looked around and then, sighing, dismounted to stand next to me. His riding boots squelched into the slurry and stopped being so damn clean. In a low voice he said, ‘I do not want the fyrdsmen to hear. I am worried.’
I whispered back, ‘Look, this is the strongest we’ve ever been. It looks glorious from the air. Half the Fourlands is here. The Insects can’t even outnumber us by more than three to one.’
‘Yes, that is exactly my concern. Nobody here has experience of handling a host this size. Forget the governors, even most of the Eszai have barely commanded a force bigger than a battalion in the last two hundred years, and then mostly on the defensive. The Emperor hasn’t directed a battle for almost eight times as long.’
I shrugged, annoyed. Trust Lightning to be so perfectionist he finds fault where there is none. ‘So?’
‘Nobody has proper control over this field. A developing situation could get quickly out of hand. The mud will slow the dispatch riders. Most of these troops are untried and barely trained-we have many men but not many soldiers. Originally we just expected them to make a great show for the press and then spend the next month demolishing cells.’
‘Look, all the Select is here. You know nearly all the Awians drill regularly. The entire Circle is here. The Emperor is here. The green troops will either be straining their best to impress or be terrified of us. Don’t fret. Oh, and I checked on Cyan this morning; she’ll be safe.’
He scowled. ‘That wasn’t what I was thinking about. Jant, you’re the only one who can watch everything as it happens. If you see anything start to go wrong, tell me immediately.’ He looked down the first line. ‘Damn! Ata had a proper head for this, so had Dunlin. Or Sarcelle. And the last Hayl.’
I was shocked. Had he really so little confidence in us?
‘What about San?’
‘You must go to him if he summons you, of course. But remember that he is here to inspire and observe. He hasn’t taken formal command from any of us. They are forgetting-’ he waved an arm towards the front, in Tornado’s general direction ‘-that San created the Circle to do this for him.’
I looked Saker full in the face. Behind his usual expression he had a weariness I wasn’t used to seeing.
I nodded. I pulled my damp feet from the ooze, ran soggily, and leapt into the air. A whole division of Morenzians ducked as I flashed over their spear-points. When I looked behind me again, Saker was still standing where I had left him, patting his horse’s neck abstractedly.
I could see my couriers converging on the Imperial Fyrd and its captain turning around in his saddle to speak to the Emperor. San raised his hand. The standard bearers of the Imperial Fyrd sounded their horns and the buglers of every division responded, till the air vibrated with a single note. The advance began.
Lourie’s phalanx started to elongate as the men in the front line began to march; then those towards the middle. The lines separated slightly and narrow gaps opened between them as those at the back, and the infantry behind them, waited for their space to move.
Their pikes jutted ahead, held straight out from the first few ranks, and directly upwards in the others. They looked like a hairbrush. I looked down into the spaces between the spears; they seemed to bristle as I soared over.
Hurricane’s polished glaive was clear among them, a wider blade in the centre. He was setting the pace deliberately slowly, to prevent men stumbling in the adhesive mud or advancing too far ahead of the archers.
The prickers fell back as planned. Around the flanks, exhausted men headed their horses to the rear to rest. As they retreated, Insects began to venture forward. The strong south wind gusted, spreading a ripple of interest through the Insects gathered around the lake.
I watched the forward movement surge through the infantry and reach the archers. Over the roar of airflow and the rhythmic swoosh-and-batter of my wings I could hardly hear their horns but I saw thousands of men bend their bows in unison. Their shot arced high, arrows pausing at their zenith, turning and falling at a steeper angle, thicker than rain or snow, spraying out in front of the first spearmen.
Their barrage was so thick they were catching Insects in a broad strip in front of the host. Insects writhed and fell. The closest rushed powerfully up against the first pikes. Some were killed outright, others slowed down until the pike points buckled into and cracked their hard carapaces.
Hurricane let the arrow barrage come down some fifty metres ahead of the pikemen-he kept the distance with incredible skill.
The pace was so slow it was a quarter of an hour before the wave of movement reached the last ranks of the Imperial Fyrd. It was mid-morning already but we were only ten minutes behind schedule. It is absolutely impossible to keep men walking abreast in perfect rows, and they were stumbling and dragging in the mud. Every formation was warping slightly; growing thinner and longer. The archers’ line bent forwards at the ends as the men there walked faster, spreading onto open ground where the infantry hadn’t churned it up.
I stretched out in the air, way in front of the pikemen, with the storm of arrows coming down behind me. I was watching Insects charge in up the slope from the lake shore, where they were ranging all over the mud in great numbers, but nowhere so densely packed as to be a serious threat to the infantry.
I turned and flapped upwind in an ungainly fashion, resting now and then because the gusts were strong enough for me to lean against. All the spearmen could see me poised stationary like the figurehead of a ship.
Back towards the town I saw the dual lines of Thunder’s immobile trebuchets drawn up in front of the walls. The machines weren’t operating but were still manned, just in case-they seemed no bigger than my thumbnail and the crews no more than black dots.
Better go see if anyone needs me, I thought. I swept out wide and came in under the tunnel of arrows pouring up from Lightning’s ranks. I flew down the tunnel and out of the end. Then I gained height so as not to frighten the horses, and cruised over the Imperial Fyrd, looking down on their sun banners. It was easy to see the Emperor’s billowing white cloak against his horse’s back.
I was worried that San was on the field. His presence was foremost in everyone’s minds. We couldn’t risk him getting hurt-if he was, none of us knew what would happen to the Circle. At least he’s well protected in the rearguard.
Back on the other side of the arrow storm, Insects rushed towards the spearmen. The spears thrust out or down. Little dents formed in the first line where shield and spearmen had to stop and make sure an Insect was dispatched before walking round or clambering over it. Eleonora’s and Hayl’s lancers trotted forward to guard the archers’ flanks.
The fyrds walked steadily for three hours, cutting a wide swathe through the Insects, with some attrition of the spearmen and heavy infantry, and horses as the cavalry fended off Insects coming round to our rear. The host trailed bodies like rag dolls, curled up and sinking in the shallow liquid mud.
We had reached the gradient leading down to the lake-the slope helped the men walking but was too faint to speed up the lines. Hordes of Insects were racing from the shore, skittering over the road and pouring towards us. The curling breeze carried the stench of the lake.
I was turning, intending to tell Lourie how many Insects were approaching, when an almighty shouting broke out from the spearmen. The front of the phalanx nearer the lake ground to a halt, but the rest kept going a few steps downhill, staring left at their fellows, wondering what was happening. They pulled the whole of the phalanx front out in a long concave curve.
The first pikes started rattling side-to-side and jabbing at the ground. The men in the second line were also trying futilely to bring their weapons to bear, stabbing the mud. A shout went up to call Sirocco’s men into action. They started casting their javelins. Already? I thought. What’s going on?
I pulled my wings in close and dropped steeply downwind, air screaming past me. I hit my top speed in seconds, blinked and tears forced out of the corners of my eyes. I swept my wings forward and up, either side of my face, and braked hard. I had to keep above the arrows. I circled, lying in the air, my wings beating quickly, and looked down through their storm.
The men in the first few lines were dropping their pikes. Throwing them down. Their long shafts lay all over and already men were tripping on them. Some had drawn swords and appeared to be digging them into the ground.
The men on the edges of the phalanx flung down their weapons and turned to run. The ones nearer the centre began to follow suit. Unable to force back through the tight ranks behind, they had to run the whole length of the line to get round the flanks. Some fell as they fled and didn’t get up again. Bodies struggled and contorted in the mud but I couldn’t see that they were fighting anything.
Men in the centre of the first ranks turned around completely and tried to beat their way back into the middle of the phalanx. They came face to face with men behind them who also turned to run but could go nowhere. Time seemed to slow down and I felt a rising nausea. Shit. They’re going to rout. The fastest way to die in battle is to break formation in front of Insects.
‘Lourie!’ I shouted. I couldn’t dive lower-I couldn’t land. The air beneath me was thick with missiles. The wind took my words. I screamed at the top of my voice: ‘Hold the line!’
I saw helmets moving into the centre of the phalanx then falling under the crush. The square’s middle was thickening and the edges flaking off, men running back. Lourie and a body of soldiers around him were left isolated on the road out in front. He was bent double, shouting, but no volume could make his troops take the slightest bit of notice.
The javelin-throwers following had now also stopped, their front rank mingling with the last line of the phalanx. They couldn’t see forward and were even jumping up to try to see over the pikemen’s heads and find out what was happening. Fleeing pikemen began running into their ranks at the sides, pushing them towards the middle, making the crush worse. Sirocco blew his horn, then every Eszai with the infantry began to sound theirs. I glimpsed Tornado looking up to me and frantically waving, mouth moving in a silent bellow. Then I was past, over the vast formation grinding to a halt. Men crunched up together as they walked into each other; the flanks rode on by a few metres as the centre collapsed into itself. The reserve block realised that the men walking ahead had stopped and came to a halt themselves.
Lacking further instructions for the cause of the delay the archers, piecemeal, suspended their barrage. As the last arrows hissed to the ground the screams of the ever-worsening crush below seared up clearer than before.
Finally I could descend-and suddenly all the ground ahead of the pikemen seemed to be in motion. Tussocks and rocks poking through the thin layer of muddy water over the waterlogged soil were advancing of their own accord.
I had no idea what they were. Lower still, I could see shapes, seething in the mud, half-crawling, half-swimming. I judged the scale against the men-they were about half a metre long and mottled brown, very hard to see. They were moving close to the surface of the soil, like little Insects. I saw one lifted up on a man’s spear, writhing. It had a longer, narrower abdomen than an Insect. I saw its legs opening and closing as they waved in the air. Its thorax and triangular head were flattened, but they had the same high-gloss goggle eyes.
I looked towards the lake and saw them emerging from the water, climbing up on the lake shore. They were scurrying, slower than Insects, but faster than a man could run. I couldn’t see the ground between them on the shore; there was no end to them. They weren’t Insects. I hadn’t seen them before-they were monsters!
The waters’ edge was slick with glistening wet carapaces. The tops of their eyes emerged first, then their leg joints, combing through the ripples. They crawled straight out, head, thorax and the strange long abdomen; rivulets running down between their hard segments.
Oh no…These are the hatchlings. Young Insects. Insect larvae.
Lourie’s troops had dissolved into a tussling, hopelessly entangled mob of men, crushed by their own confusion and swarmed over by the larvae. They were pressed so closely together they were suffocating. I saw armoured fists raised. Men used sword pommels to club each other out of the way. None of the infantry could see the lake. To them, the creatures were closing in from all sides equally, so thick on the ground that one man could do nothing. They had no idea what they were facing. The great length of pikes was useless against creatures close by and tight against the mud, and the small sword or misericord most carried was too short to be effective without bending down. The larvae were crawling up the legs of the armoured men, biting in between their plates, hanging off faulds, curling around men’s necks. As they stabbed at one, another bit them. Men wrenched them off, leaving chitinous legs trapped between their armour’s plates, but as they pulled one off, more swarmed up.
The heavy infantry by now were seriously worried, even though few had even seen the larvae yet. On the wings I could see their step beginning to waver and corporal looking to sergeant; sergeant to captain; captain to warden; warden to governor or Eszai, all wanting to know what to do.
Lourie and those with him-already no more than a company-were now nearly surrounded. Larvae flowed towards them like a tan wave. He knew it was safer to keep fighting than to run. Anyone who ran was borne down by clinging hatchlings, or tripped as several lunged at his feet, or he slipped in the mud and they overwhelmed him.
Lourie was spinning his glaive and stabbing larvae before and behind him. He was making his way steadily backwards but his path was blocked by the jostling crush-the remains of his own ranks. Bodies were beginning to pile up on the edges. The men in the middle were heaving their own dead out of the way to give themselves more room, but the armoured bodies only hemmed them in and gave the ravenous larvae a feast.
I chose a spot some distance from Lourie, slightly ahead of the front of the advancing larvae, and landed. ‘Hurricane!’ I yelled.
Lourie’s sallow face turned towards me for an instant. His legs were muddied up to the hips. He had taken his helmet off and his cornrow-braided hair glistened with sweat.
I yelled, ‘Run! There’s a way out, here!’
Lourie ignored me. ‘The Emperor,’ he said loudly, looking down. ‘I’m not running in front of the Emperor.’
‘There’s nothing you can do! Come on!’
Lourie said something derogatory about Rhydanne. He spun the glaive high and under his arm, accurately stabbing a crawling larva. He lifted it into the air. It flicked its tail under it, spattering mud.
They were sweeping towards me quickly, jetting water out of their tails to propel themselves through the liquid pooled over the churned earth, swarming on their short legs across the drier ground. Their hunger seemed even more desperate and insatiable than the adults’. I readied myself, trying to make out the nearest. It had a narrow, cylindrical shape and a long abdomen made up of segments that came to a point.
Familiar, but smaller, six jointed legs were bunched together under its thorax. The flattened head was hunched and joined to its body by a thick neck. It was dark brown with paler sandy and black spots along its sides. The crook-backed carapace was thinner, with many more joints and far more flexible than an Insect. Thick spines edged and topped its sinuous abdomen. Tiny wing-buds lay tight against its thorax like a backpack; much smaller than Insects’ undeveloped wings but these were recognisably a different stage in the life-cycle of the same creature.
I had seen enough. I swung my ice axe at it, missed, and the pick passed close to its head. It reared up onto its two back legs, spread out its front legs and opened its jaws threateningly. Another made straight for my foot. Its jaws shot out and grabbed my ankle. Fucking shit! Its jaws shoot out! It bit straight through my boot and suddenly a pair of hooks twisted in my ankle. I slammed my axe down through its neck, with the speed of pain. It was impaled, but it didn’t let go. It flexed the joint of its extendible jaw and pulled its body towards me by the fangs anchored in my boot. I levered them out with the axe pick. It curled up, convulsing-its mandible folded limply back underneath its head.
I took steps backwards, smashing the heads of larvae around me. Pleased with my prowess I looked up-the whole kilometre of ground from myself to the lake was swarming with them! I ran, limping, in the opposite direction and took off.
Dank though it was, the air had rarely felt so welcoming. Unfortunately I couldn’t stay up here, I had to stop the rout spreading. I could feel my bitten foot bleeding into my boot. My flight path took me over the left flank; Tornado’s halted formation. I’ll tell him first.
I came down in front of the heavy infantry. Their nervous eyes peered from helmet slits. More mud splattered into my flight feathers as I slid to a halt. I couldn’t keep doing this or I would soon be grounded. Tornado exploded out of the ranks before me, over two metres of confused belligerence in chain mail.
‘Jant! What the fuck’s going on?’
‘Insects. Larvae, I think. Loads of them, coming this way.’
‘What?’
I stopped, took a breath. ‘It’s a new type of Insect, coming from the lake. They’re smaller but there’s millions of them. Hard to see cos they keep very close to the ground. I killed a couple; they’re softer than adults. But they’re fast and they can swim. Lourie’s cut off! Pikes are useless against them. His men are running.’
‘No! No one runs! Not now!’
I had never seen him look so furious.
‘Tornado, this is something new…’
‘What about spears? Are they any use?’
‘Short ones might be, if you stab down with them. Long swords, maces, axes maybe. Their jaws are on a hinge, like an arm! They shoot out this far in front! One bit me in the ankle! I saw them reaching through gaps in armour.’
He called, ‘Signal the advance! Fyrd! Follow me! Your Emperor is watching! Runners! Tell Serein to keep his men close to us-don’t let any spaces open up!’
‘What are you doing?’
‘My job. These soldiers are the Select of the Plainslands and they’re not trying to wield a pike like a tree-trunk. You can tell San that we’re going to rescue Hurricane and then we’re going to reach our objective. If you can kill them, so can we.’ He spoke loudly, for the benefit of the front ranks. They cheered. He looked at me levelly, though without malice.
‘Look-’
‘That’s all, Jant.’ He turned away.
‘Excuse me!’ But the bastard didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention. I muttered as I took off, ‘I’ll go find someone intelligent to talk to.’
Now with a better view I could see the central phalanx had disintegrated into a bloody shambles. Those who could were splashing away, shoving through the archers behind them, discarding weapons and armour. The captain of a Rachiswater division tried to halt them. She grabbed a man but he kept running with such force that he pulled her from her horse and they both fell struggling into the mud. The surrounding infantry began to form up into shield walls, whether out of fear of Insects or their own routers I couldn’t know.
Sirocco was trying to stage a more orderly retreat with what remained of his command but he was now faced by solid ranks of shields and spears in the hands of panicking men.
Lourie’s diminishing band were standing in a circle, completely surrounded as, hundreds of metres away, the left wing began to wheel ponderously towards him. Tornado’s men were fighting already in fresh swarms of nymphs. The right wing was still halted in confusion, not yet in contact with the larvae: cavalry rode up and down trying to see what was going on even while the ranks nearest the slaughter were peeling away and breaking up. The ground was heaving as larvae, attracted by the blood, funnelled into our centre from the left, from the lake. The sky was alive with horns, shouts and screams. Shit. Shitshitshit! I glided low, heading for the Micawater standard, until I picked out Lightning.
I leant against the wind and soared lower and lower to horseback-level, then pulled my wings in and dropped to the ground. At that very moment the Circle broke.
Lightning gave a great cry of rage: ‘Lourie!’
I furled the blades of my wings and staggered to my feet. The mud here was atrocious. Lightning’s horse was smeared in it up to the breast.
‘Hurricane is dead.’ Lightning looked down from the saddle. ‘What in San’s name is happening out there? Do I shoot or advance?’
‘I don’t know for sure,’ I said. ‘The sarissai were attacked by Insect larvae. They routed and the akontistai are caught up in it…’
‘Insect what?’
I briefly described the new kind of Insects. ‘Little, long Insects. So big-’ I held my hands apart. ‘But their jaws shoot out this far on a kind of jointed appendage. They’re intent on eating. And they’re going to keep coming because the ground from here to the lake is solid with them.’
Lightning looked to his steward, who was on a brown horse beside him, acting as a division captain. The warden of the first Micawater battalion was on horseback just beyond him. Lightning said, ‘We don’t know what these things can do. We haven’t seen them before and they’re not Insects; I don’t know what it could mean. Abort the march. We will return to town.’
I said, ‘Tornado and Wrenn are already advancing. They are-were-trying to relieve Hurricane. They’re in amongst the larvae all up there-’ I pointed towards the centre.
‘What! Into my target zone?’
‘Yes. The larvae look small and easy to kill but they don’t know how many there are.’
‘Why are they advancing independently? Why didn’t you stop them?’
‘Tawny wouldn’t listen. He’s been throwing his weight around ever since San arrived. But there are millions of larvae. They’re bound to get cut off.’
Lightning rubbed his hand over his mouth and gazed at me. ‘A battlefield is no place for heroics, Jant. The fate of the First Circle is all the proof we need. San’s presence is causing us to act like fools.’
‘What can we do?’
‘I can’t see Tornado’s and Wrenn’s positions. I can’t cover them now without hitting them. And bloody Tornado’s advance must have left all my archers following him exposed to attack from those things.’
‘Yes.’
‘Right…’ Lightning shook his head and focused properly on me. The crisis had revitalised him. His depression had lifted. He said, ‘We’re pulling out. We’re not going to have a second massacre at Slake Cross.’
He called up four dispatch riders simply by pointing at them, said, ‘You go to Sleat. Tell him to get his fyrd to form a shield wall in front of the archers on the west flank. The archers must shoot at will to support them. You, go to the Sapper and Macer on the east flank. Tell them to sound the retreat and retire in order. Advise them we are facing a new type of Insect and they should avoid engagement. Tell them the Emperor commands this. You tell Hayl the same and then command the reserves on the east wing to follow the hastai as they pull out. You go to Thunder. Inform him that we will be retreating and ask that he prepare to cover us. Suggest that he tries flaming projectiles-they may scare these larvae. Then tell the Slake Cross garrison to man the walls.’
The dispatch riders galloped away, spraying muck over the front rank of archers. Lightning turned to his steward. ‘Harrier, speak to the Blacksmith and organise the battalions here into a proper defensive position-because when the Insects finish off Hurricane’s men they’ll be up against us. We will retreat in unison with the west flank.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Lightning sighed, looked at his saddle pommel then up again. ‘Harrier. Make sure the fyrd know that the Emperor is watching them and they must stand firm. But if anyone runs, they must be shot. Tell the wardens this. And have the provosts form up behind us. We can’t afford another panic.’
‘I understand, my lord.’ He paused, nodded, then sped away.
‘Jant, go to Eleonora. I mean the Queen. Say her lancers must charge straight up the flank and pick up as many of Tornado’s and Wrenn’s troops as they can, then retreat to camp.’
‘Consider it done.’ I prepared to take off.
‘And you must inform the Emperor of what I have ordered.’
I stared at him. I had to tell San we were retreating? ‘Yes, but…’
‘Do it. I will meet you at the Imperial Fyrd once I have finished here.’
Back in the air I could see the formations below beginning to reorganise themselves with glacial speed, drawing together more tightly. I shuddered at the thought of being land-bound, encased in metal, clumsy and slow in the face of the darting nymphs.
The Queen’s cavalry were gleaming on the extreme west flank. As they were not treading in the infantry’s tracks they had escaped the worst mud and, being upwind of the Insects, the horses were calm. At the point of their wedge I could see Eleonora’s upturned face calmly watching as I circled down to land nearby.
She spread her wings in greeting, called, ‘Why, Jant! You honour us with your presence!’
I approached her. She sat confidently astride her steel-clad thoroughbred, armoured in her usual mix of shining metal and self-assurance. She held her helmet beneath one arm and lance in the other hand, a pale blue pennon lazily waving from it. Her dark hair was immaculate and I even imagined I could detect a trace of rose perfume. An oval shield and a selection of weapons were slung from her saddle. She looked just as formidable on the battlefield as in her boudoir. ‘Such a shame to bring you down here, when you look so…graceful in the air.’
I had no time for Eleonora’s crap. ‘We’re being attacked! ‘Leon, there’s a new kind of Insect coming out of the lake. Lightning has ordered a retreat. A total withdrawal! Tornado and Serein’s hastai will soon be cut off at the front. Lightning commands you and your lancers to charge, rescue them, and carry as many as possible back to town.’
I described the larvae. Eleonora frowned, then changed to an over-hand grip on her lance, pointing it at the ground like a spear.
‘Tell Lightning I accept his command.’ She turned, shouted, ‘Lancers of Awia! Follow your Queen!’ She glanced at me and pulled her helmet visor down over her smile. I staged my own tactical retreat.
I flew to the Emperor and tipped my wings to him. He raised a hand and the Imperial Fyrd walked their horses aside to let him through. As he did so, Frost on her dapple stallion emerged from behind the last riders on the corner of the square. She urged it into a trot and began to advance, even as the call to retreat was going up. Her bodyguard trailed her. I circled, trying to keep her in view. She’s an experienced Eszai, she should realise how serious this is. What was she playing at?
I glanced down, acutely aware of San watching me. Frost could look after herself. I descended. The horses of the Imperial cavalry tossed their heads and held them high, their white-edged eyes watching my great wings beating. The horses were actually shaking as their riders struggled to still them.
The riders and mounts acted as a windbreak, and I had no current to balance on for the last few metres. I fell down heavily and landed in a crouch. My coat-tails flopped to the ground. There was a smash and tinkle of broken glass in my deep right pocket. Crouching in the hoof-printed mud I wondered what it could be. Shit. The jar with the Vermiform worms.
I hadn’t thought about it at all up until this instant. I looked down, and worms were wriggling out of my pocket.