Suffer the heir, p.45
Suffer the Heir, page 45
‘You have your orders,’ said Valens. ‘Dismissed.’
The officers hurried from the room.
Hydar shook his head. ‘This will be a slaughter,’ he said. ‘Thousands are going to die, and for what?’
‘For the freedom of this realm,’ said Denny, ‘and to create a place where Masters and Makers can live in peace. I wouldn’t expect you to agree.’ He turned to Valens. ‘Find somewhere safe and comfortable for Hydar to remain while the battle takes place. I wouldn’t want my cousin coming to any harm.’
‘As you will, Your Majesty,’ said Valens.
‘After that, take your place at the rear of the army,’ Denny went on. ‘If I am going to be leading from the front, then I want to know that you are managing things from the back. You will have a far better view of the battlefield than I, so I am giving you the authority to order a retreat or an attack, depending upon your appraisal of the situation. The cannon are the key; if we can capture them, our superior numbers will drive the Sanctians back to their boats.’
Denny walked from the room, with Abigone by his side. They went into another chamber, which lay next door, and Denny and Abigone were fitted for armour by staff from the quartermaster’s office. Abigone selected a light leather cuirass, while Denny chose a steel breastplate, along with a helmet that would make him recognisable once the battle had begun. Denny raised his arms, and remained still as the armour was strapped to his body.
‘I will protect you,’ he said to Abigone, ‘while you do what you can to thin out the enemy’s ranks.’
‘I can hardly believe we will be going into battle together,’ she said.
‘We should not lead from the back; the soldiers need to see us.’
‘I completely agree,’ she said.
They looked at each other once their armour had been secured to their bodies.
‘The Sanctians will throw everything they have at us,’ he said, ‘as soon as they realise they are being attacked by a Master and a Maker.’
‘I am not afraid,’ she said.
‘Neither am I. We should be. Perhaps something is wrong with us.’
‘Perhaps there is, Denny; or perhaps our entire lives have been leading up to this moment.’
‘Your Majesty,’ said an officer from the doorway. ‘Scouts have returned from monitoring the road to the south of Abkurn. The Sanctians have been seen. They have disembarked their vessels, and are moving into the lower foothills.’
‘Thank you,’ said Denny. He gazed at Abigone. ‘Ben Val was correct,’ he said. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I am.’
Four hours later, Denny’s army was advancing south through the hills along a wide front. It had taken two hours to extricate the soldiers from Abkurn, and they had been walking for a further two, covering eight miles down the coast from their base inside the town. Prince Valens had remained at the rear of the army to direct operations, while Denny and Abigone were on horseback, close to the centre of the front line, and visible to hundreds of their soldiers. The sun was blazing overhead, but a mountain breeze was coming off the lake, and the heat was not yet taxing. More scouts had reached the front of the army, providing updated information about the progress of the Sanctian field army. Denny would listen to them, then he would send them to Valens.
The soldiers marched through long grass, up and down the gentle slopes that bordered the lake, while keeping the coastal road on their right, then they paused by a large farmhouse, set amid wide terraces that flanked the hillside. Low walls were running down to the river, and Denny ordered a halt. He stared across the valley to the other side, and frowned.
‘The Sanctians should be opposite us by now,’ he said. ‘This is where I was expecting to find them, on those slopes on the far side of the valley.’
‘Perhaps the ground is unsuitable for cannon,’ said Abigone. ‘In Upper Down, they had to construct earthen platforms for the cannon, as the ground lies on a steep gradient.’
Denny gestured for a few officers to approach.
‘I want more scouts sent out,’ he said. ‘The Sanctians are not where they are supposed to be. I also want a messenger dispatched to Lord Ben Val. Tell him that the Sanctians are not here, and inform him that we have found this farmhouse – he can set up his headquarters here.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ said a captain.
Denny watched as orders trickled down to the nearest scouts. Detachments of two at a time were sent out, and they ran away from the army’s lines, with some heading up the side of the hill, while others descended into the valley.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Abigone, as her gaze scanned the hills. ‘We are too exposed out here.’
‘We have to be patient,’ said Denny. ‘We shall move as soon as the scouts return.’
He turned in the saddle to glance back at the army. The front lines stretched all the way up the slope from the coastal road, passing the farmhouse, and extending towards the summit at the head of the valley. Many of the soldiers were taking the opportunity to drink from their water skins, while others were leaning on their rectangular shields.
Denny opened his mouth to say something to Abigone, but his voice was drowned out by a thunderous roar from the hillside above them. Denny turned, his eyes wide, and saw wisps of smoke rising from the treeline where a forest began near the hill’s peak. A moment later, hundreds of small iron projectiles rained down upon the left flank of the rebel army, gouging bloody paths through their ordered ranks.
‘Grapeshot!’ cried Denny, as his horse reared up. ‘The Sanctian cannon are above us.’
Shouts of panic rose up, as the army realised that the Sanctians were occupying the higher ground to their left. A second volley of cannon fire ripped through the air, and the iron balls dropped like hail onto the army, felling dozens of soldiers.
‘What are your orders, Your Majesty?’ shouted an officer.
Denny stared up the slope at the location of the Sanctian cannon. The ground between the army and the woods was steep, too steep for any frontal assault to be successful – any soldiers that made the climb without losing their lives would be too exhausted to fight. At the same time, the cannon were able to aim at the entire hillside, making any movement down to the coastal road futile. The only sensible course was to order a full retreat to Abkurn before the casualties mounted, and Denny clenched his fists in frustration.
Amid the roar of a third volley, Denny noticed that flags were being raised from the rear of the army, and he realised that Valens had taken the decision for him. His uncle must have reached the same conclusions, and was ordering the retreat.
‘Order the army back to Abkurn,’ Denny said to the listening officers; ‘all except a thousand soldiers. I will lead the detachment down the valley and out of range of the cannon.’
‘But, Your Majesty, you will be cut off from the rest of the army.’
‘There might be a way to get at the Sanctians from the far side. See to it; now.’
As the officers began to disperse, a fourth volley roared out. A major was struck on the head by a small round projectile that tore through his skull, then Abigone’s mount was hit. Its front legs shattered, it fell forward, throwing Abigone clear, as Denny jumped down from his own horse. He ran to Abigone and helped her up. Around them, the rebel army was descending into chaos, with most hurrying back towards Abkurn, while the soldiers of the detachment ordered by Denny were peeling away from their comrades. They were guided to Denny’s position by a lieutenant, and he led them down the slope, as Abigone raced after him. They bounded down the terraces of the farmstead, and came out of the range of the cannon. The bottom of the valley was wooded, with a stream that wound its way down to the lake. There was a bridge that carried the coastal road over the stream, but it was five hundred yards to their right, so Denny led the detachment of a thousand soldiers splashing through the cold water, the level of the stream coming up to their knees.
They rested and got their bearings once every soldier of the detachment had entered the woods.
‘We will have been seen by now, Your Majesty,’ said a lieutenant. ‘The Sanctians have scouts posted all along the top of the ridge, by the edge of the forest where their cannon are situated. They will know that we are down here at the bottom of the valley.’
‘I want them to know,’ said Denny. ‘I want them to attack us.’
‘What’s the plan, sir?’
‘Princess Abigone is the plan,’ he said. ‘If the Sanctians take the bait, we will draw them in, and Abigone will slaughter them. She is our most valuable asset – protect her at all costs.’
The detachment spread out through the woods at the bottom of the valley, taking up positions on both banks of the stream. Denny, Abigone, and a company of armoured soldiers went on ahead, until Denny pointed at a large clearing.
‘The Sanctians will have to come down that way,’ he said.
‘I agree, Your Majesty,’ said one of his officers. ‘The rest of the valley is too steep and exposed.’
‘We shall meet them here,’ Denny went on.
He waited next to Abigone as the soldiers moved round the edge of the clearing, readying their bows and settling into position.
‘Are you sure about this?’ said Abigone. ‘The Sanctians might not be as obliging as we would wish.’
‘They will want to ensure that we don’t outflank them,’ said Denny. ‘They cannot leave us down here unmolested.’
‘But they don’t have to come down into the valley to hurt us,’ she said. ‘They could loose from the top of the ridge. They might have guessed that we are here, Denny – and they know what I can do. Valentino and Sebastian have encountered my abilities before.’
‘Then what do you advise?’
‘I don’t know – I have no better suggestions. This is the problem – neither of us is versed in the art of leading an army.’
‘We are following my uncle’s instructions,’ he said.
‘But he misjudged where the cannon would be,’ she said. ‘I am not blaming him, but there are too many unknowns.’
Denny frowned as he gazed up at the steep sides of the gorge. Abigone’s words had made sense – both about their lack of experience, and the vulnerability of their position. Denny had sat through countless lessons on military tactics while being schooled on Sanctos, but he had fled the island before he had amassed any practical experience of leading soldiers in the field. He glanced at a nearby captain, and gestured for him to approach.
‘What are our options if we need to leave this gorge in a hurry?’ he said.
‘There are three ways out, Your Majesty,’ said the captain; ‘back the way we came, which would expose us to cannon fire; ahead and up the slopes, which would take us directly into the side of the field army; or we could follow the stream and retreat down to the coastal road. Should I give the order to withdraw?’
Denny narrowed his eyes. He had no desire to retreat, but perhaps it was the wisest course. He opened his mouth to speak, but crossbow bolts started raining down upon them before he could get any words out.
‘Take cover!’ shouted the captain, as the first soldiers were hit.
Denny and Abigone took shelter by a tree, as bolts filled the air. Several large boulders crashed down into the gorge, dislodged by unseen figures at the top of the ridge, and more soldiers fell as they were struck by the tumbling missiles.
‘I can’t see them,’ cried Abigone, her gaze on the top of the ridge; ‘and even if I could, our men are in the way.’
Denny cursed. He saw a brief flash of soldiers up on the ridge, kneeling by the undergrowth as they loosed their bows into the rebels huddled at the bottom of the gorge. The cries of the wounded rose up, and bodies were falling into the stream, their blood staining the water.
Denny eyed the captain. ‘Order the retreat!’
The captain stood. ‘Retreat!’ he shouted. ‘Down to the coast!’
Denny took Abigone’s hand, and they started running from tree to tree, as the others in the detachment began to pull back. The gorge narrowed, and the hail of bolts increased. A few rebels were loosing back at the Sanctians hidden at the top of the steep sides of the valley, but dozens were falling in the bottleneck.
‘If we keep going this way, sir,’ said the captain, ‘we shall be wiped out.’
Denny gazed back up the gorge. If the way to the coast was exposed to the bows of the enemy, then the route up the side of the hill would be worse.
‘My first battle,’ he said to Abigone, ‘and I’ve got us cut off and surrounded.’
‘We will learn from this,’ said Abigone.
‘If we survive.’ He turned to the captain. ‘If we cannot retreat, we shall attack. Order everyone back up the gorge. We shall drive straight into the enemy.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said the officer.
‘This is a fucking disaster,’ said Denny, as the sergeants and officers tried to cajole the soldiers into turning and heading back up the valley. ‘What have I done? Valentino and Sebastian have fought hundreds of battles; why did I think I could outwit them?’
‘All is not yet lost, my beloved,’ said Abigone. ‘Get me to the top of the ridge, and I will repay the Sanctians for this.’
‘And if we die?’
‘Then we die, together.’
Denny drew his sword and raised it aloft. Amid the blizzard of crossbow bolts, and the barrage of falling boulders, he turned to face the steep slopes of the valley. He could barely hear himself think above the noise, but maybe that was better. If he thought too hard about charging up the slope into the hail of bolts, his legs might refuse to obey.
‘Follow me!’ he cried, and started to run.
CHAPTER 32
RAEWYN
Lake Jaladah, Geathan – 26th Day of Ara 109
Raewyn gazed at Tyl Onna as they walked along the wooded path. Five days had elapsed since Tel Than had died, and the young woman was clearly still in mourning for her brother. In a perverse way, Raewyn was slightly jealous of Tyl Onna’s capacity for grief. Her brother had been the last remaining member of her family, and she was grieving with an intensity that had become almost alien to Raewyn. In the past, Raewyn would have done the same; she would have wept over the loss and been inconsolable, but not any more. Now, she felt nothing about Tel Than’s death. It wasn’t that she had hardly liked the man; she had respected his honesty. Tel Than had known that Raewyn was an unfeeling monster, and he hadn’t tried to hide it from her.
Raewyn kept her gaze on Tyl Onna. She wasn’t completely devoid of emotion – she felt sorry for the young woman, and had tried to comfort her as they had crossed the mountains. On some mornings, Tyl Onna had refused to get up, and Raewyn had needed to sit by her side, slowly coaxing her back into movement. On other days, Tyl Onna had barely uttered a word, and Raewyn had been content to walk with her for hours in silence, as they retraced their steps along the road towards Abkurn.
That day, Tyl Onna had spoken, but her words had expressed nothing but her belief that their cause was hopeless, and that they were going to die; and Raewyn had found herself disagreeing with her. There was still hope, she had told Tyl Onna; there was still a reason to live, and a reason to fight. Almost without realising it, Raewyn had been changed by Tyl Onna’s grief. It had made her feel more human again, after weeks of living through a long nightmare of blood and death. When she told Tyl Onna that there was still something to live for, she had started to believe her own words. Maybe it was possible to live in peace, among friends, among the students of Abigone’s new school. Raewyn had found that she missed Stanza and the others, and the thought made her worried. If she started to feel normal again, then how would she find the strength to slaughter the field army?
She glanced up at the blue sky, and saw flocks of birds wheeling overhead, then a dull, low rumble met her ears.
‘Did you hear that?’ she said, coming to a halt on the woodland track.
Tyl Onna said nothing.
‘I have heard that sound before,’ Raewyn went on. ‘If the sky were cloudy, I would say it was thunder. The sky is clear.’
Tyl Onna shivered, despite the warmth.
‘The field army is ahead of us,’ Raewyn said. ‘We have found it, at last, and I intend to attack.’ She lowered her pack to the ground. ‘You should stay here and hide. I will come back for you when it’s over.’
‘You won’t,’ said Tyl Onna. ‘You will die if you attack, Raewyn, and then I will be alone.’
‘But if you come with me,’ said Raewyn, ‘then you might also die. I don’t want that; I want you to stay alive.’
‘Why?’ said Tyl Onna. ‘What’s the point in going on?’
‘This grief shall pass.’
‘You keep saying that, but what if I don’t want it to pass? My brother was all that I had; without him, every day seems grey and futile.’
‘Then think about what will happen if the Sanctians are victorious over the rebels,’ said Raewyn. ‘Geathan will never be free if the rebels are crushed. Listen to the cannon – they are firing at someone. If we do nothing, your cause will be in ruins.’
Tyl Onna stared at the ground. ‘I don’t care about the stupid cause any more. I am beginning to think that I only cared about it because my brother did.’
‘Then do it for him.’
‘Do what – hide here in the forest while you do all the work?’
Raewyn glanced along the path, impatient to be off. Tyl Onna was slowing her down, but she didn’t want to abandon her.
‘Would you rather come with me?’ she said. ‘You will have to stay close to my side.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Tyl Onna. ‘If you are going, then go. I will follow you.’
Raewyn flexed the fingers of her right hand and wondered how many people she had killed.
‘If we win, and survive,’ she said, ‘I will use my abilities to build things, to make things better.’
Tyl Onna stared at her. ‘After everything you have done, are you talking about the future? I have never heard you talk about the future before. You told me that you had no future; you said that you wanted to die.’
