This realisation allowed Arthur to start worrying about what was going to happen when they came out at the other end. Even if Sir Thursday did only need five or six minutes to destroy the Nothing spike, a lot could happen in that time. In the battle at Fort Transformation, scores of Denizens and New Nithlings had been killed or wounded in the first thirty seconds, let alone the first five minutes.
There was also the possibility that something would happen to Sir Thursday. If he wasn't able to lead them into the Improbable Stair, then they'd be trapped, easy pickings for the New Nithlings.
Unless I can lead everyone back into the Improbable Stair, thought Arthur.
He wondered if using the Stair would increase the sorcerous contamination of his blood and bone. The crocodile ring was in his belt pouch, but there was no point thinking about it, or about the contamination. Arthur knew he would have to do whatever it took for them to survive.
Something caught Arthur's eye, and he looked up. The Stair stretched on forever, disappearing in a haze of bright white light. But Sir Thursday was gone, as were the two Piper's children behind him. The third was disappearing, in mid-step.
"We're coming out!" said Arthur. "Hold on!"
He felt a bit silly as he said "hold on" because almost everyone had disappeared by the time he said it, so only Fred heard, and he knew Arthur was the one who hadn't been holding on properly.
Then Fred was gone, and this time Arthur did instinctively shut his eyes. When he forced them open only a microsecond later, he saw the line of Piper's children ahead of him, with Sir Thursday at the head. Only a few feet beyond Sir Thursday was a huge, rapidly spinning cone of utter darkness, shot through with occasional coruscations of blinding white.
It was the spike – and not only was it spinning, it was bigger than Arthur had thought it would be. The part he could see was about thirty feet high and twenty feet in diameter at the top, but it looked like it was half-buried in the ground, the point having long since bored its way through the topsoil and into whatever material lay beneath the organic layer of the five hundred/five hundred tile.
"Let go!" roared Sir Thursday. "Take up defensive positions."
Arthur let go and looked around. They were on an earthen ramp reinforced with cut timber that had been built to emplace the spike. It was ten feet wide and perhaps sixty feet long. The raiding party was at the top of it, right next to the spike.
The other end of the ramp joined a dusty, well-trodden road lined with white rocks that stretched to the tile border, half a mile away. On either side of this bare road there were rows and rows of bright-yellow, bell-shaped tents. Hundreds and hundreds of tents, each one about twenty feet in diameter, occupying a forty foot by forty foot square.
There was also a parade ground, a square of bare earth two hundred feet long on each side. A unit of one thousand New Nithlings was drawn up there, in the process of being inspected by a very tall, very imposing New Nithling – or perhaps even a Denizen, because he was human-shaped and was wearing a pale-yellow uniform greatcoat of many toggles and considerable gold braid, topped by a Napoleon-style hat worn sideways over what from a distance Arthur thought was either his own metal-masked head or some kind of horrible metal replacement. This very tall commander was trailed by a dozen officers, or superior Nithlings, and in the mere second that it took Arthur to look down at the parade ground, he realised that this must be the mysterious leader of the New Nithlings.
He had no further time for thought. Sergeant Quicksilver was yelling and the Piper's children were arraying themselves in a line across the top of the ramp, preparing their Nothing-powder pistols and carbines and power-spears and, in Quicksilver's own hands, a muscle-fibre longbow.
"Very good, ah, Sergeant," said Arthur. He had to struggle to keep his voice even. The whine of the spinning spike was very disturbing, rather like a human child complaining at an impossible pitch. The New Nithlings on the parade ground had also just noticed the intruders. The tall commander turned to look at them – and though he did not appear to say anything, there was a sudden flurry of activity among the officers behind him and shouted commands.
"Take 'em five minutes to get here," said Quicksilver with a practiced glance. "All those tents in the way –"
She stopped talking as big kettle drums began to pound, in that same rhythm Arthur had heard in the attack on Fort Transformation. With the drums, New Nithlings emerged from almost every tent, like ten thousand hidden bees suddenly emerging from an innocent-looking square of honeycomb.
Arthur looked at Sir Thursday. He was next to the spike, his sword raised above his head. Suddenly he shouted a battle cry, a sound that rose above the noise of the spike and sent a jangling vibration down Arthur's spine. Sir Thursday cut down at the whirling Nothing, slicing off a huge piece that hurtled clockwise through the air and came down on a bell tent, destroying it instantly, so all that remained were some sagging guy ropes hanging down a hole in the ground.
But the spike did not stop spinning, nor was there any notable hole in it, as if the Nothing it was composed of had simply filled the gap.
Sir Thursday scowled and cut at the spike again, with similar results.
"Here they come," said Quicksilver. "Do you want to give the order to fire, sir?"
It took Arthur a second to comprehend that she was talking to him. He was staring down at the mass of New Nithlings that were being shouted and cajoled into ranks as they raced towards the bottom of the ramp to make up an assault force. There were lots of less-organised Nithlings on the sides of the ramp as well, some of them trying to climb the sides, with some success, though it was thirty feet to the top.
All the New Nithlings were uniformed, armed with the crackly lightning spears Arthur had seen before, and clearly well led. Though it was true they had greater physical variety among them than the Denizens, with extra limbs and distorted features, they bore no resemblance to the half-mad rabble Nithlings were supposed to be.
"Yes, I'll give the order," said Arthur as calmly as he could. "Musketoons first, then the power-spears. Quicksilver, you cover the left side and shoot the climbers. Suzy, you take the right and do the same with your pistols. Fred, you load for Suzy."
Arthur drew his sword and moved to the centre of the line, with only half a glance back at Sir Thursday. Even that was enough to know that the Trustee was not making any real progress against the spike, though at least he was timing his cuts so that the pieces of Nothing flew off into the camp rather than cutting a swath through the Piper's children on the ramp.
"Wait for the order!" called Arthur as musketoons were leveled and power-spears raised.
A formation of New Nithlings twelve across and ten ranks deep was almost at the foot of the ramp. Arthur looked at them stomping forward and knew there was no way they could stop them, or hold them off, or even survive. They'd have time for perhaps two volleys from the five musketoons, a cast of three power-spears, and that would be it. They would be overrun.
Overrun, thought Arthur. Just another way of saying that we'll all be killed. Unless Sir Thursday can do something with the Key. Or we could try to get back on the Stair … only there's no time. We'd never make it. They'd charge and cut us down … the last few for sure … which means me. Maybe that's what Sir Thursday planned from the start.
The enemy drumming suddenly changed tempo, getting faster. The New Nithlings shouted and began their charge up the ramp. Suzy's pistols went off, and Quicksilver's bow twanged and twanged again as Arthur counted to three and shouted, "Fire!" The musketoons banged and Nothing-powder smoke billowed up and Arthur shouted, "Throw!" and the power-spears flew and Arthur shouted, "Holdfast!" and moved into the front rank to be with the others, to hold the initial shock even if only for a few seconds and then –