They set up camp, organized themselves, and started a fire. They bedded down, surrounded in blankets, huddled alongside the fire like the homeless. Randur held Eir in his arms, more than ever appreciative that he had experienced a good and interesting life with her. Three soldiers took watch, their crossbows by their sides, ready to shoot anyone who would dare to scale the roof.
There they waited and prayed for morning to come.
THIRTY — TWO
Brynd headed into one of the large towns of Folke, having left the Mourning Wasps on the outskirts.
First the Night Guard had reported back to Artemisia’s elders that all the threats from the Policharos had been eliminated and Frater Mercury had indeed done what he had claimed he would do. Then the remaining Night Guard briefly mourned the loss of their comrades, though there was not time for the appropriate military rituals.
Brynd had peered once again into the cauldrons, and could see that the battle had indeed changed. There was no longer any precise organization to the enemy ranks. There seemed to be little discipline, no communication; the regiments moved back and forth like ocean swells. Yet the allied forces were still sustaining massive losses.
One particularly large mass of warriors was heading along a road towards Lantuk, a major settlement on Folke, a gateway city to the island.
He could watch no longer. ‘We’re going down there,’ he ordered. ‘Within a day it looks as though the onslaught will reach Lantuk. It’s the first big settlement in a chain of large urban areas.’
‘They will drift away within a week,’ Artemisia said. ‘There is no central hub, no more instructions.’
‘Those warriors can still kill, can’t they?’ Brynd snapped.
‘They can.’
‘Then thousands of my people will still die needlessly. We’re going down to stop them reaching Lantuk.’
Artemisia looked at him impassively. ‘As you wish.’
The Night Guard took the Mourning Wasps down and left them a short distance from the moderately fortified city. When the people saw the Empire soldiers approaching the gates, they opened up and cheered in their own soldiers, welcoming them into the muddy central plaza.
It was early morning, and Brynd and the rest of the Night Guard were already shattered. He had dispatched garudas to shift dozens of Dragoon regiments into planned formations, but to plan further he demanded maps of the ground around Lantuk from the library.
With a central citadel not unlike Villiren, and thin crenellated walls, it was a relatively weak position; though it possessed nowhere near the level of defence of a city like Villjamur, its real benefit was to be found in the landscape. Lantuk was fortunate in that the only road to it lay in a steep-sided valley, which meant that the coming hordes would be forced through a funnel of land, a fact that pleased Brynd immensely.
It would make the combat more manageable.
He decided to issue more missives via garudas, informing all Imperial regiments based nearby to travel immediately to the western approach to Lantuk. Certain regiments were to station themselves around the two large hills bordering the road, cutting off any difficult, uphill attacks around the sides. Artemisia’s people, too, would scour the hilltops to prevent any access from above.
The garudas had done their jobs well. All the nearby troops, stationed within a mile of the city, were gathering, passing from the eastern side of Lantuk and heading into the western valley beyond. Within two hours, four thousand soldiers had moved here from the surrounding garrisons and the city; it wasn’t much, and how many of them were part-timers and not professional soldiers, Brynd did not know. For a good number of them it would probably be their first taste of battle.
The Night Guard stationed themselves at the very front, in full battle regalia, new shields on their arms and swords at their sides. Behind them stood seven hundred Dragoon veterans. Each side of the road two steep hillsides towered above to a height of a few hundred feet. The landscape was littered with spindly bushes, snow and rocks, but Brynd had ordered four hundred archers to climb up and he could see them now, dotted on the slopes above. He had decided to leave the Mourning Wasps in the city to rest: they would be no good in close combat battles like the one coming.
‘Sir!’ Brug shouted, and gestured to the west. The remaining Night Guard snapped to attention, catching Brynd’s eye and he followed their gazes to the road in front of them.
Up ahead, he could see the blue figure of Artemisia running back down the road, followed by many others like her, all of similar blue skin and warrior garb. As expected, there were other creatures too, all hominids, some he had seen before, a few he had not.
‘At ease,’ he ordered his comrades.
A quick count and Brynd estimated the new additions were nearing a hundred in all — not ideal, but better than nothing.
‘Any news?’ Brynd enquired.
‘The Okun have mostly scattered,’ she replied. ‘There is chaos on the beaches, but more organization inland. Creatures are swarming across the countryside, but they seem to know that there are dense populations this way. They were given one message, we believe — to cleanse these islands of people. That is what they will continue to do.’
‘Have you stationed units around the hills?’
‘I have,’ Artemisia confirmed. ‘Two thousand.’
Brynd breathed a sigh of relief. The hills would not be overrun with so many defenders on such difficult terrain. That meant the only way for miles around would be through this wide path along the bottom of the valley; however, if they broke through here they would have free passage through all the cities and towns on the island.
‘Let’s send a scout up ahead to tell us of their arrival.’
They waited until mid-afternoon and there was still no sign of the scout returning. The sun was concealed behind the hillside, leaving the thousands of soldiers in the cold shade. Spears were being brought forward and stockpiled.
‘What’s keeping him so long?’ Sergeant Tiendi asked.
‘He’ll get here when he’s seen something,’ Brynd replied.
They regarded the distance a little longer. The road only stretched so far before arcing out of sight. Brynd could perceive noises in the distance, now, but could see nothing. .
No, wait. . What are they?
He could see the tops of siege towers.
‘They’re definitely here,’ Brug said. ‘We can hear them.’
‘Fetch a horse,’ Brynd ordered.
One was summoned, and a few minutes later the reins of a brown mare from the Dragoons were handed to him. Brynd jumped up and nudged her forward, racing along the road, through a chill wind.
A few hundred yards later he pulled for her to stop. He could sense the vibrations in the earth now, could hear the low-pitched horns sounding in the distance; the sheer noise of footsteps on the ground was intense, as thousands upon thousands of enemy infantry were being funnelled into the valley. Monstrous creatures loomed up above the ranks, pulling even taller machines of war.
Brynd lifted up his helmet. ‘Dear Bohr. .’ There were things in the distance with several heads, like nothing he could imagine, and before them was a sea of warriors on foot.
Suddenly something flew through the air in an arc and landed some distance behind him. He nudged his horse to canter over, where he saw that the launched object was in fact the head of the scout he had sent to investigate.