'What would you like me to do? That noise is driving the horses mad, and I'm not sending my infantry out there.'
'Well, do something; I'm not paying you to stand up here and gawp over the walls.'
Tochet sighed. He'd tried to send some cavalry out, but they had gone only a few dozen yards before guttural animal calls had sent them into a panic. Whatever creatures were out there, they liked the smell of horsemeat.
'Destech,' the mercenary commander called, and his lieutenant stepped closer, baring his filed teeth at the duke to make him back out of earshot. It was quite unnecessary; the duke couldn't understand a word of Chetse, but they had found little else in the way of entertainment in Raland.
'General?' Tochet no longer held that rank, but his men could think of him no other way. They would always respect him above all others.
'What do you think?'
'Same as you, sir.' Destech had been with his commander for twenty years, and in that time they had fought many creatures from the waste-They knew well not to underestimate the unknown.
'Damn. I don't know whether it's trolls or minotaurs, or something even worse, but I'm buggered if I'm leading the men out to find what. The sentries said they heard something dragging, and heavy falling, but maybe it wasn't a battering ram after all. What I don't understand is why the catapults and ballistae are still not firing, and where in the name of the dark place that mage is.'
‘I’ll go and hurt someone.'
Thank you.'
Destech turned and dropped down through the hatch in the centre of the tower-platform at the highest point on the wall. Tochet looked down from the duke's Gate Palace towards the vastness of the Elven Waste. It was well fortified, but it was home to the duke's family too; when the tip of his long-axe had punched a hole in a tall vase, it sent the duchess into an apoplectic fit.
Tochet continued his vigil, looking out at the strange cloud that ignored the northerly breeze and instead sat in front of him. It looked even less natural now that dawn had fully broken. The men on watch had woken him just before dawn, when they'd first noticed something strange. Making his way up here, still shrouded in sleep, he'd been struck by the desolate splendour of the miles of silent, empty land he could see. Destech was back within a few minutes, grimly ignoring the kicking man he had by the scruff of his neck. The lieutenant was even bigger than his commander and had no difficulty pulling the soldier up through the hatch with one hand and depositing him at Tochet's feet.
‘Think the mage has done a runner, General – which isn't a good sign if you ask me – but this scrawny little bugger was sat in a corner with ajar of wine.'
'Ah, thank you, Destech. Now, Lieutenant, why have you not yet fired, as you were ordered?'
'Fire at what?' Even as he struggled up from a heap on the floor, the man managed to maintain the haughty arrogance that everyone in this city of goldsmiths appeared to possess.
‘Destech, take him and hang him over the battlements.'
A gasp ran around the other soldiers on the platform and the duke stepped forward, but Tochet silenced them all with a glance as Destech took the red-liveried solider by the throat and dragged him over to the edge. He followed his commander's orders, throwing the man over the edge of the battlemented wall, and held him firmly by the ankle as Tochet leaned out to speak to him. The commander's words were drowned out as the soldier shrieked like a seabird and Destech had to give the man a violent shake before he finally fell silent.
Tochet resumed his speech. 'Now, do you see the difference? I give an order; it is obeyed. This is a vital requirement of leadership. In this case, I don't care whether you have a target or not; those ballistae should be firing on that cloud. Disobey an order again and I'll throw you off the wall myself.'
'You don't want me to-?' There was a look of surprise on Destech's face. Back home Tochet would certainly have ordered him to drop the man; a disobeyed order was not something any new commander could allow unpunished.
Tochet shook his head. 'Not this time, no – that would mean you'd have to go back down and get those weapons firing one by one. Bring him up.'
Destech gave the dangling figure one last shake, then hauled him back up over the side. The mercenary wrinkled his nose as he realised the sobbing wretch had soiled himself. He spoke in Chetse to his commander, though his scornful tone made the words clear enough. 'A legion army; that's all I ask: we'd take this city in a day.'
Tochet grinned and bent down to the trembling soldier's ear. 'Now, go and follow my orders.'
The soldier stayed frozen until Tochet stood up straight again, then ran for the open hole in the floor. His frantic voice sounded from down below, relaying the order to fire. One velvet glove remained on the floor at Tochet's feet. He kicked it into a puddle and turned back to the cloud.
'Catapult!' bellowed Destech suddenly, and Tochet angled his head up to see a flaming object high in the air, already falling towards them-The mercenaries dived for the small cover of the battlements, hands over their eyes in anticipation of the fireball. When it hit a few heart' beats later, Tochet was surprised not to feel the impact reverberate through the stone under his feet. Instead, all he heard was the crash of wood and glass.
Both Chetse jumped up and leaned out over the wall. A finger or flame spat out from the ruin of the massive window below and a rush of warm air rose up to meet them.
'Get down there, put those fires out,' roared Tochet. Destech was already moving, pushing past the duke, who was still summoning up the courage to look out himself. 'What was that?'
'That was a missile, you damn fool. A missile that scored a perfect hit on your bedchamber. That cloud's covering a battery of catapults.' 'But only one's fired.'
Tochet looked up. The air was indeed empty: there were no more missiles in the sky, no sound of firing, or even reloading of the one that had fired. The cloud had closed up and sat there placidly again.
'Why would you use only one catapult to attack a city?' the mercenary muttered to himself. It sounded like a bad joke.
'What?' the duke asked him. Tochet ignored the man and answered his own question.
'When one's enough. Oh Gods.' He looked out over the edge and was rewarded with another blast of hot air. It was enough to make him draw back hurriedly, though not before he saw the flickering fires already spreading.
'Tsatach protect us. Duke Nemarse, it's time we made for safer ground. I think that fire's going to spread faster than you'd believe possible.'
The air had been driven from the room and the only sound was the slow tinkle of broken glass falling on cold stone. Enveloped in the warm caress of a ruined mattress, Kohrad held his breath and waited, savouring the eager desire of the flame that was held in check, aching for the precious kiss of air. Then he let it go, and a deep crimson light swept around the walls of the chamber and yellow garlands danced up the shattered bedposts.
He rose from the wreckage of the huge bed, the remains already black and charred. The early morning sunlight coming through the window was a weak and feeble thing in comparison, wavering from the tendrils of heat snaking through the room. His mailed hands stroked a delicately painted frieze above the fireplace; under his touch, the colours blistered and writhed to nothing. Fiery fingers dribbled cross the stone floor, sucking life from the rushes before pouncing on the drapes and furniture. In seconds, the entire room was clothed in flame. He heard the door crash open and drew his sword as he turned. For a moment, he saw only more wood to feed to his voracious flames, then movement caught his eye as someone fell back from the heat, his arms over his head, protecting his face. Kohrad strode out and hacked soldier's head with one two-handed stroke. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of a pike-head. He spun round and used his sword to turn it aside, then, grasping the shaft, he pulled hard and brought the pikeman close enough to smash his armoured elbow into the man's face.