Before we reach the city gates we're forced to the side of the road by an official cavalcade. It is the Consul riding out with his retinue. As he passes in his liveried carriage it strikes me how ridiculous my investigation has become. It's brought me to the verge of accusing the Consul of conniving in the murder of Prefect Galwinius. How can I possibly pursue such a notion at this time? Even if I had proof, what could I do about it? Interrupt the War Council to accuse the Consul of murder? Hardly. At best I'd be ignored. At worst I'd be quietly got rid of. No one wants to hear the truth behind the murder of Galwinius.
More official carriages delay our progress. This time it's Prince Dees-Akan and various members of the War Council. Today will be a major event, with the whole of our forces arrayed on the field.
Once outside the gates I hurry along to join up with my phalanx. Our spears have been brought here by wagon and I supervise my troop as we get into position. The line of spears projects almost twenty feet from the front of the phalanx. As corporal in command of my section, I'm in the third row. The first row is made up of the youngest and strongest men. They have to carry large shields, and bear the brunt of an enemy attack. I know from experience that it's not a comfortable place to be. When I find myself screaming at some of the more incompetent soldiers under my command it's really because I know that if we don't do our job properly, the young men in front will be the first to die.
I can't see Gurd's phalanx; it's some way to the left of us. I regret that we argued this morning but no doubt by tonight he'll have got over his dread of marriage. Or at least he'll have got over blaming me. Gurd is too old a companion for us to really argue; we've been through too much together.
Senator Marius gives an order and the centurions start barking at us. We walk up the field, turn and come back again, more or less in formation. No one falls over. It's progress. We even manage to draw up alongside Praetor Capatius's phalanx without bumping into them. The mercenary companies have emerged from the Stadium Superbius to join in the drill. Intent on their own manoeuvres, they're no longer mocking us. I can hear Viriggax as he bellows at his men. Must be making young Toraggax's head hurt, after his experiences of last night. I'm annoyed that Makri let him into her room. I don't know why. None of my business, as she said.
After an hour or so of manoeuvres the Senator draws us up in ranks.
'Prepare to meet the Prince.'
Prince Dees-Akan trots up on his horse. It's a fine-looking stallion and the young prince makes for an impressive war leader in his shining chainmail and gold-plated helmet. He pushes the helmet back on his forehead and begins to address us. He's a good speaker and I can sense that the men around me are heartened by his words of encouragement. I'd be more heartened if the Prince had ever led an army into battle, but at least he looks the part.
After a nice build-up, he's exhorting us to stand firm when he's interrupted by the sound of galloping hoofs. Heads turn. Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, is approaching fast, riding a white horse. The Sorceress is wearing a man's tunic and leggings, something I haven't seen her in since the last war, and there's a sword at her hip. Behind her comes Makri on a black horse, dressed in the light body armour she brought with her from the Orcish lands, made of black leather and skilfully wrought chainmail. There's no sign of the rest of the Sorcerers Guild. Obviously Lisutaris has come in haste. She leaps from her mount and hurries towards the Prince.
I'm close enough to hear the conversation. It starts badly. Prince Dees-Akan, showing little respect for Lisutaris's rank, rudely demands to know what the Sorceress is doing here. Lisutaris informs him that she has some urgent news. The Prince tells her that any news she has can wait till he's finished inspecting the troops. Lisutaris replies that it can't wait. Voices are raised. In front of the soldiers, it's an unseemly sight.
'You are no longer even a member of the War Council. Leave the field.'
'I will not leave the field until I've informed you of my latest findings.'
General Pomius, next in command after the Prince, shifts his stance uncomfortably, not at all enjoying the spectacle of his commander ordering Turai's leading Sorcerer from the field. There are mumurings from the troops and the mercenaries. It's bad for the city to have our commander and our main Sorcerer on such poor terms. Finally Iisutaris gives up on the Prince and turns to General Pomius.
'General. The Ores are coming. Soon. They've sent an army to Yal and they've been marching from there through the winter. Sorcerous interference in Turai has prevented us from tracking them. Worse, they've learned how to teleport dragons. They could be here any second.'
'Surely you—' begins the General, but Prince Dees-Akan angrily waves him quiet.
‘I forbid you to speak to this woman. Lisutaris, if you do not withdraw I will have my guard remove you.'
Makri is nearby, with the horses. As the Prince threatens Lisutaris I notice Makri's hands drift towards her twin swords. Another horseman appears through the snow. It's Harmon Half Elf, with his cloak askew. He looks like a Sorcerer who's dressed in a hurry. Immediately after him comes Coranus the Grinder, wearing his habitual scowl. The Sorcerers address the leader of their guild.
'We received your message and came immediately. The others are following.'
'What is this?' demands the Prince. 'You have summoned the Sorcerers Guild without consulting me?'
Coranus eyes the Prince and speaks harshly.
'Have you not yet acted on Lisutaris's warning?'
Three more horses pound on to the scene, mouths foaming, bearing younger members of the Sorcerers Guild. Anumaris Thunderbolt, too young to have been in combat before, leaps from her horse and looks around her wild-eyed, her hands raised, as if expecting to confront a dragon this very moment. When Old Astrath Triple Moon rolls up with the appearance of a man who's very glad to be back in the saddle, the Prince erupts in fury.
'How dare you disregard my orders!' he roars.
'Perhaps we should hear her out,' suggest General Pomius. He doesn't want to go against the Prince but he's too wise a soldier to ignore the Sorcerers Guild.
'Hear her out? The Ores are marching? In this weather?'
'The force is made up of northern mountain Ores,' says Lisutaris. 'They're used to the weather.'
And are they used to transporting dragons by magic? Do you see any dragons?'
'Yes,' says Makri. 'There's one right there.'
We look up. Through a thin grey cloud, masked by the falling snow, an ominous shape is just visible, circling in the sky. It's joined by another, and another. Suddenly the shapes become clearer, as the war dragons begin to swoop from the clouds. At this moment there's a great shout from the eastern side of the field, a shout that extends into a prolonged series of screams and the clash of weapons. As the dragons hurtle down towards us, Orcish troops smash into the left flank of our unprepared army.
Chapter Twenty
The noise, chaos and confusion are indescribable. Appearing unseen from the banks of snow, the Orcish phalanxes mow their way through the unprotected flanks of the Turanian soldiery. Simultaneously the dragons pour down fire on our heads. I'd be dead already if it wasn't for the instantaneous protection thrown out by the assembled Human Sorcerers, most of whom have now arrived on the field, thanks to Lisutaris's alert.
In the overwhelming confusion Senator Marius tries to form up the phalanx and turn to face the enemy but it's not easy. Men are panicking, and with the phalanxes on either side marshalled to hear the Prince, there's not enough room to manoeuvre. Spears, shields, arms and legs become tangled up as another phalanx collides with us. The snow is falling thicker than ever and we can't yet see our enemy, though we can hear the screams of the battle in progress. Soon our ranks are further disrupted by streams of fugitives from the fighting, remnants of the troops on our left flank who, I can readily guess, have been swept aside in an instant.