The Unsound Prince Read online

  “Cart’s ready,” he said. There was a general movement out of the Keep to load belongings onto the tray of the cart. It wasn't long before they were under way once again.

  The procession wound down off the foothills, heading for the flat plain at the edge of the desert. Mudge scanned the high peaks carefully, but there was no sign of the winged creatures on this side of the mountains.

  Colma came up beside him. He talked about the reappearance of the horses for a while. Then he hesitated.

  “We really have to do this, Mudge, try to change things. That’s my family back in Shaker’s Hope. I’d much rather fight for them out here, and not have fighting devastate the village.”

  Mudge smiled. Colma had been thinking deeply about the situation. Then he realised this was probably how his father felt about the League. If people like Colma could give everything they had to protect their homes and loved ones, he had to do everything in his power not to waste that sacrifice.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. It was a responsibility he hadn’t thought about before.

  “I won’t let you down,” said Colma shyly. He strode ahead to walk beside Liam and Mareet, who were riding on the back of the cart. Mudge was left with his thoughts. Then the travellers turned left along the edge of the Scaffold Mountains.

  Around mid-morning the wind changed direction. Cool breezes off the mountain were replaced by hot, dry winds off the desert, and it was a taste of what was to come. Ochren spent some time gathering every possible water container for use in the days ahead.

  There was still the occasional stream coming down off the mountains, but the way it disappeared into the desert sands was unsettling.

  Mudge began to feel unnaturally tired. He wondered if it was the heat. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt like something wanted him to sleep. Bear, resting on the cart, noticed he was struggling to stay awake. He told Mudge to climb up beside him. It wasn’t long before the gentle swaying of the cart slid him into a gentle sleep. Then he began to dream.

  Luce was there, chiding him for wearing her scarf under his shirt and out of sight. She gently teased it out and made it more conspicuous around his neck. Jago was holding Mudge’s head between his hands and looking straight into his eyes. He was trying to tell him something.

  Mudge understood at once. The tiredness he had felt had been Jago trying to put him into this trance state, so they could meet again.

  "Ahead of you," Jago seemed to be saying. "The danger lies ahead of you."

  Mudge knew that. They were going into Xaan.

  But that wasn’t it. Jago kept shaking him, and Mudge checked with the map of his enemies that now ran continuously inside his head. There was nothing dangerous along the Scaffold Mountains, nothing on the map, anyway.

  Then Luce was there, inside his head, pointing to things on the map.

  "Sarkosay,” she was saying, and pointing to a barren gorge up ahead. It split the mountains apart just before the range petered out in the desert.

  Mudge strained his spirit senses toward the gorge. He began to detect the grey, foggy texture of a spirit veil. This would be so much easier if I was awake, he thought. But he understood now. Something up ahead, of considerable power, didn't want its activities noticed.

  He tried to remember what he knew about the Sarkosay from his School of Mysteries days. He struggled with the name, but could only remember that they came from the most ancient of legends.

  Was the gorge being set up as an ambush? Was it the sort of place the creatures naturally inhabited? Whichever it was, the travellers would be going past it at some point, and he was feeling increasingly uneasy about that.

  When Luce and Jago could see they’d made their point, they relaxed. For a while they were happy just to be with him again, happy to look in on an old friend. Then Mudge went to say something to them, and found himself back on the cart.

  The tiredness had gone. He looked around, surprised at the time that had passed. He noticed how close the cart was to the gorge.

  "Feeling better?" said Bear quietly, half asleep in the sun himself.

  Mudge laughed, overjoyed at the meeting with Jago and Luce once again. He jumped down, and called Ochren to him.

  The Ranger listened quietly as Mudge told him about the gorge. Together they scrutinised the landscape ahead. Ochren murmured something to Senovila, and the cart began to angle in toward the foothills.

  "I see a likely place for water and pasture up ahead, boy," he said, "so we'll take a midday break there. What we do after that is up to you. I've no idea how effective Ranger steel will be against these Sarkosay of yours."

  Mudge nodded. This was going to take some thinking about.

  ***

  It felt to Ultrich as if he’d just dozed off when he woke to Porteous shaking him by the shoulder. He sighed. It must be important if his commander-in-chief had come to get him in person.

  He swung his feet to the floor, and realised he was still dressed from last night’s activities on top of The Lion.

  Then he remembered why he was so tired. The spirit walkers had attempted to destroy the Xaanian war machines by burning them from the inside out, the same as they had when the winged creature had suddenly appeared. There had been a number of those damned Sarkosay protecting the war machines, and the struggle had exhausted all of them.

  There were more spirit walkers coming from Prias, but they were still a day or two away. At least the war machines lay in ruins. Ultrich had hoped to leave them no more than ashes, but some had escaped complete obliteration by the flames.

  Porteous led him to the operations tent, then to the situation board. It was set up to show the area in front of Rotor Valley Pass, and the distribution of the two opposing armies. There was also another board, showing Yeltar’s forces in Beltainia. The information on it was constantly updated, though its accuracy depended on when the last messenger came through.

  “What are we, 450 paladia from Taire Valley?” said Ultrich.

  Porteous nodded. “Almost two days by horseback under normal conditions, but a messenger has just come through who did it overnight.”

  Ultrich looked up, very surprised. He suspected the rider had untrained spirit walker abilities. It might be possible to do it in one day if fresh horses were waiting at each of the League garrisons along the trade route, but to do it overnight, even with a bright moon . . .

  “Best messenger Yeltar’s got. She’s being seen by the healers now. She’s in a bad way after an effort like that, but she passed on her messages before she let anyone do anything for her, and I've brought them straight to you.”

  Ultrich nodded. He stepped over to the smaller situation board showing Yeltar’s forces, and saw the Xaanian army had formed a semicircle round the Beltainian troops.

  "This was the situation last night," said Porteous. "Yeltar’s expecting their army to attack at first light today. From what the messenger says, he seems to be expecting some sort of help from you."

  Porteous’ quizzical words reminded Ultrich of his promise. At first it seemed like he would have to be in two places at once to keep his word, but then he worked out a solution.

  The Xaanian army in front of Rotor Valley Pass wouldn't be ready to attack until perhaps midday. Maybe that would give him enough time to get to Taire valley and help Yeltar. It was the best he could do with the situation he had.

  "Before I do that I need some more sleep," muttered Ultrich to himself. He left Porteous in the middle of the operations tent as he went back to his quarters. Porteous shrugged. The spirit walkers would be there to help his forces when he needed them. His more pressing concern was the placement of the League forces at the Pass, and there was still a lot of work to do.

  Ultrich woke at mid-morning, prompted by an inner sense of what time it was. He felt better after the extra few hours of sleep, and he needed to be alert for the little show he intended to put on at Taire Valley.

  Yeltar wouldn't be able to stop the Xaanian army at Taire, Ultrich
knew that, but he wanted the first battle in Beltainia to cost the enemy dearly. Morale could win or lose a war, and he fully intended to bolster the morale of Yeltar's troops. It would also help if he made the invading army very, very nervous about advancing any further.

  For what he had in mind he would be better off working alone. There had been no time to coordinate something with Sergeos or Cinnabar, and a lot of the spirit work he intended to do was complicated. It was better that the whole thing was on his head.

  He sent his spirit senses half way across the continent, and touched Yeltar's mind lightly. From that he understood the situation in the Taire Valley. Battle had been joined. He felt the clamour and dust of war, the lines of combat that ebbed and flowed, but for now Yeltar’s forces were holding their own.

  It was time for him to put in an appearance.

  Ultrich outfitted himself in nondescript clothing and stout shoes. He needed them to blend into the background amidst the chaos of war. A water bottle and a few essentials went onto his belt, and a simple leather cap with flaps disguised his face.

  Then, prepared for what lay ahead, he made a small spirit jump to the foothills on the other side of The Arrowhead. None of the superstitious herdsmen in the valley behind it would have heard the sharp crackle of his arrival.

  He gathered himself into a ball of concentration for the feat ahead, and brought to mind the layout of Taire Valley. Then he transported himself over the Scaffold Mountains and across the northern parts of Beltainia. He reappeared on a wooded hill behind Yeltar’s army.

  The noise of his arrival was lost in the roar of the battle, but without Cinnabar to help him, the spirit transportation was exhausting. He staggered, and sat down abruptly with his back against a tree. He needed to let his body rest.

  His spirit senses searched for the black firecake devices he had asked Yeltar's alchemists to prepare for him. He found them, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  When he had forged the Marches into the solid foundation upon which the League would rest, his first task had been to seize the ports along the coast. That had meant vanquishing colonies of the Tengue Dynasty, the sprawling empire that ruled the lands across the sea to the south.

  Fortunately the Tengue Dynasty had been struggling with troubles of its own at the time. It hadn't retaliated when Ultrich marched his troops into the seaports and simply took over. Now the League traded profitably with the Dynasty, among others, and the past had been forgotten.

  Most of the Tengue people in the Marches had been assimilated into the League, and many of the official documents at the ports had fallen into Ultrich’s hands. Among them had been a description of how to make a formidable weapon out of black firecake. Ultrich had filed it away for future use, and now he was glad he had. He only hoped the damned things worked the way they were described in the documents.

  As his energy returned, he levered himself to his feet. He was thinking of ways to deliver the alchemists' devices into the middle of the Xaanian troops. They were rather heavy, and that was the first problem.

  The second problem was going to be harder to solve. If he wanted the element of surprise, he would need them all to activate at the same time. He had no idea how he was going to do that, at least not working by himself.

  He started down the slope.

  His roguish appearance, intended to disguise him, made him unrecognisable as the Legatus. It took him some time to get access to Yeltar's operations tent.

  “Finally arrived, have you?" said Yeltar brusquely as he entered.

  Ultrich forgave him the discourtesy. The whole future of Beltainia and the Independent Kingdoms lay on his shoulders, and it was more than one man should have to bear.

  "Of course, my friend," said Ultrich gently. He moved over to stand beside Yeltar at the situation board.

  "Are the lines holding?" he said, examining the position of the pieces as they lay scattered about the board.

  "Only just!" said Yeltar, his frustration showing. "It's those damned horse archers. They come in and pour arrows into one point along our line. By the time we’ve massed enough cavalry to take them on, they’re gone again!”

  Ultrich considered this. Perhaps he could use that Xaanian trick when he brought the firecake devices into play.

  "Can you set up a situation where the horse archers will attack?" he asked Yeltar.

  "What, you mean like an ambush?" replied the Beltainian Guardian. "That wouldn't work, the large numbers of cavalry nearby would give the game away."

  "Don't worry about that," said Ultrich, "I’m thinking of a different way of dealing with this problem."

  Yeltar's eyes narrowed. He knew better than to question the Legatus on what he was about to do. He also knew he could trust him to get formidable results.

  "I think I can set up something," said Yeltar. "They’re attacking in fairly set patterns, and we can use that predictability against them."

  "Good," said Ultrich. "Then here’s what I want you to do."

  Yeltar looked up questioningly .

  "Make a feint along a wide front in the centre of the field, and then let the Xaanian counter-attack drive your troops back to their previous positions. It sounds simple, but that’s all I want."

  Yeltar raised his eyebrows. The Legatus was expecting a lot of his troops. On the other hand, knowing him as he did, it was probably going to be worth it.

  "Will do," said Yeltar crisply.

  ELEVEN

  At least the ground underfoot was drying out, reflected Ultrich. A scattering of showers in the preceding days had left it soft. On the plus side the soft earth had been slowing down the damned Xaanian horse archers.

  Now that the reliability of the turf underfoot was improving, Yeltar’s troops should be able to push the Xaanian front line back enough for Ultrich to lay his trap.

  He was overseeing the distribution of what looked like large river stones. They were being given to men hand picked from Yeltar’s infantry for their strength. The ‘river stones’ were heavy, but the burly men took the weight stoically.

  Army clothiers fussed about them, adapting backpacks to solid, square shoulders. Each man was being set up so he could drop his unusual burden easily and quickly – when the time was right.

  The roughly spherical shapes gleamed like polished amber, and that description wasn’t far from the truth. They were built of many layers of cloth and hide, each layer coated with a resinous mixture that set as hard as stone.

  Each device contained as much of the black firecake as Yeltar’s alchemists had been able to pack into it.

  As he contemplated the spirit work ahead of him, Ultrich regretted not bringing Sergeos and Cinnabar along. He had never attempted the simultaneous use of his powers on so many objects before. He fervently hoped he could make his plan work!

  “It’s been a good, clear morning,” said Yeltar. He was standing next to the situation board in the operations tent. Ultrich, and Yeltar’s army commanders, nodded in agreement.

  “As you know the Xaanians pulled back mid-morning, and we let them go. It was a chance for both sides to recover their wounded. With the warm day and the wind, the battlefield’s done a fair bit of drying out.”

  He turned to one side and indicated Ultrich.

  “The Legatus has prepared the men we picked for him, and the ground's firm enough now for our cavalry. I think we should go ahead with his plan while we've got the chance.

  “The long-term plan is to fall back to Thebes in a day or two, and we want to do that with most of the army intact. Once we’re there, and our reinforcements have arrived, it will be a more even contest.

  “I don’t want to take the chance of being overrun as we fall back. The sooner we bloody the Xaanian noses, the sooner we can make an orderly retreat in the confusion that follows.

  “Any questions?”

  There were a few at the start, but the commanders were soon nodding over the details. Now it was over to Ultrich.

  “I know most of you haven’t worked
with a spirit walker before,” he said, though he knew in truth that none of them had. “However, the idea of bringing an enemy onto a prepared position is a military strategy you are all familiar with.”

  He took a deep breath. This bit was going to be difficult.

  “The sudden eruption of the firecake devices will be new to your troops. I suspect it will be like thunder, only much, much worse.”

  The commanders looked apprehensive.

  “You must impress upon your men that the enemy will be hit even harder, because they won’t be expecting it. As soon as your troops hear a noise like a giant thunderstorm, we need them to fight their way forward like demons! Everything will depend on the next few moments.”

  The Legatus had to laugh inwardly. He was making an impassioned speech, just like Yeltar did. He was firing up the commanders, who would go out and fire up the troops. It was the very thing he gave Yeltar such a hard time about.

  “Every one of your men must charge the Xaanian lines as soon as the firecake devices explode, and I can promise you their army will fall like straw men!”

  The commanders applauded, and Ultrich took heart. It told him they had some enthusiasm for the plan. They didn’t understand how, exactly, the devices were going to work, but they'd come to trust the Legatus over the years. More than that, they trusted the fact that Yeltar believed in him.

  A short walk later Ultrich was back under the tree where he’d arrived in the valley. The hill gave him a good vantage point. The first skirmishes of the late morning were already taking place.

  The Xaanian mounted archers had cut into Yeltar’s left flank, before being pushed back. The Beltainian infantry had taken the centre of the field a bit more rapidly than the Xaanian line had anticipated. It was an advantage they were still clinging to despite fierce opposition.

  Yeltar gave new orders, and war horns trumpeted a different message. Reserves hurried into the fray all along the line. For a while the sheer force of determined numbers pushed the Xaanian line back. When he could see the forward momentum was slowing, Ultrich signalled the operations tent. Moments later a new message trumpeted across the valley.