The Unsound Prince Read online

  Mudge smiled. He knew all about the Empress’ spirit veils. He’d teased them apart when they cloaked her winged creatures over the Scaffold Mountains. Now, he dissolved this one.

  The grey, fog-like material became clear where he touched it, before it evaporated. The effect spread quickly in all directions. It revealed a sinuous black shape in constant motion, reaching almost to the ceiling in the cavernous hall.

  Pandemonium reigned. Courtiers and attendants scattered in all directions, terrified of the monstrous shape revealed in their midst. The army commanders around the table stepped back a pace or two, but their discipline held. The soldiers on duty formed a tight group around Ottar Bey, and hustled him toward the back of the hall.

  The Empress changed shape, and landed on all fours as a fearsome creature not of the natural world. Its stocky body and reptilian head were covered in a red and black pattern. Predatory eyes scoured the room intently, looking for the enemy that had forced it to reveal itself, an enemy it could not see.

  Mudge felt the creature’s intense search for him, but the Keeper Stone’s shield kept him hidden. He felt a wave of relief, but he also knew he wouldn’t stay undetected forever.

  He wondered whether he could control the creature, and reached out with his spirit strength, pinning it to the ground. For a few seconds it roared savagely in impotent fury, and Mudge felt his confidence growing. Then the creature burst free, furious at its humiliation.

  It changed back into its original form, and searched for him in the spirit world. This time it began to close in on where he was. Mudge felt power building, a blow destined to shatter the defences the Keeper Stone had built around him.

  He returned hastily to his body in the stables, but the sense of building power followed him there too. He barely had time to throw himself along his escape route before an enormous blast incinerated the stables behind him.

  Mudge landed in the dry gravel bed of the gorge much harder than he intended. He cracked his arm on a rock, and planted his face in a patch of sand. His head came up slowly, his ears still ringing from the blast at the stables.

  For a few moments he lay there, wondering if anything had followed him along the spirit link, but all was quiet. He felt the reassuring presence of the Keeper Stone nearby.

  Then he heard a shout, and levered himself painfully to his feet. Ochren and Bear hurried over to greet him, followed by the rest of the travellers. Bear had the wound on his leg bandaged, but he laughed it off as a scratch when Mudge asked him about it. Then he heard the hearty sound of more welcoming voices.

  "Not long after you left,” said Senovila cheerfully, “some of your sprites arrived. They started looking for the ones of their kind that had been enslaved. At least, I think that's what they were doing. Pasty, see-through little beggars in the middle of the day, aren't they?”

  Mudge smiled at the old smith. Senovila was really enjoying this. One last, great adventure before he retired with Arnima, something to tell his grandchildren.

  He remembered his promise to the sprites, and wondered if they had found their imprisoned kin. As if to answer his question, a sprite materialised nearby in the shadow of a cliff.

  "Sprites have found lost ones," said the sprite. Mudge assumed it was the sprite leader.

  "Sprites have been badly treated," the leader continued. Its face showed a strange mixture of anguish and fear. "Sprites ask if Master will help."

  Mudge nodded an agreement. The sprites hadn’t tried to bargain with him, and the straightforward request was touching.

  "Where are the lost ones?" said Mudge gently. The sprite took his sleeve and tugged him further up the gorge. Ochren and the rest of the company formed a ragged group behind him.

  The sprite led them to a vertical gash in the rock. It was a little way beyond the last of the shattered buildings, and it led into a large cavern. On one side of the cavern they found a walled off compartment, probably an old storage room. The imprisoned sprites were inside.

  "What is that thing?" said Bear, pointing to a low mound of bricks in the centre of the room.

  "It's a soul stealer," said Mudge absently. He was more concerned with the dispirited sprites that sat around the walls. They had been chained in place, and were so lethargic they were barely able to lift their heads up.

  "Looks like a pottery kiln," observed Senovila. He circled the machine warily looking for an entrance, but there was none.

  "The Sarkosay that lived here took the spirit energies of others for their own purposes," said Mudge grimly. He remembered this much from his studies at the Priatic School. The idea of stealing life force from others held an abhorrence for him. The swirl of dark energies he saw round the mound of bricks made him feel sick.

  "Then we should destroy the evil damned thing," said Senovila, glowering. Arnima nodded vigorously in agreement. Mudge looked up at Ochren, to see what he thought. Ochren nodded as well.

  Much of this was new to Mudge, but with the help of the keeper Stone, he felt sure he could heal the sprites in the room, and carefully dissipate the spirit energies that drove the soul machine. But after that the travellers needed to be on their way to Xaan. Time was growing ever shorter.

  THIRTEEN

  The Legatus arrived at the top of The Lion in the early afternoon. Sergeos and Cinnabar were waiting for him. A short whump of compressed air announced his arrival, as he and a certain amount of atmosphere tried to occupy the same space.

  “How did it go?” enquired Sergeos eagerly. Ultrich had taken longer in Taire Valley than Sergeos had expected. He was reassured when the new arrival nodded his head that his efforts had been successful.

  “Yeltar’s forces will pull back now,” said Ultrich. “By the time they get to the positions at Thebes, reinforcements from the other Independent Kingdoms will have arrived.”

  He looked past Sergeos to his left. There were five new spirit walkers there. They were part of the force that had been making its way from Prias over the past few days.

  Ultrich acknowledged them with a curt bow. They made a more elaborate flourish in reply.

  The problem with spirit walkers these days was they were so, so learned, thought Ultrich. It was frustrating that they had so little actual experience. They had the snow cat, the symbol of the Karnatic League, embroidered on the collars of their attire, but he wondered if it meant anything to them. Would these cats have any teeth?

  He had tried to give Sergeos and Cinnabar some idea of what spirit warfare was like, taking them on a number of clandestine missions, but the rest of the spirit walkers might not be much use at all.

  Cinnabar was more interested in what was happening on the battlefield below. She caught Ultrich’s attention, and pointed downward.

  “You’re just in time for the first real engagement of the afternoon," she said, scanning the High Steppes below them with keen eyes.

  Sergeos chipped in. "So far they’ve just been searching for weaknesses in our lines," he said. "Those damned Xaanian horse archers are very quick. They can dominate an area before we have time to bring up a response.

  “However we did what you said, and kept the armoured cavalry behind the lines until the Xaanians committed themselves properly, and then we got in among them. At least the troops have been properly trained to overlap their shields and wait the archers out.”

  Ultrich nodded. He had no doubts about the training of the troops. Porteous was a stickler for doing things right, and the commanders under him were the best he could find.

  “They made a determined effort with their infantry on the left flank about midday,” continued Sergeos, “but we made them pay for that, and it didn’t last long.”

  That pleased Ultrich. It had been his idea to split the Karnatic Defence Forces into mixed companies. Then the commander decided which of the squadrons of infantry, archers or cavalry would lead his company in. The others would take supporting roles. Traditional wisdom massed similar troops together, but Ultrich wanted his companies to be able to respond to
changing situations faster than that.

  “Now they’re coming back for more,” said Cinnabar. She pointed to the activity on the plains below them.

  The others didn't need Cinnabar's outstretched arm to tell them where the next skirmish was going to take place. The long standards of the Xaanian elite troops were moving briskly forward at the head of their columns. Behind them cavalry wheeled and turned in formation as they warmed up their horses.

  Ultrich smiled grimly. A combination of infantry and cavalry probably meant they were about to launch the same well-rehearsed assault they’d used several times at Taire Valley. If that was the case, they were in for a big surprise.

  Ultrich conjured a spirit connection, and spoke rapidly to one of the Prias spirit walkers, who was stationed outside Porteous’ operations tent.

  He was silent for a while, listening to the reply. Then he spoke again, apparently answering questions. When he had finished he turned back to survey the plains below.

  "Pray to the gods I've got this right," he said sharply. His words caused Sergeos and Cinnabar to exchange quizzical glances.

  The Xaanian elite troops hit the centre of the League’s positions with all they had, pushing it back, but then the advance slowed, and the line held.

  The effect of the League’s mixed units came into effect almost immediately. The archers fired over the shoulders of their own infantry at almost point-blank range. Squads of cavalry made brief sallies from the rear of the line as the troops opened up spaces for them to move up.

  A war horn sounded, and the Xaanian troops re-formed into columns. Porteous’ troops showed their discipline, and held their ground. Then the Xaanian cavalry poured into the avenues between the columns. They picked up speed as they headed for the League lines. The League companies scattered when the cavalry were about to hit, leaving holes in their lines.

  The Xaanian cavalry thundered through the gaps, and soon found themselves behind enemy lines. As they turned to attack the rear of the League positions, more war horns sounded, but this time on the League side.

  The ground shook as Porteous’ armoured cavalry poured forth from between the tents a bow shot away. The League infantry reformed behind the Xaanian cavalry, cutting off their retreat. For a moment chaos reigned. The Xaanian horses snorted and wheeled as their riders tried to make sense of the situation.

  At last the cavalry formed up to meet the armoured cavalry bearing down on them. It was better to take their chances against the heavier and better protected League cavalry. The infantry behind them were now sporting rows of the long pikes that were deadly to horses.

  At first the Xaanian charge seemed successful. Clustering in groups, they were able to punch through the more scattered armoured cavalry lines. While the heavy League cavalry struggled to slow its momentum and turn after them, the Xaanian cavalry carried on into Rotor Valley Pass itself.

  That was their undoing.

  Porteous had kept the Hill Tribes horsemen in reserve. He'd waited until their speed and agility could be used to its greatest effect, and that moment was now. The war horns sounded out a new pattern.

  The Hill Tribes horsemen were resting up near the entrance to the pass. The spreading herds of their people lay behind them, and their tents ranged along the bottom of the hills.

  Now, to their surprise, the enemy were coming to them. In ones and twos, then in dozens, they boiled into the entrance of the pass to accept the challenge. Others came in from guarding the herds, and from sentry duty around the edges of the grasslands. They streamed forward, outdoing each other in a race to make the first kill.

  Ducking and diving, they dropped to ride hanging off the side of their horses before springing onto the unsuspecting cavalrymen. They broke open the cavalry charge, slowing and confusing it. In the confusion of the fighting they were just too fast. Long knives found weak patches in leather armour, and gaps where helmets met breastplates. Bodies tumbled from horses all over the battlefield.

  The Xaanian formation was reduced to scattered groups of horsemen, banded together in a last-ditch defence. The sharp twang of bowstrings and the harsh rip of leather jerkins pierced by long knives, rippled across the grasslands. Again and again cavalrymen fell from their mounts. The enemy were reduced to solitary ones and twos. Then the sounds of battle ceased altogether.

  The Xaanian cavalry had been completely annihilated.

  Sergeos walked back to the front of The Lion. He shook his head.

  "I didn't see one of them get away," he said. He sounded almost rueful. "I wouldn't like to have the Hill Tribes as an enemy, that's a certain truth."

  Ultrich nodded absently. There was too much going on for him to examine his reactions to each part of the battle as it happened. He would laugh, or cry, or throw up, when it was all over.

  Back on the plains of the High Steppes, the Xaanian troops withdrew from the League lines. There was a lull in the fighting, and it seemed to last an eternity.

  “Come on,” said Sergeos impatiently, when it seemed the enemy would never return. “Let's get on with it!” He knew what Porteous had been told. He was to wait for the Xaanians to come to him, and he was doing that.

  Partly it reinforced the idea of the Xaanians as aggressors, which they were, and that built up a sense of injustice along the League lines. Partly it was due to an old saying Ultrich had seen to be true over the years. From unarmed combat to nations at war, the side defending had the stronger position. They had less work to do, and were more able to turn a response to an advantage.

  It was hard for the troops to wait in formation in the heat of the day. From their vantage point, the spirit walkers could see water carriers scurrying like ants, one behind the other. They came and went as they kept up with the needs of the League forces.

  “Here they come!” said Sergeos at last, pointing to the Xaanian lines. Ultrich frowned. It was too easy to see this as a spectator sport, with good guys to cheer on and bad guys to vilify. But people were dying on the plains below them, people with friends and families. Ordinary people caught up in this war on both sides.

  From the top of The Lion the spirit walkers could see the whole of the Xaanian line advancing. It seemed this time the Xaanian commanders were ready to commit themselves to a decisive battle.

  Ultrich tensed.

  The outcome of the war would depend on what happened below him during this afternoon. The League forces, and those of the Independent Kingdoms, were heavily outnumbered, though he'd done much on both fronts to reduce that imbalance.

  Ultrich wanted to win today, but not decisively. He wanted Xianak to send reinforcements to Rotor Valley Pass, hoping they could still win, and he would keep drawing the Xaanian forces into the pass.

  It was an ideal choke point. The League forces couldn’t be bypassed, and their supply lines couldn’t be cut off. Ultrich intended to grind them down one engagement at a time. He hoped to bleed them dry.

  On the plains below, the Xaanian line rolled toward the League forces. Their horse archers, supported by their cavalry reserves, reached the League lines first on the right. The elite troops in the middle hit next, having the better ground, and the infantry reached the League lines last, struggling over uneven terrain on the left.

  Ultrich was reminded of one small wave overtaking another at the seashore. He'd noticed such things when he was a boy. The waves were hardly moving, but the point at which they overtook each other sped along the shore at astonishing speed. That’s what it looked like from the top of The Lion. The point of contact between the two lines ran across his field of vision faster than a horse could gallop.

  At first the two sides closed in silence. Then the roar and clash of the two armies reached the hilltop.

  Ultrich saw wagons being rolled forward in the centre of the Xaanian advance. Then the covers were thrown off them. He saw a number of the war machines he had thought destroyed the previous night.

  Damn it all! They must have worked through the remainder of the night and this mornin
g to piece these few machines together. They would have used parts from those that hadn’t burnt out completely. Engaging his spirit senses he saw the black and red swirl of demon energies around the wagons.

  Sarkosay! This was not going to be easy.

  Ultrich looked quickly about him. He was going to need help with this. The Sarkosay hadn't been expecting him last time, and the darkness had helped. This time he wouldn't be able to attack the machines so easily. He would have to rely on the Prias spirit walkers, which didn't fill him with confidence.

  He motioned for Sergeous, Cinnabar and the recent arrivals to join him. Then he explained what he wanted them to do. They nodded, and he launched himself from the top of The Lion.

  It wasn't really flying. That was impossible, but a series of short spirit hops through the air was nearly as effective. He noticed with approval he could no longer see his hands. The spirit walkers on top of The Lion were binding a spirit veil about him. That should keep him invisible from the Sarkosay.

  Below him the war machines were in the last stages of preparation. They would soon be hurling their deadly loads over the heads of the Xaanian forces, and into the League infantry.

  Ultrich could see columns of armoured cavalry forming up opposite the war machines. He was gratified Porteous had seen the threat and was responding to it, but the heavy cavalry would take time to clear a path to their objective. That meant the deadly war machines would destroy whole companies of League troops before they were stopped. If they were stopped.

  Ultrich increased his efforts, but the energy required for continuous short spirit hops was immense. He would have liked to make the jump to the plains in one go, but that would create an unmistakable arrival signature. He was hoping to arrive among the war machines with the element of surprise still intact.

  The first of the machines released its deadly load of stones as Ultrich landed lightly beside it. Each stone was made of heavy iron ore, about the size of a human head. Another machine flamed into life as bundles of sacking soaked in oil ignited before they were hurled into the air.