The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (29 page)

"What's that?" Beorn said, squinting. "It's like a blur of motion."

Miro smiled. "I think I know."

As the colossus climbed the bank, heading for the black wall, the Black Army's fire targeted it to the exclusion of all else. But each orb hit a whirling storm of green and silver, with electric flashes of shining blue and ruby red.

Miro didn't know how many of the bladesingers were riding along with the colossus, but he knew this indomitable construct would strike terror into his enemy's hearts. As an orb flew at the colossus, it hit the flash of a zenblade, and was sliced into two pieces before the device could fulfil its purpose and destruct.

This was it. The moment they had planned and hoped for, but the one thing they could never be certain about. If the Primate or one of his commanders had sent the builders of Torakon to reinforce this wall with lore, they were doomed.

Miro watched as four men in green leapt down from the colossus, leaping and dodging the explosions.

He could almost hear Luca Angelo chanting as he activated the runes, see his deft fingers touching the controller tablet at his knees. The colossus's great fists swung down, both of them with the full strength of the animators' arts behind them.

The top half of the wall smashed into pieces as the construct's huge hands collided with the stone. The arms came up, and then fell down again, as Luca kept on, oblivious to the explosions around him. The colossus kicked with one of its legs, and the wall was breached.

"Red light!" Miro cried. "Full attack!"

High above, the Alturan dirigible flashed a bright red light. With the Alturan and Dunfolk archers providing covering fire, the allied soldiers rushed forward in an unstoppable wave. The first through the breach were the bladesingers, followed by the colossus itself, and then there were so many men pouring through they were like a sea of people.

Landing craft still crossed the river, but now the warriors who disembarked ran straight up the riverbank, shouting and cheering, swords held in the air as they joined their fellows.

Miro closed his eyes and then let out a slow, deep breath.

"Lord Marshal," Beorn said. "Are you coming?" He grinned, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I know a faster way," Miro said. He waved his arms, and the dirigible slowly descended. A ladder was thrown out.

"No, thank you," Beorn said. "I don't have a head for heights. I'll chance the river."

"See you there," Miro said. "Bring the Halrana animators over with you, will you?"

Soon Miro was lifted up and over the splashing river. From his vantage he could see his men swiftly gain the advantage, and the green and brown flag of the allied army soon flew from one, then another of the squat towers. Miro was careful to display the Alturan
raj hada
on the dirigible for all to see, the circle double-striped to indicate the Lord Marshal was present.

When he was across, he jumped down from the dirigible and sent it back out of danger.

His first concern was for defences. "Secure the towers on both sides as long as you are in view of the bridgehead, then pin the rest down with archers. Have the colossus smash up the walls and get the men to move the blocks to form a wall on four sides. Let me know the instant the Halrana animators have arrived from the Alturan side. The instant, you understand? Tell Marshal Scola to continue the advance and encirclement, I want the river cleared in both directions. When Marshal Beorn arrives, he's in charge of the defences."

"Yes, Lord Marshal." They said as he issued the orders.

"The animators are here," a soldier came running up, six men in brown robes behind him.

"Thank you, soldier," Miro said. "Please get me fifty men to form a patrol."

"Yes, Lord Marshal."

The soldier spoke to another man in the
raj hada
of an Alturan captain. Miro regarded the approaching animators.

"You know what you're here for," Miro said.

"We do," one of the animators, a Halrana with tapered moustaches, said. "I can hardly breathe. Do you think there are many still functional?"

"Calm down," Miro said. "You're in the middle of a battle."

The captain came forward. "You requested a detachment, Lord Marshal?"

"Yes, captain. We're going to find those constructs."

Amidst the chaos Miro heard someone calling his name. "Miro!"

He turned and saw Marshal Beorn. "What is it?"

"The dirigible pilot signalled that there's a mass of men forming in the east. They must be from the enemy's main encampment. It's a counter attack."

Miro nodded. "I understand… Marshal Beorn, our defences are in your hands." He turned to the Alturan captain and the Halrana animators. "Come on," he said, "we don't have much time."

~

T
HEY
found some of the constructs almost immediately, in a field where only the ditches and gullies that were too straight for nature told that a battle had ever taken place.

Miro felt his hope fade as he looked at the huge mound of charred limbs. A pile of woodmen had been thrown here and burned. Of course the enemy wouldn't be foolish enough to leave them lying around.

A cluster of bonemen had been deliberately splintered and thrown onto the pile. Miro turned to the moustached Halrana animator, expecting to see the man in tears. Instead the animator looked at the small tablet he held in his hands, where some symbols were flashing and fading.

"Ironmen," the animator said. "They're close." He began to search the area.

"Stop," the Alturan captain said, waving his men back. The animator halted in his tracks. The captain walked forward, prodding the ground in front of the brown-robed Halrana with his sword.

Where the animator was about to step, the ground fell away under the captain's probing, to reveal a deep ditch lined with spikes.

The animator turned white-faced to the Alturan captain.

"It's treacherous around here," the captain said. "Fan out!" he called to his men. "Look for ditches and traps. The animators need to search this area, and they need to do it fast. Look out for your skins, but mark out the safe ground."

The fifty men dispersed, probing at the ground with their swords and calling out when they found a trap. Miro cursed the delay, while the Halrana animators conferred among themselves, gesturing to the flashing symbols on their controller tablets.

Miro wondered how long before the enemy reached this area and they were forced to pull back to Marshal Beorn's hastily-crafted defences. Miro had been counting on the support of the constructs they had left behind last winter, and now realised how precarious the situation was.

"I'm going to see how far away the enemy are, how much time we have," Miro told the captain.

"You can't go out there," the captain began, "let me send…"

Miro spoke some words, and his armoursilk blazed as he activated its core protection. "I'm the best-placed to find out," Miro said. "I'll be back."

He chanted as he ran, calling forth the multitude of sequences that would protect him in the event of a fall. Would the armoursilk be powerful enough to save his skin if he fell into a spiked trap? He hoped he wouldn't find out.

Miro opened his stride, running with long steps, barely touching the ground with his toes, expecting at any instant to plummet down into the earth. He thanked the Lord of the Sky as he reached higher ground where there would be no traps, climbing a hill where he had a vantage over the area.

The Black Army scout and Miro saw each other at the same time. Miro reached over his shoulder for the hilt of his zenblade, but seeing the green of his armoursilk, the scout turned and ran. The black-clad scout was nearly a hundred paces away, and Miro would never catch him.

Miro instead reached for the rail-bow he wore over his other shoulder.

He nocked an arrow to the string and pulled it back to his ear, once again picturing Master Goss telling him how to call forth the target, bringing it into focus. Miro released the arrow, and it sped through the air, to suddenly sprout from the middle of the scout's back. Without a word, the scout keeled over, his body close through the sight of the bow, yet incredibly distant when Miro put down the bow and looked on with unaided eyes.

Where there was a scout, an army would follow.

The Black Army's reinforcements were near.

Miro put his hand above his eyes, gazing at the distant hills. "Hurry," he muttered, thinking about the Halrana animators. He didn't even know if they'd found any salvageable constructs.

Miro was concentrating so hard on the far-off ridges that he almost didn't see it appear, rising up over the closest hill like a black tide.

Hordes of warriors came towards him: imperial legionnaires, screaming with bloodlust and waving their swords over their shaved heads; templars, their white tabards crusted with dirt and grime; and most numerous of all, a motley collection of swordsmen, axemen and pikemen gathered from the farthest reaches of the Tingaran Empire.

Miro turned and ran, oblivious to the danger as he once again dashed over the treacherous field littered with traps and trenches from the great battle once fought here. He kept his head down, his strides eating up the earth as he prayed he would be in time to warn the Halrana animators. The constructs would have to wait; Miro had brought these men here; he was responsible for getting them out alive.

Suddenly, Miro stopped short.

In front of him stood a glowing man of metal, symbols flickering red over the construct's black skin. Miro looked around and saw at least forty of them in a file, all activated.

The ironmen were alive.

"They're coming," Miro gasped. "The Black Army."

The ironmen advanced, and Miro realised there were more of them behind. Miro looked around for someone — anyone — finally spotting the figure of a man in green, seen in a flash between the marching rows of constructs.

The Alturan captain unclenched his fists, looking inordinately relieved when he saw Miro. "Lord Marshal, I was worried…"

"They're coming," Miro said. "The enemy are right behind me. How…?"

"They found a bunch in a cart that the enemy threw into a ditch and buried."

"How did they get them out?" Miro asked.

"The animators had them dig themselves out. Not much stops these things."

The moustached animator hurried up to Miro as the ironmen continued their advance, forming an unbroken line.

"I'm needed to help control the ironmen, Lord Marshal, but I thought you could use a briefing. The enemy destroyed the woodmen and the bonemen, but the ironmen proved too difficult, and so they were buried. Most are buried haphazardly, in a pile, but some like these were still filed up in their carts. We were able to renew them without too much difficulty."

"What about the others?"

"They'll take days to extract, reassemble, and renew."

"How many?"

"We now have two hundred ironmen, fully activated and combat-ready. But buried in the ground is perhaps three times that number."

Miro made a snap decision. "Captain? Send a message to Marshal Beorn. Tell him to send reinforcements, every man he can spare. Quickly!"

The captain despatched a messenger and then looked up at Miro. "Are we holding here?"

Miro nodded. "We're certainly going to try."

~

O
NE
bladesinger, fifty Alturan soldiers, and two hundred ironmen held against the Black Army's counter-attack for nearly an hour before Marshal Beorn arrived with reinforcements.

In the end, they held the field, and the Black Army fled to nurse its wounds. Of the fifty Alturan swordsmen, only twelve lived. The Alturan captain numbered among the dead, and as he looked at the brave man's body, Miro realised he'd never even asked his name.

Throughout the night, Marshal Scola harried the enemy, maintaining the initiative while Miro and Beorn consolidated their defences. With every hour that passed, the animators unearthed more constructs, but the moment of greatest triumph came when, cheering wildly, they even salvaged two massive colossi. Miro instructed them to keep going, rescuing as many as they could until the essence ran out.

As the next day dawned, Miro realised there had been no more counter-attacks. He had held Halrana soil for a full day. At midday the animators told him there would be no more constructs to add to their numbers.

Miro ordered the army to decamp and advance further into Halaran, while the Black Army fled in front of them.

Now Miro had the initiative.

He didn't plan to lose it.

32

S
UMMER
was over, but it was two weeks more before Ella told the prince that the time was right.

Ella and Shani had spent long hours planning while the desert warriors fought amongst themselves, spoiling to fight. The prince eventually took a personal hand keeping his men in line, publicly trying eight men for insurgency, and another three for their poor treatment of Petryans. All eleven men were executed by beheading. Shani told Ella she was finally beginning to believe the prince would keep his word and treat her people well.

Prince Ilathor met with the leaders of the other tarns and gave them his promise they would be fighting when the season turned. Ella, whenever she looked at the maps on the wall of the chamber at the top of the tower, could feel the prince's eyes on her. She caught him smiling when he looked at her and couldn't help herself smiling in return. She hadn't kissed him again, and he hadn't pushed her, but part of her wanted him to try.

The prince organised contests, something very familiar to the Petryans, who were happy to look on and supply rules and advice. The locals refrained from joining in the horse races and sword-fighting, but they were glad to participate in the wrestling, running and jumping. The games gave the desert warriors some focus, and the Petryans began to smile again. Ella's respect for Ilathor grew.

There wasn't a soul in Torlac who didn't wonder about Tlaxor. The tiered city had been under siege for months now, with no fresh food or water crossing the lake. The prince was obviously cognizant of the iron grip the Petryan High Lord had over his people, and had made his plans accordingly, but still, how could Haptut Alwar not relent?