Part 43 (1/2)

'Get up!' he bellowed at them, hearing his own voice as strangely distant. They looked dazed, stunned. Stenwold's eyes were wide.

'They sent a petard against the wall!' Kymon informed him, knowing that he was speaking too loud. Even as he said it, another explosion rocked them from a hundred yards south, and a third followed on its heels. The Vekken were using engine-mounted explosives driven directly into the stones so as to crack the city open. He turned fearfully, looking for the wall.

The Beetles of Collegium had done well, for it still stood, but it was obvious that it would not stand for very much longer. He watched how the latest explosion rippled the stones like canvas in a breeze.

The Vekken artillery kept on launching, and he saw great chunks of stones still bound with mortar falling out to crash onto the streets right in front of his men.

'On your feet, all of you!' he screamed at them, and there was something in his voice at last that reached them. They were cl.u.s.tered together too close, they were shaken, terrified, even. As more stones fell from the wall he strode out before them, s.h.i.+eld on one arm, drawn sword in his right hand.

'Listen to me!' he shouted at them. 'The wall will fall and it was always going to. You, boy!' He pointed at the ashen lookout. 'Go to the other walls, get men with the right materials to repair a breach. Go now!' As the lad ran off Kymon glared at the rest of them. 'You, though, you're staying here with me, and those Vekken b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are going to be inside your your city in minutes, you understand? They're going to punch a breach in that wall with their engines and then come flooding through, soldiers in better armour than yours, with better training than yours, and you know what you're going to do? You're going to hold them at the wall. You're b.l.o.o.d.y well going to stop them getting into city in minutes, you understand? They're going to punch a breach in that wall with their engines and then come flooding through, soldiers in better armour than yours, with better training than yours, and you know what you're going to do? You're going to hold them at the wall. You're b.l.o.o.d.y well going to stop them getting into your your city. You understand me? Not city. You understand me? Not my my city. I'm a Kessen and I wouldn't have a city like this to defend for all the wasting world, but city. I'm a Kessen and I wouldn't have a city like this to defend for all the wasting world, but your your city, and the only people in this whole city who can keep it city, and the only people in this whole city who can keep it yours yours are are you you! You men and women standing before me now!' He was conscious of a greater shattering behind him which was echoed in the stir of the soldiers before him and that Stenwold Maker now had a repeating crossbow in his hands and had cranked back the string.

'When they come through,' he bellowed at them, 'they will loose their crossbows first, to try and clear the way. I want s.h.i.+eldmen at the front, everyone with a decent-sized s.h.i.+eld. Behind them, crossbowmen, Master Maker here will take his shot when he sees the best time, and you all shoot when you see him do it. There will be a lot of rubble. They will have to move forward over it. You will just have to stand still, so make that count for you.'

He stared at them, seeing city militia, artisans, shopkeepers, factors and merchants, dockworkers, porters, immigrant labourers, street-brawlers, black-marketeers and a handful of professional mercenaries.

You'll just have to do, he thought, and then, If I had a command of Kessen marines we'd sort these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out. If I had a command of Kessen marines we'd sort these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out.

And he turned, and the wall came down.

It was so close on evening, the sky darkening almost visibly. The Vekken had left it to the last minute, but their artillery had finally done its job. The widescale weakening created by the petard engines and the incessant pounding of the trebuchets and leadshotters had first knocked holes in the wall and now it was tumbling, great clots and sheets of stone peeling away until the wall before and to the left of him was dissolving into an utter chaos of tumbling masonry.

'Go!' he shouted at his men and, when they did not move, he went himself,. trusting to their shame to carry them with him.

The rubble had barely finished s.h.i.+fting when he began to climb it, and for a terrible second he thought he was the only one there. Then there were s.h.i.+elds to the left and the right of him, a motley collection of a dozen different styles, and now he was at the top of the breach, seeing Vekken soldiers hauling themselves up towards him.

'Brace!' he shouted, and ducked behind his own s.h.i.+eld. Most of the men around him did the same, but there were always a few who were slow or who thought they knew better, and this time it proved fatal. Crossbow bolts slammed into his s.h.i.+eld, three or four actually punching their square-sectioned heads through to gleam like diamonds in the backing.

Then Stenwold was at his shoulder, raising his crossbow so that it almost rested on Kymon's s.h.i.+eld and then pressing the trigger, and a score of crossbows fired with him, and two score more a heartbeat afterwards. The Vekken were climbing the rubble with their s.h.i.+elds held high, but a dozen fell anyway, the close-ranged bolts sticking in their armour, and more fell amongst their crossbowmen following immediately behind.

Then the Vekken were making a final push up the s.h.i.+fting stones, and Kymon braced himself again, feeling his heart hammering out to him its message that he was too old for a battlefield by ten years at least.

He rammed his s.h.i.+eld forwards into the first man that came his way, impacting so hard on the man's own that the Vekken was sent tumbling back down. Another man took his place, though, one of a stream of Vekken soldiers that was pus.h.i.+ng forwards up into the breach, and the serious business of killing at the blade's point then began.

The harsh hammering of a nailbow sounded nearby as Stenwold's bodyguard elbowed his way into the second rank and began to shoot the enemy indiscriminately in the face. Kymon was absorbed in his own trade, though. He was a trainer of men, a College Master, but most of all he was a swordsman. These Ants coming against him were soldiers, but he had always been something more than that, and he showed them. He taught them a dozen fatal lessons of the shortsword, his blade striking like a scorpion's sting, forward, left and right, so that the soldiers advancing near him began to pay him more heed than his fellows, thus becoming easier prey for the men either side of him.

All down the line, though, the battle was s.h.i.+fting. The defenders of Collegium were laying down their lives. They were selling them dearly, giving no ground, and making the Vekken pay for each inch they climbed, but the Ants fought as an impeccable unit, while the defenders fought like a ragged line of individuals. Kymon could feel the tide turning, no matter how many he killed or how skilled his blade.

'Hold!' he bellowed. 'Hold for Collegium!' He was aware, when he could pause to think, that the defenders were still faring far better than they should, and that the Vekken were not fighting with that sharp edge that Ant-kinden usually possessed. There was something in their faces, something haggard and bruised, that was blunting them.

For a second the line swayed forwards again, whether from his words of encouragement or from the defenders' own desperation. Ant soldiers went backwards, lost their footing, and it seemed that the advance might be halted, but then they gathered themselves, as Ants always did, and surged back up.

'Hold!' Kymon shouted once again and, miraculously, something went out of the Vekken advance. Abruptly the men attacking the breach were no longer backed by hundreds of others. The Ant attention had been somehow split.

He felt something strike him in the chest, clipping the rim of his s.h.i.+eld. At the base of his vision he could see the quilled end of a crossbow bolt that had driven through his mail. It seemed to hurt far less than it should.

His line was failing, even though all the Ants beyond the foot of this hill of rubble were turning north, trying to move out of the way but constricted by their neighbours, their minds all obviously sharing the same focus.

Something struck him in the head, ringing from his helm, and he found himself falling back . . . no, Stenwold had him. Stenwold and his Sarnesh bodyguard, carrying him back.

'The line . . .' he managed to gasp.

'Hold still,' Stenwold told him. There was more said but, although the Beetle's lips moved, Kymon could hear none of it.

He drew his breath to demand that Stenwold speak up, but there was no breath to draw, and he understood that the bolt had pierced his mail, had pierced his lungs, perhaps. The sky above them was growing dark far faster than the oncoming night alone could have managed.

He sent his mind out, futilely, for some last contact with his own kind, but he was the last man of Kes remaining within the walls of Collegium, and when he died, even clasped in Stenwold's arms, he died alone.

Stenwold looked to the line, then, but incredibly it still held, and the Ants seemed to be trying to retreat, and there was a great cheer that Sarn had come, Sarn had come at last. Stenwold rushed forwards, and in his mind's eye there was a vast host of Sarnesh soldiers crowding the horizon, but instead he saw merely the shapes of Sarnesh automotives powering towards the breach in the wall. There were two still moving, and the caved-in wreck of a third some distance back, where the Vekken artillery had found it. The remaining two were driving in at top speed, though, their clawed tracks chewing up the dusty, b.l.o.o.d.y earth, and he saw the Vekken soldiers at the fore linking s.h.i.+elds, bracing themselves ridiculously against the charge.

Artillery began bursting around them, and Stenwold saw one of the machines take a terrific blow that stove in one side and yet did not stop it moving. The machines were loosing their own weapons now, repeating ballista bolts smas.h.i.+ng the Ant s.h.i.+eld-wall full of holes. The Vekken had a siege tower out there, half-extended, and the undamaged automotive struck it a terrible blow that dented the whole front of the machine, but smashed the tower's lifting gear totally, spilling men and broken machinery in its wake.

Stenwold wanted to close his eyes as they struck, but he could not he could only stare. The Vekken artillery was smas.h.i.+ng into its own infantry in its haste to destroy the automotives, and then the unstoppable momentum of the machines had taken them right into the main block of soldiers, and hundreds of the Vekken s.h.i.+eldmen were simply crushed beneath them.

The damaged machine was meanwhile slewing away from the city, one of its tracks jammed, and a moment later Stenwold saw fire break out around it, the fuel tanks for its engine catching light. The Vekken were fleeing from it, and it exploded, scything through them with jagged metal. The final machine was still driving for the breach, scattering the Vekken in its wake. A leadshotter struck it a glancing blow, spinning it round so that it was facing away from the city, and Stenwold saw Vekken Ants climbing onto it, swarming over it like their very namesakes, and prying hatches open.

With a final effort, the last of the Sarnesh Lorn detachment threw its tracks into reverse and began to climb the rubble backwards. The Vekken had clawed their way on board before it was halfway up, and Balkus grabbed Sten-wold's arm and pulled him back, fearful for his safety.

Doctor Nicrephos was waiting for them, the frail old Moth looking impossibly out of place so close to the front line. 'It is time!' he was shouting. 'We must go!'

'Anywhere but here,' Balkus agreed.

Stenwold looked back to see the last automotive slew backwards into the breach, using its armoured length to bridge the gap in the wall. There was a thump and flare from inside that must be a grenade going off, and then the mauled machine fell still.

Beyond the wall the Vekken began to retreat to their camp for the night, but they would be back again in the morning, perhaps for the last time.

The Fly-kinden, Kori, ducked in and closed the door solidly behind him. In the moment it was open they could all hear the distant sound of exploding grenades.

'Well this is lovely!' he exclaimed. 'I do hope the Empire sends us someplace nice like this again!' He hooked his cloak off and cast it into the corner of the taproom. They had the taverna to themselves after the owner had gone off to fight.

'You've taken your time,' Gaved snapped. 'We'd about given up on you.'

'Big city, Wasp-boy, so even a man as talented as me takes time to get around it. And this whole Ant invasion gets in the way sometimes.' Kori stretched. 'Someone get me something to drink. I feel a need to toast the Emperor.'

'Over a fire, no doubt,' muttered Eriphinea the Moth. She slung him a wineskin, which he caught on the wing while hopping up onto a table.

'Have you located it?' Scyla demanded of him. The other two were also on their feet now, waiting for his report.

'Relax, I've found the building,' the Fly a.s.sured them. 'Private collection? Barred and bolted, more like. No simple job to get in. Briskall, the old h.o.a.rder, he's obviously gone to ground with all his treasures. Won't come out until the siege is over, or the Vekken come to break down his doors.'

'Can we we break through his doors?' Eriphinea asked doubtfully. 'These Beetles and their locks . . .' break through his doors?' Eriphinea asked doubtfully. 'These Beetles and their locks . . .'

'I'm the knees with locks,' Kori told her. 'I'm the utter knees. I'm more worried about finding our trinket once we get in there.'

'Don't forget,' Scyla said disdainfully, 'we can't miss it. That's an imperial guarantee.'

'Oh sure, sure.'

'We'll have no difficulties locating it,' the Moth insisted flatly. That silenced them, and they stared at her. Her blank eyes gave them nothing back.

'Would you care to qualify that, Phin?' Gaved asked her.