He looked around. The walls were covered in masses of near translucent egg-like sacs. Within each, the outline of an Ultari was visible. He knew they were waiting only for the touch of their deity, a darker god by far than the one the Terrarchs worshipped, and one more likely to manifest his power in this world.
He smiled to himself, touched the jelly like integument of one of his blisters, placed the book on the altar and began.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Looks like we are expected this time,” said Sardec, as the bridgebacks headed downslope. Hill-men had lined the ridge top, lying flat with readied weapons. Their ambush might have been successful too, had not the ripjacks hissed a warning and then loped forward obeying the unspoken command of their mistress. The battle had been short and sharp. There had been only a few dozen riflemen up there against almost eighty wyrm mounted Foragers and the ripjack pack.
Looking through the telescope Sardec could see windows of the manor house were crowded with more men, as was the roof. There were scores of tents set up around the building and the ground between swarmed with warriors. There were an awful lot more hill-men this time. They were outnumbered. Sardec spoke reluctantly, knowing it was in the best interests of his force, and the First he guarded, even though he knew it made him sound like a coward. “It might be best to send back for reinforcements.”
“We do not have the time,” said Lady Asea. “Powerful magic is at work below the mountain.”
“Magic, Lady?”
“A great and unholy ritual is being enacted. It would be in the best interests of the Realm if we stopped it.”
“Perhaps so, Lady, but we are outnumbered by three to one, at very least.”
“We need to get into that mine.” There was a look of horror on her face that was visible through the mask. It seemed sculpted onto her metal features. Sardec did not like to think about anything that could frighten one of the First.
“You have sorcery that can aid us now?”
“I need to preserve as much power as I can for the main battle but I will give you such help as I can.”
Sardec considered this. They had the wyrms, bridgebacks and ripjacks. And perhaps they had the element of surprise if they did the unexpected. He looked at his men and saw expectancy written on every face.
“Forward!” he said. “Attack the camp. Scatter the bastards. Lady Asea’s sorcery will protect us!”
Sardec prayed to the God of Light that it was true.
Zarahel spoke the words of the spell. Bertragh echoed them from his position at the edge of the pattern. Power swirled through the pattern that surrounded him. Magic flowed through his veins. His blisters moved in time to the rhythm of his words. The monstrous egg-sacs on the walls mimicked them. Overhead faint flickering images spun through the air, taking on shape, forming a mirror of the pattern on the floor. Faint lines of fire converged above his head, just above the altar, forming the centre of the portal. Beyond it, Uran Ultar waited to come through.
The great beast’s muscles surged below Rik. The bridgebacks spread out, moving line abreast in long rows in order to allow the men in the howdahs to bring the maximum amount of firepower to bear.
He crouched as low as he could, clutching his rifle in his bandaged hands, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. He did not envy the mahout ahead of them, an obvious target for the hill-men’s fire.
The ripjack pack loped forward, hissing defiance, gnashing their teeth, mad keen to get to grips with their prey. Up ahead the hill-men massed. They had no grasp of formation. They merely kneeled or stood where they wanted and made ready to fire. Rik did not delude himself. The hill-men were excellent shots. He was not sure the Foragers could match them from their rolling platforms on the back of the bridgebacks. From where he crouched Sardec’s decision looked like monumental insanity. He only hoped that Lady Asea’s sorcery was as potent as everybody supposed it was.
She stood erect on the back of her massive black bridgeback. The air around her shimmered faintly. She looked poised and confident. In her hand something metallic glittered. She looked glorious, a figure from an earlier, more epic age. Just the sight of her brought a catch to Rik’s throat, although he knew that it shouldn’t.
Musket fire crackled in the evening gloom. Some of the hill-men had opened up with a volley. Somewhere someone bellowed for them to stop. The wyrms were still out of range.
Closer and closer they came, skirting the edge of the ruins of Achenar, moving ever nearer to the mansion. Rik felt a faint glimmer of hope. If they could just reach the camp and get among the hill-men they would have a chance. In close combat nothing human could match a wyrm. Weasel gave him one of his fearless grins. The Barbarian checked his musket. Leon squatted at the back of the howdah out of sight. The rest of them hunkered down and made ready for battle.
Musket fire began in earnest now, spattering the earth around them, kicking up small clouds of dust that mingled with the huge ones raised by the bridgeback’s claws. Their wyrm bellowed. Rik saw blood glistening along its side. Some scales were missing. The enemy had gotten first blood. A triumphant roar from the hill-men told him they knew it too.
Rik held his fire. It was one thing hitting something the size of a wyrm at this range. It was another hitting a man. A horn sounded. The wyrms picked up speed. The bridgeback’s stride lengthened. Their bellowing increased and still the ripjack pack loped ahead. Rik held onto the side of the howdah grimly. Inside it, Foragers were being tossed about like dice in a cup. There was no way anyone could even think of shooting now.
Clouds of smoke partially obscured the foe. The sound of musketry filled the early evening. Off to the left, a flower of blood blossomed on a mahout’s brow. He fell sideways, tugging the reins as he went. His wyrm veered out of the formation. It smacked into a bridgeback on the far side. The two of them stumbled in a tangle of thrashing necks and limbs. The screams of crushed Foragers echoed in Rik’s ears. Hill-men cheered and jeered.
This was not going well, Rik thought. Where was the sorcery that was supposed to protect them?
Bullets cracked the wood of the howdah and bit into the side of the wyrm. The mahout bellowed encouragement to his mount. Rik tried to raise his rifle but the movement of the howdah made it impossible to get a bead on any target. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Asea raise the metal wand, and bring it forward.
A bolt of lightning sprang from its tip. Thunder accompanied it like the crack of a whip. The bolt smashed forward into a hill-man, catching the barrel of his rifle, making his hair stand on end and his flesh fry. The bolt leapt from rifle barrel to rifle barrel. Rik saw a man walking briefly on stilts of lightning before his blackened corpse hit the ground.
The hill-men’s cheering turned to screams. The whip of lightning flickered again and again. More hill-men fell; others turned and fled, more from fear of the unknown power that wielded heaven’s fire than from their casualties.
The wyrms smashed through the tents, uprooting stakes, cracking the central posts. Rik winced as one of the great beasts seized a man in its jaws, raised him on high and snapped him in two with one bite. He could see others being trampled underfoot. Over to his right swarmed a closely packed mass of men. He snapped off a shot hoping to hit something in the crowd. The motion of the bridgeback swept him off his feet and by the time he regained his balance there was no opportunity to see if he had hit anything or not.
Not that it mattered now. The ripjack pack was loose among the hill-men. Not even those long knives were a match for the jaws of the beasts. Here and there a group of hill-men surrounded one and by sheer weight of numbers dragged a ripjack down despite its advantage in weight and strength and ferocity. For the most part they died where they stood, slaughtered by the ravening mass of teeth and fury that fell on them.
The hill-men broke. Some raced for the mansion, others for the slopes. From the top of the building came a steady stream of fire, until Asea raised her glowing wand and swept men from the rooftops with its lightning. How
