in the best metal.’
And he reached out with one hand and scraped a finger across the General’s chest, tearing and smudging the gold filigree. The General recoiled.
‘Silence him!’ he shouted, rubbing at the damage on his own chest. ‘You, remove his voicebox.’
‘His name is Forban,’ said Kavan. ‘I always know the names of the soldiers that I fight alongside. How about you? How many of the soldiers here could you name?’
‘Be quiet, Kavan,’ said Forban urgently. ‘I’m still loyal to Artemis. I don’t want to have to remove your voice.’
‘I don’t think that these soldiers would let you.’
Forban looked around the wall of metal that surrounded them. Red and yellow and green eyes glowed. Silver and grey and black bodies were still for the moment, but the hum of charging electromuscle was rising. Forban shifted slightly.
‘You are still outnumbered, Kavan,’ he said. ‘There are still more Storm Troopers than anyone else. General Mickael’s troops are clean and tuned, not like the rest of us. Listen, Kavan. I bear you no ill will, but times have changed. They mean to make you a hero. Let us take you to Spoole. You will come to no harm.’
He looked at Mickael for confirmation, but the General pretended not to hear any of this.
Kavan spoke quietly. ‘That’s what you don’t understand, Forban. Whether I come to harm or not is of no concern to me. It does not concern a true Artemisian.’
Kavan and Calor, Forban and his Storm Troopers, Gentian and her infantryrobots, General Mickael and his Storm Troopers, all of the Army of Uncertain Allegiance, marched south.
Kavan’s army – or maybe it was General Mickael’s army – was growing as the hills sunk down beneath the land and the peaks of the central mountain range rose up before them.
There were now two thousand soldiers marching south down the Northern Road. They spilled over the verges, black Storm Troopers tramping down the borders, smashing trees, crushing stone. Silver Scouts ran in flashing patterns around them, grey infantryrobots plodded across the land, tearing holes and ruts in the mud and grass, all making their way back towards Spoole and his Generals, come to meet the conquering hero.
They had left the uncharted lands of the far north and were back amongst the signs of Artemisian expansion. Railway lines threaded north, trains could be seen in the distance carrying metal and plate and wire and coal.
Still they marched, and around them new forges were springing up, new buildings and barracks and warehouses, dropped amongst the stone castles and buildings that had been constructed by the former rulers of this land. The robots who worked in the new buildings came out to watch the passing band. Some of them waving and cheering, some merely standing in silence, eyes glowing as the procession marched by.
Kavan found himself marching in the centre of growing space. No one seemed to want to come too close to him. No one but Forban and Calor.
‘No one knows which way this will go,’ said Forban. ‘They want to be on the winning side.’
‘What about you, Forban?’ asked Kavan. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want what’s best for Artemis,’ said the Black Storm Trooper, miserably.
Calor joined them.
‘The land seems to be drained of soldiers,’ she said. ‘All the troops that should be out here have vanished.’
‘Spoole will have ordered them to withdraw,’ said Kavan. ‘He will have them grouped safely around himself.’
He looked up at the mountains ahead. They seemed to fill the sky.
‘Not long now,’ he said.
And so the Army of Uncertain Allegiance left the hills of the north and approached the mountains of the central range, where they saw arrayed against them the armies of Spoole and Artemis City.
Row upon row of black Storm Troopers, thousands upon thousands of grey infantry robots. The high peaks shone with the glimmering array of Scouts. All new and unscratched, freshly minted by the Artemisian forges, and untouched by the glamour of Kavan. These soldiers had not marched with him. They had not fought alongside him, and they bore him no loyalty.
The troops of the Uncertain Army gradually halted, stopping in ones and twos, looking to their companions for a lead. Only Kavan and Calor and Forban continued forward.
‘It’s over, Kavan,’ said Forban.
Kavan continued to walk. Calor and Forban followed hesitantly.
Spoole had chosen a good place to meet the Uncertain Army. They stood on a rocky plain between the hills and the mountains. The only way south was between the arms of the mountains, into the valley that Kavan himself had blasted all those months ago.
‘Enough of this!’
The voice came from behind. General Mickael, who had kept well clear of Kavan since they had met, was coming forward.
‘Why are we hesitating?’ he called, blue eyes flashing. ‘Move out, now.’
Forban and Calor looked at Kavan. All eyes were on Kavan.
‘I said move out!’
Kavan ignored him. He waited a moment, thinking, and then turned to face Spoole’s troops.
‘Soldiers of Artemis,’ he called. He waited, waited for their attention. Then he raised his hand, pointed forward.
‘There is your enemy,’ he said. ‘There, arrayed before you in polished metal.’
He waited for his words to sink in.
‘And so it is time. Take up your weapons, and charge.’
He barely raised his voice, but the words rippled outwards from where he stood. Infantryrobots lifted their rifles. Storm Troopers turned in warning, told them to lower their arms. But not all of them. Scouts began to dance at the perimeter. A wave was set up. Robots pushing this way and that, but with no overall direction.
‘Put down those weapons!’ called General Mickael. ‘Put them down at once.’
Nobody listened. More and more soldiers were raising their arms, pulling out awls, moving this way and that. Storm Troopers voices could be heard, ordering infantryrobots to stand down.
Somewhere there was an electronic cry, and then silence. It took a moment for the ranks to figure out what had happened. An infantryrobot had been cut down by a Storm Trooper. All eyes turned to see the black robot, blue wire twisted around its hand. An electronic growl sounded. A shot rang out. Then another.
‘Put down your weapons! Forban, order them to stop!’ General Mickael was growing angry.
Kavan held out a hand to Forban.
‘Your awl,’ he said.
And just like that, the motion in the Uncertain Army ceased. Kavan could feel them all, looking in his direction. ‘Your awl,’ he repeated.
Forban looked from Kavan to the General.
‘No, Kavan… I can’t…’
‘What’s going on?’ demanded the General. ‘Forban. What are you doing?’
‘For the last time, Forban, give me your awl.’
No one spoke. In the distance, Spoole’s troops were motionless.
‘Kavan, this is not the way. You can’t-’
‘Who would you rather serve, Forban? Him,’ Kavan pointed at General Mickael, slowly backing off, eyes glowing, ‘or Artemis?’ A group of infantryrobots moved forwards to surround him. Storm Troopers looked on, uncertain what to do.
‘Forban, I order you…’
Forban looked from Kavan to the General. Finally, he decided. Quickly, he passed the awl across to Kavan. Kavan looked at the awl for a moment, and even the wind stilled. Then suddenly, so quickly, Kavan dived forward. The General jerked back, held up a hand, but he was no fighter. Kavan feinted, dodged around behind him, got hold of him around the neck and pulled him backwards, off balance. He reached around with the awl and stabbed up beneath the General’s chin, up into the brain. Again and again.
‘Take this, Kavan.’ An infantryrobot was suddenly at his side, handing him a blade with a nick in the end. The
