were already climbing up into. Che understood that between these transporters and the train carriages, the entire army would be able to travel to the point where the rail line had been broken, and there they would wait for the Wasps to arrive.
‘Orthopters,’ Sperra said, and Che saw flat, wheeled carriages being pushed out down the rail line, with the flying machines lashed down to them, their wings detached and laid alongside them. They were decked out with nail-bows fixed above and below them and to both sides.
‘Cheerwell Maker!’ she heard a voice. She expected this to be Plius, perhaps, but instead it was an anonymous Sarnesh Ant officer, waving her over. He looked agitated and, even as she saw it she realized that the demeanour of everyone around her had changed, all the surrounding Ants pausing for a fraction in what they were doing.
And many of them now seemed to be looking at her.
‘The Queen needs you urgently!’ the officer called out to her. ‘And your Moth consort too.’
Che gaped a little at this choice of phrase. Achaeos, beside her, merely looked perturbed. Surrounded by thousands of Ants, though, there was precious little they could do if things went wrong.
With Sperra tagging anxiously along behind, the pair of them were led through the impeccably disciplined chaos of an army pulling itself together, and then towards another of the armoured automotives. There were no markings to indicate it as anything special but, when its side hatch was pushed open, Che saw the Queen standing within dressed in full plate armour.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ the woman demanded shortly, not from Che but from Achaeos himself.
‘I do not understand, Your Majesty,’ Achaeos said, genuinely puzzled, and two soldiers grabbed and manhandled him around the bulk of the automotive so that he could look towards the land rising north of the city.
There hundreds of soldiers could be seen, approaching the Sarnesh force in a straggling mob. Achaeos strained his eyes, but the sunlight was very bright and his kind preferred darkness. He did, however, see that the first rank of Ant soldiers nearest the advance had already locked shields, while those in the second rank had their crossbows levelled.
‘I don’t understand,’ he repeated, and then Che cried out, ‘Mantis-kinden!’
‘Not just Mantids.’ The Queen was stepping down from the automotive. ‘My scouts say there are Moths there as well. What do they intend? Is this your doing?’
Achaeos opened his mouth to deny this, but Che cried out, ‘Yes!’
They all turned to her, astonished, Achaeos and Sperra included.
‘Your Majesty, when we first came to your city it was with two purposes. Whilst Scuto and Sperra were to seek out audience with yourself, Achaeos and I were to contact. those allied to the Moths of Dorax. When last we met them they had heard of the fall of Helleron, at which they were much concerned. They were going to speak with their masters and I think. ’ The feeling of hope swelling within her made it hard to breathe. ‘I think they may be friends.’
The newcomers could now clearly be seen as Mantis-kinden. Compared with the rigidly organized Ant army they seemed a ragged host, and far fewer in number. Che studied them individually, though, and saw them differently: lean, hard men and women with spears, bows, swords and claws just like Tisamon’s. No two were alike in their weapons, nor in their armour: she saw leather coats, cuirasses, crested helms, breastplates, scale-mail, even a few suits of fluted plate that looked as if made for another era entirely. They all had about them the same air, though. These were warriors, and they were ready for war.
One of them stepped forward, approaching the rigid Ant line without fear. At some unheard signal from the Queen, it parted to let the envoy through. Che’s heart leapt when she recognized Scelae. The slender Mantis- woman wore a long coat of scales, backed with felt to silence the clink of metal, a tall unstrung bow was slung across her back and she walked confidently through the staring Ants and made a respectful bow to their Queen.
‘Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘I bring you greetings from the Ancient League.’
‘And what might this League be, that you speak of?’ asked the Queen, still not entirely trusting this new force. ‘I have never heard of it.’
Scelae smiled slightly. ‘The name has an irony to it, as the League has existed just these last five days. The traditions it pledges to are ancient, though, for in the face of our changing world we have renewed some old ties. Just as your city is now ranged with the Beetles of Collegium, so the holds of Etheryon and Nethyon have come again to seek the wisdom and guidance of Dorax and the Moth-kinden.’
‘A new power on my doorstep,’ observed the Queen. ‘Should I rejoice in this?’
‘I am no seer and I cannot tell the future,’ Scelae said, ‘save in one thing: this force you see was gathered in one day, made up of all those ready to hear our call. We march with you now against the Empire.’
‘How many?’ the Queen asked and, before Scelae could answer, some word came to her from scouts who had been counting all this while. ‘Eight hundred. Eight hundred Mantids — and perhaps a hundred Moths as well. And you will fight alongside us?’
‘We will fight,’ Scelae assured her. ‘There is nothing in the world you may be more sure of.’
Thirty-Five
That day, Stenwold had cause to remember how he had told Doctor Nicrephos that it could wait until evening because of the urgent duties he had to fulfil.
He remembered particularly in the first few hours after dawn, when the remaining Vekken armourclads made another pass at the harbour, grinding their engines to breaking point to try and nose their own half-sunk siblings out of the way, whilst simultaneously their artillery lashed the harbourfront again and again. As Stenwold’s role was to defend the harbour, he had waited there with a few hundred soldiers, crouching behind every piece of cover that was available and watching while the great ships shoved repeatedly, and the sound of their engines groaned across the water.
Over sixty of his men had been killed during the bombardment because, at that range, if he had pulled them far back enough to be out of the way, the Ants would have been able to establish a presence on the waterfront itself before he could have formed up enough men to stop them.
And then, mid-morning, the armourclads had given up and reversed their engines, pulling back into open water. To Stenwold, however, it did not seem like a victory.
He had thought about going to Doctor Nicrephos at that point. The old man had been very agitated, talking about some artefact that must be given over to his own protection. He knew it was somewhere in the city, and he believed he could even divine its location. He had obviously been very serious, but to Stenwold it had made very little sense.
But then a messenger had come for him from the north wall, saying that he was needed there urgently. There was never any time.
His journey across the city had been nightmarish. Over the last day the Vekken had begun using special trebuchets, far out of range of any armaments on the Collegium walls. They were incredibly spindly contraptions, his telescope had told him, and they flung handfuls of grenades arcing from their slings. These exploded over the city, showering it with fire and shrapnel, or else burst in flames on the roofs of buildings. It was a random barrage, doing little damage, but it meant that nobody in the city was ever entirely safe. Those few who braved the streets had to keep one eye on the sky, and Stenwold, passing through the streets of his home city, felt the doom of the place keenly, like a cloud hovering above him.
‘I’m starting to wonder about how this is going to go,’ he had told Balkus, and the big Ant only nodded.
In the hour before dawn a messenger had got through to the city. His name was Frezzo and he had been expected days before, but an Ant crossbowman had shot him down, and he had been resting within sight of the city walls, building up the strength to fly again. However he had insisted, with the honour of his guild at stake, on giving
