The Crippled God

you!’
    But something had caught her eye – she wheeled her mount round, stared towards the centre. ‘Jheckan’s fat cock! The Perish are pouring out of their trenches! Spax!’
    ‘I see them! Do you see Krughava?’
    Abrastal shook her head. ‘They’re too far away – listen, form a line to hold our inside flank, Warchief. If I was commanding that position and saw it uncontested, I’d do precisely what they’re doing right now – out and into our unprotected sides.’
    ‘They’ll see us’ – Spax was now at her side, a heavy axe in his hand, a spear in the other, his face half hidden by his ornate shell helm – ‘and wheel round to bite the Letherii flank – Brys has no reserves to guard against them.’
    ‘If they do that,’ Abrastal said in a snarl, ‘you know what to do, Spax.’
    ‘Climb up their hairy asses, yes. But—’
    ‘Just ready your warriors,’ she cut in, and then jabbed her spurs into her mount’s sides. ‘I’m going for a closer look!’
    ‘Not too close!’
    She pushed her horse into a canter, the beast’s armour cladding a weaponsmith’s clamour around her. When four bodyguards rode to join her she waved them back. She hated the fools. Worse than hens. But the one messenger who drew close she gestured forward.
    Beyond the Perish, the Letherii army had locked jaws with the first line of defenders, but they too were being savaged by the Kolansii onagers. She saw that the prince had deployed his own artillery, and the rate of fire from these heavy weapons was superior to the enemy’s. At least three positions were concentrating fire on the nearest fortlet, and the raised redoubt was studded with heavy quarrels. Foot archers and skirmishers had advanced under the cover of that counterfire and were now assaulting the position.
    The prince knew his business. But would it matter? Already the losses were appalling – and she knew her own Evertine soldiers were suffering the same behind her.
    And now, these Perish … a part of her wanted to sink her teeth into the throat of the Grey Helms. For all that betrayal and treachery thrived in the court games of the Bolkando kingdom, out here it was a far deadlier indulgence. Maybe this is teaching me a lesson. About backstabbing, lying and cheating to get your way .
    No, try as I might, I can’t swing it across. The palace is my world and I’ll run it the way I like .
    Hoofs thundering, she was fast closing on the Perish – the soldiers were smoothly forming up now that they’d cleared the fort, and she saw them wheeling to face her. ‘You want us first, do you? Spax will be so pleased!’
    But that wasn’t tactical – no, clearly they should have swung to face the Letherii. And as she drew yet closer, the front ranks beforeher made no effort to draw weapons. Can it be? Has Krughava won them over? Where is she? Where is Tanakalian? Errant’s nudge, who’s commanding this army?
    Abrastal waved up the messenger. ‘Stay close, until we’re within earshot, and then halt yourself. I will ride on. Listen well to this parley, soldier – the lives of thousands may well count on it, should I fail to win clear.’
    The young woman, selected for her riding ability, was pale beneath the rim of her helm, but she nodded.
    ‘Your eyes are better than mine – do you see a commander anywhere?’
    ‘Highness, there is one – with the grey face. He has been gesturing – sending out orders. There,’ and she pointed.
    ‘I see him. What’s with the face paint?’
    ‘He’s a cutter, Highness. A field medic.’
    Whatever . ‘No matter. Looks as if he’s the one wanting to talk – I don’t like this. What has happened to Krughava?’
    They slowed to a canter, and at the appropriate distance the messenger halted, whilst the queen trotted forward. She studied the cutter. An old man, at least in so far as these Grey Helms went. His face was well worn with tracks of sorrow and loss, and she saw nothing in that face to suggest that anything had changed in his outlook. Her unease deepened.
    The cutter raised a hand in greeting. ‘Highness, the Grey Helms welcome you. I am Syndecan, elected commander following the tragic deaths of the Mortal Sword and the Shield Anvil.’
    Abrastal felt her jaws clench. The words had struck like a blow to her chest. Leave it, woman. Now is not the time . ‘You are arrayed. State your intentions, Syndecan – as you can see, we’ve got us a fight here and I really cannot waste any more time while you