Dragonfly Falling

Thirty-Four

‘We’ve been seen,’ Tynisa said. The black shape in the sky had wheeled back past them and was now darting off.

‘Some time ago,’ Tisamon confirmed. ‘Fly-kinden, which tells us little because even the Empire uses them as scouts sometimes.’

They took refuge in a hollow that was carpeted with shoulder-high thorny bushes. Out here in the hill country east of Merro there was little enough cover.

‘Just a local, do you think?’

‘Any local would be keeping his head down, with an army on their doorstep,’ Tisamon remarked. Except, of course, that it wasn’t. By all reason and logic, the Wasp army that had sacked Tark should already have been all over Egel and Merro, and probably at the gates of Kes by now, but aside from those possible scouts, there was no sign of it.

Felyal had provided a boat, a little one-handed skiff that Tisamon had handled ably enough, with the air of a man for whom old skills came back easily. Mantis-kinden made swift boats, this one with such a broad sail and so little hull that Tynisa was constantly clutching at its mast for fear of the water. They had kept close to the coast, running easterly in good time, creeping past the lights of Kes one dark night and then beaching in a secluded bay, all the while looking for signs of the imperial advance.

From then on they had just been watching and waiting, but it was almost as if the Wasps had simply decided to head back north after taking Tark.

‘We couldn’t be behind their lines, could we?’ Tynisa asked.

‘If so, we’d know it. Wasp-owned land has a feel to it. And they’d be all over here, taking stock, taking slaves. No, they’re still ahead, and I can’t understand it.’

They rose from the hollow and soon put another two hills behind them. Lying flat on the crest of the second hill, Tisamon squinted into the distance.

‘Is. that looks like a camp. A big one.’

Tynisa joined him, spotting a dark blot on the horizon. The land was more wooded around here, patches of cypress and wild olives and locust trees that sketchily followed the lines of streams, with cicadas half the size of a man screaming like torn metal at irregular intervals. It seemed to Tynisa that the darkness Tisamon was pointing to could just be more of the same green, but he seemed convinced that it was an army.

‘And camped there, in broad daylight,’ he said. ‘And it’s just a field camp, a temporary pitch-up. No fortifications, nothing. The army’s just sitting there eating up its rations. So what is going on?’

‘The scout’s back,’ Tynisa noticed.

Tisamon risked a look upwards. They were both wearing green and earth tones, camouflaged against the dusty ground. So had he detected them again? Yes. The scout circled a moment and then seemed to be coming down.

Instantly, Tisamon’s claw was in his hand, but Tynisa murmured, ‘Wait.’

The Fly landed twenty yards away, glancing about cautiously. He was dressed outrageously, they saw, and certainly no imperial soldier.

‘Is that what they’re wearing in Merro these days?’ Tisamon wondered. The little man was approaching them nonchalantly, pretending that he was just meandering and had not seen them. As he passed by he let a paper drop from the hands clasped behind his back. He was actually whistling tunelessly as he stared out with apparent satisfaction across the hillside. Then he took a deep breath, exhaled it, and was in the air again, darting off eastwards.

‘What in blazes was that all about?’ Tisamon demanded, but Tynisa had plucked up the discarded message and was reading it curiously. It was elegantly written in a florid script, and seemed so familiar from her College days that she wanted to laugh.

‘It’s an invitation,’ she said. ‘Someone wants to speak with us. It says to come down to the big grove.’ She pointed. ‘They must mean that one way down there.’

Tisamon did not seem amused. ‘It’s a trap,’ he decided.

‘A long way to go for a trap.’

He shrugged. ‘Some people think like that.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘This is Spider-kinden work — the clothes, the details, I know it.’

‘I suppose we are a bit close to the border up here,’ Tynisa allowed. ‘Are we going to go down?’

‘We are — but with weapons drawn,’ he decided. ‘I don’t trust any of this.’

Approaching the grove they saw there was a sizeable body of people within it, and making no attempt to hide themselves. There was enough armour visible for them to see that none of it was in the Empire’s black and gold. They paused at the very edge of the trees, uncertain whether their stealthy approach had been observed or not.

‘Head west as fast as you can if this goes badly,’ Tisamon decided. ‘If it goes really badly, get yourself to Merro and send a messenger to Stenwold.’

‘Assuming Stenwold is in any position to receive one,’ Tynisa said, remembering the Vekken army.

Tisamon shrugged. ‘We must make that assumption.’ Then he stood up and walked forward openly, his claw folded along his arm. Rapier held loosely in her hand, Tynisa followed.

There was an instant stir amongst the guards on the perimeter, but they obviously knew to expect visitors. The Ant-kinden there drew a little closer at the sight of Tisamon, and the Spiders lounging beneath the sideless tent smirked a little, and murmured barbed comments to one another. But when Tisamon stood proudly before them, looking down his nose at them all, not one was willing to challenge him.

‘I believe someone wanted our company.’ Tisamon pitched his voice so as to carry to all of them. Tynisa looked about them, reading their stances, their faces. They were not expecting a fight, she noted. Not an ambush, then, or not immediately. She turned to see a richly dressed Spider-kinden stand up from amongst his fellows. He was a strikingly handsome man, neatly bearded and with a very white smile. Something about him sent a shiver through her, though, not one of attraction but of warning. If it was her Mantis blood that governed her battle instincts, now her Spider blood took over. This was a man to be reckoned with, she knew. He was Aristoi, therefore political through and through.

When he smiled at her, though, she liked him despite herself.

‘Won’t you come a little closer?’ he offered. ‘It would be crass of me to conduct my business at the top of my voice, but I’m loath to scald myself beneath this wretched sun.’

‘I do not fear you,’ Tisamon informed him, and stepped on until he was just outside the little pavilion. He left enough room around him for fighting unhampered, Tynisa noticed. The legendary Mantis dislike of the other man’s entire race was rigidly evident in every line of his body.

‘My scouts shall be disciplined,’ the Spider said. ‘They told me two Mantids, but I see only one, albeit as much a Mantis as one might wish to encounter, and one remarkable woman. Pray allow me, sweet lady, to have the honour of naming myself.’

He was expecting a response, but she did not know what to offer, and so she shrugged. He took that as satisfactory, and made a remarkably fluid and elegant bow while never quite taking his eyes off her. ‘I present myself as the Lord-Martial Teornis of the Aldanrael, and I offer you the solemn bond of my hospitality.’ He saw the twitch in Tisamon’s face and his smile turned rueful. ‘Ah well, I admit that in certain circles the Aristoi’s iron word bears a trace of rust, but you would accept wine, surely, if I offered it? And some refreshment. If you will not trust my open intent, you may rely on my love of indulging my own luxuries.’

Tynisa smiled at him despite herself. ‘I am Tynisa, and this is Tisamon of Felyal. I will drink and eat with you, Master Spider, on the condition that you do not ask my companion to.’

‘A lady of compromise,’ Teornis observed. ‘Delightful.’ With a gesture he caused a cloth to be laid out on the ground, with silk cushions strewn around, and a low table bearing an assortment of dishes, most of them not immediately familiar. The other Spider-kinden had moved back a little to make space, and were now sitting or lying, watching the two newcomers slyly.

Tynisa knelt at the table, knowing that Tisamon would stand there like a hostile statue until this ritual was done, or until something went wrong. She decided it would be best if she herself spoke for them.

‘This seems an unusual place, and time, for an Aristos of the Spider-kinden to ride out merely for pleasure,’ she remarked. A Fly servant put a goblet in her hand and she sipped, finding wine as rich and potent as any she had ever tasted.

Teornis settled down facing her across the table. His gaze on her was still admiring, though just as certainly she knew that it had been donned with as much care as his shirt or his boots. ‘Pleasure, my lady Tynisa? Why this is a military outing. Surely you won’t deny we make a fearsome spectacle?’

‘Military? To what end? Have the Spiderlands been invaded as well?’

‘Because my curiosity is raging, first please tell me how a Spider-kinden lady comes to be travelling with one of those who have, all unjustly, declared themselves our mortal enemies?’

Best not to put any further weapon in his hand. ‘We are simply old friends, Tisamon and I.’

‘You are rich in your choice of friends, obviously,’ Teornis remarked. His fingers hovered over the spread of food, and he plucked at a mound of candied somethings. ‘Tisamon of Felyal, you say. Is it Felyal you have now come from? I have an ulterior motive in asking, as you see. I seek someone to carry word for me. I fear Felyal would be of little use, since none there would credit a word I have to say.’

‘Surely you have followers enough to bear a message, Lord-Martial?’

At the sound of his title, no expression crossed his face, no pride at her using it. ‘Alas, I am caught in my own nets. These are wicked times, and when word comes from the Spiderlands, who will accept it at face value? Hence I hoped to convince you of my pure heart and true motives, and send you back to your home or your employer with my news, and hopefully your own words to plead my suit for me.’

‘Well then,’ she said. ‘I am come here from Collegium, my home.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Far abroad indeed, and shame on me, I should have marked the accent. I now see how you must have overcome the age-old hatred of my kin to allow this man into your confidence. Collegium? My lady Tynisa, perhaps you may be of use to me, if you would?’

He is very carefully stopping himself from calling Tisamon my servant or slave, or my possession in any way. It had been a long time since she had sat and sparred like this, weighing every word spoken, but the skills came back to her, as much part of her as the lunge of a sword.

While she considered, Tisamon interrupted shortly, ‘What do you want of us?’ His tone made it painfully clear that his trust was far from won.

‘I cannot believe that you’re travelling in these parts and have not heard of the Wasp Empire’s recent actions,’ Teornis explained. Noting their reactions he nodded. ‘More than merely heard, I see. Well then, if you were, in a moment of childish enthusiasm, to climb to the top of the tallest tree in this grove, you would see from there some thirty thousand Wasp-kinden soldiers and their followers, who have been camped for some time, and whose destination is Merro and Egel first, Kes second, and one imagines the world, from then on, in any order they please.’

‘What keeps them there?’ Tisamon growled.

‘You are a Mantis, and therefore a fighting man,’ Teornis observed. ‘Yet I claim a glorious piece of military history for my own kinden, since I have stood their thirty thousand off in open country with just two hundred men — and I still do.’

That breached Tisamon’s reserve, and for a moment he forgot that he was talking to an enemy, a hated deceiver. ‘It can’t be done.’

‘All the same, I have done it. If my kind were remotely impressed by such entertainments I would be taught in the academies. My problem now is simply that I cannot go on doing it for ever. They are currently waiting, I am informed, for word from their leaders. My people are meanwhile doing their best to make sure that word is slow in coming, but come it will, and then they will move.’

‘And you and yours will be swept away like chaff,’ Tisamon finished, sounding unnecessarily satisfied at the prospect.

‘All things are possible,’ Teornis allowed. ‘Have you means of returning to Collegium, my lady Tynisa? Because if you would sail today and inform them of the events transpiring here, I would count myself in your debt.’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ Tynisa could not have said just what had convinced her, and this could be another elaborate charade, but something had struck true. ‘You’re sitting here feasting on candied nuts and pickled scorpions, even though one day soon they’ll come over that hill. And you need help.’

‘The mysterious Spiderlands, the subtle Spiders,’ he said. ‘Not so mysterious nor subtle that when a vast army of mechanically inclined savages pitches up almost at our borders we do not sweat a little. There is a sizeable force gathering even now at Seldis, soldiers and sailors both. If the Wasps head west, though, I cannot say that they will do anything but still gather there. But if you were to get word to Collegium. ’

‘You are apparently short on news, Lord-Martial,’ Tynisa interrupted. ‘By now Collegium is certainly under siege.’

She had him. For the slightest moment his mask dropped and he looked genuinely and utterly surprised. ‘The Wasps?’

‘The Vekken, but the Wasps have put them up to it. Collegium is therefore in no position to answer your call, Lord-Martial.’

‘Ah well.’ His composure was intact again. ‘I will have to think of something else, that’s all. Life is a bouquet of surprises.’

‘I have thought of something,’ Tynisa said. The idea had unfurled full-grown in her mind without her ever guessing that it was cocooned there. ‘But I must consult with Tisamon first. Then I may just have a thought for you to mull over, Lord-Martial.’

The field lying east of Sarn was a mass of well-ordered soldiers and machines, as the might of the Ant-kinden prepared for battle. Walking out through the gates, with Achaeos and Sperra close behind, the sight stopped Che in her tracks. She had never seen such a vast assembly of fighting men and women, and every one of them preparing calmly, no orders, no confusion. They queued for their rations and to have their blades sharpened. They handed quivers full of crossbow bolts down the line, and assembled themselves into square formations of hundreds of soldiers apiece. These were soldiers with dark helms and chainmail hauberks and long rectangular shields, with short stabbing swords and light crossbows. Amongst these greater blocks moved smaller squads of specialists: nailbowmen, heavily armoured sentinels, fast-moving scouts with big sniping crossbows, grenadiers and artificers with powder-charged piercer and waster bows. Spanning all ages from sixteen to fifty, both men and women, in the clear morning light they all looked alike, all of them ready to march without question against an enemy they had never seen.

Like fortified towns in this carpet of soldiers were the automotives. The Sarnesh battle-automotives were huge slab-sided things, frames of iron and heavy wood riveted over with armour plates and with only the bare minimum of windows for the crew to see from. The poor view mattered little because the soldiers outside would be able to mentally give them a picture of the battlefield. Even now artificers were crawling over them, making last-minute repairs and adjustments, tightening the clawed belts of their tracks, directing swaying crane rigs in order to lower parts into place. Each automotive had a swivelling tower positioned on its back, though these were currently being swapped with others fresh from the Sarnesh workshops.

Che went over to the nearest machine, even as the new tower found its resting place. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

The artificer supervising did not look back at her. ‘Your Wasps — they fly, we understand,’ he said, watching carefully as his apprentices bolted the new tower into place. ‘Well we have a surprise for them. All our automotives have been fitted with forward repeaters, and the new towers house twin nailbows in place of the ballista. They’ll soon learn they can’t just steal the skies from us when we begin to rake them with these.’

‘That’s. good thinking,’ said Che, a little numbly. The newly fitted tower turned first one way and then the other at the cranking of the men within, its nailbows gleaming with oil.

‘Look.’ Achaeos was pointing to another unit of soldiers marching past. Che couldn’t see what he meant until he added, ‘The two ranks.’ The Ant infantry had been formed of alternating ranks: shieldmen and crossbowmen. There would be a lot of eyes on the sky when the battle came, and what one Ant saw, they all saw.

There were other automotives approaching now, huge many-legged vehicles with open backs that soldiers 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.

So much technology, she thought, and it gave her some small pride to know that it was Sarn’s alliance with Collegium that had made it the best-equipped Ant city-state in the Lowlands.

‘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.

What has happened? ‘I’m here! What’s the matter?’

‘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.’