Cold Steel (Spiritwalker 3)

“Can your fire magic not vanquish this cold fog, James? I’m surprised to hear it.”

“I can do anything! But it’s not worth risking fire mages so close to the lines. The sun will disperse it in time.”

A smile teased Camjiata’s lips, as if Drake’s sullen defensiveness amused him, but I was sure I was the only one who noticed it. “Tell Marshal Aualos to order the artillery to begin a barrage into the mist. That will soften them and perhaps hasten the mist’s dispersal as well.”

Messengers came and went, one after the next. Sometimes they had to wait while Camjiata read dispatches and wrote replies for men ahead of them. Everything took so long as soldiers trudged into position and artillery was drawn in by horses. An hour passed, then another.

The battlefront expanded into the east, masses of men hidden by distance but also because the mist continued to hang low, not burning off even as the sun rose higher.

Finally the artillery began to fire in thundering blasts of sound. Smoke rose. I heard thumps, distant cries, the screams of horses. How must it feel to stand as death fell unseen out of the sky? How I hated this waiting! I was confident that Bee remained fairly safe in Lutetia, but where was Vai? How vulnerable was he?

Canyons of light appeared as cracks in the mist. Figures appeared and vanished like dreams of ghosts. With a rumble of hooves a troop of Coalition cavalry swept out of its misty concealment. Rifle fire from the Iberian line cracked as the infantry formed into squares to face the charge, but the horses did not crash into the square; instead, as the cavalry circled, all the rifles went silent. Out of this chaos of stillness and motion, crossbow bolts and longbow arrows flew with killing precision into the Iberian ranks. In the midst of the cavalry, despite the distance between us, I recognized Vai. I knew he would go with the first wave, put himself at risk in case the attack did not work.

Yet it did work. The desperate Iberians broke ranks to charge with their bayonets. As soon as the square’s tight formation began to disintegrate, a second cavalry charge swept out of the shredding mist and smashed right into the Iberian infantry. The lines boiled into a mass of confusion.

“A new variation on an old tactic,” remarked Camjiata to his staff. They were sweating. He was not. “Effective not just because the cold magic kills our rifles and cannon but particularly because their archers are superior to ours and naturally they have many more of them. James, if you place one fire mage in each square, can that mage then throw the backlash of their fire into the cold mages who are riding with the cavalry? Wouldn’t that kill the cold mage’s magic and leave the rifles free to fire?”

Drake brushed strands of red hair out of his eyes. The touch of his calfskin gloves left a smear of soot on his brow, but I did not mention it, for I did not like the way he looked at me. “Yes, it would, and it leaves the cold mages defenseless besides, for as long as they are acting as catch-fires, they are helpless. The best part is that the more powerful the cold mage, the more fire he can absorb and thus the more fire the fire mage can call. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Yet what can we most advantageously set on fire?” Camjiata mused. “The Coalition has many more cold mages than we do fire mages. Let your people set grass fires up the hill to keep the cold mages busy putting them out. I know you have been making some experiments with lending fire to artillery and rifles whose combustion has been killed by cold magic.”

“All of this my mages can do,” said Drake, but he seemed distracted as he scanned the field with a spyglass. Several of his wife’s soldiers always stood between him and me.

The last of the mist spun away to reveal the Coalition army deployed on the higher ground, rank upon rank of infantry. Smoke rose in billows everywhere. I could just barely make out the dark line of Lutetia’s walls in the distance. Thank Tanit the city was, for now, out of artillery range.

A staff officer had left several open bottles of wine on one of the tree stumps. I took a swallow straight from the bottle as I considered whether I should abandon Camjiata. I knew the general had to win, yet I was so afraid of what the fire mages might do. But what could I possibly do to safeguard Vai now that the battle had started? The cavalry company he had ridden down with had returned to the Coalition lines, and no doubt he had gone with them. I would never find him among the thousands and thousands of soldiers struggling in noise and smoke and blood.

Rory was pacing back and forth along the length of one of the fallen pines like a caged lion at the prowl. A crow sat on a branch, watching him. I hurried over and chased it off. He offered me an uncorked bottle from which he had been drinking.

I took a swig of a harsh sack, winced, and handed the bottle back to him. “This is awful.”

Had he been in cat shape, his ears would have been flattened to his head. “This is awful! This isn’t hunting. You creatures ought to settle your arguments in a better way. Couldn’t one general challenge another for the right to stand with the pride? Who can possibly eat all that torn meat? If it were even tasty, which man-flesh is decidedly not!”

“How do you know what man-flesh tastes like?”

He stiffened, and for an instant I was sure he was going to snarl at me.

“Rory! Answer me!”

He took a step toward me, so threatening I raised my cane. Catching himself, he took a step back, but by the way his lips gapped to show a hint of teeth, I could see he was on the edge of biting or perhaps of telling me the truth. And I was suddenly very sure that I did not want to know the answer after all.

Artillery fire boomed over us. I ducked instinctively. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“There! Look!” a staff officer shouted to be heard above the deafening rattle and shot.

I ran back to the command group just in time to see yet another cavalry charge from out of the Coalition lines. Smoke rose from the guns in billows. The churn of ground between the two armies was speckled with fallen men, injured horses, and the detritus of lost weaponry. This time, as Coalition cavalry closed with the Iberians, fire broke out in the trampled grass around them. One rider in the middle ranks collapsed as if shot. A second rider toppled from his horse. As more men fell and horses tumbled, the cavalry sheared off and raced back toward their lines. A storm of bullets rained after their retreating backs.

The fire mages had gotten their range.

Yet even in the face of these devastating casualties, still another Coalition troop galloped down toward the artillery. Riders and horses fell before the barrage, but this time where fire broke out it was quenched. The artillery went dead. With shouts, the Coalition troops closed. Grass fires sparked up and died. Men fought hand to hand, swords and bayonets flashing.

A young officer wearing the white sash of the Kena’ani Sacred Band rode up on a lathered horse, pushing in front of another messenger. “General! Captain Barca sends his compliments and this message: The first outriders of the Roman column have been engaged about five miles south.”

Camjiata glanced overhead to where the sun had almost reached the zenith. “We should have broken the Coalition army before now. Drake, why have your fire mages not crushed every cold mage on the field? You assured me that fire would easily defeat ice.”

“There are so many cold mages, and they’re working in concert in a way they did not before, not even at Lemovis.”

“No doubt they can learn from experience as well as we can,” remarked Camjiata as he took a spyglass from an orderly. “Matters grow urgent. Lord Marius need only hold his ground and not retreat until the Romans arrive, and then we will be crushed between anvil and hammer. Our frontal attacks are hurting them, but not fast enough.”