‘They’re holding position beyond artillery range.’
The Menin Army had split into three groups to surround the city, each digging defensive encampments to ward off Narkang sorties. Worryingly, one of the armies was composed mainly of Chetse legions, which suggested the invasion force had increased in size since crossing the Waste.
‘Daily runs?’ Aladorn said, cocking his head at Beyn. ‘He waits for the weather to clear and takes out the next - before long his troops have a free run at the walls, eh?’
‘It gives us time to repair,’ Beyn pointed out. ‘The sky looks ugly now, might take days to clear, and the man’s in a hurry — sooner he takes Aroth, the less time he gives the king to prepare.’
Aladorn shook his head. ‘Only a fool would plan it so - to try and win the war at a stroke is to forget to win the battle. Let them try to take the city in a day; I would welcome it!’ The old man had a defiant look in his eyes, as though daring Beyn to argue.
The King’s Man looked away, realising he wasn’t going to win any arguments here. Before the silence could stretch out further the first fat raindrops began to fall on the flat tarred roof of the guardroom. Etharain raised an eyebrow as the rain increased rapidly in the next few moments and a rumble of thunder echoed from the heavens. In less than a minute the rain had developed into a deluge.
‘The mages know their work,’ he commented. The suzerain was a fit-looking man of forty-odd winters. His father had been a trusted captain of General Aladorn’s during the conquest of the Three Cities and he had made sure his son knew how to use the sword he carried, but like so many of Narkang’s soldiers he’d never been tested in battle. ‘Gods, look at it out there. The ground’ll be hard going for anyone marching on our walls.’
‘Don’t rejoice yet,’ Beyn said, looking out. The suzerain was right, the mages had done well and a furious rainstorm now battered the city. ‘It cuts our visibility, makes life tough for our artillery - Karkarn’s iron balls, I reckon they’ve overshot this time!’
Deafening peals of thunder crashed out across the plain. A great gust of wind flung a curtain of rain across their view, briefly obscuring everything apart from the dull yellow of the Tollkeeper’s Arch ahead. The wind continued to strengthen, becoming a great fist of rain sweeping across the Land. Beyn could just make out the inelegant shapes of the artillery barges, lurching on the lakes.
‘Hastars?’ General Aladorn snapped, turning to glare at the mage behind him. ‘Order them to desist!’
The mage blanched at Aladorn’s wrinkled face, despite the fact he was more than a foot taller than the general, bigger even than Beyn. ‘This is not the work of the coterie,’ Hastars yelped in protest. ‘They broke off before he returned!’ he added, pointing at Beyn.
‘This isn’t natural,’ Beyn said, advancing towards the mage. ‘Look at it.’
Hastars closed his eyes, mouthing a few words then pausing, as though listening to a voice inside his head. The man was modestly gifted, but he was knowledgeable, and able at least to communicate from afar with the two dozen others sitting with linked hands in a nearby warehouse. There were only two battle-mages, but this coterie in unison would most likely serve a more useful purpose against the Menin’s overwhelming strength anyway.
Hastars gasped and staggered back, hands clutching his head. A grizzled marshal grabbed him before he fell, but Hastars still looked dazed when he opened his eyes. ‘Gods preserve us!’ he moaned, ‘the storm is being fuelled — The Menin, they are pouring energies into the sky!’
The mage sank to his knees, gulping down air. ‘Such power, such power! I barely reached out and . . .’ he tailed off, shaking uncontrollably.
Beyn scowled as the rest of the room fluttered round the mage, returning to the view with a growing sense of trepidation. Outside the weather was worsening, grey trails dancing and whirling through the air with increasing fury. Two bursts of thunder boomed out in quick succession, then another as a lance of lightning flashed down to strike the Tollkeeper’s Arch.
Oh Gods.
On the surface of the lake something rose up from the water. Though they were indistinct, the grey-blue shapes were far from human. Beyn felt his guts turn ice-cold as the figures reached up to the heavens and began to grow, drifting