Scar Night Page 0,160
shaman, and disappeared. “A unit of Spine has landed on the roof,” Bataba said. “They tried to get in through the rear stairwell. They have been repelled.”
A frantic tapping sound came from somewhere behind, then a shout: “Bolts!”
Steel barbs rattled against the forward grille like sheeting hail. Further explosions shook the bridge as the warships renewed their bombardment.
Boom, crackle, fizz.
Smoke blotted the view of the Deadsands completely. Tongues of flame licked the scorched glass. The heat grew intolerable. Devon kept the throttle hard forward, squeezing every ounce of power from the Tooth’s labouring engines.
Bataba was on his knees, gasping. “We’re burning.”
“The tar they dropped on our hull is burning,” Devon replied. “It will burn itself out soon.”
But the shaman had a fevered look in his eye. “We have to turn back,” he cried. “Try another path.”
“No,” Devon said. “We’re not stopping. We’re almost through.”
“Turn back!”
“Control yourself. Look!”
Through a break in the smoke they saw Deepgate’s army marching. A forest of spears. Armour and shields flowed towards them like a tide of molten metal. The blackened bones of mangonels and scorpions stood out against the fire-lit smog behind. Even now, siege engineers were igniting the payloads on the mangonels, winding tension into the great bows of the scorpions. Closer, riders surged in from the flanks and loosed crossbow bolts that pinged and shattered against the window grille.
And then they were out of the fire, and into cool, dark sand. Drums began to beat a low, steady rhythm.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
A bugle piped. The scorpions unleashed their spines. Iron-tipped shafts smashed against the hull a heartbeat later. Devon felt the throttle shudder in his grip.
“Runner!” Bataba yelled.
“Dawnside breach,” came the frantic reply. “The hatch is off.”
“Fix it!”
“Don’t touch those shafts,” Devon shouted above the din. “If they aren’t on fire, they’re saturated with poison.”
The shaman shouted the order but a second barrage from the scorpions drowned out any acknowledgement. Drums pounded; deeper, faster.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The tar on the hull had almost burned away. Through the charred glass Devon saw a boiling sea of armour, of spiked and visored helms, glittering swords and shields. Spears rippled as far as the horizon. Banners of black and gold snapped in the wind. Warships lit the sky with frenzied flashes of aether-light.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
At another cry from the bugle, a battery of mangonel arms came up with a thunk. Burning barrels and huge clay pots arced upwards, trailing smoke and tails of flame. A sound like a sigh filled the air. From the corner of his eye Devon saw Bataba back away.
“Grab hold of something,” he warned.
He didn’t turn to see if the shaman obeyed. Suddenly pitch and phosphor exploded ahead of them and bleached the forward windows. The bridge shuddered.
Devon felt the engines skip a beat. He eased the throttle, then pushed forward hard. Bataba shot him a stern glance. Devon returned it warily. The Tooth juddered and lurched, then resumed its steady, rumbling progress. But something was wrong: the engine sound was coarser now, stuttering.
Teams of engineers were using hoists to reload the scorpions and mangonels, ratcheting the range adjusters, igniting heavy drums with dripping torches. A thousand silhouetted figures crowded the ridge before the city, black against the burning horizon. Behind the marching infantry, strings of bowmen dipped arrows into trenches of flaming pitch, raised them high, and loosed them. Countless yellow arcs cut through the sky and fell, whining, before exploding against the Tooth’s hull.
The engines stuttered again, seemed to pause, then lurched back to something less than full power.
“What’s wrong?” Bataba demanded.
“The engine is overheating.”
“Can you fix it?”
“No time.”
Crackle. The scorpions discharged their spines once more, and moments later the heavy shafts pummelled the huge machine.Crack, crack, crack . Devon flinched at the successive impacts. Panicked shouting came from the corridors behind, then screams of agony. The Heshette had found and touched the poisoned, serrated spines.
“I told you to keep them away from those things,” Devon growled.
“They’ve breached through to the inner walls. The corridors are blocked!”
“Then cover them before you try to remove them!”
Ssssssss.
A second volley of flaming arrows swept up, arced, and fell like a shower of stars. Then the archers withdrew and broke aside to the east and west. Hundreds more infantry poured forward from behind. They were pushing siege-towers. To the sides, heavy cavalry raced to join the advance cavalry. A barrage of crossbow bolts lanced up from both units. Devon could hear the infantry now, the crunch of armoured boots, the rumble of massive siege-tower wheels.
“We’re now