Blood and Iron (6 page)

All the while the water was carrying out its work, the robots were busy on the peak of their mountain, carving it flat to give a circle half a mile across. On this they had used dressed and jointed stone to build walls and forges, keeps and houses. The north side they had left for their final glory: a huge window, five stories high, formed of three arches, empty of glass but looking north across the lands of Shull to the Top of the World.

Now the citadel stood as a gateway to the north, and Spoole and his Generals had commandeered it to await the arrival of Kavan. The Supreme Commander of Artemis stood on the roof of Shull, waiting for its most favoured soldier.

Except, of course, that wasn’t quite true either. In any respect.

He heard movement behind him and turned to see General Sandale approaching. For a ridiculous moment, Spoole imagined the General rushing forward and pushing him backwards, sending him tumbling back out of the open window to be smashed on the rocks far below. But, no, General Sandale merely raised a hand in greeting.

‘Forban has Kavan,’ he said.

‘Good,’ replied Spoole. ‘Good.’

General Sandale remained where he was, gazing at Spoole. His body was polished to a shine, a contrast to Spoole’s matt-iron body. It wasn’t that Spoole wasn’t made of the very best materials; it was just that he didn’t advertise it. The leaders of Artemis never had done in the past. When did that thinking change?

Still the General waited.

‘Yes, General Sandale?’

‘Nothing, Spoole.’

The General joined Spoole by the open window. Again, Spoole had the ridiculous idea that the General would push him out. As if the General would stand a chance. Spoole had fought battles in the past. The General was one of the newer leaders, rarely having left the command post, seldom having felt the surge of current as he rushed into battle, suffered the blistering feedback as an awl pierced electromuscle. But then, at least he had fought, unlike some of the other leaders.

‘So, Spoole. We were wondering. What is it you will do with Kavan?’

‘Recognize his achievements, of course.’

‘And stop him attacking you. He would have marched upon Artemis City if you had let him. He would have replaced you as leader.’

‘He would have replaced us all, Sandale.’

‘Perhaps—’

‘Don’t question me, Sandale,’ said Spoole mildly, but there was current there. Enough to make Sandale pause. Suddenly, his shiny,

unscratched body seemed so ineffectual compared to the workaday iron of Spoole’s.

‘Perhaps you have work to attend to?’ suggested Spoole, and after a moment, Sandale turned and left to join the other Generals, leaving Spoole alone on the wide balcony. He leaned on the stone balustrade, looking out once more across the vast landscape of Northern Shull.

The central mountain range ran east–west across the continent of Shull, effectively cutting it in two, separating north from south. That was until Kavan had blasted a path through the mountains with atomic bombs. The northern end of that path could be seen to Spoole’s left, a wide cleft in the mountains through which silver railway lines ran, branching across the green plains of Northern Shull before burying themselves in the low rounded hills that rose up to the north. Kavan was out there somewhere, hidden in the twists and turns of those hills, being escorted back here by Forban and his troops.

Standing in this place, it was easy for Spoole to feel invincible, but only a fool felt so. The robots who had built this citadel must have felt the same once, but they were long gone, vanished from this place before even Kavan and his troops had come here.

Spoole didn’t care. He was waiting for Kavan.

Kavan

Kavan and Calor, Forban and his Storm Troopers, Gentian and her infantryrobots, plus all the various Scouts and other soldiers who had joined their growing band, marched south.

The Northern Road was old and unmaintained, but it had been well built and the troops made good progress over its still mainly smooth surface. The road wove its way through the hills like an animal; only occasionally did it slip and fall. Kavan and the rest of the robots walked through yet another river, the bubbling water cold on their electromuscle, the broken body of the road strung out above them on the hillside. The earth must have shifted over the years, exposing the road’s interior, the paved surface, the gravel beneath it, then the larger stones, then the rocks. All the strata reminded Kavan of the body of a whale he had once seen taken apart, back in Wien.

Still the robots marched on, and the band grew larger as robots drained from the surrounding hills to join the procession.

The countryside was changing. Ahead of them, when they rose to the level of the surrounding moors, the robots could make out the snowy peaks of the central mountain range. The character of the Northern Road changed too, the shape of the stones that paved the surface altering, becoming a little smaller and more rounded. The hills were lower, the valleys wider.

Calor ran up from behind Kavan. Her body was developing a slight squeak, she needed oil and grease. They all did. Still, she wasn’t complaining. Kavan appreciated that.

‘Someone is waiting for us up ahead,’ she said. ‘Someone important.’

‘What is the land like there?’ asked Kavan.

‘Quarries. The valley has been widened as robots have dug into the hills. There are sheer walls standing to the east and west.’

‘A good place for an ambush.’

‘Possibly.’

The road wove between the hills before disgorging the growing band into a wide valley. The walls that surrounded them were old and weathered, the quarry works long since abandoned. A few old tumbledown houses stood by the river on the valley floor next to a broken-down forge. Grass and moss had poured down from the hills, leaping from the sheer planes of the quarry walls, like streams in a waterfall to cover the grey stone of the buildings. Some of the robots escorting Kavan broke off from the main party and went sifting through the piles of discarded stones by the buildings, in a hopeful search for metal to repair themselves with.

Gravel roads ran down the hillsides in all directions, leading from the exhausted quarries that surrounded them.

A company of Storm Troopers were waiting for them up ahead, their black bodies sleek and well built, a contrast to the derelict background. At its head was a robot dressed in iron and bronze, silver and platinum and gold.

‘General Mickael,’ said Forban, and the relief in his voice was obvious. Kavan was no longer his problem.

General Mickael walked forward to meet them, the surrounding troops opening up, leaving Kavan and Forban and the General alone in the centre of a circle of metal.

‘General,’ said Forban. ‘I present to you Kavan. I have escorted him this far. What would you have me do now?’

‘General,’ said Kavan. ‘Have your men fall in and join my army. We march south, on Artemis City.’

General Mickael looked from one robot to the other, his blue eyes glowing. Then he laughed coldly.

‘Your army, Kavan?’ he said. ‘You dare to give me orders? Damn your cheek!’

‘You’re discredited, General,’ said Kavan. ‘I marched across this continent with you and the rest of your kind nowhere to be seen.’ He raised his voice. ‘Now that Shull is conquered you emerge from your city to claim the spoils, walking across the backs and broken metal of the soldiers who fell during the fighting. Soldiers who believed in the cause of Artemis. What did you believe in, hiding back there in the city? Nothing more than cladding yourself in the best metal.’

And he reached out with one hand and scraped a finger across the General’s chest, tearing and smudging the gold filigree. The General recoiled.

‘Silence him!’ he shouted, rubbing at the damage on his own chest. ‘You, remove his voicebox.’

‘His name is Forban,’ said Kavan. ‘I always know the names of the soldiers that I fight alongside. How about you? How many of the soldiers here could you name?’

‘Be quiet, Kavan,’ said Forban urgently. ‘I’m still loyal to Artemis. I don’t want to have to remove your voice.’

‘I don’t think that these soldiers would let you.’

Forban looked around the wall of metal that surrounded them. Red and yellow and green eyes glowed. Silver and grey and black bodies were still for the moment, but the hum of charging electromuscle was rising. Forban shifted slightly.

‘You are still outnumbered, Kavan,’ he said. ‘There are still more Storm Troopers than anyone else. General Mickael’s troops are clean and tuned, not like the rest of us. Listen, Kavan. I bear you no ill will, but times have changed. They mean to make you a hero. Let us take you to Spoole. You will come to no harm.’

He looked at Mickael for confirmation, but the General pretended not to hear any of this.

Kavan spoke quietly. ‘That’s what you don’t understand, Forban. Whether I come to harm or not is of no concern to me. It does not concern a true Artemisian.’

Kavan and Calor, Forban and his Storm Troopers, Gentian and her infantryrobots, General Mickael and his Storm Troopers, all of the Army of Uncertain Allegiance, marched south.

Kavan’s army – or maybe it was General Mickael’s army – was growing as the hills sunk down beneath the land and the peaks of the central mountain range rose up before them.

There were now two thousand soldiers marching south down the Northern Road. They spilled over the verges, black Storm Troopers tramping down the borders, smashing trees, crushing stone. Silver Scouts ran in flashing patterns around them, grey infantryrobots plodded across the land, tearing holes and ruts in the mud and grass, all making their way back towards Spoole and his Generals, come to meet the conquering hero.

They had left the uncharted lands of the far north and were back amongst the signs of Artemisian expansion. Railway lines threaded north, trains could be seen in the distance carrying metal and plate and wire and coal.

Still they marched, and around them new forges were springing up, new buildings and barracks and warehouses, dropped amongst the stone castles and buildings that had been constructed by the former rulers of this land. The robots who worked in the new buildings came out to watch the passing band. Some of them waving and cheering, some merely standing in silence, eyes glowing as the procession marched by.

Kavan found himself marching in the centre of growing space. No one seemed to want to come too close to him. No one but Forban and Calor.

‘No one knows which way this will go,’ said Forban. ‘They want to be on the winning side.’

‘What about you, Forban?’ asked Kavan. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want what’s best for Artemis,’ said the Black Storm Trooper, miserably.

Calor joined them.

‘The land seems to be drained of soldiers,’ she said. ‘All the troops that should be out here have vanished.’

‘Spoole will have ordered them to withdraw,’ said Kavan. ‘He will have them grouped safely around himself.’

He looked up at the mountains ahead. They seemed to fill the sky.

‘Not long now,’ he said.

And so the Army of Uncertain Allegiance left the hills of the north and approached the mountains of the central range, where they saw arrayed against them the armies of Spoole and Artemis City.

Row upon row of black Storm Troopers, thousands upon thousands of grey infantry robots. The high peaks shone with the glimmering array of Scouts. All new and unscratched, freshly minted by the Artemisian forges, and untouched by the glamour of Kavan. These soldiers had not marched with him. They had not fought alongside him, and they bore him no loyalty.

The troops of the Uncertain Army gradually halted, stopping in ones and twos, looking to their companions for a lead. Only Kavan and Calor and Forban continued forward.

‘It’s over, Kavan,’ said Forban.

Kavan continued to walk. Calor and Forban followed hesitantly.

Spoole had chosen a good place to meet the Uncertain Army. They stood on a rocky plain between the hills and the mountains. The only way south was between the arms of the mountains, into the valley that Kavan himself had blasted all those months ago.

‘Enough of this!’

The voice came from behind. General Mickael, who had kept well clear of Kavan since they had met, was coming forward.

‘Why are we hesitating?’ he called, blue eyes flashing. ‘Move out, now.’

Forban and Calor looked at Kavan. All eyes were on Kavan.

‘I said move out!’

Kavan ignored him. He waited a moment, thinking, and then turned to face Spoole’s troops.

‘Soldiers of Artemis,’ he called. He waited, waited for their attention. Then he raised his hand, pointed forward.

‘There is your enemy,’ he said. ‘There, arrayed before you in polished metal.’

He waited for his words to sink in.

‘And so it is time. Take up your weapons, and charge.’

He barely raised his voice, but the words rippled outwards from where he stood. Infantryrobots lifted their rifles. Storm Troopers turned in warning, told them to lower their arms. But not all of them. Scouts began to dance at the perimeter. A wave was set up. Robots pushing this way and that, but with no overall direction.