The Place of Dead Kings (49 page)

Cormac stalled and stared up the hill. The Mar warriors also slowed their pace, their mouths hanging open and their eyes white with fear.

‘Keep going!’ Jack shouted. ‘The Great Shee will protect us!’

Cormac took a huge breath and bawled out the words in Gaalic. He shook his spear at the enemy ranged somewhere above. Then he charged on up the hill, the other Mar following.

Jack scrambled to keep up. Cormac was already ten feet ahead of him and other warriors were slipping past him to either side.

A dense crackling erupted further up the scarp. Jack spotted dabs of flame blinking through the trees.

Muskets.

The Cattans had muskets.

Bullets shredded twigs, slashed branches, slapped into tree trunks. The ground ahead of him rippled and kicked up leaves and specks of dirt. Flakes of ash spun and whirled as balls whipped past them. A warrior near Jack gave a choking cry and fell. Another doubled over as he caught a bullet in his stomach.

The muskets spluttered again and hailed more balls down into the woods.

Jack struggled on. He had to get up the slope, get in amongst the Cattans. He would kill them, as many as he could, because now it didn’t matter if he died, only that he got to the top of this scarp and took as many of the enemy with him as he could.

He heard chimes of steel, shouts, screams, groans. And then he was running out of the trees and up the final approach to the summit. Many of the Mar were already there and battering into a line of Cattans. Men wrestled, swung swords, and lunged with spears or knives. Jack could barely tell which side was which – only the occasional flash of a white skull on a tunic gave him any indication.

A Mar warrior, with blood covering his face, staggered towards him, then fell to the ground. A Cattan lay nearby, grasping at the air and moaning.

Jack paused to gauge the situation. The Cattans had dropped their muskets and now fought with swords and axes. The Mar had only their spears and knives, but they outnumbered the Cattans by two to one. Now that Jack’s men had reached the summit they could win this battle.

He heard a roar nearby and spun round in time to see a Cattan swinging a giant axe at him. He ducked and the blade whistled past just above his head. In a fluid movement, he drew the pistol, cocked it and fired, all before the Cattan had regained his balance. The bullet smacked into the Cattan’s stomach and a stripe of blood sprayed Jack. The Cattan grunted and gazed at the wound. Then he looked back at Jack and stumbled forward again, his face twisted with rage.

Jack cocked the hammer, the cylinder spinning, and fired again. Flame and smoke jetted from the pistol and the Cattan’s chest spat blood. The man staggered backwards, then lurched forward again and collapsed on Jack.

Jack fell back with the man on top of him. He could smell the Cattan’s dank hair and the wet-sheep stench of his cloak. The Cattan gargled, coughed blood into Jack’s face, tried to rise, couldn’t and finally lay still.

Jack heaved the man aside and scrambled back to his feet.

Cormac ran up to him. ‘Hurt?’

Jack shook his head. ‘I’m all right.’

Swiping the blood from his face, he looked around. The battle was over. About a hundred Mar and Cattans lay on the ground, some squirming in pain, others still. But the remaining Cattans were fleeing into the mist.

How many Mar were left? From a quick look, he thought at least two hundred stood panting on the summit. Not many, but it would have to do.

Several warriors were giving high-pitched cries and pointing down the other side of the hill. It was only now that Jack took a moment to take in the scene. Below him, a gentle slope slid down into the murk. The rest of the valley beyond was clotted with mist, but in the centre, the dark bulk of the castle rose from the hill. In the fog, the building was hallucinatory, the towers and chimneys wavering and uncertain, the shining ash wheeling about it.

An orange flash lit up one side of the castle for a moment. A boom shuddered across the valley. Two further flashes followed in rapid succession. Each glow was blurred by the mist, as if the explosions were underwater.

The battle for the castle’s main gate was continuing. Somewhere on the far side of the hill, Rao, Domnall and the others were attacking.

Jack found himself whispering a prayer for them.

A few of the Mar were trying to tend to their wounded comrades. But Jack knew there was no time to waste. The fallen would have to fend for themselves until the battle was over.

He wrenched out the scimitar and shouted, ‘To the castle!’

He sprinted down the slope, smashing through thistles and leaping over clumps of gorse, holding the blade above his head as he’d seen Jhala do so many times. That was the way to lead a company. From the front. Scimitar in hand.

The Mar roared and followed him. He heard the beat of their feet on the ground and the wild cheering from their lips. Soon they’d caught up to him and a few began to inch ahead.

The scaling parties rushed out in front, bearing the long, roughly made ladders beside them. If they got just one ladder up and secure, that was enough. With one ladder and a few men you could create a breach in a fortress’s defences.

The Mar swarmed to the bottom of the hill and charged across the valley floor. The castle was no more than half a mile away, being much closer to the hills on this side of the valley. Gunfire flickered behind the towers, silhouetting the tortured metal and stonework. The pounding noise tumbled across the open ground.

A speck of ash flashed in Jack’s face and he spat to blow it away. A ripple of pain made him stumble, but he shook his head, growled and pressed on.

The castle wall reared up ahead. It was only around seven hundred yards away now. Jack flicked a look across at Cormac and the tall man grinned back, his eyes feverish.

They were going to make it.

Then a copper flash burst on top of the wall. Jack heard the telltale shriek of a round shot, although he could see nothing through the mist. More flashes shivered along the ramparts. And then the balls came screaming through the murk. They appeared suddenly, swooping down like hawks.

A ball hit the ground ahead of Jack and bounced up over his head. Another slammed into a warrior just along from him. The man’s body flew apart in a cloud of red and one of his arms went cartwheeling through the air.

Jack heard wet thumps and cries all about him as men were struck down.

Christ. There were far more guns on this side of the wall than he’d anticipated. Mahajan must have believed Jack’s force was larger than it really was. The only consolation was that Rao’s troops would be facing an easier battle on the other side of the castle.

The guns continued to flare across the wall. And now specks of fire arced down through the fog.

Shells.

The first explosion ripped open the mist high overhead. Orange flame, with a white heart, punched the dark. Musket balls and fragments whistled through the air. A second shell slapped the ground several yards ahead of Jack and sent up a sheet of fire and earth. The blast pummelled him with hot air, almost knocking him off his feet, and a shell fragment whirled past to his left.

Cormac growled and waved his fist at the enemy.

The shells and round shot howled all around them. Flashes burnt Jack’s eyes and powder smoke stung his nostrils. The wound seethed in his chest and his eyes ran as he charged deeper into the globe of sattva encircling the castle.

Darkness rushed over him for a second. He lost his breath, struggled for air, then said a Hail Mary in his head and pulled himself together.

Then Cormac came to an abrupt halt. Jack skidded, flailed his arms and almost smacked into the tall Scot.

Cormac gave a grunt and took a few steps back. Jack squinted through the mist. A shell shattered away to his right, sending streaks of light across the ground. In the momentary glare, he saw a dark form rising up from the earth. It looked something like a fat locust, only it was the size of a cat and made of iron. Its feelers twitched, its mandibles wriggled and it gave a sharp squeal, which was audible even over the din of the battle.

An avatar.

Ahead, the ground rippled and further beasts clambered up from where they’d lain half buried in the earth. There appeared to be hundreds of them.

The closest creature gave a series of clicks and a tiny jet of steam wheezed from its side. Then it tightened its back legs and sprang into the air, trilling as it flew straight for Cormac.

C
ormac cried out and stumbled back.

Jack tore out the pistol and fired. His shot was better than he’d expected and the bullet smacked the avatar in the middle of its head. With a metallic whine, the creature flew apart. Shards of metal, cogs and springs twisted through the air and rolled across the ground.

But hundreds more avatars squatted ahead.

Christ. Mahajan had laid a trap for them. But there was no turning back now.

Jack tossed the pistol to his left hand and drew the scimitar. Cormac took his spear in both hands and lowered the tip.

‘Demons!’ Cormac shouted. ‘Evil of Mahajan!’

Jack roared as loudly as he could and charged.

Having continued running, many of the Mar were already in amongst the creatures. One man screamed and staggered about, a beast lodged over his face. Another yelled as he tried to brush away avatars clinging to his tunic. A warrior lay still on the ground, two beasts stuck to his head and pulsing as they slurped his blood. The creatures hopped about like fleas, crouching and then springing forward and latching on to their prey.

An avatar launched itself at Jack. He halted, braced himself, swung the scimitar and hacked the beast in half, the blade squealing as it struck the creature’s iron cladding.

A beast leapt at Cormac, but he ducked and avoided it. As he straightened, a second sprang towards his stomach. He growled, swung the spear like a staff and batted the creature to the side.

Jack and Cormac fought their way forward, stabbing and hacking any avatars that came near. More and more creatures flew at them, but they kept fending the beasts off.

Then Jack heard the whistle of a shell. He looked up and saw the black ball plummeting towards him. Everything slowed down. A terrible fascination with the missile seized him. It was so close he could make out its sparking fuse and the light playing over its curved surface. For a second he was certain it would hit him. Elizabeth and Katelin and William and Jhala and his parents raced through his head.

He was going to die. There was no avoiding it.

But then the shell thumped into the ground a few yards away, roared and clapped open. A wave of clods and fire pounded him and Cormac. A shell fragment screamed as it struck his scimitar and smashed it into a hundred pieces. He tumbled backwards, hit the ground and was showered with dirt.

He lay stunned for a moment, out of breath and unable to move. Bright spots swam before him and his ears rang. Then he came to his senses and wiped the dust from his face.

Cormac was already standing over him. ‘Hurt?’

Jack thought about it. His hand throbbed, but that was only due to being jarred when the scimitar shattered. Otherwise, he seemed uninjured. ‘I’m fine.’

Cormac nodded, extended his hand and yanked Jack up. For a moment, darkness reeled about Jack’s head and he had to lean against Cormac’s arm to support himself. But within a few seconds the faintness passed.

‘Problem?’ Cormac shouted.

‘No problem.’

Jack glanced at the crater left by the shell. Three half-smashed avatars writhed within the churned earth.

He and Cormac were lucky to be alive.

He spun to face the castle walls. The mist twisted in front of his face, but the grim stonework was close enough now for him to see more of the detail. A first wave of Mar warriors had already reached the base of the hill and had begun clambering up.

He glanced back and saw numerous bodies scattered across the ground, surrounded by feeding avatars. A few men still shouted as they staggered about with creatures attached to them. But it looked as though around a hundred men had survived.

That might be enough.

He prayed it was enough.

Looking back at the castle, he realised something else. Although the guns continued to roar on the far side of the building, here they’d stopped. No round shot or shells rained down from the walls. Mahajan’s men must be running short of ammunition – they wouldn’t have had huge supplies up here in Scotland and probably never expected an attack from such a large force.

‘Come on.’ He nodded towards the castle. ‘Let’s get up there.’

He and Cormac ran towards the bottom of the hill, joining the last wave of warriors who’d escaped the avatars. The scarp here was covered in scree that constantly slid away from under their feet. The men scrabbling ahead kicked small stones back in their faces. Jack caught a mouthful of dust and spat it out as he clambered on.

A skirl of pipes swept down from the top of the wall.

And then the muskets started.

Across the ramparts, firearms spluttered and popped, a huge cloud of white smoke pouring down from the wall. Specks of flame jabbed the mist and bullets teemed in the air. Balls rattled and danced on the scree. Stones screamed, hopped and splintered.