'Of course. I shall drive your chariot.'
He had amused her at last. 'Will you, indeed? And you are so used to chariots in your Empire that even the word was strange to you, at first.'
'But your beasts will know their work,' he said. 'And I shall speak with them, and let them instruct me.'
'And you will follow my orders, without question?'
'I have brought you weapons, and the knowledge of how to use them,' he reminded her. 'Now you must use them – use them as you will. I shall bow my head to you, for as long as the battle lasts.'
Beneath the rim of her helm she was smiling. 'Have I conquered the Empire now?' she teased, one thumb claw coming up to rest along the line of his chin. 'Well then, you shall indeed have that honour.' Her eyes met his directly now, bold and fierce and utterly unlike the eyes of any Imperial woman. 'Perhaps you shall have other honours, when we have driven them from the field. Perhaps we shall celebrate, you and I, if I am pleased with you.'
The plume of dust that the Khanaphir army was raising was more clearly visible. They wanted to fight the Scorpions far enough from the city that the river would not become a barrier at their back. Hrathen was fretting at a lack of scouts, but he did not want to risk any Wasps to the bows of the enemy, and the Scorpions had no fliers, and slower cavalry than the defenders. He was obliged to rely on his telescope and the reports he had heard of older conflicts. At least the Khanaphir did not seem to be the type to innovate.
The difficulty, as he had discussed with Jakal, was to make best use of the Many's new-found advantages. The crossbows were slower than the shortbows the Khanaphir favoured, but they outranged them. And perhaps not really so much slower, for that matter. They were the old Imperial heavy crossbows for which the archers were supposed to draw the string back by winch, but most of the Scorpions had notched their thumb-claws and were tensioning the weapons by hand in half the usual time. The Empire had not considered just how strong they were. There would be more than a few broken claws by the battle's end, more than a few broken crossbows for that matter, but they had quickly made the weapons their own. It only remained to give them the best chance to use them.
The normal Khanaphir tactics were reliable and unimaginative, from what he had been told. They fielded an infantry-strong army with good cavalry wings and archer support. It was not something out of the Imperial tactics textbooks, but he could see the strengths and weaknesses. The Scorpions were more mobile, so that meant that, for a decisive victory, the Khanaphir would at some point have to come to them and follow them up. Otherwise the fight would go on all day, with the Scorpions picking and choosing the targets of their strikes.
The Khanaphir would understand the same thing, Hrathen was counting on it. The plans had been made, so no point worrying about them now. They would deform and change as soon as they met the enemy, just as plans always did. The Scorpions were not a disciplined force, but the Khanaphir knew that too, and it became just one more factor that a clever general could use.
He stretched and went off to see about Jakal's chariot, to have a talk with her beasts and set them straight. The army of Khanaphir marched tirelessly, as Beetles could. To Hrathen it was a great row of white squares, reinforced with steel in the centre where their heavy infantry was posted. On the flanks there was an odd mixture of the Mantis-kinden skirmishers, Khanaphir archers and chariots. The beetle cavalry, seated on its long-legged black animals, was taking a wide path in order to flank the Scorpions when the forces were engaged.
'How do their riders stack up to ours?' he asked. Their chariot jolted and bounced, finding its place on the Many's left flank. He could feel the minds of the animals, keen and hungry. Each had an armoured shield fixed to its outside pincer and barding of chitin over its back.
'They are faster, but scorpions will kill beetles if they catch them. They will hold off until they can catch us unawares, perhaps come all the way round behind us,' Jakal told him. The chariots are different…' She stopped, gave a particularly vicious laugh. 'Or they were until we got your crossbows. I've told them to aim for the beasts first.'
'And your soldiers will stay with the plan?' The chariot was in place now, amongst a slew of other vehicles arrayed about the Scorpions' left flank.
'Probably.' Jakal shrugged. 'Mostly.' The Khanaphir had stopped now, waiting. Hrathen saw their front rank bristling with spears. Behind them were archers, identifiable at this range because they had no shields. The Beetles would wait for as long as it took, Hrathen knew. They were a naturally more patient people, but it was all taken care of in the plan.
Jakal took up a bulbous horn made from a hollowed-out stinger, took a great breath and sounded it. The strange, wailing note sounded out across the restless, uneven lines of the Many's war host. Instantly it was eclipsed by a great roar, a thousand Scorpion throats cheering on the initial charge. The centre of the lines surged forward, a great mass of halberdiers and axemen rushing for the Khanaphir centre. Hrathen steadied the chariot beasts, feeling in his mind their instinctive urge to follow, looking to his right to assure himself that not too much of the host had just committed itself. He felt a wash of relief when he saw that at least two-thirds of the infantry was still waiting, although milling angrily, obviously exercising every drop of restraint they possessed. On either side of that belligerent centre were the crossbowmen, looking already more ordered and disciplined, as though he had sewn Wasp brains into their heads. He and Jakal had gone over the plan with their chiefs in great detail, so they knew their glory would come.
The sky above the charging Scorpions turned abruptly dark. The Khanaphir archers had loosed their first volley, arrows arching over their own spearmen to impact among the onrushing warriors. If the Scorpions, unevenly armoured as they were, had come charging in a block, then they would have been slaughtered. Their own lack of discipline helped them in this one thing, for their running mass was so loosely knit that, although the sleeting shafts killed many, there were just as many missed shots as the arrows fell into the gaps between them.
That was the first volley, and the shortbows of the Khanaphir did not have the range of a proper battlefield weapon, but the second volley caused havoc amongst the Scorpions' rear ranks as they pressed closer in anticipation of making impact – the Khanaphir arcing their arrows high to fall on them, making exquisite use of the limited tools they possessed.
Hrathen grinned, his hands tightening on the reins in anticipation.
The Scorpion vanguard struck, and he saw the enemy line bow under the force of them – under the great cleaving blows of axe and halberd. Scorpions were not soldiers at heart, but they were warriors: they knew how to fight. They were taller, stronger, longer-armed and vastly more bloodthirsty by nature than their foes. The Beetle lines bent before them, even as dozens of Scorpions died on the enemy's levelled spears.
The charge had struck at the point where the Khanaphir light infantry met the Royal Guard. The unarmoured militia buckled helplessly, shields cracking and splitting under the Scorpions' ferocious blows, the men behind trying to give ground in order to stay out of the reach of the hacking polearms. The Guard pressed forward even as the Scorpions advanced and Hrathen saw swords rising and falling behind their solid line of shields. They were now butchering the men confronting them, turning their front line into a flank, rolling up the Scorpion advance. Behind them, more shields were stepping forward to keep the line intact. It was an impressive display of military order.
Now the Scorpions were falling back. The Khanaphir pursued them a dozen yards before re-forming seamlessly, as though they had not lost a man. The Scorpions outpaced them in their retreat, then turned around ready for another charge. By now their numbers were greatly reduced, but they did not seem to care. Fighting spirit, Jakal had called it, and their blood was up. She seemed to think it made them more dangerous as a people, though Hrathen had kept silent and reflected on how an Imperial army would exploit such a weakness.