Sitting in his command chair, Carnelian saw in front of him a long file of dragons trampling their shadows as they lumbered into the west. A cohort of his own Qunoth dragons was immediately in front. Beyond them Aurum’s with the old Master and Osidian on Heart-of-Thunder at their head. Carnelian was confident the rest of his dragons were following him in single file. All along the starboard edge of their march the dragons were unfurling a vast red banner of dust that was drifting away into the north-east. Not only was it hiding the road, but everything that lay in that direction. More disconcertingly, it was proclaiming their position to Jaspar. Earlier, Carnelian had bidden his Lefthand to get their lookout to relate what he could see of the road. Word had returned that, even perched aloft, he could see nothing at all through the dust. This was exactly what Osidian had hoped for. If their lookouts could not see the road, then Jaspar should not be able to see their banner masts. Nevertheless, none of this stopped Carnelian feeling nervous that, at that very moment, the Ichorian could be bearing down upon their flank unseen. He fretted again over whether his commanders had fully understood his explanation of Osidian’s tactics. He was also beset by doubt whether, when it came to it, they would follow him into a battle against the feared double legion of the Bloodguard.
He glanced round. Poppy was there sitting against the bone wall. The homunculus was hunched beside her, his head sunk between his knees so that he appeared to be nothing more than a boy. It was Poppy who had asked to have the little man along. Red dust in the folds of her Leper shrouds looked like dried blood. More carpeted the deck and formed drifts in the angles of the cabin. Had he been foolish to let Poppy come with him? Was she really safer here than back in the watch-tower?
To port, the cool blues of the morning were only lightly wisped with the dust the riders were churning up. The Marula rode nearest to the dragon line, two abreast. Beyond, ranks of auxiliaries faded into their own dust, their jiggling mass grotesquely animated by long shadows. He had divided the Lepers into two groups. The first under Lily rode up at the front of their column. The second under Fern brought up the rear. In the camp he had been glad Osidian’s wish to have the auxiliaries fight next to the dragons had banished the Lepers to the extreme flanks. Now he was not so sure. Though the intention was to advance with both flanks re-fused so that they would be as far as they could be from the Ichorians’ fire, what if Jaspar attempted to outflank them? Then the Lepers would bear the brunt of the fighting on the ground.
He gazed at the rump of the dragon in front. Each of its footfalls gouged up a red spiral of dust. Several of these intertwined, feathering diagonally up to feed the clouds rolling towards Jaspar. At least, Carnelian thought, by placing the aquar to port both they and their riders were being spared that choking fog.
At last Osidian veered them north-west. Carnelian gave the order to turn an eighth to starboard, then watched as the auxiliaries matched the new course and the hazy shadow of the duststorm oozed out over them. Then he gazed out to starboard. Though he knew they must now be marching parallel to the road, he could see no hint of it through the murk.
A muffled, deep-throated cry sounded from far ahead. This was taken up by another trumpet and another, in a cascading sequence that grew louder as it sped towards them. This was one of several prearranged signals. Even before it reached them, Carnelian gave an order to his Righthand. The man muttered into his voice fork and, a moment later, the cabin shook as a vast, nasal groan was released by Earth-is-Strong’s trumpets. A movement in the corner of Carnelian’s eye made him turn to see Poppy startled. He considered saying something to reassure her but in the end he stayed silent. He did not wish to diminish the martial atmosphere of the deck. Worse, he feared that one kind word might encourage Poppy to some action. It was better she should sit there quietly.
The trumpet blasts were fading away to the rear of the march. Carnelian gave the command that made Earth-is-Strong turn to starboard even as she slowed to a halt. He watched with some relief as the neighbouring dragons turned too. He had deliberately held his dragon back so that the rest of the line would advance a little in front of him. Leaning on the arm of his chair, he peered to port, down the forming line of dragons. At last he saw what he was looking for: a dragon half lost in the dust it was raising as it approached. It was Heart-of-Thunder coming to join him in the centre. He watched the monster slow, then turn, inserting himself into the line six dragons away: the six that would form the horns of the crescent.
Gazing to starboard, Carnelian watched a seethe of dust undulating down the line as his auxiliaries rode off to form the right wing. He screwed his eyes up, but could see no clear evidence of Fern’s Lepers at its very end. Grimly, he gave a command, and slowly, with the cabin rocking from side to side, Earth-is-Strong edged into her place in the line. On either side, the dark shapes of Marula were pouring forwards to form their skirmish screen in front. The breeze was carrying the red dust wall away from them, sinking as it thinned. The glare of the sun was beginning to coalesce into a patch, then into an orb so bright he had to lower his head so that the slits of his mask would shield his eyes. His heart was pounding. At any moment he might see a wall of dragons thundering towards them. From violet, the north-eastern sky was turning blue. At last he realized he could see all the way across the plain to the horizon. No sign of movement, of the road, of anything.
He became aware of the tower settling around him, creaking, releasing tension. He heard and felt the tremor of Earth-is-Strong emitting a snort. Furtive sounds rose from the crew in the lower decks. He was conscious of his breath as it passed in and out through the nostrils of his mask. He leaned forward. In the far distance a long flat sliver of movement. A twitching, shifting strip that could have been the froth of a blood sea breaking its waves upon a shore.
A lurid twilight filled the cabin. Carnelian felt they had been pushing through its red fog for days. He had lost all sense of time. Anxiety that at any moment an enemy dragon would emerge from the murk had left him weary and irritable. Though he feared it, he also longed for the battle to begin.
Osidian had waited while the Ichorian formed its battleline. The froth of dust had widened along the horizon. That it thinned to the edges suggested Jaspar had matched his battleline to theirs as Osidian had prophesied. Dragon was matched to dragon; aquar to aquar. Why not? Jaspar knew he had the greater strength.
The mirror signal Osidian had sent flickering towards either flank consisted of a single command. ‘Advance’. The dragons had lurched forward stirring red surf into life at their feet. Soon this had rolled over the cordon of Marula stretched across their front. Higher and higher it had boiled, tendrils smoking up to grip the blue morning. Soon, the red, rolling wall had risen to quench it altogether.
Carnelian leaned forward in his command chair, peering into the rolling cloud they were driving before them. He was sure he had seen something, but it was probably just another phantasm. He glimpsed three small dark solid things there on the ground. Marula labouring like ants through the sandstorm. It gave him stale satisfaction that this dust would be striking directly into the faces and towers of Jaspar’s host.
‘The signal, Master.’
Carnelian jumped, having almost forgotten his Lefthand was there. Instantly he looked to port, where the nearest dragon seemed a ship in a fog. A tiny glow like a marsh light upon its tower roof was moving from side to side. This was it. He gave the command for Earth-is-Strong to slow. As the cabin began to rock, he commanded her pipes lit. The dragon to starboard was keeping pace with her. Hopefully this was happening all the way down the line. To port, he saw the dragon there pulling ahead. The other five were surely advancing in line with it. He turned Earth-is-Strong an eighth to port. Slowly they began shearing in behind the six. Carnelian peered into the murk counting the shadows while at the same time looking out for Osidian. The horns and beak were the first to emerge, like a floating crucifixion. Then the massive bulk of Heart-of-Thunder with her tower solidified in the gloom.