Marksmen from all companies had drawn in around the southern edge of the square. They’d fitted night scopes, so they had the best eyes. Rawne heard a tiny tap, barely louder than the rain pattering on the rockcrete. His microbead.
‘Rawne,’ he whispered.
‘Larkin,’ the response came. ‘They’re coming back.’
Rawne waited for the scouts to reappear. Mkoll was suddenly at his elbow.
‘Hit me,’ Rawne whispered.
‘The batteries are manned,’ Mkoll replied quietly. ‘But the main guns aren’t firing.’
‘Why?’
‘Waiting for a clear target is my guess,’ said Mkoll. ‘They won’t risk depletion. There’s a brigade of Helixid dug in to the east of the batteries.’
Mkoll flipped out his lumen stick, cupped his hand around the blade of light, and showed Rawne the relative positions on the chart. ‘The avenue here, to the west of the batteries, that looks wide open.’
‘Between the batteries and the sea?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s this?’
‘Maritime vessels, industrial units. They’re moored together in a large block from the harbour side all the way down the coast. I think they’re junked. Decommissioned. They effectively extend the land about half a mile from the shore.’
‘Enemy units?’
‘We spotted a few at a distance. And there are dead along the avenue, so the batteries have repulsed at least one assault. I think another rush is imminent.’
‘Gut feeling?’ asked Rawne.
Mkoll nodded. Mkoll’s gut feeling was good enough for Rawne.
‘We’ll advance and stand ready to hold the avenue west of the batteries,’ Mkoll said. He looked at Oysten.
‘Get the word to the company leaders.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Rawne glanced back at Mkoll.
‘I don’t want to risk open comms. Can you get runners to the batteries and the Helixid, and inform them we’re coming in alongside them to plug the hole?’
Mkoll nodded.
There was another furious ripple of distant artillery, then it abruptly stopped.
‘Move,’ said Rawne. ‘Here they come.’
The Tulkar Batteries were a cluster of heavy, stone gun emplacements raised on a steep rockcrete pier overlooking a broad esplanade. Their gun slots, like the slit visors of ancient war-helms, were angled to cover the bay, and Rawne presumed they had once been sea forts for coastal defence. But they had enough traverse room to cover the shorefront and the esplanade, and defend against any ground attack that came from the south west along the coastal route.
Though the Ghosts were on the edge of the Great Bay, the sea was invisible, merely a concept. The rolling banks of smoke had closed down any sense of space or distance, and choked out the view over the water. What Rawne could see, beyond the rockcrete line of the esplanade, was a rusty mass that seemed like a continuation of the shoreline. This was the junk Mkoll had described.
In better days, the city, like much of Urdesh, had employed fleets of mechanised harvester barges and agriboats to gather and process the weed growth of the shallow inshore seas as a food staple. War, Urdesh’s long and miserable history of conflict, had brought that industry to a halt. The huge agriboats had been moored along the bayside and abandoned. The machines were big, crude mechanical processors, some painted red, some green, some yellow, all corroded and decaying, their paintwork scabbing and flaking. They had been moored wharf-side, and around the jetties of the food mills and processing plants that ran along the seawall on the bay side of the avenue. The long, rusting, rotting line of them extended as far as Rawne could see, right down to the coast, hundreds if not thousands of half-sunk barges, chained five or six deep in places. It was a graveyard of maritime industry. Rawne could smell the festering sumps of the old boats, the pungent reek of decomposed weed, the tarry, stagnant stench of the mud and in-water ooze the agriboats sat in. These were the first scents strong enough to overpower the stink of smoke.
The esplanade, wide and well maintained, was also well lit by the flame-light of the distant mills. The horizon, more clearly visible now, burned like a hellscape. Rawne could see the black outlines of mills as the fires gutted them.
In half-cover, he stared at the open road. The obvious route. Fast-paced armour could flood along it in a matter of minutes. There was little cover, but if the enemy had enough mass in its assault that would hardly matter. The sea road was a direct artery into the southern quarters of Eltath. If the Archenemy opened and held that, they’d have their bridge into the city.
Via Oysten, he issued quick orders to Kolosim, Vivvo, Elam and Chiria. They scurried their companies forwards, heads down, and set up a block across the road under the shoulder of the batteries. Old transports and cargo-carriers were parked on the loading ramps of the mills along the sea wall, and the Ghosts began to roll them out to form a barricade. Rawne heard glass smash as Guardsmen punched out windows to enter the cabs and disengage the brakes. Fire-teams worked together, straining, to push the vehicles out onto the road and lug prom drums and cargo pallets to the makeshift line. He moved his own company, along with A and C, into the narrow streets under the batteries on the south side of the avenue. This was another commercial zone, an extension of the Millgate quarter formed of narrow streets and packing plants. Curtains and rugs had been strung between buildings to deter snipers.
Rawne kept a steady eye on the dispersal. This was his game, and he wasn’t about to feth it up. Oysten was almost glued to his side, passing quick reports from the company leaders. The tension in the air was as heavy as the smoke, and there was almost no sound except the thumps and quick exchanges from the teams forming the barricade. The Ghosts seemed to be as efficient as ever. That was a small miracle. They were down two commissars, three if you counted Blenner, which Rawne never did. With Kolea, Baskevyl and Domor missing, Daur off at the palace with Gaunt, and Raglon still away in the infirmary, five companies were operating under the commands of their seconds or adjutants: Caober, Fapes, Chiria, Vivvo and Mkdask respectively. It was Tona Criid’s first time in combat at the head of A Company. That felt like a lot of new faces to Rawne, a lot of Ghosts who had proven themselves as good soldiers but had yet to go through the stress test of full field command.
That applied to him too, he reminded himself. He’d commanded the Ghosts, by order or necessity, many times, but this was different. He was named command now, Colonel fething Rawne. The reins had been handed to him, and he had a sick feeling he would never pass them back again.
‘What are you thinking?’ Ludd whispered to him.
‘If I had armour, I’d drive up the road,’ Rawne replied quietly. ‘Do it with enough confidence, and you’d get momentum. Break through, and circle the batteries from behind.’
He glanced at Criid, Ludd and Caober.
‘But if I was using the Ghosts,’ he said, ‘I’d come up through this district, off the main road. Push infantry up into Millgate. You could get a lot of men a long way in before you were seen.’
‘And if you had both?’ asked Criid.
Rawne smiled.
‘They have both, captain,’ he said.
‘So… snipers and flamers?’ asked Caober.
‘Yes. Spread them out. Cover the corners here. All cross streets. If infantry’s coming this way, I want to know about it, and I want it locked out. Oysten?
‘Sir?’
‘Signal up J and L Companies. Tell them to move in behind us and add a little weight.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Wes Maggs came running up.
‘Word from Mkoll, sir,’ he said. ‘The battery garrison and the Helixid are aware of our deployment. The Urdeshi commander of the batteries sends his compliments and invites us to enjoy the show.’