‘They can’t not have seen us,’ Gerethwy muttered, as though bitter about Imperial failings.
‘Plan is to give them other things to worry about, lad, never you mind,’ Allanbridge replied, then added awkwardly, ‘And you try to get your hide and your mob back to us intact, right? Now get ready to jump off and secure us, why don’t you?’
Straessa went below decks to find the soldiers there mostly ready, strung out on that combination of tension, excitement and fear that she knew so well herself. Before they felt the Windlass’s keel scraping and bumping at the ground, they were out on deck and casting rope ladders over the side, even as Gerethwy fought with the anchor. The airship was emptied of troops with more efficiency than the Antspider would have bet on and, looking about, she could see other craft bobbing low, with swarms of Mantis-kinden flying or climbing from them, forming up into one turbulent, angry mob that was plainly itching to get at the enemy.
‘Over there, quickly,’ she ordered her people, and set a fast pace, well aware how the entire Felyen force might just vanish off into the night, leaving their allies too far behind to support them.
By the time she arrived, so had everyone else. She picked out the Mynans because their leader was already stalling the Mantis-kinden.
‘Kymene?’
The Mynan leader glanced towards her. ‘Your people are ready?’
Serena had made herself known by then, and Straessa nodded, shouldering her snapbow. ‘I hadn’t thought you’d be here yourself, Commander.’
‘Neither did Sten Maker,’ Kymene acknowledged. ‘Too late for him to do anything about it now, though, isn’t it? We’re waiting a signal. .’ And then, with a fierce look at the woman who led the Felyen, ‘Yes, we are.’
‘Your signal is late,’ the Mantis spat.
‘No, it’s not. Just listen,’ Kymene shot back. ‘Everyone, quiet and listen!’
Straessa shook her head, hearing nothing at all but not wanting to state the obvious, but Gerethwy squeezed her shoulder, cocking his head.
He was smiling — a little thinly perhaps but she was glad of any smile from him just the same.
And then she heard it, though scarcely a moment before the Stormreaders started passing overhead. The clatter of their clockwork engines was so much quieter than the noisy oil-driven motors favoured by the Empire.
They circled almost invisibly save where they occasionally blotted out the stars, and Straessa heard one coming in to land, the thunder of wind thrown up by its wings hitting them with shocking suddenness as the nimble machine cornered and hovered for a moment, before choosing its spot.
Kymene went running over and, without much thought, Straessa ran after her, Serena and the Mantis leader following on her heels.
The cockpit was hinged open by the time they got there, and the Antspider recognized the Fly-kinden pilot seated inside as the Solarnese, Taki, who seemed to be in charge of Collegium’s air defences.
‘You’ve about a mile of ground to cover still to reach their pickets,’ the pilot told them as they approached, and Straessa could hear the clockwork still ticking over, ready to take off again the moment the wings were engaged. ‘We’ll allow you a decent countdown and then move in to give them something to think about. But you’re going to have to make good time.’
‘We’ll be there,’ Kymene told her. ‘Just make sure you’re not late.’
The Fly grinned at her, then waved them away, and even though they were running back to the massed strike force, the downbeat of the Stormreader’s wings almost knocked them off their feet.
‘We run!’ the Mantis leader was shouting at her followers, and Straessa expected a great roar of approval that would probably be heard over in Capitas. Instead, the Mantis-kinden just moved off silently, the entire pack breaking into a ground-eating lope, leaving the others to catch up.
General Tynan made do with very little sleep, so he was still awake and poring over quartermasters’ reports when the camp around him suddenly exploded into life. He heard the Farsphex engines start up, and knew that the engineers would be dragging the cloaking tarpaulins off them even as the pilots crawled into their seats. A night attack. With the continued valiant resistance put up by the Imperial pilots and artillery, he had expected such a move. It was exactly the pattern that the Second’s own fliers had fallen into when dropping their bombs, denied free rein over Collegium during daytime.
Of course, the Beetles won’t have the same night vision as our Fly bombardiers had. And, of course, he had kept his camp without lights, despite the chill, to deny them any clear targets, but even a random bombardment would do its inevitable damage.
From the back of his tent, he heard Mycella stir, and she joined him moments later, swathed in a silk robe, even as the first watch officers rushed in to report. The first man had just time to salute before Tynan himself could hear the clatter of the enemy orthopters.
‘Our pilots?’ he snapped out.
‘Taking to the air, sir. Artillery as well, but we-’
The first dull boom signified that one of the Collegiates had been a little too enthusiastic, unloading surely somewhere far short of the confines of the camp. The soldiers of the Second and their allies would be rushing from their tents, scattering and spreading.
‘No dedicated bombers seen amongst them,’ the watch officer continued. ‘Just their Stormreaders, like before.’
The Air Corps will have to do its best, Tynan decided.
‘Sir, there was a report of airships, too, but-’
Just then the real bombardment started, a half-dozen explosions, and one close enough to punch in the wall of the tent, leaving the poles leaning at drunken angles, pulling the ropes from the ground. There were cries of pain on the air, and a secondary retort as something caught fire and went up. Tynan looked skywards, gritting his teeth. Luck’s the emperor of this battlefield. He knew the Airborne would be taking wing, but much of the army did not have that luxury.
‘What do airships signify?’ Mycella pressed him. Another explosion sounded further off, and he knew that the Stormreaders would be turning to make another approach, despite the best efforts of the Farsphex pilots.
‘If they start to position airships over the camp, we’ll give the order to scatter. They can carry more bombs than any number of orthopters. Slow, though, so we’ll have warning. And perhaps the Farsphex will manage to bring some down.’
‘Yes, sir, but I don’t think. .’ The watch officer flinched as another bomb landed somewhere off towards the coast. ‘They’ve not been seen again. . I’d thought’ — flinch — ‘our scouts must be mistaken.’
‘Then go and get me better intelligence!’ Tynan snapped, and the man backed out hurriedly. The Wasp general sighed and buckled on his swordbelt, more for the comfort it would give him than anything else.
‘Tynan, these ships. .’ Mycella began said pensively.
‘If there were any.’ But he found himself believing that there were. It would have to have been a very curious trick of the moonlight, otherwise. .
‘They can carry more than bombs,’ she pointed out.
Their eyes locked, communication passing between them as efficiently as through an Ant’s Art. In the next moment they were both shouting for their underlings.
‘Duty officer! Reinforce the perimeter. I want the reserve watch mustered now!’ And what a gamble — because if there’s a force coming for us, we must huddle close so as to repel it — and make ourselves easy meat for their bombs. And if we don’t. . But he found that he accepted Mycella’s intuition without question.