Sir Thursday(70)

He had no further time for thought. Sergeant Quicksilver was yelling and the Piper’s children were arraying themselves in a line across the top of the ramp, preparing their Nothing-powder pistols and carbines and power-spears and, in Quicksilver’s own hands, a muscle-fibre longbow.

‘Very good, ah, Sergeant,’ said Arthur. He had to struggle to keep his voice even. The whine of the spinning spike was very disturbing, rather like a human child complaining at an impossible pitch. The New Nithlings on the parade ground had also just noticed the intruders. The tall commander turned to look at them – and though he did not appear to say anything, there was a sudden flurry of activity among the officers behind him and shouted commands.

‘Take ’em five minutes to get here,’ said Quicksilver with a practiced glance. ‘All those tents in the way –’

She stopped talking as big kettle drums began to pound, in that same rhythm Arthur had heard in the attack on Fort Transformation. With the drums, New Nithlings emerged from almost every tent, like ten thousand hidden bees suddenly emerging from an innocent-looking square of honeycomb.

Arthur looked at Sir Thursday. He was next to the spike, his sword raised above his head. Suddenly he shouted a battle cry, a sound that rose above the noise of the spike and sent a jangling vibration down Arthur’s spine. Sir Thursday cut down at the whirling Nothing, slicing off a huge piece that hurtled clockwise through the air and came down on a bell tent, destroying it instantly, so all that remained were some sagging guy ropes hanging down a hole in the ground.

But the spike did not stop spinning, nor was there any notable hole in it, as if the Nothing it was composed of had simply filled the gap.

Sir Thursday scowled and cut at the spike again, with similar results.

‘Here they come,’ said Quicksilver. ‘Do you want to give the order to fire, sir?’

It took Arthur a second to comprehend that she was talking to him. He was staring down at the mass of New Nithlings that were being shouted and cajoled into ranks as they raced towards the bottom of the ramp to make up an assault force. There were lots of less-organised Nithlings on the sides of the ramp as well, some of them trying to climb the sides, with some success, though it was thirty feet to the top.

All the New Nithlings were uniformed, armed with the crackly lightning spears Arthur had seen before, and clearly well led. Though it was true they had greater physical variety among them than the Denizens, with extra limbs and distorted features, they bore no resemblance to the half-mad rabble Nithlings were supposed to be.

‘Yes, I’ll give the order,’ said Arthur as calmly as he could. ‘Musketoons first, then the power-spears. Quicksilver, you cover the left side and shoot the climbers. Suzy, you take the right and do the same with your pistols. Fred, you load for Suzy.’

Arthur drew his sword and moved to the centre of the line, with only half a glance back at Sir Thursday. Even that was enough to know that the Trustee was not making any real progress against the spike, though at least he was timing his cuts so that the pieces of Nothing flew off into the camp rather than cutting a swath through the Piper’s children on the ramp.

‘Wait for the order!’ called Arthur as musketoons were leveled and power-spears raised.

A formation of New Nithlings twelve across and ten ranks deep was almost at the foot of the ramp. Arthur looked at them stomping forward and knew there was no way they could stop them, or hold them off, or even survive. They’d have time for perhaps two volleys from the five musketoons, a cast of three power-spears, and that would be it. They would be overrun.

Overrun, thought Arthur. Just another way of saying that we’ll all be killed. Unless Sir Thursday can do something with the Key. Or we could try to get back on the Stair … only there’s no time. We’d never make it. They’d charge and cut us down … the last few for sure … which means me. Maybe that’s what Sir Thursday planned from the start.

The enemy drumming suddenly changed tempo, getting faster. The New Nithlings shouted and began their charge up the ramp. Suzy’s pistols went off, and Quicksilver’s bow twanged and twanged again as Arthur counted to three and shouted, ‘Fire!’ The musketoons banged and Nothing-powder smoke billowed up and Arthur shouted, ‘Throw!’ and the power-spears flew and Arthur shouted, ‘Holdfast!’ and moved into the front rank to be with the others, to hold the initial shock even if only for a few seconds and then –

A strange and unearthly sound filled the air. A breathy, high-pitched single note that sounded a little like a flute and a little like a whale singing and something entirely new and different as well.