The Mirror Chronicles: The Last Night by Ian Johnstone

Author:Ian Johnstone [Johnstone, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2022-03-09T17:00:00+00:00

ESPASIAN STOOD AT THE edge of Carrion Rock, forcing himself to watch.

The birds and beasts of the valley had lost their brave battle, and their sacrifice was everywhere to see. The bodies of foxes and otters, rabbits and rats, badgers and birds of prey littered the hillside. Others limped and whimpered back to the Suhl lines, or into the forest to lick their wounds, while a straggling few fought on: birds swooping down upon the advancing Imperial lines; a pair of bears growling and huffing along the Suhl defences, picking fights where they could; scatterings of smaller creatures charging and retreating, nipping and snapping at the mass of opposing beasts.

But each time fewer returned than had set out, and each time Thoth’s troops recovered more ground. A regiment of Ghor had already reached the Suhl defences and were once again in tooth-and-claw combat with the Leaflikes, while just below Espasian a troop of Hamajaks pressed in upon Carrion Rock.

The Magruman scanned the desperate scene, reproaching himself for calling the animals out of the valley. He had done it because it was the only thing to do, but now it hardly seemed worth it. Now, he felt that same anguish, that crushing sense of responsibility he had felt the previous day when Bayleon had given his life.

He sucked in some icy morning air and looked over at the Suhl lines. They were holding, such as they were, but many brave warriors had fallen in the winding ways between the roots, and those that remained were in their rearmost positions, edging ever backwards, towards the trees. It was a pitiful sight.

He saw the tall man he had come across the previous day, the one with the eyepatch, who had fought valiantly under the gaze of his daughter. What had her name been? An unusual name …

“Faysa,” he murmured as he watched the father battling on, clubbing away a lone Ghorhund with a rough-hewn bludgeon.

Then, as the brave defender parried to one side, Espasian saw Faysa herself. It was a heartbreaking sight. She was peering over the defences, jabbing with a hopelessly long pike, doing all she could to inflict some damage without revealing herself. None of the attacking beasts had yet taken an interest in her, but it seemed only a matter of time.

Espasian glanced anxiously at the Imperial forces, which looked as formidable and numerous as ever. A steady train of reinforcements snaked down from the Westercleft Hills, swelling the rear ranks and easily making up the numbers that had fallen in battle. And now something else was happening among the teeming masses. In several places along the battlefront, the Imperial ranks appeared to be moving apart, as if to let something through. Then, not far from Carrion Rock, Espasian saw a solitary figure at the heart of the commotion, marked out by bright, flowing amber robes and a headdress of black. A dreadful chill swept over him. He looked quickly along the front and, wherever there was a disturbance, he glimpsed another figure wearing the same amber robes, striding through the ranks.

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