Land of Hope and Glory (43 page)

‘Keep down.’ Jack had no idea what the cloud was, but he didn’t like the look of it.

They all ducked. The rushing sound built to a high-pitched squealing.

The corporal next to them stood and looked over the battlements.

‘Get down.’ Jack motioned to the man.

‘What—’ The corporal turned, looking at Jack, about to say something. Then the cloud of flies hit. The squealing was deafen ing. Ten or more thudded into the corporal, knocking him backwards, although he managed to stay standing. Five were embedded in his face. Others had ripped straight through his tunic and blood welled where they’d struck.

He shouted, put his hands to his face. ‘Get them off. Get them off.’

Jack tried to hold the corporal still. Tiny steel gnats with long, sharp proboscises buzzed and burrowed into the man’s face. Jack tried to pinch one and pull it out, but it wriggled in deeper. Within seconds the creatures had disappeared under the skin.

The corporal gasped, his eyes wide. A line of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth and he gave choking cries.

Along the ramparts, soldiers screamed and clawed at their skin, their comrades trying, with little success, to help them. One man jerked about so violently he toppled over the side of the walkway and fell to the street below.

‘They’re coming back,’ a soldier shouted.

Jack looked up. The flies had reformed into a whirling, squealing cloud, which now came rushing back towards the wall. Jack raised his hands to shield his face. A soldier a few feet away fired his musket into the cloud, which had no effect at all.

A grumble vibrated through the wall and a blast of sattva-scented air hit Jack on the side of the head, unsteadying him for a moment. Five of the Sikhs stood in a wedge on top of the Ald Gate, their arms raised as if praising the heavens. The sattva wind seemed to emanate from them.

The blast struck the flies and scattered them. More than two-thirds sizzled and vanished. Others flew off on random trajectories. But a handful still rushed down, shrilling.

Charles muttered a prayer and made the sign of the cross.

‘Cover your face,’ Jack shouted.

The flies struck. Jack heard shouts as several soldiers were hit. He lowered his hands. He couldn’t feel any pain. He glanced at his chest – no holes in his tunic, no sign of any injury. He looked across at Charles, who huffed and mopped his brow, but appeared unharmed.

The wounded corporal was now still, eyes staring into the black cloud above.

‘Jack.’ Saleem had his hand on his cheek and when he moved it, a spot of blood was visible.

‘No.’ Jack rushed to Saleem’s side. A fly was burrowing into the boy’s face.

‘Is it . . . ?’ Saleem stammered.

‘Stay still.’ Jack tried to grab the buzzing splinter, but it was already in too deep.

Saleem gave short, panting breaths.

‘Fire. That’s the only thing that’ll kill it,’ said an old, grizzled soldier who was suddenly standing over them. ‘Seen them before – out in Turkey.’

The soldier crouched and looked at Saleem’s face. ‘It’s in too far. We’ll have to cut it out.’

The soldier drew a knife and Saleem looked wide-eyed at Jack.

‘Hold still.’ Jack patted Saleem on the arm.

The soldier moved quickly. He slit Saleem’s cheek, the lad jumping slightly, and the quivering fly was exposed. He lit a match and thrust it into the cut. The fly buzzed and hissed, then flew off aimlessly.

Jack said a silent Hail Mary.

‘Is it gone? Is it gone?’ Saleem asked.

‘You’ll be all right.’ The soldier grinned.

When Jack looked along the wall, he saw men shuddering as they lay dying on the walkway, while others were being treated with knives and matches. Stretcher-bearers picked up the gravely injured. The flies had otherwise been destroyed or scattered.

A round shot screamed past. The pounding of the guns continued unabated. Jack glanced in the direction of the Ald Gate and could still see William, a giant rising out of the battle smoke.

Jack’s chest started to throb. He took a gulp of jatamansi, then weighed the vial in his hand. It felt empty. He held it up to the light and through the dark glass could just make out a small amount of liquid, enough for one final dose.

He would have to use that wisely.

‘What the hell is that?’ A private pointed down at the enemy.

Jack and the others looked over the wall. The plains still bubbled and churned from the artillery fire, but there was something else. The fields shivered, as though water were running in streams just below the surface. Jack noticed a glint of metal here and there and the scent of sattva was growing strong again.

‘What now?’ Charles asked.

Saleem swallowed hard.

The wave of movement reached the ditch surrounding the wall, then thousands of what looked like shining steel snakes wriggled into the ditch, where they collected in a squirming mass, then slithered straight up the wall.

Jack had seen these war avatars once before, but there had been only two of them and they had moved far more slowly than the creatures now rushing up the stonework.

‘Men, load!’ a sergeant shouted.

The soldiers all loaded their muskets, moving quickly, but without synchronisation. The sergeant didn’t shout out the subsequent commands and some soldiers finished before the others.

A shambles. No proper organisation.

What they needed now were Rajthanan officers. But there were no Rajthanans. Just Englishmen – privates, corporals, sergeants.

Charles had his musket loaded and cocked in under fifteen seconds. But Saleem’s hands shook so much he dropped the ramrod. He glanced up at Jack, eyes wide and glassy.

‘Take your time,’ Jack said. ‘You can do it.’

Saleem took a deep breath, wiped away the trace of blood still on his cheek and then retrieved the rod, jammed down the bullet and within seconds was standing with his musket raised and pointing over the parapet. He looked across at Jack, and for once met Jack’s gaze without looking away.

‘Good lad.’ Jack’s voice was so soft he wasn’t sure if Saleem could even hear him.

And then he looked at Charles, who now grinned back, still with his musket raised and his sandy hair shuffling in the slight breeze. He seemed to have recovered from the blow of his regiment being destroyed and was now as determined as ever to fight for England.

Jack swallowed. He was proud of his two young comrades. He wished things could be different, wished he were genuinely fighting with them for his country. Feelings surged in his chest. ‘God’s will in England.’

‘God’s will in England,’ Charles and Saleem said back.

Then they all climbed on to the fire step and leant over the battlements.

The snakes were racing up the wall, many already more than two-thirds of the way to the top. The sound of their hissing and clicking was audible even over the din of the guns.

‘Take careful aim.’ Jack raised his musket to his shoulder, pointed it down and looked along the sights. ‘Make every shot count.’

Charles and Saleem took aim as well. Charles fired barely two seconds later – the burst tingled in Jack’s ear – but the shot was far too high and missed the snakes and the wall completely. Saleem went next and his shot was better, but it struck the wall well ahead of the closest creatures.

While Charles and Saleem reloaded, Jack focused on the snake nearest to him. It was close enough now for him to see a steel head covered in tiny stalks, and a wriggling body made of metal ribs over mechanical innards.

He squeezed the trigger, heard the familiar crack and felt the butt jab into his shoulder. He moved his head to the side to look around the puff of smoke. The snake gave a metallic shriek and shattered, the fragments coiling as they tumbled back to the ground.

Muskets stuttered all along the wall and the bullets rattled against the stone. Hundreds of snakes fell, but there were hundreds more coming up behind them.

Jack, Charles and Saleem reloaded and fired, reloaded and fired. Jack was getting into the rhythm of it now – it was just like the old days when he’d stood in line with thousands of others, battering the oncoming enemy with round after round. Saleem was getting quicker, and Charles was shouting at the beasts as though he could terrify them.

Charles and Saleem’s aims were improving and they both hit several of the creatures. Jack methodically picked off snakes one by one. He was sweating and thirsty. Pain brewed in his chest, but he did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t risk using the last of the jatamansi yet.

The ramparts filled with smoke. He found it harder to make out the targets and kept missing, despite the beasts rushing closer. Muskets coughed all around him, but there seemed to be no end to the snakes. It was hopeless.

Soon the first of the creatures reached the parapet and Jack heard shouts as the men tried to fight them off with knives and even fists.

He stopped firing. ‘Deploy knives.’

They released the catches on their weapons and the blades clattered into place. The snakes rushed up, their mouths open and glinting with fangs. Jack stood with his legs apart, bracing himself for the onslaught.

Within seconds the first beast was at the parapet, hissing and widening its maw. Jack stepped back, swung his blade and sliced the creature in half. Next to him, Charles jabbed and knocked a second beast over the edge.

More snakes appeared. It was simple enough to dispatch them, but there were so many. Soon Jack had to jump off the fire step and hack at the creatures as they slithered over the battlements.

He felt something tighten about his leg and when he looked down he saw one of the beasts, fangs poised to strike. He stamped down and the creature squealed as it was crushed.

Saleem cried out. Several snakes were entwined about both of his legs, and he was trying frantically to beat them off.

Jack grabbed a pair of the creatures and tore them away. They wriggled in his hands before he threw them over the wall. But there were already more wound about the lad, slipping up over his torso and reaching his neck. Jack grasped another pair and tried to wrench them off, but they held firm this time. One reared up, its body tight about Saleem’s neck and its head poised to strike his face. Saleem yelped and tried to knock it away, but the beast swayed like a cobra and avoided his blows. It opened its mouth wider, fangs gleaming—

A sudden, pulverising explosion smacked Jack in the stomach and knocked him off his feet. Stone screamed and dust burst. Something hit him in the arm. He tried to breathe, couldn’t, tried again and this time rasped down some dusty air. His chest boiled with pain. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness. He blinked and still saw nothing. His ears were ringing but he could hear groans and screams nearby.

He rubbed his eyes, blinked again, and finally he could see. Still fighting for breath, he sat up. A deep gouge had been knocked out of the wall about twenty feet away and a pile of rubble lay on either side of the fissure, several bodies half buried underneath. Crushed and broken snakes jerked and writhed, but no further creatures slithered over the wall.

Someone beside him was coughing violently. He turned, wincing at the pain in his arm, and saw Saleem lying on his side and spitting out dust.

‘You all right?’ Jack asked.

Saleem nodded and wiped spittle from his mouth. At least the blast seemed to have knocked the snakes off him.

Jack looked at his own arm. The tunic was torn and there was a bloody cut on his shoulder, but the damage wasn’t bad and he could still move the limb.

‘Where’s Charles?’ he asked.

Saleem shook his head. ‘Can’t see him.’

The dust was clearing. Jack stood and limped towards a mound of smashed stones. Two men lay half buried beneath the pile, one of them moaning and whimpering as he tried to pull himself out. A third figure lay on the walkway, free of the stones and slowly raising himself into a sitting position. Jack ran forward – it was Charles, covered in dust from head to foot, like a miner, but still alive.

‘I’m fine.’ Charles coughed a few times.

But Jack noticed Charles’s right leg was covered in blood. He moved aside a piece of torn trouser leg and saw that half the thigh had been shot off. Through the blood and ripped flesh he spotted an edge of bone.

‘What is it?’ Charles asked.

‘Nothing – just a scratch.’ Jack lowered the flap of material. That leg would have to come off. ‘You’ll be all right.’

‘Had me worried there.’ Charles laughed a little. He didn’t appear to be in any pain.

One of the men buried under the stones gave a cry and Jack rushed over, joined by a pair of stretcher-bearers who came running along the wall. The trapped man was splattered with blood, but it was impossible to tell where it was coming from, or whether it was even all his. The stretcher-bearers pulled away the stones to free him, while Jack went to the second man and saw it was the soldier who’d burnt the avatar fly from Saleem’s face. He lay dead, one side of his head crushed.

‘He’s gone,’ Jack informed the stretcher-bearers when they looked over. He made the sign of the cross and closed the man’s eyes.

Then he helped to free the trapped soldier and lift him on to a stretcher.

‘My friend’s also hurt badly.’ He motioned with his head towards Charles.

‘We’ll have to come back from him,’ one of the bearers said. ‘Unless he can walk down.’

‘Hold on.’ Jack went across to Charles. ‘Can you stand?’

‘Reckon so.’ Charles tried to raise himself, but the pain seemed to finally hit and his features contorted. ‘Might need a bit of help. Leg seems buggered.’

Jack and Saleem helped Charles to his feet and supported him as he limped after the stretcher-bearers.

‘Where’re we going?’ Charles asked.

‘To get that leg looked at,’ Jack said.

‘No. I’m all right. It’s not bad.’

‘Just need to clean it up a bit.’

‘But we have to fight.’

‘We’ll be back soon.’

Jack glanced along the ramparts as they went slowly down the steps. He made out William, striding through the smoke.

An empty stretcher lay at the bottom of the stairs.