Clash of Iron Read Free Page A

migration of giant slugs that had died and solidified, Lowa watched as the Dumnonian chariots charged her right flank. She’d sent Atlas to the right with the infantry to encourage Samalur to line his heavy chariots there. The young Dumnonian king had obliged. With his massively superior force, Samalur had done the sensible thing and matched her battle lines on both sides, heavy chariots on the left, infantry on the right, light chariots and cavalry in reserve ready to zoom wherever they were needed. Numerically superior, the Dumnonians had no incentive to try anything more advanced than the classic “infantry attacks chariots, chariots attack infantry” tactics.
    Dug was leading a section on the right, she remembered once again, about to be hit by thousands of thundering chariots and their crews of murderous, heavily armed Dumnonians. Atlas had told her that he’d come back to Maidun offering his services, and that he’d been given a company to lead. She was hurt that he hadn’t been to see her on his return, but then again it wasn’t long since she’d woken him up by having sex with Ragnall on the other side of the campfire. How could she begin to explain and apologise for that? She banished Dug from her thoughts. This was no time for childish romanticising.
    Thinking of children … it was irksome that Spring wouldn’t use her magic. If the girl had made Lowa feel like she did when she’d fought the chariot and Chamanca, she would have taken on the whole Dumnonian army herself. But Lowa believed that she’d been telling the truth about not being able to use her magic, because the girl was a terrible liar. Lowa was sure she’d lied about using her magic on Mearhold, and she had a fairly firm idea about what the jealous little brat might have done. That was something else she’d have to address if they lived through the day. Right now, she’d found another use for Spring.
    Drustan had helped a little, magic-wise. By sacrificing an ox, so he said, he’d caused the wind to veer round to the east so that it was behind them. But that was it. He said that those who could use the gods’ powers could only draw a limited amount. Lowa had asked him if there was anyone else. He’d said no. The gods had shown him that he was going to find a young person who was the greatest ever practitioner of magic. He’d thought that this was Ragnall, and he’d even tricked Ragnall into believing he’d lit fires with his mind in order to draw it out of him, but now he knew that the young man had no contact with the gods. The magic youngster foretold was Spring.
    But now Spring had lost her magic. Had the gods deserted her, Lowa wondered, because the Maidun army was doomed to be annihilated by the Dumnonians, and gods don’t like helping losers?
    There was one way to find out.
    She raised her arm and dropped it. The Maidun trumpets spewed their cacophony. Her army’s left, her mass of heavy chariots, stirred then surged towards the Dumnonian line of foot soldiers.
    On her right, the Dumnonian chariots charged the Maidun infantry. Javelins launched. Maidunite shields appeared like a sudden bloom of flowers. There was a great howl of disappointment from the Dumnonians as their missiles were deflected by the revealed defences, but they charged on, swords aloft, wheel-blades flashing.
    At the last moment, all along Maidun’s right flank, long spears sprung up like hair bristling on a wildcat’s neck. The Dumnonian chariot line faltered as thousands of reins were yanked in panic, but it was too late. The horses and chariots hit the infantry’s spears. A heartbeat later she heard the sound of a thousand wooden poles snapping under the impact of horses and people, followed by the screams of Danu knew how many Dumnonian horses and men as iron spear heads punctured their limbs, stomachs, faces … She thought of her own soldiers, kneeling behind shields as tons of man, horse, iron and wood smashed down around them. All along the Maidun