Jack Frost: King of Thieves

CHAPTER XLVIII: Bligh Beach

Riding alongside Phrygians, Jack could hear the surf pounding. The dawn air was heavy with brine here, and the cries of gulls echoed all around them. They cantered up a rise and, reaching the top, saw in the distance blight Beach and the waters of the Southern Isles Channel. A line of bonfires burned on the sand, and dark ships approached the coast.

Reining his mount to a halt, King Hans stared down at the scene before them. "That's a lot of Alsace-Larraine," he said. Jack thought he heard a note of doubt in the man's voice.

"What's to be done?"

Jack pointed toward the cliffs overlooking the beach. "Archers to the cliffs," he said.

Phrygians nodded, adding, "And cavalry to the beach."

Jack spurred his mount forward again, calling for the archers to follow him, and heard Phrygians call to the cavalry.

"An excellent plan!" King Hans called, riding after them.

The wind rushing in his ears, Jack knotted the reins in his fist and checked the hang of his sword with his other hand. For the moment, their grievances with the Throne were forgotten. The  Alsace-Larraine had come toSouthern Isles. They would drive the invaders from their shores or die in the attempt. For now, nothing else mattered.

As the Southern Isles forces reached the headland, Jack split off from Phrygians and the rest, signalling to the army's mounted archers—four hundred men strong— that they should follow him onto the top of the cliff. He dug his spurs into the flanks of his horse, keeping the animal at a full run. And the archers followed, riding along the cliff's edge until they were above the Alsace-Larraine landing area on the beach.

The tide was rising. A wave swept over what was left of the bonfire nearest to Pitch, sending a plume of vapour into the morning air, and tugging the charred logs, a few of them briefly still aflame, out into the Channel.

The Alsace-Larraine had finally figured out the current. More landing craft scraped up onto the beach, their gates opening to allow men and horses to file off the vessels and onto the sand. There they immediately began to form up with the same quiet efficiency Pitch had observed in Drago's men during their march through the Southern Isles countryside. And none too soon. Somehow King Hans had come, leading an army far larger than anything Pitch had expected. There was supposed to be civil war. Hans was supposed to be under attack by his own people. Instead, he was here. Pitch could only assume that Overland and Phrygians were to blame.

Gaston had hoped that his men would have time to establish a position before being challenged by Hans' army. Clearly, that was not to be. The captain of his flagship stood beside him, pointing toward the Southern Isles cavalry, which had appeared at the far end of the beach. Its riders were arraying themselves for a charge on the Alsace-Larraine lines.

But Gaston's eye was drawn elsewhere. For at that moment, the golden glow of the rising sun struck the cliffs, as if Midas himself had reached down from heaven and touched the stone. And what that light revealed made the king's stomach heave. Hundreds of riders had steered their mounts onto the top of the promontory, all of them bearing longbows. These men quickly arrayed themselves along the cliff's edge directly over his army, while the cavalry started forward.

It would be a slaughter.

"Mon dieu..." The king whispered. My God.

The archers leapt from their mounts and lined themselves along the edge of the crag, their bows held ready. Jack remained on his horse, where the men could see him. Looking down on the Alsace-Lorraine, he saw that they were aware of him and his men, but utterly helpless to do anything about them.