He caught Sable’s eye. ‘More.’
She nodded. ‘Through the gap,’ she called to the squad, ‘quickly.’
Lennox knelt by Libby. He straightened her arms and legs, and covered her with a cloak. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then closed her eyes. He had no tears, just emptiness; and rage.
Sable crouched down next to him, and handed him a lit stick of keenweed.
‘Smoke that,’ she said, ‘it’ll keep you going; keep your anger focussed.’
He took a draw and glanced at the Holdings agent.
‘This is the day your legend begins,’ she said to him.
‘Fuck my legend, I just want revenge.’
She nodded. ‘Good enough for me.’
The cutter sped out of the harbour lane, leaving a score of merchant vessels burning behind them; their masts, rigging and sails alight. Smoke was belching from the lower hatches on their decks and screams competed with the sound of the flames. Sable pointed ahead, to where a large troop carrier was tied up by a wide stone pier.
Lennox turned, and scooped a stream of fire from the merchant vessels, and sent it flying through the air, over the Seablade, and onto the deck of the troop-carrier, spraying the panicking soldiers with thick flames. Crossbows were aimed down at them from the high stern, but Lennox saw them, and threw fire in their direction, incinerating the troopers there. He continued to sweep his arm to the left, and the fires followed, hitting the next vessel along, and then surging over a long line of smaller fishing boats. He smiled, and looked for more targets. An enormous grain ship was berthed by the quay, and he gathered the flames from the burning fishing boats and raised them into the sky, then flung them down onto the grain ship. The fires tore through the vessel, pushed on by the ferocity of his will, as he forced the flames deeper within, consuming everything. He turned again, and flung more fire at a row of tall sailing ships docked at a pier to their left.
He placed his hands on his knees, panting.
‘You done?’ cried Sable.
‘No. I want more.’
‘That’s what I like to hear, soldier.’ She shouted orders to the squad, and they pulled up to the main wharf. ‘Stay by the Seablade,’ she called out to Loryn and Denny. ‘The rest of you, with me. Protect the fire mage at all costs.’
She leaped over the narrow gap, grasped onto a ladder, then scrambled up onto the stone surface of the wharf. She drew her sword, and as Lennox jumped, he saw her lash out, her Holdings battle-vision carving out a space for the squad to climb. Cain and Leisha followed, then Carrie, and together they drew their shields into a defensive formation round Lennox.
‘We’ve got ten minutes,’ shouted Sable. ‘Burn everything you can, then back to the cutter.’
Sable moved down the wharf, the soldiers close behind her. Dock workers scattered in a chaotic, screaming mob of panic and terror. A few soldiers were dotted about in the crowd, but were powerless to resist the flood of fleeing civilians. A hundred yards behind them, the first galley had berthed, and the soldiers on board had disembarked. They were slaughtering everyone they could reach, their maces dark with gore. Lennox gathered fire from the burning troop-carrier and rained it down onto the mass of escaping civilians, and their panic turned into a stampede. Bodies fell, their clothes and hair alight, and were trampled under the heels of those fleeing the carnage.
‘The warehouses!’ cried Sable.
All along the harbour front were rows of stone and brick-built warehouses, each with sloping wooden roofs. Lennox paused, a deep exhaustion threatening to topple him where he stood. Sable thrust another stick of keenweed into his fingers.
‘Come on, soldier,’ she said. ‘Do it for Libby.’
He inhaled, the three from his squad forming a ring around him, their shields facing outwards. The crowds were thinning, leaving smouldering and trampled corpses scattered across the flagstones of the long wharf. In the distance, by a large gatehouse leading into the Old Town, imperial soldiers were forming up into ranks, their armour shining in the dawn sunlight.
Lennox raised his arms again, tired despite the narcotics flowing through his veins. He ignored a headache forming behind his temples, and gathered fire once more, pulling it in huge bursts from the fires raging in the troop-carrier to their right. He swept his hand across, and the flames followed, striking the first warehouse, then spreading wherever his hand pointed, skipping across the roofs like a pebble across a still lake.
When the flames reached the last warehouse in the line, he sent the fires up high, gathering them into a twisting mass, then hurled it at the imperial troopers by the gatehouse. It exploded in a great burst of heat and flames, incinerating everything in its path. Sable began urging them back to the ship, then stopped, her mouth opening.
Lennox turned. From out of the closest warehouse, a stream of coughing, choking civilians were stumbling. Among them were a group of women, each with a blood-soaked apron covering their clothes. Lennox gazed at them in confusion. They weren’t Holdings, or Kellach Brigdomin, and were too tall for Rakanese.
‘Forget everything else,’ screamed Sable, pointing. ‘Grab them! Take them to the Seablade!’
She rushed forward, her sword aloft. As the rest of the squad ran after her, she charged into the group fleeing the warehouse, cutting down a Holdings trooper who was with them.
‘Take the Sanang women only,’ Sable called out. ‘Kill the rest.’
The squad piled into the civilians, their maces swinging. They herded the aproned women into a tight cluster, and began dragging them back to the cutter. Lennox, who had left his mace on the Seablade, took hold of two of the women, both young, and hauled them away. They writhed and struggled in his grasp, but his strength was too much for them. Carrie was pulling one woman by the arm, but she slipped free, and bolted away across the wharf. Leisha lowered her crossbow and shot her in the back, sending her hurtling to the flagstones.
A roar came from their right, and Lennox saw a larger group of imperial troopers headed their way. They were formed into a thick line, their boots racing across the wharf towards them. Lennox reached the side of the quay, and threw the two Sanang women onto the deck of the Seablade. He turned, waiting as the others caught him up. Cain was dragging one woman by the arm, and Leisha and Sable each had another.
‘Go!’ Sable screamed to the squad, as they jumped down onto the cutter.
The deck was in chaos. Half of the squad were trying to get the Seablade moving, while the other half were attempting to prevent the five captured Sanang from escaping. The women were struggling as Denny and Carrie bound their hands and ankles. Sable held her sword to the throat of one.
‘Stop resisting,’ she said, ‘or I kill her. I know how you die. Her head will leave her shoulders, I swear it.’
The other Sanang women paused their struggles, their eyes wide with terror. Leisha swung the boom over their heads and the Seablade began to move, as the first imperial soldiers appeared at the top of the wharf. Lennox raised his hand, and sprayed them with flames taken from the still-burning troop-carrier. Troopers toppled into the dark waters, flames covering them as they fell.
One of the watching Sanang women screamed in horror, and Denny slapped her across the face as he tied her wrists together. With the captives secure, the rest of the squad except for Lennox turned their full attention to the Seablade, which was moving at speed away from the wharf. On every side, the ships of the harbour were on fire, dozens of vessels, and the sky was filling with smoke. Lennox sat down by the stern, slumped against the railing, his hands shaking.
‘You alright, boss?’ said Loryn, sitting a few feet away with her hand on the tiller.
He stared at her.
She threw him a flask. ‘Sable said you might be needing this.’
He opened it and took a swig. Whisky, from the Holdings agent’s jealously guarded supply. He gazed at the burning ships as the Seablade tore across the water. One of the galleys was ahead, making for the entrance at speed, it
s sails full. It collided with a smaller vessel that had drifted out into its path, and the galley rolled right over it, snapping its keel like a twig. In front of them, the tower at the end of the breakwater was also in flames; and littered round its base were the bodies of dead soldiers.
The galley reached the entrance first, and hurried through unchallenged. The Seablade followed, the squad letting out a cheer as they passed the smoking tower, its chain broken and lying on the sea floor. The mainsail was trimmed, and the cutter picked up speed. Lennox glanced to the right and saw the third galley, blocking the entrance to the imperial harbour. It had been holed in its hull, and the water had risen over the lower decks. Imperial soldiers stared at them from the battlements of the harbour’s breakwater.
Cain laughed. ‘That was mental, eh?’ He glanced at Lennox, his grin fading. ‘Sorry. I forgot for a moment. Still, you were amazing, boss. Fucking amazing.’
Lennox said nothing, because he felt nothing. He took another swig of whisky. He dragged Libby’s body away from the bound Sanang, laying her down by the stern. He clasped her cold hand in his, taking in every feature of her face.
‘Shit,’ said Sable.
‘Ma’am?’ said Leisha.
‘Only one galley made it out,’ the Holdings agent said. ‘The other must still be in there.’
Lennox glanced back at the town of Rainsby, fast receding into the distance. The entire harbour seemed to be on fire; devoured in a vast conflagration. Flames rose up above the walls, sending smoke belching into the blue sky.
‘Quite a sight, Lennox,’ Sable said. ‘You did it.’ She turned to the squad. ‘Right, get the captives sitting over by the base of the mast; we need to clear some space on deck.’
Carrie and Cain began moving the bound Sanang women across the wooden boards.
‘Who are they, boss?’ said Leisha.
‘Hedgewitches,’ Sable said. ‘That’s who.’
Hedgewitches? Lennox stared at them. Two were old, but tough-looking, while the three others were young. One looked to be little older than a girl. Carrie and Cain arranged them round the base of the mast, their arms linked together with tightly wound rope, and their ankles tied.
‘Shit,’ said Leisha. ‘And I shot one.’
‘It was in the back,’ said Sable. ‘She’ll probably be fine. Takes a lot to kill a hedgewitch; you have to injure them faster then they can heal themselves.’
One of the older captives noticed Lennox staring, and said something loudly to him in their own harsh tongue.
‘What’s she saying?’ he said.
Sable shrugged. ‘Nothing important.’
‘I can tell you,’ said one of the younger Sanang, looking Lennox in the eye. ‘I can speak Rahain.’
Sable looked away as the rest of the squad listened.
‘She said,’ the young woman went on, ‘that you set fire to a hospital full of the wounded, and she wants to know something.’
‘Aye?’ said Lennox. ‘What?’
‘She wants to know,’ said the Sanang captive, ‘what kind of monster could do a thing like that?’
Chapter 23
The Spoils
Inner Sea – 8th Day, Second Third Summer 525
Out of their captors, only the Holdings traitor seemed to be able to understand their language, though Thorn had never heard the woman speak it. During the voyage, the Kellach Brigdomin soldiers of the Army of Pyre had chatted to each other in Rahain, not caring that Thorn knew what they were saying. Sable, the Holdings traitor, said the least, keeping her thoughts to herself as she gazed out to sea. Sometimes she would shout orders to Loryn, the young Kellach soldier who sat at the rear of the boat, and they would change direction. For three days and nights they had sailed away from Rainsby, the soldiers taking it in turns to sleep for a few hours between longs shifts working on the deck.
The only soldier who did no work was Lennox. From where Thorn sat, she had a good view of the stern and the way they had come, and she had often watched the fire mage. For the first day he had wept almost continuously, clasping onto a body wrapped in a spare sail that lay by his side. On the second day, Sable and some of the soldiers had said a few words, then the body was lowered into the sea as they sped along. Lennox had lost control, and had lashed out at the others, weeping and screaming until they had restrained him. The Holdings agent had made him smoke something, and he had spent the rest of that day, and the following night, lying unconscious on the deck. On the third day he had sat by himself, saying nothing, and the others had left him alone. Thorn knew he was suffering, and was glad.
Thorn and her fellow captives had been uncomfortable, but well-treated; given a small ration of food and water each day, and allowed to whisper among themselves without punishment. To Thorn’s left was Bluebell, her anger undiminished by either her age or the time that had elapsed since the slaughter in the harbour. On Thorn’s right sat Bracken, pale and ill. The captives had agreed not to mention that the soldiers had kidnapped someone who wasn’t a hedgewitch, but Thorn was worried that her weakness compared to the robust health of the others would give her away.
Behind her, on the other side of the mast and out of sight, sat Clove and her mother. Like Lennox, Clove had wept for the entire first day, but had since fallen silent, the lulling voice of their mother calming her.
As the fourth morning dawned, Thorn woke from a light slumber, and re-arranged herself on the deck to get more comfortable. Soldiers were busy working, but Thorn couldn’t see Sable. Lennox was in his usual position by the stern, his eyes hollow. He didn’t look like a monster; he looked like someone tormented by grief and shame, but Thorn felt no pity for him. He had lost his woman, that seemed evident, but it was no excuse for what he had done. Up until the raid, Thorn had remained ambivalent about the enemy of the empire. True, they caused the injuries that she and her fellow hedgewitches had battled to heal, but so did their own side. Huge stone-throwers within the walls of Rainsby had regularly peppered the Rahain lines, and she had always imagined that there were hospitals like hers on the other side of the divide.
The raid had changed her view.
An army that attacked a harbour for the express intention of slaughtering civilians was one worthy of her hatred. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that atrocities happened in war, on both sides, but an isolated outbreak of rage was different from someone coldly planning a massacre. And if they were capable of that, then what else were they capable of?
Thorn stilled a pulse of fear that threatened to ripple through her. If the agent had wanted them dead, then they already would be; instead, they were heading east, towards where Thorn knew the captured town of Stretton Sands was located. Perhaps they wanted to use the captives to heal their own wounded, or maybe, as seemed more likely, their capture had been due to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Sable had acted on impulse.
She shifted position again, uncomfortable. Her dress was sticking to her after three days of hot, sunny weather and she felt disgusting, her hair windblown and dry, her skin weather-beaten; but then she remembered poor Bracken who, without healing powers to keep her healthy, was getting sicker by the day.
Thorn watched as the soldier named Cain moved passed her and crouched down by Lennox.
‘How you feeling, boss?’ he said.
‘Like shit.’
The soldier sat down next to Lennox and passed him a flask.
‘You were doing your job; you made them pay for Libby.’
Lennox glared at him. ‘I burned down a fucking hospital.’
‘Aye,’ said Cain, ‘but you didn’t know that. We thought it was just another warehouse.’
‘That old woman was right,’ Lennox said, putting his head in his hands. ‘I’m a monster.’
‘It’s war. Bad things happen.’
‘Bullshit, we had a choice. Do you remember when we attacked Stretton Sands, and we were ordered to kill civilians? What did we do then? We fucking refused, that’s what. But in Rainsby, I was so angry,
and… I…’ He broke off, noticing Thorn watching him. He held her gaze for a moment, then looked away.
Cain patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’re all messed up, I get it. It’s alright, you just need some time.’
The soldier got up and went back to work.
‘Take us towards those cliffs,’ called out Sable’s voice, and Loryn adjusted the tiller, swinging the boat round to the south. Thorn strained her neck to see, and in the corner of her eye she made out the approaching coastline.
‘We’re coming in to shore,’ whispered Bluebell.
‘Is it Stretton Sands?’ said Thorn. ‘Can you see it?’
‘No,’ said the old woman. ‘I don’t see any towns or settlements, just barren coast.’
‘You,’ said Sable.
Thorn turned, and saw the Holdings traitor standing in front of her.
‘Yes?’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Thorn.’
‘I need you to translate.’
‘Very well.’
‘Tell the other hedgewitches,’ Sable went on, ‘that we’ll be landing soon. Tell them that there’s no point in trying to escape, because this whole area is under the control of the Rahain forces. If you behave yourselves, you won’t be mistreated.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘What are you going to do with us?’
‘Stop asking questions and tell the others what I just said. Got it?’
‘Does your conscience ever bother you?’
Sable crouched down by her, a grim smile on her lips. ‘You’ve got some cheek, girl, but I’d watch your tongue if I were you.’
‘If I could heal your broken mind, I would.’
Sable slapped her across the face, the pain stinging Thorn’s cheek for an instant before her powers suppressed it. The agent rose to her feet and stalked away. Thorn watched her go, then noticed Lennox staring at her.
The Magelands Epic: Storm Mage (Book 6) Page 33
