by Alex Janaway
‘You reckon you could take one, Father?’ asked Wendell.
‘Like I said. Coming face to face with a wild vargr, you take it head on, it’s too fast, too manoeuvrable, so wait for it to come to you, then you strike. You get one shot at the thing. Make it count, disable the beast, and you have the advantage.’
Fenner whistled. ‘A wild vargr? Those the Nidhal ride aren’t particular friendly as it is and they are the tamed ones! Your idea sounds great in practice, but I think I’ll let you take that on, Father.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Now that’s a tactic I agree with,’ said Beautiful.
‘Either that or you stand in the line with your fellow marines and unleash a storm at the thing,’ said Fenner.
‘That’s the usual way,’ said Wendell. ‘Cut ’em down before they ever reach you. Strength in numbers.’
‘Not many of us left to do that kind of fighting anymore,’ mused Beautiful.
‘So we do what we do best,’ said Fenner with a touch of pride in his voice. ‘We fight dirty.’
‘Hey, Father!’ Coyle tipped his head towards the front of the party. ‘Reckon they could take one?’ Father Michael knew he meant the detachment of Gifted, who marched in column just behind the Emperor. A Shaper could certainly come up with something to distract a vargr, a powerful Gifted could even cast something sharp right at it, perhaps right through its eyes.
‘I am sure they could. They are the Emperor’s chosen warriors,’ he said loyally.
‘Yeah, but they’ve never had to face one of those things charging right for their balls,’ Coyle replied.
‘I’m sure they would fight bravely,’ Father Michael added.
‘Hmm, I sense a bet coming on,’ said Fenner.
‘What you thinking?’ asked Beautiful.
‘Oh, who would come off best in a fight with a vargr. Our Father here? Or one of the Gifted?’
Father Michael shook his head. Did they ever stop with the wagers?
‘You have a view, Father?’ asked Fenner.
‘Like I said, I hope it never comes to it,’ said Father Michael.
The marines fell silent and he could swear he could actually hear their minds doing the calculations. He also found that a part of him was also weighing the odds, old habits that died hard, a professional detachment that was keen to measure his own skill against it.
‘Hey, Father,’ said Fenner, breaking the silence. ‘Didn’t I see you a few years back? Sweet Emperor, maybe it was even ten years ago, doesn’t time fly? Anyway, I saw you in the arena, in Vyberg and you were the big finale. What was it you faced?’
Father Michael sighed.
‘It was a manticore.’
Fenner slapped his knee and nodded. ‘Yes! That was it. I swear, I’d never seen the like. One minute you were all over it, then the next thing, you sidestepped, cut its tail off and then leapt on its back and strangled the life out of the fucker. Honestly, I’ve never seen the like.’
‘I’ll take ten on the Father,’ said Wendell, quickly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN – CADE
Cade yawned and stretched. It had been a long night and she had barely slept. Vidar was working them harder for some reason. Or maybe there was no reason at all, and he was just being a cruel bastard. Either way, here was their first delivery of the day, and it was barely past breakfast. The cheek of it. She gazed lazily out towards the north of the plateau and the route leading off it. If she had someone to complain to she might have done. As it was, most of her people usually blamed her. What was that about? She was the one who made their lives easier, after all. She was minded just to give it all up and let someone else do the thinking and leading. Devlin. Yes, he could do it. He’d like that. She could retire. Find herself a nice, dark tunnel and just get back to chipping bits of shit off other bits of shit. Anonymous. But dangerous. But then, what was new?
‘Visitors,’ murmured Miriam, from the driver’s side of the wagon.
‘What?’ Cade looked ahead. ‘Oh.’
As their wagon arrived at Vidar’s complex, with another five in convoy behind them, Cade spotted a line of ragged looking individuals, about a dozen or so. All huddled against the wooden wall of the warehouse, guarded by four of Vidar’s goons. Miriam drew the wagon up to the main doors and applied the brake. Cade hopped off and shook her legs as the warehouse doors opened and some of her crew walked out to meet them. She saw Evan amongst them, along with Emerich and Trent, a lank Riverlander.
‘New faces,’ she said to Evan as he wandered over. The lad had started to fill out. It was good to see.
‘Yep. They arrived an hour ago. They haven’t spoken yet,’ he said.
‘One did but he got a smack for his trouble,’ offered Trent.
She looked closer at the prisoners, studying their faces. Most were dirt-streaked, thin, worn and possessed of that brow-beaten look she was used to seeing on her own people, although less so these days. A couple of the newcomers eyed her with interest, standing a little straighter, holding themselves with dignity. That was good. It meant they were people who could help her get things organised. In another way it could be bad. It depended on how they got to be here and the kind of system they were running – she didn’t need any more thugs or wannabe gang masters. She had done too much to get where she was.
Her crew had climbed aboard the wagon, so she slapped its side. ‘Alright, get to it.’
Seeing a figure she recognised emerge from the shadows of the warehouse, she moved to intercept him. Geir. The grey-bearded little shit was carrying a small leather book in his hand rather than the ledger that she always thought of as an extra limb.
‘Morning!’ she said brightly. ‘I see we have some guests.’
Geir did not acknowledge her greeting. ‘Here.’ He thrust the book into her hands, walked past her and stopped in front of the line of prisoners. ‘These are the representatives of the other workings and mines that make up this concern. You know what you need to do?’ he asked.
‘So the boss finally got the others to agree to let him manage operations, huh? He’s a smart one,’ Cade replied.
Geir scowled from beneath his bushy eyebrows and facial hair. ‘You have the day to elicit the required information from them. The book contains the necessary information regarding population sizes, work routines and outputs. At dusk, Master Vidar wants a full report. And he expects the first tranche of workers to be inducted and trained tomorrow morning.’
Cade scratched her head. Vidar really didn’t hang around. She caught Geir still staring at her.
‘Um, yes?’
‘Do you have any questions?’ he asked.
Cade screwed up her face.
‘Nope. Happy.’
Geir eyed her silently for a moment, then shook his head.
‘The guards will remain outside the entrance and will collect them when you have finished.’ As he departed, he waved a dismissive hand.
Cade watched him stalk off, then turned to face the gathering. She put on her sunniest smile.
‘Morning, all. Congratulations. Your day has just gotten a little better.’
A few of them looked confused. Cade glanced at the four guards.
‘Any of you boys speak our lingo?’
The guards stared at her with open hostility but only one acknowledged her with a shake of his head.
‘Fair enough,’ she replied, and turned her attention back to the line. ‘As I understand it, you lot are representatives of the various mines and quarries dotted hereabouts. And you’ll note we all wear different brands.’ She raised her arm. ‘But from here on in, they don’t mean squat. We all work for the dwarf that sits in the office just inside this building. He’s smart enough to realise we ain’t just cattle, leastways, we got more latitude than some of his compatriots would like. Now we play this right, we get a tiny piece of our lives back. But don’t get cocky!’ she said with a stern finger raised.
She watched their expressions. Some were still confused, others dow
nright sceptical. One, a man who she had clocked as one of the brighter ones, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. A woman with a shaved head grinned at her and spat. Yep, she’d have to watch that one.
‘Now, what I need from you is your best guess of the talent pool you each have. I’m talking about skills, trades and the like. Especially those who might have smithying experience or an associated job – Hells, I’m looking for woodworkers, farriers, drivers. Anything you can think of that will fill a function that the short-arses would normally fill.
‘How about gaol warder?’ said the man. He had a thick beard and a length of blond hair tied up in a bun on his head.
Oh, funny guy.
‘Hilarious.’ She fixed him with a look and he looked right back. ‘Let’s see what else you can come up with. Firstly …’ she craned her neck and looked into the warehouse. ‘Hey, Miriam! You got that sack?’
‘Yeah?’ came a shouted reply.
‘Good. Break it out. We have some folks who need breakfast.’
Again, glances were exchanged.
‘If you’d like to follow me inside, we’ve got some food and water for you. Nothing fancy, bread and cheese, but it’s pretty fresh.’
Some of the faces broke out into hopeful smiles.
‘So if you’d like to come on inside …’ She ushered the group along and glanced back at the guards. ‘As you were, boys.’
She followed the others in and looked up towards Vidar’s office. Do this job right and she’d be sitting pretty. She opened the book in her hands. The first few pages contained neat writing and a bunch of numbers, all in the Imperial language. That’s as much as she recognised. She couldn’t read for shit. She’d pass it to Devlin later; he had a mind for this kind of crap. She moved on into the depths of the warehouse, away from unwanted attention. Already the new arrivals were gathering around Miriam, who was dishing out the food. Cade had expected this day was going to happen, that Vidar was close to taking control, so she had made sure to have a welcome package ready for when it happened. Hearts and minds. Seemed only right she should be prepared. She scratched her neck and yawned. Time to get to work.
As bidden, Cade released the others as the bright blue sky started to fade to black. They walked out, their heads a little higher if she was any judge, to be met by their guards who, through some less than gentle cajoling, got them back into a line and then marched them off. Cade allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. It had been a productive day. And interesting as well. Through her discussions with the others she had discovered that there was a damned sizeable population up here in the mountain range. Many thousands if those folks had their numbers right. She’d have to check that tonight with Devlin. That meant there was a wide base to draw from for the work required on the plateau. She could get this stitched up nicely.
The dwarves must be importing a shit-ton of food, even if was crap. Feeding that many was quite the effort. There was a bakery on site, she could smell it sometimes. Maybe there were kitchens too. She had people who could work in those as well. That would mean better bread, not the tough, stony shit the dwarves made. Damn, they could even start brewing ale. Oh my lords, that would make me a happy lass.
She turned and made her way to the steps leading to Vidar’s office. The two dwarves watched as she approached, barely reacting, their caution not as clear as it had once been. She was a familiar sight after all. One covered her with his crossbow while the other made her raise her hands and patted her down. It was only then that she caught a waft of something inviting and looked outside, seeing a small group of dwarves waiting by the entrance. They were gathered together, talking quietly and sharing a skin. These were not local boys. They were dressed in fancy armour and carried themselves like professional soldiers. An important visitor, perhaps?
The dwarf checking her stepped back and jerked his thumb at the stairs.
As Cade began the ascent, her mind moved back to the day’s business; the other mine representatives were a mixed bunch. One or two were a sorry excuse for community leaders – things must be real bad at their workings. The others were in a better state, certainly after she’d spent an age bringing them round to the new way of things. Blondie, the sarcastic one, proved to be alright. He didn’t let on who he was, or what he’d been before, but he was shrewd and smart and more importantly, happy to follow her lead – for the moment at least. The skinhead, well, she’d be a problem. She reminded her of Anzo, long dead, who’d seen an opportunity to seize control through thuggery yet had been too stupid to see where that would lead. She’d tell Vidar that Baldie would have to go, along with most of whatever crew she had. As for the others, well, once they got a taste of the good life, some of them might make a play. She’d just have to make sure they never got the chance. Queen of Tissan. That’s me.
She reached the balcony and saw the door was open, light spilling from the room within. She stepped forward and was about to raise her fist to knock when Vidar opened the door.
‘Ah,’ she said.
Vidar raised an eyebrow.
‘Wait inside. I’m just saying goodbye to a guest.’
‘Right you are,’ she replied with a nod, and stood aside to let him pass.
Vidar walked out followed by his guest, and Cade took a small step back in surprise. This was no dwarf. An elf! If the height didn’t give it away, the fancy clothes, long hair, fine features and pointy ears certainly did.
The elf turned to look at her. By the open-mouthed expression on his face, he was even more surprised than she was. For a moment he missed a step, almost halting. He stared at her as if he wanted to say something.
Cade looked the elf straight in the eye. ‘Take a good look. Might be the last chance you get,’ she said softly.
‘Get inside,’ growled Vidar.
The elf closed its mouth and swallowed.
Vidar ground out some words that were not dwarvish, and the elf nodded and started to follow him down the stairs. He turned to look at her once more as he disappeared.
That was a turn-up. Today was a day for surprises. The familiar stomping of Vidar’s boots encouraged her to take a position in front of his desk.
Vidar entered and closed the door, walking past her to settle down once more in his chair.
‘What have you got?’ he asked. Ever the one with the small talk.
Cade gave him the lowdown on what she had learned and what he could expect from his new workforce.
‘And they are being prepared?’ he asked.
Cade nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve given instructions that those most suited are to make themselves known and be ready for transport here at dawn tomorrow. We should be able to take over most of the work you require within a few days.’
Vidar studied a ledger, running a finger down the page.
‘Good,’ he acknowledged. ‘It costs me money every day smelters stand idle.’
‘I understand, boss,’ she said. ‘Speaking of idleness. I can see there being a few problems with some of the civic leaders you found.’
Vidar glanced up, an eyebrow raised.
‘Some of them might not want to play fair,’ she said.
Vidar narrowed his eyes. ‘You’ll need to put better leaders in place,’ he said.
‘I’ll make that a priority.’
‘Speak to Geir. He’ll arrange their removal,’ Vidar said with a dismissive wave of his hand, and returned to his ledger, making a note on the page in his blocky scrawl.
‘Right-oh, boss. Anything else you need?’
‘No, you can go.’
‘Thanks. Who’s the elf, by the way?’
Vidar looked up sharply. ‘That’s none of your damn business.’
‘Yes. Of course not,’ Cade replied quickly. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ She backed hastily out of the office, closed the door and walked slowly down the steps. That was a moment. Last thing they needed was the elves getting involved in her action. She was almost thankful for Vidar’s stubbornness – personal greed and gain always came
up trumps.
She passed the guards and walked outside into the dusk, seeing shadowed figures moving among the line of wagons that were parked up.
‘Hey, Miriam,’ she called.
The woman emerged from the rear of the wagon. ‘Yes?’
‘We all set?’
‘Five minutes, I reckon.’
‘OK, I’m just going for a looksee at something. Wait for me.’
‘Right.’
Cade walked around the warehouse and Vidar’s complex towards the centre of the plateau. It was not lost on her that already, with Vidar’s commercial ascendancy, she could now walk unguarded. She approached a cluster of structures related to the logistics of the mining operations. Following her nose, she located a stone-walled building with a large chimney. The smell of baked bread filled her with a sense of comfort and pleasure, but started her stomach rumbling. She walked to the entrance to the half-opened door, peeking in to have a look – several dwarves wearing leather aprons covered in white powder were engaged in the business of baking. At the rear was a large oven radiating so much heat she could feel it flowing over her even from this distance. The dwarves were busy pounding dough and warm loaves were stacked on a rack right by the door. She’d seen all she needed to. As she withdrew, she held one in each hand. Her crew would eat well tonight – perks of having a boss who’s a thief.
Moving swiftly, she rounded the side of the bakery and started to head back to the wagon. Suddenly she felt an arm snake around her neck.
‘What the fu–!’ Dragged into the shadow of the building, she struggled to batter her assailant with the loaves.
A hand covered her mouth and an urgent voice hissed, ‘Be quiet!’
She fought on, raising her foot, aiming for the shins.
‘Ow! Fucking stop,’ the voice was in her ear, a male voice. Krste. The voice was speaking to her in Krste.
Cade stopped. ‘Alright, alright. Just let me go.’
‘OK. Just don’t run.’
Cade felt the pressure on her throat release. She spun round, still holding up the bread.
