Resistance

by Alex Janaway

  ‘You know, you didn’t have to stay with us. I would have understood if you had wanted to ride ahead with father. He likes to get a lead on matters before many of the others return.’

  Fillion knew that, but he’d made a calculated guess that his gesture of familial support would go down far better.

  ‘I think your father would have been annoyed if I hadn’t stayed. Not that he would have said so in front of you,’ he said.

  ‘So, you do it just to please my father?’ she asked, her face a mask of seriousness.

  ‘You damned well know I don’t!’ he said.

  Nadena smiled. ‘Got you. You are so easy to get the better of sometimes, Sabin. But then that is why I like you. You’re a simple creature at heart.’

  Sabin started to say something but stopped, as he didn’t quite know what to say. That indecision just made Nadena laugh.

  ‘See? I am right. Simple.’

  Fillion let out a ‘bah’ of indignation and sniffed loudly. Truth was he had no desire to return to the city. It would mean the summer was over, that the time with his family, his child, was over. And that he had to return to his mission. He could admit it to himself, even if he had trouble believing it, that he had enjoyed his time on the coast. Brynne was a delight and Nadena had maintained her serenity even on those nights when Brynne was in no mood to sleep.

  He hoped, truly hoped, that when things started to come to a head, his daughter, blissfully ignorant of the seeds her grandfather had sown, would not suffer. She might be the one good thing, the only thing, to come out of all the slaughter and destruction.

  ‘Sabin?’ Nadena asked.

  ‘Umm? Yes?’

  ‘You looked miles away and that was one mighty frown on your face.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Fillion sighed. He had to remember, he was entering the pit of snakes and he must take control of his emotions once more. ‘I was thinking about my duties.’

  Nadena nodded, her face a little sad.

  ‘It was always going to come, my love.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. You are the Servant to one of the most powerful Members of the Elves. I am proud of you.’

  She shifted in her seat and made a face.

  ‘I think I might go and sit in the back for a while after all. Brynne will no doubt want to feed soon. Why don’t you go and bother Hedra and Alica? I can only imagine the two of them will be at each other’s throats by now.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll come back a little later,’ Fillion promised.

  ‘I am sure you will.’

  Fillion spurred Amice into a gentle gallop, chasing the next wagon in the caravan. He hoped the younger elves were asleep, he had thinking to do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – MICHAEL

  They lay in tall grass not far from the beach. Father Michael could hear nothing but the sound of the waves running into the shore. It was a clear night and the stars shone brightly above. A breeze flowed from the east, bending the grass stalks above Father Michael’s head. He knew his companions were close by, yet no one spoke, not even to make a joke or complain. It was unusual for the marines, but Father Michael had never truly seen them at work, and now, so close to their enemy, he could sense the change in their manner. They were totally focused on their business. Professional. Ahead of them was the channel that the fleet had sailed through to get inland. New Tissan was four miles to the west and it had added another five days to their journey to head south and east and then strike north once more. But they’d had to be sure that their path did not take them through any territory that a Watcher might be examining. As Fenner said, the last thing they’d expect would be the marines turning up in their rear. The wagon was hitched in some trees five miles back and the horse had been left to graze unfettered. They had walked on in darkness to reach this point, and there they had waited.

  ‘I’d say it’s about midnight,’ whispered Fenner eventually, his voice muffled by the waves.

  ‘Right,’ responded Coyle.

  Father Michael heard some rustling, some cuss words and then flint striking flint. A flash of light in the corner of his eye and he turned to see a fire catch and then flare in the darkness. Coyle raised it high and waved it three times, left to right. Then he lowered the torch and smothered the flame.

  ‘Reckon they saw that?’ asked Wendell, from somewhere behind Father Michael.

  ‘We’ll find out,’ hissed Fenner. ‘Now shut the fuck up and listen.’

  It seemed like only moments when a dark shape passed overhead, silent, yet the force of its passing bent the grass against the wind.

  ‘That’s it,’ ordered Fenner. ‘Everyone up.’

  As Father Michael got back to his feet and followed the others inland, another shape flew over their heads. The group quickly worked their way through the grass and into the open. Waiting for them were two eagles, unmistakable in the night. As they drew near, Father Michael spotted the dark shapes of their Riders, dismounted and waiting for them. It was Bryce and Cadarn.

  ‘Corporal Fenner, good to see you and your people,’ said Cadarn.

  ‘Likewise, Sir,’ replied Fenner, tipping him a salute. ‘We weren’t sure if it was just going to be Bryce showing up.’

  ‘Like he’d let me,’ replied Bryce.

  ‘I’m with you. Smart thinking to meet us out here, Corporal.’

  ‘Thanks. I guess I am right about Watchers on the Admiral?’

  ‘You are,’ nodded Cadarn. ‘They know if any boat is coming from the town. And there is no one else out here with one.’

  ‘We are in the clear, then?’

  ‘Hopefully,’ conceded Cadarn. ‘The Gifted need my Eagle Riders, but they don’t trust us. As soon as Bryce returned, he was questioned by a Reader.’

  ‘Shit,’ muttered Coyle.

  ‘What did you tell them?’ asked Fenner.

  ‘The truth. I figured that they’d know if I was lying. I said that I saw you lot and told you that you weren’t welcome in New Tissan, I also told them you were still going to try and link up with the Admiral. They were happy with that and sent me on my way,’ said Bryce.

  ‘Risky,’ mused Fenner.

  ‘That’s the world we live in,’ countered Bryce. ‘I never mentioned you, Father. And they never asked. As far as they are concerned you are dead.’

  Father Michael nodded. Yarn was still expecting something, but at least he could surprise her. ‘Do they know you are up and about tonight?’ asked Father Michael. It seemed obvious to him that the Eagle Riders would be watched and their movements controlled.

  ‘We are patrolling,’ replied Cadarn. Yarn has us doing that every night now, just as a procedure. I just fixed it so Bryce and I would be together. None of the others know what we are up to. I’ll tell them when we make a move. My Riders will join our cause, rest assured.’

  ‘Good enough. Nobody said this would be easy, eh Father?’ said Fenner.

  ‘Nothing good ever comes easily,’ replied Father Michael.

  ‘Come along,’ said Cadarn. ‘Corporal, we’ll take you and the Father back first and then come for the rest of you.’

  ‘You’re with me,’ Bryce said to Father Michael.

  Father Michael nodded and followed him over to Nukka. Bryce showed him where to climb up and then scrambled up in front of him.

  ‘Arms tight around me, Father. But not too tight, eh?’ said Bryce as he settled. ‘My bird’s a strong lass but you are a big son of a bitch, so when I tell you to drop, make sure you do it first time. She’s got a lot of carrying to do.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Father Michael.

  ‘By the way. Ellen, when I told her about what had happened, she seemed shocked. Genuinely. Then she got on with it. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she had any clue what Yarn was up to.’

  Father Michael nodded.

  ‘She asked about you,’ said Bryce, taking up the reins. ‘I told her you were dead. That actually bought a tear to her eye.’

  Father Michael
didn’t know what to say. What could he say? Had anyone ever shed a tear for him before? Not that he could remember.

  Next to them, Cadarn’s eagle took to the sky.

  ‘Here we go,’ said Bryce. Nukka opened up her wings to their full span and with powerful downward sweeps they took to the sky.

  ‘C’mon girl, get yourself up,’ shouted Bryce.

  Father Michael felt his stomach lurch and he closed his eyes, feeling the breeze against his skin. It helped to cool the sweat on his brow. If this was flying, then the Riders were welcome to it. He could feel the beast beneath him, feel the muscles tense and work, could imagine the effort it was taking to lift two grown men on its back. Then the sensation changed and the effort appeared to lessen. Father Michael opened his eyes, they were over water, heading north across the inlet. He looked over the wings as they beat gently, and beyond that the water, rushing past, glinting in the light of the stars. They were low, lower than he had thought they would be. That calmed him a little. Ahead, he could see Cadarn and Fenner. The Leader took them north until the far shore came into view and then he banked left, following the land westwards. After a few minutes, Father Michael found himself becoming accustomed to the rhythm of the wings, the breeze and the sense of peace it generated. In the darkness he felt himself relax. It was the calm before the storm.

  The eagles banked again and there was New Tissan, a dozen lights marking its presence. But before that, approaching swiftly, the distinctive shapes of three large ships at station in the middle of the channel, each one marked by a single light at its rear. They were heading for the nearest. It was shielded from the far shore by the other two ships.

  ‘Get ready,’ shouted Bryce. ‘Remember, I’ll bank left. Let go of my waist. Don’t fight it or grab me ’cos you’ll bloody take the both of us with you!

  Father Michael nodded – not that Bryce could see it – and released his grip.

  When they were within thirty yards Bryce shouted ‘Now!’ and the eagle tilted sharply. Father Michael slid from his perch on the back of the saddle and experienced a few moments of freefall and an unexpected moment of silence before he struck the water side on. The impact was not too great but it still shocked him. He floundered for a few moments before he righted himself, paddling quickly and sweeping wide with his arms. Swimming was not his strong suit, and he’d been in the water under dire circumstances only too recently. A second splash nearby alerted him to Fenner’s drop. He turned towards the sound and saw the marine bobbing in the water. Fenner raised a hand and swam over.

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Father Michael. ‘What now?’

  ‘I think we’ve been noticed. Come on.’ Another light had appeared upon the ship and he followed Fenner, slowly stroking towards it.

  ‘Who’s down there?’ a voice called.

  ‘It’s Corporal Fenner to you, I have Father Michael with me. Are you lot going to haul us up or let the sharks take us?’ he heard Fenner shout as he reached the side.

  ‘Depends. Are there sharks in there?’ came a voice.

  ‘Fuck off.’

  Father Michael joined Fenner as a rope ladder was lowered. Fenner took hold and started climbing up.

  Father Michael took hold of the ladder and hauled himself out of the water, using his arms to take his weight as he messed about trying to get his feet in the rungs. He reached the railing and a hand came under his shoulder, helping him up and over. He nodded his thanks to Fenner and straightened up. They were surrounded by a dozen or so figures, all of them armed. Several carried crossbows and wore the distinctive leather armour of the marines. They all looked wary and suspicious, their eyes flitting between Fenner and himself, their bodies radiating tension.

  ‘Care telling me why you still got those pointed our way, Japes?’ asked Fenner.

  One of the marines pulled his crossbow away and stepped forward. He was a lad, maybe in his mid-twenties, skinny with two large front teeth, scraggly hair loosely tied back and a bandolier of knives across his chest.

  ‘Sorry, Corporal, just a precaution, we’re all a bit antsy. Okay guys, relax.’ The gathered crew stepped back and lowered their weapons, the tension dissipating. The other marines joined Japes, leaning forward and sharing back slaps and shaking hands with Fenner. ‘You kinda surprised us,’ said Japes.

  ‘That’s the point,’ replied Fenner.

  ‘We honestly didn’t expect to see you again. Hey, where’s the others? Is it just you two?’ asked Japes, craning his head to look out on to the water.

  ‘They’ll be along. Watch out for them,’ replied Fenner. ‘Is the Admiral aboard? I’m guessing not.’

  ‘He’s on the Fist,’ said another marine, pointing towards the ship floating to the left of theirs.

  Fenner nodded.

  ‘Right. You got a boat we could use? I’m fucked if I’m swimming over.’

  This sprung the crew into action and with Japes calling out orders. A boat was lowered over the far side. Four crew climbed down into it and took up oars, a fifth took a position on the tiller.

  Fenner tipped Japes a salute.

  ‘Good work, lad. Now take care of the others and bring them across when they arrive. I’ll send the boat back for them.’

  ‘Aye, Corporal. Good to have you back, Sir,’ replied Japes.

  Father Michael followed Fenner to the side, as the corporal climbed down. Father Michael caught Japes looking at him askance. Father Michael looked back and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You’re the Emperor’s bodyguard ain’t ya?’ said Japes.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You look pissed.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Father Michael climbed over the side, leaving Japes gaping at him.

  He reached the boat and settled next to Fenner at the front.

  They rowed in silence across to the Emperor’s flagship, The Fist of Tissan. Father Michael was reminded of the first night he had boarded this ship, carrying the heir of the Empire, leaving behind him a half dozen soldiers to their fate, brave men who had made the ultimate sacrifice doing their duty. And now he was returning empty-handed, without the Emperor. Seven Hells, he hoped he wasn’t going to let those soldiers down at last. Yet he felt no less certain in his intent, no less driven. He had a purpose, and it was good.

  As they drew near the massive man o’ war, a voice called down.

  ‘Hold and raise your oars. You got ten bows pointed at you.’

  ‘Easy on the triggers lads. It’s us from the Pride.’

  ‘And? We weren’t expecting visitors tonight.’

  ‘Neither did we, then these two showed up, looking to speak to the Admiral,’ replied the sailor at the tiller.

  ‘And they are?’

  ‘Corporal Fenner and Father Michael,’ Fenner chipped in. ‘Now enough of this shit. We want to see the Admiral. Now.’

  A pause.

  ‘Best come up, then,’ replied the voice. Moments later another ladder was dropped down.

  Once more, Fenner led the way and Father Michael climbed on board. He looked around the familiar deck, which was well lit by the light of the stars. He spied the pens that the eagles had been housed in and the landing platforms that hung over the sides. All were empty.

  ‘Gentlemen.’

  Father Michael turned.

  Before them stood Admiral Lukas. He was carrying a cutlass on his belt and wearing a breastplate. Father Michael had never seen him so attired.

  ‘Thought I recognised you two as you drew near. Just had to be sure though,’ the Admiral said.

  ‘Ready for a fight, Admiral?’ asked Fenner.

  The Admiral grunted. ‘I can’t afford to keep my guard down. Those bastards are coming. It’s just a matter of when.’

  ‘You mean the Gifted?’ asked Father Michael.

  ‘Aye, I mean them,’ agreed the Admiral grimly. ‘Come on, the pair of you, we need to talk.’

  The Admiral led them to the second upper deck and along a shor
t corridor which ended at his quarters. He stepped inside and moved about, putting a flame to a couple of candles. In the flickering light, Father Michael saw a large room with a table in front of a number of windows and to the left a collection of chests and cabinets. To the right was a bed, the sheets crumpled and piled up.

  The Admiral set the candles down and glanced at Father Michael with an appraising eye. For his part Father Michael noted the Admiral’s beard was longer, less well kept, but his hair was still tied up at the back.

  ‘Take a seat, the pair of you,’ he said, gesturing to chairs in front of the table. He walked around, undid his sword belt and laid it on the table before sitting. ‘You chose a hell of a time to come back.’

  ‘I can’t argue with that,’ said Fenner. ‘Um, sorry about dripping on your floor, Sir.’

  The Admiral waved a dismissive hand. ‘Truth is, it’s good to see you. I figured you were all dead.’

  ‘We got your message in time. We did for two of them and we all got clear,’ replied Fenner.

  The Admiral smiled. ‘Good for you. I’m glad something got done right.’

  ‘The Father here almost didn’t make it, but he’s a tough son of a bitch,’ added Fenner.

  The Admiral turned his gaze to Father Michael. ‘I can see you’ve been wounded, Father. Care to tell me what happened?’

  Father Michael nodded. ‘The Gifted attacked us when we reached the river. They killed Bron and Uther and took the Emperor captive. I managed to kill one of them before they took me out but … it wasn’t enough. I got a couple of new scars for my trouble, as you can see.’

  The Admiral shook his head. ‘There isn’t much you can do against several Gifted. Not even the Champion of the Arena,’ he said, not unkindly. He looked back at Fenner.

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘Eagles,’ said Fenner. ‘Cadarn and Bryce brought us the long way round. It was the only way to get to you without being seen.’

  ‘Good thinking. Are the Riders with us?’

  ‘Yes, but there’s not much they can do while the Gifted hold the Emperor.’

  The Admiral grunted again.

  ‘Isn’t that the Hells-damned truth. I’m stuck out here, waving my arse at Yarn and her Gifted. But what can I achieve? Short of sailing away and leaving them to it. But I ain’t for running,’ he said.