by Alex Janaway
‘I hear you even refused an order by the Emperor,’ said Fenner.
‘It was no damned order from the Emperor, Corporal,’ growled the Admiral.
‘Is the Emperor harmed?’ asked Father Michael.
The Admiral shook his head. ‘It’s difficult to tell, but he was standing when he spoke to me. He seemed surprised when I told him I wouldn’t stand down. But he probably knew what Yarn was going to do, what she’d already done. Either way someone was going to die. It just happened to be innocent citizens.’ The Admiral shook his head. ‘You better not repeat this, but I am angry. Angry I didn’t react sooner. I lost a lot of good men and women.’
‘There was nothing else you could do, they acted so fast,’ said Fenner.
‘Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I should have moved before Yarn did. All I know is, if we sit here for much longer, the Gifted are going to come for us. I’m surprised they haven’t already. I’ll burn these damn boats before that happens.’
‘I’m going to get him back,’ said Father Michael.
‘Who?’ The Admiral looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘The Emperor?’
‘Yes.’
The Admiral placed his hands flat on the table. ‘Father. You are one man – an incredible fighter, I’ll give you that. But you can’t take them all on.’
‘I never said I’d do it alone,’ replied Father Michael. ‘The Gifted have control because they have the Emperor. If we can get him away, then the people will rally to him.’
‘And many, many folk will die,’ said the Admiral. ‘You think I haven’t considered doing just that? But as I said, they’ll see me coming.’
‘They won’t see me coming,’ said Father Michael. ‘I can go one on one with a Gifted and I can kill them. They are not gods. There is only one God. And my faith in him is absolute.’
The Admiral gave him a doubtful look.
‘Listen, Admiral,’ said Fenner. ‘Isn’t this the point? We either run, submit or we do … something! You said it, the Gifted will try for us. Besides, we owe them a fight.’
The Admiral leaned back, folded his arms, and inspected the pair of them. ‘You’re with the Father on this one?’
‘We are,’ replied the marine. ‘We’ve got scores to settle.’
‘Hmm.’ The Admiral leaned forward, placed one hand back on the table and started to drum his fingers. ‘We’d need to cause a diversion. Draw the Gifted away.’
‘The Riders are looking out for a sign from us,’ said Father Michael. ‘Leader Cadarn knows what I intend to do. They can help.’
The Admiral slammed his hands on the table in unison. ‘Alright, then. Fenner, you are getting your sergeant’s stripe back. You’re leading the marines.’
‘Uh, great! Wait? What about Captain Rens?’ asked Fenner.
The Admiral made a sour face. ‘He was one of the ones who didn’t make it.’
‘Damn,’ swore Fenner.
‘Like I said,’ continued the Admiral. ‘You are now in charge of the marines. There weren’t many left, apart from those already guarding the ships, and the handful I bought with me. I lost a dozen fighting a rearguard just so I could get away. I’ve got a score to settle as well.’ He inclined his head towards Father Michael. ‘I trust you can think of some suitable diversion to assist the Father here.’
‘I reckon I can. But I think we are going to have to go all-in on this one. We only get one chance at this,’ said Fenner.
‘I have no doubt about that,’ agreed the Admiral. He looked at Father Michael. ‘What do you need?’
‘I need to know that I can rely on you to die for this,’ said Father Michael. Nothing less would do if his plan was to work. ‘I do not wish to sound, ah, dramatic. But you have to buy me some time.’
The Admiral nodded. ‘We understand that, Father. We’ve been doing that since this damned adventure started.’
Father Michael pursed his lips. Good. ‘We are not waiting. We are doing this tonight. Let us plan the attack.’
Father Michael eased himself into the water for the second time that night. He was still damp from his earlier dip and he quickly adjusted to the change of temperature.
‘You okay?’ whispered Fenner, leaning over the edge of the row boat. ‘Weight not too much?’
Father Michael tested the weight of the baldrick that was secured to his back. ‘It’s fine.’ The baldrick held a shortsword. A sheathed dagger was tied tight against his hip.
Fenner reached down and patted his shoulder. ‘Good luck, then. This should be fun.’
Father Michael shook his head. Not for the first time, doubting Fenner’s sanity.
‘I’ll see you after,’ he responded, and kicked off. He kept his strokes steady as he covered the hundred yards to the shore. He was fortunate the tide was with him. Having taken to the boat once more, they had used the cover of the warships to row to the far side of the inlet and then back towards the east. Father Michael was heading now towards the edge of New Tissan where, hopefully, there would be no Watchers to see his arrival. He thought about Fenner again, he had been a sergeant once but had been demoted. That didn’t surprise him but he would like to find out the story behind that, once this business was done. If they both survived.
He looked back but the boat had disappeared. He was alone once more, and as he swam old feelings and expectations re-emerged from deep within. Going into the arena with no guarantee of success, against opponents that wished him dead. For his part, he welcomed the return of these thoughts; they were the experiences of a lifetime of combat and would serve him well in the night ahead. He was drawing near the southern shore now. He could see, a little further to the west, two distinct fires. The Admiral had told him that soldiers manned them, although he was sure the Watchers would be monitoring them as well. Even if those soldiers were loyal to the Emperor, the risk of discovery was still too great. The fires were along a stretch of beach where a few fishing boats were laid up. Beyond them, a few hundred yards away, were the new docks. When Father Michael had left they were the chaotic beginnings of a shipyard and a couple of jetties. Now, apparently, the docks were the focus, as the residents of New Tissan laboured to produce ships of a size and quality to survive the journey back to the old Empire.
Reaching the beach, he kept as low a profile as he could as the estuary bed rose. When he had no more water to keep him submerged, he forced himself up, and ran towards the long grass thirty yards away. Reaching cover he dropped down on his haunches and waited. After two minutes there was nothing to suggest anyone had seen him, so he stood once more and started his penetration into the town of New Tissan itself. Angling in from the north, he aimed for the square, where the Emperor had his quarters. Father Michael had no idea if that was where he was being held, but it seemed a logical place to start.
As he drew closer, he spotted a far larger number of dwellings than had been there before the winter. Stepping out of the cover of the long grass, he was in open, cleared territory. Much of it was demarcated by fields and enclosures. Cultivation was well on its way, as it needed to be to feed the thousands of imperial citizens. There was, he noted, no palisade surrounding the town. This had been discussed, and the work should have been completed. But perhaps the wood was taken for the shipbuilding. It made sense, there were no true threats, and contrary to the warnings of the Nidhal, he had yet to see any roving packs of vargr. Either way, it made his work easier. Moving swiftly through the fields and the pens of some of the domestic animals that had survived the crossing, he started to encounter habitations. And here he could tell that there were many who had yet to establish proper, permanent homes. Some were still living in shelters of canvas that had been shored up with timbers. He kept away from the main thoroughfare, but there were streets and lanes of sorts, some with crude walkways. As he followed them towards the town centre, and even with the late hour, snatches of conversation drifted through the night, a cough, snoring, the sound of a child crying and, here and there, figures moving in the darkness. Father Mich
ael was no good at stealth and decided to just keep moving with purpose, and hope no one thought to challenge him. Why would they? He was already dead.
The crude homes began to be replaced by sturdier wooden cabins, larger storage sheds, and even some two-storey structures. He was close now. And perhaps now was the time he should think about using the shadows. He needed to find somewhere to get a view of the square and the Emperor’s quarters. The choice was obvious. The temple on the eastern side of the square. It would give him a clear vantage point. The rear of the temple came into view. The Arch Cardinal had his rooms there. Would Yarn have occupied them? No, it was unlikely, she would have wanted to stay close to her fellow Gifted. But there was a doorway in the timber wall that had not been there before. Perhaps he should risk it?
The route he was following ended at a distinct space between the temple and the houses that surrounded it. He looked left and right, and with no one in sight, he sprinted to the doorway and pushed himself tight to the wall next to it. He withdrew his dagger, held it close to his chest, and reached a hand out to the latch. Gently raising the bar he pulled, and the door opened with little protest. He stepped inside, pulling the door back towards him and lowering the latch on the inside. He stood in the darkness waiting for his eyes to adjust. As the seconds passed he began to discern the layout of the room and its contents, as sparsely furnished as he remembered. In the far corner was the bed. It lay in a deep shadow, and he could not tell if anyone occupied it. There’s only one way to be sure. Keeping his dagger high and ready to strike, he took a pace forward.
‘Hello?’
Father Michael stopped. A male voice.
‘Hello. I heard you come in,’ the voice said.
He knew that voice.
‘Are you here to kill me as well?’ the voice continued, strangely good-natured considering the question.
‘Father Llews?’ asked Father Michael.
‘Yes, it’s me. And you?’
‘It’s Father Michael.’
The bed creaked.
‘But you are dead.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Well, that’s good news, yes, very good indeed.’
‘What are you doing here, Father?’ asked Father Michael. He felt no less tense for this encounter, he still had his work to do.
‘I am now the only member of the priesthood left, outside of the Gifted, of course. So, the Cardinal decided I should take on the role of ministering the flock and maintaining the Temple. Not that I am very good with my hands, you understand.’
‘She let you live?’ asked Father Michael. He took a step forward and was able to discern better that Father Llews had sat up and moved to the side of the bed, his feet on the floor.
‘Yes, indeed. It was most fortunate that when the Gifted took control, I was visiting the Empress. She pleaded for my life and the Cardinal thought fit to spare me.’
Father Michael hunkered down in front of Father Llews.
‘Have you seen the Emperor?’ he asked, eagerly.
The father nodded. ‘Every day. He is permitted to come and see me. We sit and we pray together. We talk about many things.’
‘And how is he?’
Father Llews paused for a moment. ‘He is, ah, angry. He feels betrayed. Can one blame him? Those who swore their fealty have been found most wanting.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Father Michael.
‘No,’ agreed Father Llews. ‘Some of us still know what it means to be in the presence of the divine.’
Father Michael thought. There was an unexpected opportunity here. He leaned in close. ‘Father. I plan to free the Emperor and help restore his rule.’
‘Then I must help you,’ said Father Llews, with conviction. ‘We must. It is our duty.’
‘That is good to hear, Father. Very shortly, something is going to happen. I hope it will be enough to keep the Gifted distracted. But I must assume the Emperor will remain guarded.’
‘Yes. There are two Gifted at his door at all times.’
Father Michael nodded. As he expected and he imagined he knew what Gifts they might have.
‘And where are the others?’
‘They are still quartered in their barracks behind the Emperor’s cabin. They have extended it somewhat. I believe they wish to recreate their monastery from Nostrum. Pah!’ said Father Llews. ‘That will take them an age, and if we are returning to the east, I really don’t see the poi–’
Father Michael placed a hand of Father Llew’s leg.
‘Father, please, there is not much time.’
‘Yes, of course. What do you need me to do?’
Father Michael smiled. The plan’s chances had just improved by a small degree. But that’s what counted in a fight, an edge: sharp, precise, fatal. That’s all he ever needed.
Father Michael left the Temple by the back door and crept around its southern side. He had borrowed a cloak from Father Llews. It was far too small for him but at least the hood gave him some kind of disguise. He pulled it over his head and stepped out into the square. The sword now rode around his waist. There was no point in trying to hide it, there were plenty of other armed men in New Tissan. He walked across the beaten earth towards the tavern on the far side. He passed by a platform that had been built in the centre of the square. A gibbet had been erected to one side of it, though nothing hung from it. That was new also. He wondered if that had been Yarn’s doing. The tavern was shut, in darkness just like every other building in the square at this hour. He glanced across to the north and the Emperor’s cabin. A solitary brazier burned outside the entrance, some distance from the porch. It was not for warmth, it was to allow the two Gifted posted by the door an opportunity to see anyone coming. He felt isolated crossing the square, and knew that their eyes would be upon him. He hoped he was far enough away from the light to seem nothing more than just another citizen. All he had to do was continue on. When he was within a few yards of the tavern, two figures stepped out from the side of the street next to it. Father Michael stopped. Already his hand was by his sword, already he was weighing odds. This close he could see these were two armed men, two soldiers of the empire.
‘It’s too late for that,’ said one of them.
‘What?’ Father Michael mumbled.
‘It’s almost two bells. You think you are going to get a drink tonight?’ the soldier continued.
Ah. ‘I’m thirsty,’ Father Michael said, trying to add what he hoped was a drunken sprawl to his words.
‘Best you go home, big fella,’ said the other soldier.
‘Not sure where that is,’ Father Michael responded. ‘Maybe I can sleep here?’
The two soldiers looked at each other and shrugged.
‘Fine. Just don’t kick up a fuss and get the attention of one of those two over there,’ advised the first one.
‘Right,’ said Father Michael, and tipped a salute. He stepped up on to the porch of the tavern and settled himself down on it, his back against the wall, pulling the hood over his head, well aware the soldiers were watching him.
‘Come on,’ said the first. ‘So many damned drunks. Where do they hide all the booze?’
‘I wish I could find it,’ said the other one as they moved off heading towards the eastern exit by the temple.
Father Michael turned his head towards the Gifted. Neither had reacted but he still felt a prickling sensation, like he was being watched. He closed his eyes and waited, reciting a prayer to the Emperor. Much of what would happen next was out of his hands. His trust and faith was now in others and the grace of the Emperor. Truly, he had been meant for this. And just like that a bell started to toll. Moments later, shouts drifted from the north.
It had begun.
He did not know who would have raised the alarm, whether it was a Watcher or one of the pickets by the shore, but right now, they would be witnessing the Fist of Tissan and her two sister ships light a multitude of torches and lanterns. They would be seeing the ships weigh anchor, raise sail, and
head out to the estuary and beyond. And they would be carrying word to Cardinal Yarn that the Admiral was leaving.
As the bell continued to toll and figures started to appear in the square, he looked north towards the barracks. He could see Gifted exiting the building and heading northwards. He turned his gaze back towards the Emperor’s cabin. The two Gifted – one male and one female – were talking to one another just as the door opened and there, outlined in the flickering light, was the Emperor. Father Michael felt a surge of joy. He could tell the Emperor was arguing with the two. Another Gifted appeared, running towards the building, joining the others. More words were spoken and the Emperor was pushed back into the cabin and the door shut. How dare they? The third Gifted left the others and joined the general rush to the north, as more citizenry were being drawn to the sound of the bell. Now was the time. He regained his feet and stepped off the porch, joining others, just one of the crowd, and started angling his way towards the cabin. He could see a glow in the night sky a little to the north west. That was the true diversion. Fenner and his marines, swarming over the dockyard, putting torch to timber. The Gifted, all of them, couldn’t ignore that. A parting shot from the Admiral, making sure he could not be pursued.
Father Michael looked towards the Temple. The door opened and Father Llews ran out. Seeing Father Michael on the move had been his cue. They converged on the cabin, Father Michael hanging back, staying to the side of the building where more folk were passing by to watch the spectacle. Father Llews was now on the porch, pleading with the Gifted.
‘You must come! There was someone in my Temple. They were in my room!’
The Gifted looked at each other. Neither were moving.
‘Go back, Father. We cannot help you,’ said the male. Father Michael placed the voice, a slender Reader called Malik. His hunch had been right; if he’d tried to get close the Reader would have been alerted to his intent.