by Alex Janaway
Father Llews reached out. ‘But what if they mean to burn the temple too? We cannot allow that!’ Father Llews was shouting.
The Gifted shared another look.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ said Malik.
‘I’ll be quick,’ replied the female, Father Michael didn’t recognise her.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ said Father Llews, leading her away from the cabin.
Father Michael pulled away from the crowd and stepped on to the end of the porch, pulling off his cloak. He marched towards the remaining Gifted, pulling the dagger out. The Gifted was still watching his comrade, his head tilted to one side.
Malik jerked upright.
‘Wait! He’s lying!’
Father Michael saw the female Gifted turn even as Malik finally reacted to the sound of Father Michael’s footsteps, but by then he had closed to with a few feet. In the light of the brazier, Father Michael could see the stylized metal plate that covered the eyes, nose and cheekbones. He could see the mouth open wide in surprise, as Father Michael kept walking and jammed the dagger straight into Malik’s mouth. Using his momentum he pushed the Gifted up against the cabin wall, pressing his own body up against the warrior, leaning in with one hand against the chest and the other on the dagger. Malik struggled trying to force him away, gripping Father Michael’s shoulders, moving his head left and right, as if that might dislodge the blade. Blood started to pour from his mouth, and Malik half cried, half gurgled his rage and panic. Then Father Michael stepped back, turned and drew his shortsword.
The Gifted by Father Llews lowered her spear and charged, shouting something unintelligible. Father Michael went to meet her. As the two closed the Gifted drove the spear straight towards Father Michael’s midriff. At the last moment Father Michael swayed and chopped down on the spear, snapping the shaft near the point. The Gifted reacted swiftly, using her forward movement to move beyond Father Michael’s reach. She turned and spun what remained of the spear over her head and brought it to a guard position, holding it like a blade. Father Michael took the briefest of moments to see this was a Speaker, the half-moon on her chin. Finish her quick. He charged in fast and she stepped back, twirling the staff and bringing it round her right shoulder, looking to brain him. Bad move. He raised his left arm, revealing the studded bracer beneath. As the shaft connected, he brought his blade in low, thrusting it up and into her exposed left armpit. She cried out and pulled away. Father Michael felt his own wave of pain from the spear shaft’s impact, but it had been mostly absorbed by his armour. Emperor she had hit hard! But his discomfort would be nothing compared to hers; the nerve endings would be shredded, the agony terrible and the blood loss fatal. He eyed her as she cast the spear aside and pulled her own blade free with her right hand. The left was now useless. If she was to use her power to call for help, now would be the time. He wouldn’t give her the chance. He closed again and she brought her sword low, in a horizontal arc. He dropped his blade, deflecting the blow and bringing it in a backhand slash across her throat. He felt the faint resistance, saw a flare of blood, felt something warm and wet splash against the skin of his check. She was finished. He resumed a ready stance, blade high, but she had no fight left in her. The sword was dropped and her hand went to her throat before her legs gave way. I have to be sure. He took a hold of her head, and tilted it back. Her eyes were nothing but black pools beneath the facemask. She did not resist as he drove his weapon into her throat. He picked up her sword, and quickly walked towards the cabin. He climbed the steps and saw Father Llews bent over Malik. He had removed the helmet.
‘Oh! It’s a Reader. Shouldn’t be surprised I suppose. We were lucky, if their attention had been on you they might’ve reacted faster,’ he said.
‘They never react fast enough,’ said Father Michael. That was how he was able to win. They never knew what was coming at them. Their arrogance blinded them to what he used to be, what he was still. But he doubted he’d ever be as lucky again. He pounded on the door.
‘Emperor? It’s me. Father Michael.’ The door swung open and he was bathed in the light of a candle.
The Emperor looked at him in astonishment, his face clouding with confusion, before he finally broke into a grin. ‘Father Michael, by my name, it is good to see you!’
‘Emperor, come,’ said Father Michael. He handed over the Gifted’s sword. The Emperor took it and nodded. He was dressed in boots, trousers and a shirt. Good enough to travel in.
‘Tigh?’ asked his mother, Empress Alana, appearing from behind him. She was wearing a bed gown. Not so good.
‘Mother, we are leaving,’ ordered the Emperor. He looked at Father Michael. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Away from here. All of you follow me and stay close,’ responded Father Michael.
The Emperor nodded.
‘Your Grace,’ said Father Llews to the Empress. ‘I will assist you. Here. He draped around her the cloak that Father Michael had been wearing.
‘Oh, Father. Our prayers have been answered!’ she responded.
‘Come along!’ Father Michael urged. There was no time!
‘Yes, come on mother,’ said the Emperor. ‘Lead on, Father!’
Father Michael turned and took them directly south, away from the Gifted and the fires to the north. A crowd was streaming past them, eager to see. He caught catches of conversation, those speculating on what was happening: Who was attacking? Was it the elves? Had they finally found them? Was it the monsters from inland? Or was it the Admiral finally attacking? Father Michael bulled through them all using his size and drawn blade.
‘Is that the Emperor?’ cried one woman, as they passed her by. A man stopped in his tracks and pointed as they ran past, speechless. But by and large no one expected to see the Emperor running the streets in naught but a half-buttoned shirt, so they shook their heads and paid them little mind. Hitting the quiet street leading south away from the square, they gained more room and made better time. Father Michael looked behind for pursuit but saw none. The Empress was starting to tire but Father Llews held her hand and helped her onwards. The Emperor, breathing hard, glanced at Father Michael with a determined face. Father Michael allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. This was going to work. They continued on, passing through the outlying cabins and beyond to the edges of New Tissan. Just ahead in a patch of open land were several large shapes. One moved and spread its wings wide.
‘Eagles!’ cried the Emperor.
‘Your Grace,’ said Cadarn, bowing low as he emerged from the shadows. Three more Riders, all carrying their crossbows, followed him, their eyes scanning for trouble.
‘I am truly glad to see you, and your Riders, Leader,’ said the Emperor.
‘I am sorry, we should have done more–’
‘Nonsense! There was nothing you could do.’
‘Guards?’ Father Michael interjected, looking into the darkness. They weren’t free yet.
‘The pickets deserted their post when it became clear the action was at the docks,’ replied Cadarn.
‘Good,’ said the Emperor. He also cast his eyes around. ‘We are flying again?’
‘Yes, Your Grace. Needs must. You are coming with me. The Empress is with Jenna.’
A female rider, Jenna, dressed in flying leathers, her blonde hair tied back in a long pony-tail, stepped forward. ‘Your Grace, I have a better cloak than that for you.’
The Empress looked at her son, and then at Father Llews. He patted her hand.
‘Go along, Your Grace. I’ll be right behind you,’ he said, reassuringly.
The Empress gestured to Jenna to lead on.
‘Father Llews, we weren’t expecting to see you, but we can have Raker here take you,’ said Cadarn. ‘Father Michael? You’re with Bryce.’
‘You and me again, Father,’ said Bryce. He looked Father Michael up and down. ‘So, did you make them pay?’
‘I did what I had to do.’
‘How many did you kill?’ asked Bryce, as he led Fa
ther Michael to his eagle.
‘Two!’ the Emperor called over as he followed Cadarn.
‘Seven Hells,’ muttered Bryce, as he gave Father Michael a lift upon the saddle. ‘We should just have attacked. You could have taken on the Gifted by yourself.’
‘Not all at once,’ replied Father Michael evenly, as he settled into position. A shadow passed overhead and Father Michael looked up to see more eagles.
‘That’s the rest of the crew,’ said Bryce, taking his spot in front of Father Michael. ‘Cadarn had everyone on standby. When things kicked off they launched. Didn’t give Yarn time to tell them otherwise.’
‘The whole squadron?’ asked Father Michael.
‘Yep. We’re all deserters now. Depending on your point of view. Right, let’s get the fuck out of here.’
Nukka sprang into the air and Father Michael lurched backwards for a split second before regaining his balance.
He looked to his left and saw the Empress on Lissa, seated behind Jenna, her cloak flapping with the rush of air. The eagles carrying Father Llews and the Emperor must be somewhere behind them.
‘Do we know where we are going?’ he shouted.
Bryce turned his head. ‘We just figured we’d head west. Try and link up with the Nidhal.’
It was as good a plan as any. It would be the safest place if any pursuers were sent after them.
‘How long can you keep up for?’ he asked.
‘My eagle will tire quickly carrying us both. We’ll go for an hour maybe. Then we’ll land, swap you over to the others in front of us and keep going in relay. We’ll have to stop a little after dawn though, to give everyone a rest,’ Bryce responded.
Father Michael closed his eyes. He felt tired. Not from the fighting. That was quick and clean. It could have gone much worse. It was the pressure, the burden he had borne in playing his part in the rescue. It had all depended on him. He had succeeded and was truly thankful, but now he felt a mental exhaustion. It was up to others now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – CADE
Cade rotated her shoulder. Still stiff, still sore. She pulled on her shirt and buttoned it up, yawning as she did so. Sleep. Now there was a thing. Three days in and she still couldn’t get her rhythm right.
She stood up and adjusted her trousers. It was handy that Vidar had kept his bed in his office. Made things so much easier. She walked over to his desk and picked up a bottle. It was empty. Damn, she’d have to ration what was left a whole lot better. Come to think of it, she’d missed a trick earlier. She could’ve ordered all the booze on the plateau confiscated and brought to her office. That would’ve worked a treat. Oh well, hindsight and stuff.
There was a knock on her door.
‘Yeah,’ she said, replacing the bottle and reaching for an untouched jug of water.
Devlin opened the door and stuck his head in. ‘Are you decent?’
‘As I’ll ever be. Bring ’em in,’ she said. She walked round to take Vidar’s old seat as Devlin ushered in the representatives of the other mining communities. Some shuffled in, others walked tall. Miriam brought up the rear.
‘Hey, Winders, how’s the head?’ she asked.
Winders, the blonde one with the hair tied up she’d first spoken to outside the warehouse sported a bandage that covered his forehead. He reached up to touch it.
‘I’ll live,’ he said, with a rueful smile.
‘Glad to hear it.’ Give him his due. When her crew arrived to help his people against their guards, he was leading front and centre. It wasn’t the case with all of them.
She beamed at them. ‘Right. What have we got to talk about today?’
‘We can’t stay here,’ said Devlin.
Ah yes. Now she remembered. They were deep in enemy territory with dwarves all around, and no friendly Imperial armies coming to save them.
‘Why not?’ asked a woman with a long braid falling down her shoulders. ‘There are no dwarves for miles. We can hold this plateau, can’t we?’
‘Yes. Easily,’ conceded Devlin.
‘How long could we last, though?’ asked Winders, looking at Cade. Yeah, he’d worked it out.
‘Based on an inventory of supplies, I say a good month with a bit of rationing,’ said Devlin, folding his arms, ‘before we started having to eat each other.’
‘Excellent. What a happy time we’ll have in our mountain fastness,’ drawled Cade.
Rope-For-Hair sat back scowling.
‘Oh and how long before they are expecting the next ore delivery?’ asked Cade.
‘Wagons should have left yesterday,’ said Miriam from the back of the room. Turned out she had a head for figures.
‘So maybe a week or two before we get any visitors?’ confirmed Cade.
‘Another food delivery will come in a couple of days,’ added Miriam.
‘That sounds like our window of opportunity,’ said Cade, looking at Devlin.
‘Yes. Send a vanguard out to ambush the food caravan. Take the wagons and supplies,’ he said.
‘Sounds like you’ve got this all planned out already,’ said a man called Sent, a merchant who had more than a smattering of Plainsfolk blood in him.
‘Time isn’t on our side,’ said Cade. ‘And my man Devlin here isn’t one to live for the moment.’
‘And do we have a plan for leaving this place?’ asked Winders.
‘We are leaving as soon as we have those extra food supplies. We take all the wagons, all the weapons, food, blankets and anything else you can think of that might be useful.’ Cade eyed the empty bottle.
‘Just like that?’ asked Rope.
‘Just like that,’ said Cade. ‘We can’t stay here. The dwarves will be mightily pissed. Seriously, what did you think was going to happen?’
‘I suppose we all believed there might be some respite,’ said Sent.
‘No such luck,’ said Devlin. ‘This is just the start.’
‘And what about those dwarves locked up in the barracks?’ asked Winders.
Cade looked at Devlin.
‘Up to you Cade. You promised they’d live if they surrendered.’
‘I did, didn’t I?’ She puffed out her cheeks. Did her promises count? She looked at the gathering. Not much love for dwarves here. ‘Torch them when we leave.’
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
‘So where are we headed?’ asked a long-limbed man, with the burr of someone from Aberpool.
‘We are heading home. There is nowhere else to go. We have maps, we have some indication of what settlements are in our way. We move down through the mountains, out of dwarf territory, and back into Tissan. And we keep running,’ said Devlin. ‘Maybe they’ll give it up as a bad job and leave us to it.’
Rope-For-Hair snorted.
‘Not the best plan,’ muttered Winders.
‘Compared to the alternative? Not the worst, either,’ Cade said, drumming her fingers on the tabletop.
‘You remember what it was like getting here? The long march?’ asked Sent.
‘Yep. I remember. Took us an age. I get it.’
‘And you want us to do it again? With barely any food and no protection? Most of our people are dead on their feet.’
‘I said I get it,’ replied Cade, trying to keep her voice calm and even. There was no point antagonising anyone, she needed them on side. ‘Look, I’m not going to coat this in honey. Many of us are hurting, broken. Is that any different from when we marched east? But look at us. We’re still here! We survived. The weak? They are long gone. The old? They’re gone too. Us that’s left have taken everything they have thrown at us and we have kept going. For what reason? Did any of you believe this was ever going to end any other way than with us all dead? Come on, honestly?’ She stood up and bit back on the pain in her shoulder. It felt like it wanted to tear open. She took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘You’ve all had two nights of freedom, and more food in your bellies than you’ve had for the best part of a year. Think on that. Stay her
e if you want, and if you come west with us then you are doing so of your own free will. It’s your choice. The only real one you will have for a long time. You can choose to take a chance. Now, I’m not saying we aren’t going to lose folk on the way. Maybe none of us will make it. But maybe some of us will. Maybe years from now, you can tell your grandkids about the great escape. How you took a chance and were ballsy enough to get away with it.’
‘Bit late for grandkids,’ Sent responded. He had a smile on his face.
Cade waved her good arm.
‘I’m heading home. It won’t be like last time. We still have the weather and this time we’re not in chains. And we have a reason to keep going. If I die, so be it. I die on my terms. But there’s two things I know for sure. If I stay here the dwarves will come. And I will die. Along with anyone else who stays. But, if I go …’ She paused and slammed her palm on to the desk. ‘I’m going to have thousands of fellow Tissans at my back, and we’ll be fucking things up royally for any dwarves who get in our way. Now tell me that doesn’t sound like fun.’
There were a few chuckles in the room. Devlin grinned. Miriam gave her the thumbs up. Winders stroked his chin. Sent shook his head in exasperation, and Rope continued to scowl.
‘We’ll be an army on the move. Make no mistake,’ said Devlin. ‘The logistics are a nightmare. To try and feed us all will be a monumental effort. There are some settlements marked on the maps. They are not defended, so I intend for us to hit them hard, sack them, and move on. Beyond the Dwarf Nations we can expect no supply depots, no villages, no farms. All of them went long ago.’
‘Then how do we feed ourselves?’ asked Winders.
‘We have to spread out, like a swarm,’ said Sent.
Cade nodded. He had the right of it.
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘It’s like the Plainsfolk used to live,’ he continued. ‘The tribes had large hunting grounds. Going from place to place with the seasons. Taking what they needed to keep going then moving on.’
‘I concur,’ said Devlin. ‘We stick together for protection when we are in dwarf lands. We take as much as we can and pile it on the wagons. Then when we get away, I suggest we split into smaller columns. Spread out over a wide frontage, sending parties out to forage and hunt. If we stay as a pack, we’ll never find enough.’
