FATE OF THE FREE LANDS
Copyright © 2020 by John G. Hemry
All rights reserved.
Published as an eBook in 2020 by JABberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Originally published as in Audible Original in March 2020.
ISBN 978-1-625675-04-0
Cover art by Dominick Saponaro
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
JABberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Also by Jack Campbell
To
Lee Martindale, Bard of the Musketeers.
Fortus Stylus Gladio, Sed Prudens Ambos Portat.
(“The Pen is Mightier than the Sword, but the Wise Person Carries Both.”)
For S, as always
Acknowledgements
I remain indebted to my agents, Joshua Bilmes and Eddie Schneider, for their long standing support, ever-inspired suggestions and assistance, as well as to Karen Bourne and Adriana Funke for their work on foreign sales and print editions, and Susan Velazquez for lots of other stuff. Many thanks to Betsy Mitchell for her excellent editing. Thanks also to Catherine Asaro, Robert Chase, Kelly Dwyer, Carolyn Ives Gilman, J.G. (Huck) Huckenpohler, Simcha Kuritzky, Michael LaViolette, Aly Parsons, Mary Thompson, and Constance A. Warner for their suggestions, comments and recommendations. And, of course, thank you to Steve Feldberg for his strong support.
Chapter One
Landfall, oldest of cities, had seen many things. But never before a battle on the waterfront between Mages and one of their monsters on one side, and the Emperor’s legionaries and sailors on the other. Mages were well-known for their inhuman and arrogant actions, but even they had never launched such an attack outright. Rumor raced through the city faster than the crowds fleeing the waterfront, citizens whispering among themselves that there could have been only one possible reason why the Mages would do such a thing.
She must be in Landfall.
* * *
The cutpurse lurking in the side alley amid stacks of refuse had only a moment to realize that he’d chosen the wrong victim this time, as the woman in the hooded cloak used the folds of her garment to catch and divert the thrust of his knife. Before he could react, the woman’s dagger was plunging into his breast, piercing his heart, and ending his criminal career for good.
Jules of Landfall knelt beside the killer’s remains, going through his pockets. “I might’ve spared your life,” she commented to his body, “except that your first thrust was a killing move. I only grant mercy to those who show mercy to others.”
She found a purse containing enough money to convince Jules that she hadn’t been the man’s first victim that night. Hopefully the first one had escaped harm. The purse didn’t hold a lot of money, though; a couple of silver galleys, and several copper shields, but not a single gold eagle. However, since she hadn’t had any money on her at all before this, it represented a welcome find.
Jules pocketed the money, discarding the purse. Looking up past the aged brick walls of the buildings rising on each side of the alley, she could see the sky beginning to pale with the first rays of dawn, the growing light battling against the haze of smoke as waking households and businesses lit coal and wood for fires. On the street she could hear the slow clop of horseshoes and the rattle of wheels on the cobblestones as milk deliveries were made. A quiet, normal, peaceful morning, very different from the chaos of the night before. The rapid thud of horses being ridden fast echoed from the aged bricks. Jules faded back against the nearest wall, catching quick glimpses of Imperial cavalry as they rode past the entrance to the alley, their brightly-polished chest armor dull in the still-shadowed street, their lances pointing upward like a deadly thicket.
The cavalry was headed in the direction of the waterfront. Was the Mage troll still alive and fighting? That seemed too much to hope for. More likely, the cavalry were being called in to help search for her.
The last trooper rode past, the sound of rapid hoof beats fading. Even after all these years, the sight of legionary cavalry tore at her. Her father had served in the Emperor’s cavalry until his death while chasing bandits in the mountains known as the Northern Ramparts.
Jules shifted her gaze to the south, where she’d been raised in Landfall’s Imperial orphan home after her mother died as well during childbirth. Even if she hadn’t hated the place, with its strict rules and harsh guardians and inadequate food and clothing, she wouldn’t have considered it as a place of refuge now. It’d be hard enough to avoid being recognized elsewhere in the city. She’d left that orphan home only a few years ago, so there were plenty of officials and others there who’d know her on sight.
Jules smiled slightly, remembering how proud most of the other kids had been when she earned the chance at an Imperial officer’s commission. Were they still proud of her?
The camp outside Landfall where she’d received training to become an officer in the Imperial service lay to the east of the city. Another life, when she’d stubbornly sought the right to wear the dark red uniform of the Empire as proof that she, an orphan, was the equal of anyone. That ambition, that goal, had ceased to matter, had become impossible, when a Mage had looked at her and pronounced the prophecy that had upended her life. The day will come when a daughter of your line will unite Mechanics, Mages, and the common folk to overthrow the Great Guilds and free the world. Not a long prophecy, but long enough to act as a death sentence in the eyes of the Mages and to make her an obsession of the Emperor.
Jules looked west, to where the Sea of Bakre lay. Somewhere out there, hopefully, the pirate ship Sun Queen still sailed. But, she, the Sun Queen’s captain, couldn’t hope for help from that quarter. The crew had no idea where she was, and even if they knew couldn’t hope to fight their way through Imperial forces to reach her. They had a more important task to carry out, anyway.
For a moment, her eyes saw not the brick of the buildings lining the alley, but the limitless waters to the west. For as long as the history of the world of Dematr went back, which admittedly wasn’t very far, humanity had been confined to the eastern part of the Sea of Bakre where the Empire ruled. Every chart, every legend, described the west as a deathtrap of hidden reefs and desert shores. But she’d gone there, she’d seen the truth, she’d discovered new lands and a strait that led to another sea and then the ocean itself. The chart made on that journey had to be copied, had to be shared with as many people as possible, so that the knowledge in it could never be suppressed by the Great Guilds or the Empire.
The vision from her memory faded, leaving her once again in the trash-strewn alley. She took another glance at the sky, trying to measure the time. The throng of fearful citizens fleeing the fight on the waterfront had mostly dissipated. Merging with the crowds of workers and other citizen
s who should soon be populating the morning streets would be her only hope of not being quickly spotted by the legionaries and police doubtless already combing the city for her. Not to mention the Mages who’d been disappointed in their attempts to kill her last night.
Down on the waterfront, the wreck of the Imperial sloop that had brought her to Landfall had probably sunk by now after burning to the waterline. Imperial police—often corrupt, but extremely thorough when the Emperor’s eyes were on them—would be searching the wreckage to confirm that she hadn’t died while still chained in the ship’s brig. Legionaries who’d caught glimpses of her during the chaotic battle as the Mage troll smashed the ship, the pier, and anything in its way, would be undergoing interrogation to confirm they’d seen her.
That led her thoughts to something she’d been trying not to think about. Or rather, someone. Lieutenant Ian of Marandur, who’d given her the keys to escape her chains on that ship, and who might’ve been badly injured (or worse), fighting that Mage troll. Worries about the fate of her once-friend and former fellow officer tore at her. She couldn’t afford such a distraction, though, not while being hunted through this city. Jules did her best to put aside her concerns about Ian, which she told herself were after all only based on their friendship, so she could concentrate on surviving.
Because in addition to the Imperial forces hunting her, the Mages, putting together their own picture of their latest failed attempt to kill her and eliminate any chance that the prophecy would someday come to pass, would be using their mysterious skills to find her again.
How many times had she wished that she’d never walked into that tavern, found herself face to face with a Mage, and heard the prophecy spoken?
That left the Mechanics, the other Great Guild. The Mechanics would be sitting back enjoying watching the Empire and the Mages in conflict, while also trying to avoid involving their own Guild in that fight. Between them, the Mechanics and the Mages ruled the world, using the Emperor (or Empress) as their agent to control the common people, though saying such a thing outright was treason within the Empire. With the current Emperor chafing at the bonds of the Great Guilds, and the prophecy roiling a world in which change had never occurred, Jules had learned the Mechanics were willing to use her to further their own ends. But that was as far as it went. Plenty of Mechanics would be just as happy as the Mages to see her die, and some of them wouldn’t be sorry to be the ones responsible. She couldn’t hope to find safe harbor with the Mechanics here in Landfall, even if the Imperial police probably hadn’t already thrown up a cordon to keep her from reaching the Mechanics Guild Hall.
Jules jerked about as something skittered through a nearby stack of wooden pallets. A rat, of course. She was so rattled that she was starting at rats, despite having become well-acquainted with them while in the orphanage.
She leaned back against one of the buildings, slowing her breathing to calm herself. There hadn’t been time to think since she left the waterfront, all of her attention centered on looking like one more citizen fleeing the melee. Now her thoughts skittered about, trying to organize everything that had happened since Mages had attacked her ship not far from Dor’s Castle. She’d been knocked overboard during that fight, and the Imperial warship had captured her to bring her unwilling self back to the Emperor. Then—as she’d warned the captain of the Imperial ship would happen—the Mages had attacked to try to kill her when the ship reached Landfall.
Hopefully the woman she’d stolen this cloak from had been all right once she regained consciousness.
Hopefully Ian was still alive. And hopefully not under arrest for giving her the keys to unlock her manacles. It had been the only way to keep the Mages and their troll from killing her, but would the Imperial authorities give Lieutenant Ian any credit for that?
Hopefully she’d be able to figure out where to go from this alley.
Jules tried to center her thoughts. The waterfront, even if it hadn’t been the site of the recent fighting, was the most obvious place for an attempted escape. There’d be legionaries and police stationed a lance apart along the whole waterfront and every pier. She’d have no chance of getting through there.
South offered some chance of escape if she could get through the gates of the city in that direction, but the land south of Landfall was fairly flat and open, the bread basket of the Empire. It wasn’t the best terrain for someone who couldn’t afford to be seen.
North offered the best chance for finding an unguarded boat in one of the towns along the coast. But the Imperials knew that as well as she did. They’d have extra guards on the north gates of the city, and along the roads, and would be watching everything that could float between here and Sandurin.
Which left going east, but that was the last direction that Jules wanted to go. East would take her along the heavily-traveled Ospren River toward the Imperial capital at Marandur, where the Emperor sat, eager to get his hands on her for a forced marriage and equally forced production of royal heirs who could claim the legacy of the prophecy for the Imperial line.
And no matter which direction she went, she had to worry about the Mages knowing it as soon or sooner than she herself did, and laying another ambush for her.
What do I do, Mak? Jules often missed the man who’d become a second father to her, but she felt it especially now, trapped within a city full of enemies. What would Mak suggest?
He’d always said the best way to fool people was to show them what they expected to see. So, what did the Imperials expect her to do? Try for the waterfront, of course. If not that, try to go north, or maybe south if north looked too risky.
The one direction they wouldn’t expect her to go was east. Because east was the last direction she should want to go. East was where the Imperials had planned on taking her in chains.
She knew the east gates of the city, though. She’d even stood guard at one of those gates while in her early training.
Jules took another glance upward, seeing the sky a bit brighter. By craning her head slightly, she could see a growing number of people walking past the alley where she was hiding. Was it enough? The longer she waited, the more Imperial police and legionaries would be on the streets searching for her and putting up checkpoints to screen everyone going past.
Jules settled the cloak about her, gathering together the part where the thief’s knife had cut the fabric so it wouldn’t be noticeable and ensuring the hood was settled to block a view of her face except from close in front. Walking to the street, she stepped out onto it as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
Aside from passing side-glances from those who saw her leave the alley, no one appeared to take notice. Jules went down the street, wondering how long she’d be able to keep the cloak on and the hood up as the day warmed before people would start to notice.
A waft of delicious scent took her thoughts in another direction, reminded her that the last time she’d eaten had been a long time before, and that she’d had nothing but bread and water while a prisoner of the Imperial sloop. A quick look around identified the source of the smell, a food cart selling hot breakfast pastries.
Buying anything would require some interaction and the chance of discovery, but if she didn’t get something to eat and drink her body wouldn’t keep going. Jules altered her path to reach the cart, waiting impatiently until she reached the front of the line of customers.
“Three,” Jules mumbled in a deliberately hoarse voice, grateful that for once what the wanted posters called her ‘lower class Landfall accent’ would help her blend in. “And a flask of sang.”
The young girl serving the customers didn’t take any special notice of Jules, passing over three hot pastries that Jules slid into a pocket of the cloak, and a flask of the wine, water, and fruit pulp called sang. Knowing she’d have to return the flask when she was done with it, Jules took the risk of staying by the cart. Hastily eating one of the pastries containing a common Landfall recipe combining pork and apples, she washed it down w
ith gulps of the sang.
Three Mechanics, two men and a woman all wearing the unmistakable dark jackets, walked past the food cart. One of the men reached out and snagged a pastry, making no move to pay for it. The owner of the cart glared at the backs of the Mechanics as they swaggered away, but knew better than to object. Mechanics did what they wanted, and common people endured it because they had no other choice.
Jules’ gaze lingered on the Mechanics as they walked off. One of the men had a weapon at his waist, the one Mechanics called a revolver that no sword or crossbow used by common folk could match. The Mechanics Guild had loaned a revolver like that to Jules in the hopes that she’d kill Mages with it, but the last she’d seen of that revolver it had been lying on the deck of her ship after being knocked from her grasp. What if she had that weapon now? But there had only been one or two cartridges left in it, and using the revolver would make a noise so loud every legionary and Mage within earshot would come running for her. A dagger was the safer option for someone trying not to be noticed.
Seeing a Mechanic openly armed was unusual. Were the Mechanics in Landfall worried about Mage attacks? Surely, despite what Jules had overheard Mechanics say to each other, they weren’t concerned about the Imperials turning on them. That would be unheard of, and incredibly dangerous for the Empire. No common person knew how the mysterious technology of the Mechanics worked—though everyone knew trying to learn those secrets would result in death at the hands of the Mechanics—and no common person knew everything the Mechanic devices could do.
The other patrons of the food cart waited until the Mechanics were far enough off that they couldn’t overhear before resuming gossiping among themselves as they wolfed down food before heading to work. “Already on her way to Marandur,” one man said confidently. “I’ve got a cousin in the legions. He said they got her away from the Mages and she’ll be with the Emperor soon.”
“Then why are the police and the legions still ransacking the city?” another man demanded.
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