‘Good morning. I trust you slept well?’
‘Considering the quantity of drugs you gave us,’ Tanner said, ‘I think you already know the answer to that question.’
Lord Naxor smiled. ‘Quite. Well, the first stage of your journey is complete; welcome to the City. You are part of a long and honourable tradition of selecting the very best to aid us in our struggle against the eternal enemy.’
Tanner raised an eyebrow. ‘Last night you said it was a siege.’
‘That’s right,’ Naxor said, amusement flitting over his eyes at the same time his lips were fixed in a diplomatic smile, ‘as you will soon see for yourself. If you were wondering what has happened to your old clothes, they have been destroyed. You enter this world naked, bringing nothing with you from your old lives; and saying nothing about them while you are here.’
Tanner glanced at Corthie.
Naxor gestured to the hallway outside the room. ‘Follow me.’
The two soldiers stepped aside to allow Corthie and Tanner to leave the room after Naxor, then they followed behind, their crossbows ready.
‘You shall be travelling by boat,’ Naxor said as they descended a wide, stone staircase.
‘Are you not coming with us?’ said Tanner.
‘My role is to ensure your safe transport here, and then hand you over to the Blades.’
‘Is that the name for the army?’
‘Almost. The Blades are one of nine tribes that inhabit the City. Their duty is to defend the Great Walls from attack, and to keep the City safe. All tribes have their own militia, but the Blades are the only ones entirely dedicated to the military life.’
He paused as they reached a hallway at the bottom of the stairs. A few servants were standing around, their heads lowering as Naxor arrived. Corthie glanced at them. They were about the same height as Naxor and Tanner; a good foot shorter than he was. He knew his stature was one of the reasons he had been selected by Naxor. His battle-vision powers were another.
The lord turned. ‘I’m afraid word has got out that a new batch of champions destined for the Bulwark has arrived, and you may find the streets of Port Sanders a little busy this morning.’ He glanced at a servant. ‘The engineers?’
‘Waiting in the sitting room, my lord,’ the old woman said, bowing.
‘Fetch them for me, would you? It’s time to leave.’
The servant hurried to a side door and opened it.
‘Engineers?’ said Tanner. ‘From the Guild?’
‘Of course,’ said Naxor. ‘Their secrecy and discretion are as renowned as their expertise.’
A dozen dressed in black robes emerged from the side room. Hoods covered most of their faces, and they wore sandals on their feet; and to Corthie they looked more like mystics than engineers.
‘Good morning,’ Naxor said, greeting them. ‘I believe your ship awaits you.’
The head engineer nodded, her hood bobbing up and down, and Naxor gestured to a servant at the front doors. The man opened them, and a loud roar of voices rose up from the street. Lord Naxor led the way, with Corthie and Tanner behind, while the engineers lined up in pairs to follow them. The noise increased as Corthie stepped outside into the street. There was wealth in the City, he thought, glancing around at the elegant sandstone townhouses. Garlands of flowers hung from windows and balconies, and more were being waved by many in the crowd filling the cobbled road. At least twenty soldiers were lining the entrance to the lord’s residence, spilling out onto the street by the neighbouring mansions.
Naxor nodded to an officer, and the soldiers formed up into two columns, flanking Corthie and the others as they walked down the street. Hands emerged from the mass of people, and fingers reached out to touch Corthie and Tanner as they passed.
Naxor glanced at him. ‘Smile. Remember you’re a champion, fighting to give the people the freedom to live their lives in peace.’
They turned left at a junction and descended a gentle slope towards the sea front as the street narrowed. They passed a market, where the merchants and their customers stopped to stare at the procession. The sky was growing brighter, but the sun remained low, barely brushing the horizon, and a pink light permeated the air. The stalls in the market held a rich assortment of goods, from fresh meat hanging from butcher’s hooks, to fruit, vegetables and wine. No one looked hungry, and Corthie smiled to himself, pleased that the place he would be fighting to defend appeared happy and prosperous.
They reached the harbour front, where several dozen vessels were tied up, while others were making their way in or out between the long stone piers that nearly enclosed the basin. Gulls screeched and hovered over several boats as they sailed towards the long wharf.
Naxor directed them to a narrow wooden pier, where a galley was berthed. A dozen men and women were standing alongside the vessel, all in similar uniforms, making it hard for Corthie to tell which were crew, and which soldiers. An officer stood at their head, awaiting the new arrivals. The crowds had thinned as they had walked through the harbour, though a few were still watching. A woman blew a kiss at Corthie, and he smiled.
‘Lord Naxor,’ said the officer, bowing.
‘Major. Good morning.’ Naxor put his hand out and one of his servants passed him a roll of documents. He glanced at it for a moment, then passed the bundle to the officer. ‘I think you’ll find all that you need in there.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ The officer glanced at Tanner and Corthie. ‘I thought we were only getting one.’
‘The older of the two comes courtesy of my contacts,’ Naxor said. ‘He was due to be executed for failure to repay his debts, but instead has been contracted to serve here for ten years. His details are in the bundle. He has a history as a soldier, so I’m sure you can find a purpose for him.’
‘We shall indeed, my lord, thank you.’
Naxor extended his hand. ‘Once again, Major, it has been a pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to visit my mother in Pella.’
‘The pleasure’s mine, my lord,’ said the officer, shaking hands.
Naxor turned, then paused in front of Corthie and Tanner. The smile faded from his lips. ‘You,’ he said to Tanner, ‘fight well, and if you survive, then I’ll see you here in ten years.’ He turned to Corthie. ‘You are destined for a different life; the life of a champion. If you fight like they say you can, then your fame will be known to every citizen; they will love you, a mortal, as if you were one of the gods that rules the City.’
Corthie glanced down at him, saying nothing.
‘Farewell,’ said Naxor, then turned and strode down the pier, his guards flanking him.
The officer gestured towards the boat, and the dozen hooded engineers began making their way over the short gangway leading to the deck of the galley.
Corthie frowned. ‘Do gods rule the City?’
‘You were just speaking to one,’ said the major; ‘a demigod, to be precise. Lord Naxor is the son of Princess Khora, daughter of the God-King and God-Queen, and ruler of the City. We mortals come and go, but the royal family lives on. Lord Naxor is over a thousand years old.’
‘He doesn’t look much older than me.’
The major gestured to the gangway. ‘That’s immortality for you. This way, please.’
Corthie and Tanner crossed the short plank and boarded the galley. The major and the last of the uniformed crew stepped onto the deck and the vessel began to pull away from the pier, its ropes loosened by harbour workers. A sail was unfurled and the galley slid through the calm waters of the basin. Corthie and Tanner stood by the railings to watch as they drew away from the houses along the sea front.
Someone prodded Corthie’s shoulder.
‘You first,’ said the woman in uniform. She pointed at a wooden stool on the deck. ‘Take your tunic off and sit down.’
Corthie frowned for a second, then pulled his top off, feeling the warm wind against his skin. He sat on the small stool as the woman crouched opposite him, the bundle of documents
on her lap. A man in uniform took hold of Corthie’s left arm.
‘You’re a big lad,’ said the woman. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Corthie Holdfast.’
She flicked through the documents, until she reached a folder made of thick card. ‘Here we are; let’s take a look.’ She opened the folder and skimmed through a sheaf of papers. ‘It says here that you’re only eighteen. Is that a mistake?’
‘No.’
She squinted at him. ‘You look older than that.’
He shrugged, then felt a pain in his upper left arm. ‘Ow.’
‘Keep your arm still,’ said the woman, ‘or your tattoo will smudge. If the greenhides eat your head, it’ll be the only way to identify your body.’ Her eyes returned to the papers on her lap. ‘What? That can’t be right.’ She glanced at him again, an eyebrow raised, then turned to the officer. ‘Major, sir? Could you come here, please?’
The officer turned from where he had been talking to the Guild engineers. He raised a finger to them, then walked over to the side of the deck. The woman showed him a paper and he read it for a moment.
‘It must be an error,’ he muttered.
‘I’ve never known Lord Naxor to make a mistake before, sir.’
The officer shrugged. ‘No one’s perfect, not even a demigod. If I had to guess, I’d say we’ve been conned.’ He glanced at Corthie, his eyes narrow. ‘He looks like he could be a tidy fighter, though; disregard the obvious exaggerations and register him as per the normal procedure.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The man by Corthie’s side let go of his left arm. ‘All done, Sergeant.’
Corthie glanced down. Blood was trickling from his upper arm where the needle had stabbed a series of symbols and numbers in black ink, along with a shield with crossed swords.
The woman smiled at him. ‘You’re a Blade now, lad.’
The galley sailed out from the harbour of Port Sanders and along by an enormous wall on their left. To the right, the sea stretched off towards the bright pinks and peaches where the sun sat above the horizon, which was lost in thick mist. After a voyage of less than an hour, they entered a smaller harbour nestled into the massive walls, and the crew tied the boat up next to a long pier.
‘Welcome to the Bulwark,’ said the major as Corthie and Tanner gazed out at the compact harbour. Beyond the docks rose vast concrete warehouses; shabby, grey and crumbling, while the majority of workers were dressed in the same utilitarian brown tunics, contrasting with the smaller numbers in the darker uniforms of the Blades. They disembarked the galley, and walked to where a row of carriages were waiting. Soldiers led Corthie and Tanner to their carriage, then locked the door once they had clambered aboard and taken their seats.
Each carriage had four ponies harnessed to the front, and they set off at a trot, heading towards a heavily guarded gate in the harbour wall. They emerged onto a long, straight road, high walls on either side. The stone barrier on the right was massive, with battlements, towers, and soldiers on the walkways at the top, while the wall on the left was featureless; cast from tall slabs of the same drab concrete that Corthie had seen in the small harbour. Tanner closed his eyes and reclined onto his bench, as Corthie strained to look out of the tiny window slats.
After twenty minutes the road veered sharply to the left, and Corthie saw the bulk of an enormous fortress on their right, built into the corner where the wall turned. They carried on in a straight line for a further twenty minutes, then slowed as they approached a second huge fortress. The carriages entered under an archway, then drew to a halt in front of a tall building.
The door of their carriage was unlocked and opened.
‘Out you get, lads,’ said the sergeant.
Corthie climbed down to the large, worn flagstones. ‘Where are we?’
‘Fortress of the Lifegiver.’
The interior of the fortress was crammed with stone buildings. Six-storey garrison blocks lined the inner walls, while towers reached up over the high curtain wall. Officers were waiting to welcome the engineers as they stepped from the carriages, and within a few minutes they were led away into the shadows of the fortress. A crowd of soldiers had gathered to take a look at the new arrivals, each wearing the dark grey uniforms of the Blades.
The major led Corthie and Tanner between several large buildings. In the corner of the fortress a tall tower loomed, surrounded by its own wall, as if it was a small castle within the fort.
‘That’s the Duke’s Tower,’ said the sergeant, ‘where the Commander of the Bulwark lives.’
‘Is he a god, too?’ said Corthie.
‘A demigod,’ she said, ‘like Lord Naxor. Well, not quite like him. He’s more your size.’
A tall, well-built man in shining battle armour was standing with a few guards at the entrance to the tower.
‘Is that him?’ said Corthie.
‘No,’ said the sergeant, keeping her voice low, ‘that’s his Adjutant, Lord Kano. Also a demigod.’ She turned to Corthie, and mouthed the words, ‘be careful’ at him.
‘Lord Kano,’ said the major, bowing low in front of the armoured man.
Kano glanced at the officer, then turned to the new arrivals. He looked Corthie and Tanner up and down for a moment. ‘I thought I’d come down to see our new champions for myself. Are you taking them up to the wall?’
‘No, my lord; I was going to book them in with the quartermaster to have them fitted for uniforms.’
Kano gave him a dismissive glance. ‘That can wait. I want them to see how summer starts every year in the Bulwark.’ He stared at Corthie. ‘Is this the one the rumours are about?’
‘Rumours, sir?’
‘Your soldiers have loose tongues, Major,’ Kano frowned. ‘I was interrupted a few minutes ago by some ridiculous nonsense being spread by the lower ranks regarding this… mercenary. It seems someone has been telling tall tales; ascribing powers to a mortal that no mortal can possibly possess.’
‘Apologies, sir. I have already requested that these exaggerations be struck from the record.’
‘A little late for that, you fool. You know how excitable the lower orders get. Next time, stamp on these rumours before your soldiers have a chance to spread them.’
‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’
Kano stared at Corthie for a moment, contempt in his eyes. ‘Let’s see how he copes with his first sight of the eternal enemy.’ He nodded to his guards. ‘The battlements.’
They trooped off, and Corthie fell into line behind Lord Kano, with Tanner to his side. They crossed a courtyard, and turned left by an enormous building that stood alone, taking up a good portion of the front of the fortress.
‘What’s that?’ Corthie whispered to the sergeant.
‘Artillery battery,’ she said. ‘Up on the flat roof.’
Corthie glanced upwards at the walls of the tall building, but could see nothing from where he was standing. They came to a long set of stairs built into the side of the massive curtain wall, and climbed them. A circular tower rose above the battlements, and they were led inside before they could catch a glimpse of the view. They ascended a spiral staircase and Lord Kano stopped with a few steps to go. He turned to face Corthie and Tanner, a smile on his lips.
‘Lord Naxor did well to get you here on this particular day,’ he said. ‘The storms of Freshmist have passed, and summer began a few days ago; four long, hot, dry months are ahead of us, the greenhides’ favourite kind of weather. Their legions have awakened from their slumbers and are amassing by the walls, waiting.’ He paused. ‘Are you ready?’
Corthie nodded. ‘Aye.’
Kano stared at him. ‘Half of all new recruits break down at this point. Many weep and cower. One even threw themselves from the battlements rather than stand up like a soldier. Let’s see how cocky you are after you’ve had your first sight of the eternal enemy, shall we?’
Tanner smirked at Corthie as Kano turned and led them up the last few steps. Corthie followed the demigod an
d they emerged onto the roof of the tower. A four-foot parapet enclosed the small platform, where a lethal-looking bolt-thrower stood, its crew working on it. Kano strode to the parapet, his big hands splayed on the stone edges of the battlements. Corthie and Tanner walked up next to him, and Corthie heard the older man’s intake of breath as they gazed out.
The land ahead of them was flat, dark green, and seemed to be moving. Corthie focussed his eyes and stared. The thick green carpet covering the plain before the walls was made up of beasts; tall, muscular beasts with thick green skin, like armour-plating, covering their backs and chests. Their arms were long and powerful, with six-inch claws extending from their gnarled hands. Their faces were insect-like, and devoid of any compassion or feeling. They were rolling in a giant wave across the plain, with the largest concentrations to the right, where portions of the sky were blue, but where the sun remained low.
‘By all the gods,’ Tanner muttered; ‘what are they?’
‘Greenhides,’ said Kano; ‘the eternal enemy of the City. For two and a half thousand years they have attacked us, emerging from their nests in the sunward deserts in their hundreds of thousands to throw themselves at the walls of the Bulwark.’ He glanced at Corthie, seeming a little disappointed at his lack of reaction. ‘They are like no enemy you have ever faced; relentless, indifferent to pain or injury, and stronger than the mightiest mortal.’
Corthie leaned over the parapet, and glanced down. ‘Have they ever breached these walls?’
‘No,’ Kano said. ‘The Great Walls were built over a thousand years ago, and they have protected the City ever since.’ He pointed. ‘There are three lines of defence; the moat, which is thirty feet deep and the same wide, and shielded by the moat wall; then the outer wall, and finally the inner wall, where we’re standing now.’
Corthie frowned. ‘Then why do you need us?’
Kano snorted. ‘Need you? We don’t need you. You’re just grist for the mill, bodies sent by Naxor for propaganda purposes so that the mortals of the City have something to distract them.’ He shook his head. ‘As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one champion worthy of the name. But don’t worry, we’ll find a good use for you two; you’re being assigned to the Wolfpack.’
The Mortal Blade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Magelands Eternal Siege Book 1) Page 3
