The Mortal Blade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Magelands Eternal Siege Book 1)

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Aye? You laying on a tour?’

  ‘The City’s too big to see all of it in one day, but I have picked out a few highlights. There will be food to eat, fine wines to taste, and, yes, several hands for you to shake. I was able to pare down the number of requests I received from people clamouring to meet the new hero of the Bulwark, but there were a few I couldn’t refuse.’

  ‘I pretty much guessed that’d be the case. It’s fine; I’ll shake all the hands you want.’

  ‘And, if it’s not too much to ask, can I request a certain level of civility from you today?’

  ‘You can.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I’ll be civil to folk who are civil to me.’

  Naxor chewed his lip for a moment then nodded. ‘Let’s begin.’

  They passed through a guarded gateway, then emerged out into the pink light of morning. Corthie glanced around. The City was densely populated on the far side from the Bulwark, with streets of tall, grey tenements leading off from the gatehouse.

  ‘This is Medio,’ said Naxor as they walked towards another carriage. He pointed over to the right. ‘See the hilltops over there? Beyond lies the town of Icehaven, capital of the Icewarder tribe. These suburbs we’re in are part of the Circuit.’

  ‘I’ve heard of that.’

  ‘Yes? And what have the Blades told you about the Circuit?’

  ‘Nothing good. It’s inhabited by a tribe they don’t like, the Invaders?’

  ‘The Evaders.’

  ‘Aye, that’s them. Most Blades say they’re dirty, thieving scum, basically. The cesspit of the City, I heard someone call them.’

  Naxor sighed. ‘Yes. Unfortunately, the Blades are not alone in their opinion of the Evaders.’ He gestured to the open door of the carriage and Corthie climbed inside and took a seat. Lord Naxor joined him, sitting on the bench opposite. ‘As I was saying, the Evaders have earned themselves a certain reputation among the other eight tribes of the City.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It stems, I think, from the fact that they were the last to join the City. They migrated thousands of miles, fleeing from waves of greenhides, and started to arrive in the middle of the City’s second millennium. They spoke a different language, and had their own customs, and found it hard to integrate. As soon as the Royal Walls were built…’

  ‘The Royal Walls? I’ve not heard of them.’

  ‘They’ve been called the Middle Walls ever since the Great Walls were completed. For seven hundred years, the Royal Walls were the City’s only defence against the Greenhides, and the Evaders were moved, en masse, to the area where the Circuit now lies.’

  ‘Do they still speak their own language?’

  ‘No. The education policy was strict, and all Evader children were taught the language of the City right from the start. It took many generations, but eventually their old tongue died out.’

  ‘Seems a little harsh.’

  ‘The government of the time felt differently.’

  ‘So it wasn’t your mother?’

  ‘My mother inherited control of the City when the illustrious and mighty Prince Michael was slain.’

  ‘I’ve heard of him. Duke’s Marcus’s father, aye?’

  ‘Yes, and my mother’s eldest brother. Prince Michael ruled for over a thousand years, in the time known as the City’s Golden Age.’

  Corthie laughed. ‘Aye? What age are we in now?’

  ‘The Age of Iron. The official recorders of history in Ooste say that it began with the onset of the Third Great Siege, in other words, just after the end of the Civil War.’

  Corthie eyed the young-looking demigod sitting opposite him. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Let me see,’ said Naxor, a glint in his eye. ‘You are eighteen years old, yes?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Then I am exactly one thousand years your elder.’

  ‘Why do you look not much older than me? It is a choice, or do you not age at all? The reason I ask is that I’ve seen a few gods, and they all looked older than you.’

  Naxor said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard. ‘We’ll need to make one quick stop on the way.’

  ‘On the way to where?’

  ‘Ooste; I’m taking you to the Royal Palace.’

  Corthie gazed out of the window at the narrow streets of the Circuit and the monotonous grey concrete that surrounded them. ‘Where are we going first?’

  ‘I need to speak to someone briefly.’

  ‘Another demigod?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact; one of Lord Kano’s sisters.’

  As Corthie peered through the glass, he noticed several plumes of smoke rising over the grey, concrete buildings to the left, or sunward, of the carriage. ‘Trouble?’

  ‘The Circuit occasionally boils over; this is one of those times.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Why does it boil over?’

  ‘Let’s see, poverty, over-crowding, a lack of basic amenities, shortages of decent jobs; the list is long.’

  ‘Why doesn’t your mother fix it?’

  Naxor smiled, though his eyes remained cold. ‘Do you remember when I brought you here, how quiet you were? You hardly uttered a word to me. When I started to receive reports of your outspoken behaviour, I put it down to sheer exaggeration, but now I see I was mistaken. Lord Kano, he... well, let’s just say that he’s not your greatest admirer.’

  Corthie pointed out of the window. ‘Half of your City’s on fire; I’d say you have more to worry about than my big mouth.’

  Naxor glared at him.

  ‘I’m not going to stop asking questions,’ Corthie said, ‘and you can send me back to the Great Wall if you don’t like it; it makes no difference to me whether I see your fancy palaces or not. And, I’m warning you now, if you give me alcohol, I’m apt to say or do whatever pops into my head, regardless of company.’

  Naxor said nothing. The carriage continued onwards down a dusty street, then slowed outside a grand stone-built building situated alongside a canal, where several barges were tied up. A group was standing by the wharf, watching the carriage as it halted. A woman stood forward, short and slight for a demigod, Corthie thought. She had dark hair that fell down past her shoulders, and her piercing grey eyes had a gleam to them that caught his attention.

  ‘Lady Aila,’ said Naxor as he climbed down from the carriage; ‘so good to see again, cousin. How are you doing?’

  The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘How in Malik’s name do you think I’m doing, Naxor? A dozen riots have been raging through the streets for over two days.’ Her eyes flickered up to where Corthie was sitting in the carriage, but the woman made no acknowledgement that she had seen him. She turned away, and walked with Naxor towards the stone building.

  Corthie sat back in the carriage. Damned demigods. He closed his eyes for a quick nap.

  A cough awoke him, and he realised the carriage was moving again. He glanced out of the window and saw an ancient structure looming into view.

  ‘The Union Walls,’ said Naxor, ‘built after the Two Gods first arrived. Beyond lies Auldan, the oldest part of the City, and home to its four original settlements.’

  Unlike at the Middle Walls, the gates of the Union Walls were open, though soldiers were stopping and checking carts and wagons as they passed through. Naxor’s carriage over-took the queue and went straight to the front, where militia in pale green uniforms waved them through the gates ahead of the rest.

  ‘This is now the territory of the Reapers,’ he went on, ‘once the home of Prince Isra, and now administered by the Governor of Pella.’

  ‘Let me guess; another demigod?’

  ‘Yes, my brother Lord Salvor as it happens.’

  ‘What happened to Prince Isra?’

  ‘He fought on the losing side in the Civil War, and paid for it with his life.’

  Corthie looked out of the window. A vast settlement of red-brick and red sandstone buildings and houses spread for m
iles. The roofs were mostly flat, and many of the streets seemed to be dug out below the natural surface level.

  ‘That is Outer Pella, the suburb that grew up long ago outside the old walls of the town. The plain here experiences high winds for much of the year, and the Reapers have learned to keep their heads down.’

  Corthie nodded, then noticed Naxor catch his eyes and hold him for a second in his stare. A faint tingle appeared around his temples, and he realised that the demigod was trying to read his mind. They have vision powers, he thought, smothering a smile. His sister had long before protected him against such attacks, and he watched as Naxor’s mouth opened in surprise.

  ‘You alright?’

  ‘Em, yes,’ Naxor muttered.

  ‘You look a little flustered.’

  ‘Do you… ah, understand what just happened?’

  ‘Aye. You tried you sneak your way into my thoughts and I didn’t let you.’

  Naxor’s eyes widened. ‘But that’s impossible.’

  ‘Clearly it’s not. What it is with you guys and mortals with powers? You act as though you’ve never met any before.’

  ‘That’s because we haven’t,’ Naxor snapped. ‘No mortals have powers; they’re the sole preserve of gods and demigods. This truth is fundamental to everything we understand. Gods have powers, mortals do not.’

  Corthie smiled. ‘I’m starting to see why so many folk follow me around Arrowhead like sheep.’

  ‘Yes, I heard about that too.’

  ‘And I thought it was just my winning smile.’

  ‘You’re an aberration of nature.’

  Corthie laughed.

  ‘Part of me regrets bringing you here.’

  ‘We can still go back to the Middle Walls. We could stop off for a drink on the way. Any good alehouses in the Circuit? I fancy a cold beer in the middle of a riot.’

  ‘I wasn’t referring to this journey today; I meant I’m starting to regret bringing you to the City at all.’

  ‘A few thousand greenhides would agree with you.’

  ‘A few… thousand?’

  ‘Aye. Did you know that some of the infantry keep meticulous records of each night’s Rat and Wolf expedition beyond the walls? They have an unbelievably complicated betting system going on. Soldiers have made small fortunes on the odd night I’ve managed to put away more than a hundred of the green-assed runts. So, aye; a few thousand.’

  ‘You average over fifty kills a night?’

  ‘Aye, although that’s fallen a lot in recent days, ever since the green bawbags learned to fear me. Some of them run away when I come out of the gate in the walls; it’s pitiful. I have to actually chase them.’ Something outside caught his attention. ‘Wait. Can we stop?’

  Naxor seemed distracted for a moment, then he blinked. ‘You wish to stop?’

  ‘Aye, just for a minute.’

  The demigod gestured to the driver, and the carriage pulled over to the side of the road. Corthie opened the side door and jumped down, breathing in the fresh air. The road had gone through the suburbs of Outer Pella for a few miles, but then it had reached the side of a bay, and Corthie stared at the still waters, turned pink by the mid-morning sun.

  ‘That’s a beautiful view.’

  ‘It is,’ said Naxor, joining him by the side of the road. Beyond the paved surface was a long beach that extended round half of the bay. Some people were on the golden sands by the edge of the water, children ran with dogs, and they splashed in the shallows.

  ‘From left to right,’ Naxor said, ‘that town with the harbour is Pella, then, on the far side of the other bay in the distance, that’s Tara. Do you see it?’

  ‘Aye. I can see the cliffs, and a town at the bottom. And a big statue.’

  ‘Prince Michael. Then, over to the right a bit, that’s Ooste, the town we’re travelling to. The white building you can see is the Royal Palace, the grandest edifice in the entire City.’

  ‘Are we going to see the king and queen?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Probably for the best.’

  ‘The God-King and God-Queen are separated. Queen Amalia no longer lives in the Royal Palace; instead, she has made Maeladh Palace in Tara her home.’

  ‘Did they fall out? Let me guess, was it over the Civil War?’

  ‘Yes, it was, actually. Did someone already tell you?’

  ‘No, it just seems that a lot of your troubles stem from the war you gods had amongst yourselves. Two princes were killed as far as I can tell.’

  ‘And two princesses, along with many demigods.’

  ‘There were six children of the gods, aye? Your mother is obviously one, and four died in the war. What about the other one?’

  ‘The other is Prince Montieth of Dalrig. He doesn’t involve himself in the affairs of the City. He seldom leaves his palace there, as far as I know.’

  ‘When’s the last time you saw him?’

  Naxor smiled. ‘I’ve never seen him.’

  ‘Not once in a thousand years?’

  Naxor shook his head.

  ‘How do you know that he’s even there? Maybe he left centuries ago.’

  ‘Lady Vana, the other surviving daughter of Prince Isra, has a certain ability. She can sense the location of the gods and demigods; she can feel their life-force. She would know if Prince Montieth had left. Now, perhaps we should move on; my mother is expecting us.’

  The Royal Palace was a spectacular building, towering and majestic, but it was well past its prime. It sat half-buried into the cliff-face of a range of hills, the same range that continued in Tara, after being broken by the narrows that allowed access to the bay. Lord Naxor accompanied Corthie up the white, marble stairs that led to the great entrance doors of the palace. Soldiers in polished steel armour lined the front of the building, standing to attention in the warm rays of the summer sun. They passed through the doors and walked into a grand hallway, with a frescoed ceiling that hung high above them, and statues of the gods and their children lining the walls.

  Courtiers bowed low, then escorted them into a grand state room, where enormous paintings in gilt frames covered the four walls. Guards stood by the doors, and a small group were in the centre of the room, surrounded by a larger body of officials and courtiers. A path opened up through them as Lord Naxor and Corthie approached. Once again, he was the tallest in the room, by over a foot. He smiled as he saw a woman gaze at him. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, a few years older than Lord Naxor, who bowed before her. He gestured for Corthie to approach.

  ‘Is this the champion we have heard so much about?’ said the woman.

  Corthie glanced at her. Something in her eyes made it seem as if she would rather be elsewhere, but she had a professional smile balanced on her lips. He guessed she had better things to do than meet a thug from the walls.

  ‘This is Corthie Holdfast, your Grace,’ Naxor said; ‘and this,’ he said to Corthie, ‘is the High Guardian of the City, Princess Khora of Port Sanders and Pella.’

  Corthie stuck his hand out and smiled. ‘Nice to meet you, ma’am.’

  Princess Khora gazed at his hand for a moment, but kept her own clasped to her waist. ‘I’m told you’re doing a wonderful job on the Great Walls, and your feats of bravery and daring have fired the hearts of many in the City with hope and joy.’

  ‘I’m happy to do my bit, ma’am. I’ll kill greenhides every night for you and the folk that live here. Well, at least until my sister comes for me.’

  A hint of a genuine smile found its way onto Khora’s lips. ‘Your sister?’

  ‘Aye, but that could take a while, so until then, I’m all yours.’

  ‘Excellent. I have, however, heard certain rumours concerning you. I’d be obliged if you could assist me in squashing them.’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am; you’ll have to be more specific.’

  The woman glanced to her left. ‘This is Lady Vana, whom I have asked to attend this reception today.’

  Corthie glanced at her. She looked
a little similar to the woman Lord Naxor had met in the Circuit, though a little taller, and her eyes were lacking the spark that Corthie had seen in Aila’s. She was staring at him, her mouth slightly open.

  ‘Lady Vana,’ Khora went on, ‘has an unusual gift.’

  ‘Your son’s already told me about it. She can sense gods or something.’

  ‘Not quite; she senses powers. All gods and demigods burn residual self-healing powers continuously; that is why she can sense them, but she should, in theory, be able to sense any being with powers. To dispel these silly rumours, I now ask…’ She paused as she saw Vana stare at Corthie. ‘Lady Vana?’

  The demigod tore her gaze away from Corthie and turned to Khora. ‘It’s not just a rumour.’

  Fear passed over the face of the princess for a brief moment.

  ‘He has battle-vision,’ Vana went on, ‘a powerful strain of it, but there’s something else; a shield, a web of protection that surrounds him. I can feel his battle-vision leaking through it, but there’s no way in from the outside.’

  ‘I can vouch for that part,’ said Naxor. ‘He blocked my vision powers on the way here.’

  Khora frowned, then stared at Corthie, her eyes narrowing, and he felt the pull at his temples again, a strange fuzzy feeling as the princess’s powers were rebuffed.

  She lowered her gaze and shook her head. ‘This is something I need to ponder on. This audience is at an end. Son, ensure the champion is back in the Bulwark promptly. Corthie Holdfast, it was a pleasure to meet you.’

  Without another word, Khora turned, and strode from the hall, Lady Vana and the others of the group hurrying after her.

  ‘I think that went quite well,’ said Corthie.

  Naxor sighed.

  ‘What do you think she meant by “promptly”? It’s still only the early afternoon. If I’ve got the night off, I want to find some dodgy tavern and get drunk with the locals.’

  ‘I could do with a drink myself.’

  ‘Can demigods actually get drunk?’

  ‘Of course, if we choose to,’ Naxor said as they turned back towards the exit, ‘but we don’t get hangovers.’

  ‘I bet you know a good few places to drink, and the best ale in the City. Let’s get some lunch then hit a few taverns. Or are you scared I’d drink you under the table?’