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

by Christopher Mitchell

  The troopers and sergeants had barely acknowledged that he was speaking, and none seemed motivated to ask a question.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. He glanced at the sergeants. ‘Captain Hallern is based in an old dance hall about two miles from here; lead on.’

  The sergeants nodded, and the two columns began moving again, marching along the wide road, with every step taking them further from Tara. Both sides of the road were built-up, but the houses on the Sander side were large and spacious, with red-tiled roofs and gardens, while the concrete sprawl on the Evader side was filthy, cramped and chaotic. The ditch was over-grown in places, and half-filled with building debris and garbage, and everywhere, watching them, were pairs of eyes. Children in dirty, torn clothes stared at them from alleyways, or from the flat roofs of houses. A stone flew at them, arcing over the ditch and bouncing off the paved surface of the road.

  ‘Taran scum!’ a voice cried, though Daniel couldn’t make out the source. One of the sergeants glanced at him, but he shook his head. They were only a few hundred yards from Torwood Castle, and he didn’t want his detachment getting mixed up in anything until they had reached their position.

  They arrived at a crossing point, where a thick bridge spanned the ditch. It was guarded by a unit of Sander militia, their black uniforms trimmed in yellow. A barrier had been erected on the bridge, refusing passage to a large number of Evader citizens gathered on the other side. Families with dust-smeared children stood or sat next to over-loaded carts; their flight from the riots halted at the frontier.

  Daniel’s detachment marched past without stopping at the bridge, and continued along the road. Sander and Taran militia were present in large numbers, lining the ditch and constructing tall, wooden watchtowers. The amount of smoke in the air increased as it drifted sunward from the fires raging in the Circuit. After a further twenty minutes, Daniel reported to Captain Hallern, a gruff man who had set up his headquarters in an old dance hall. Daniel received a hastily-drawn sketch of the area his detachment had been assigned, a list of addresses, and was sent on his way. He and his troopers set off again, the soldiers grumbling and cursing about the weight of their packs in the summer heat. They reached a stretch of frontier with a crossing point, and an officer from the Sander militia approached.

  ‘Are you Lieutenant Aurelian?’ he said, his accent sounding rustic to Daniel’s ears.

  ‘I am, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. This bridge, and the frontier for two hundred yards on either side of it, are now under your authority. Good luck.’ He turned and gestured to his black-garbed militia. ‘The Tarans are here, finally. Let’s go.’

  The Sander soldiers pulled back from the makeshift barricade blocking the bridge, and from their positions along the ditch. They eyed the Tarans, some with wariness, others with relief, and they pulled back to the road and began marching away.

  ‘Your orders, sir?’ said one of Daniel’s sergeants.

  Daniel gazed along the ditch, taking in the arrangement of buildings on either side. The alleys and streets of the Circuit opposite presented a vast, grey mass of potential trouble, and he frowned.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Split the detachment into two columns; just as they marched here. One sergeant takes each half. Your column will be on duty first; have your troopers dump their packs on the road, and get them kitted up for sentry work. I want you and another six on the bridge, and the rest spaced out along the ditch.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Daniel turned to the other sergeant and handed him the list he had received from the captain. ‘Have your column take their own packs to these addresses, then I want them back here to collect the rest of the detachment’s things. I expect you to allocate the quarters out fairly, Sergeant; we may be here for a while.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Which address will you be wanting, sir?’

  He glanced at the buildings on the Sander side of the road. ‘I’ll take a room in the one closest to the frontier, and I want a sergeant in the same building.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Will you be coming with us?’

  ‘No, I want to take a closer look at the crossing.’

  The sergeants saluted and got to work. Daniel strode towards the bridge. It was made of the same concrete as the entire Circuit seemed to be, and jumped the ditch in a single span. Halfway across was a heap of debris that had been piled into a barricade. On the other side, at least a hundred or so Evaders were gathered. Some had carts or luggage, but many seemed younger and were staring at the Taran militia with rocks in their hands. Daniel stepped onto the bridge and approached the barrier. Beyond, the Circuit seemed to stretch away forever. He had seen it once before, on a trip to Port Sanders, but it had been in the far distance, just a grey smudge on the horizon. He shook his head at the sight. Two hundred and fifty thousand Evaders lived within an area of just a few square miles, sealed off in every direction by walls, ditches and canals.

  He heard someone by his right shoulder. ‘What’s your name, Sergeant?’

  ‘Monterey, sir.’

  ‘And the other one?’

  ‘Hayden.’

  ‘Do you see the way they’re staring at us?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I’ve a feeling they’re planning something to welcome our arrival, but what in Malik’s name do I know? They didn’t cover this in the Taran Military Academy.’

  The sergeant said nothing.

  ‘If rocks start to fly,’ Daniel went on, ‘I want no retaliation. No loosing crossbows, and no throwing the rocks back. Many of them look to be no more than children.’

  ‘And if they attempt to cross the ditch, sir?’

  Daniel frowned, and tried to remember anything from his years of training. ‘If there’s only a handful, we’ll arrest them; a dozen or so, we’ll loose a couple of crossbows and try to disperse them; and if there’s hundreds of them, then we run for it.’

  ‘Are those tactics from the academy, sir?’

  ‘Nope, I just made them up on the spot. You have any objections?’

  The sergeant saluted. ‘Of course not, sir.’

  ‘It was an honest question, Sergeant, not a reprimand. This is new to me, and if you have any suggestions that will help, I want to hear them. This detachment’s been saddled with the most inexperienced lieutenant in the company, and most of the troopers look fresh out of school. As well as fulfilling our orders, I would very much like to get all of us out of here alive, and I’d also prefer we didn’t massacre a bunch of civilians at the same time.’

  The sergeant frowned. ‘You might not be able to do all of those things, sir.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I’m asking for your opinion.’

  ‘You’re the officer, sir.’

  ‘Fine,’ Daniel said, turning away. ‘I’ll do my best, and then afterwards you and the other sergeants can complain about all the mistakes I made. I just hope that some of the detachment is still alive by that point.’ He glanced down at the barricade. ‘I do want this barrier replaced though, with something a bit more sturdy. A brick wall with a few crossbow loops would be ideal.’

  ‘You get me the bricks and mortar, sir, and we’ll get that built for you.’

  Daniel frowned, and walked away from the barrier. Back on the main road he scanned the wide ditch, noticing how far apart each of his sentries were as they stood on the roadside facing the Circuit. They needed three or four times their number to adequately secure the ditch; if a mob rushed them, they would have no chance. He found a low wall in a patch of shade and settled down onto it, stretching his legs out as he kept watch over his new domain.

  The first stones arrived at sunset, hurled by a growing gang of youths on the other side of the ditch. They skittered off the road, or thwacked against the troopers’ shields. Daniel stirred from the stone wall where he had been sitting for hours in the shadows.

  ‘Stay in line!’ he cried. ‘Do not retaliate.’

  The sergeant and a few of the troopers looked round in surprise at him, as if th
ey hadn’t realised he had remained close by all afternoon. A stone ricocheted off the paved slabs by his feet as he strode across the road. He had no shield, and wasn’t wearing his heavy, mailed armour, but he wasn’t going to show fear in front of his troopers. He approached the bridge, where the Taran militia were holding their shields out.

  ‘I advise you get your head down, sir,’ said Sergeant Monterey. ‘It seems you were right about them putting on a welcome for us.’

  Daniel ducked behind the barrier, his eyes trained on the crowd. ‘Send a runner back to Hayden; tell him to send half a dozen of his column’s troopers up here as soon as he’s able.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the sergeant said. He turned to one of the soldiers next to him and passed on the orders.

  More youths were gathering among the deep shadows of the Circuit. There was an inexhaustible supply of rubble and debris for them to throw, but none of them had yet tried to enter the ditch. From the left, a cry rose into the air, and Daniel twisted his neck to see. A trooper was down, her hand clutching her leg. He ran out before the sergeant could say anything, and sprinted up the side of the ditch. The crowd whooped and began aiming at him, an easy target, as he raced by the roadside. A rock bounced by his foot, and another glanced off his right arm as he dodged and weaved. He reached the trooper and hoisted her shield into a position that covered them both as he crouched by her.

  ‘Can you walk?’

  ‘I don’t think so, sir; I took a sore one on the ankle.’

  He pushed his back against the shield and pulled the strap over his head as the rocks rained down on them. He put his left arm under the trooper’s shoulder and hauled her up as he stood, the shield rising to protect them. With the trooper in his grip, he rushed across the road, and pulled her behind a brick wall on the other side.

  ‘Soldiers are coming from our quarters,’ he said to her as she sat up against the wall. ‘One of them will take you back there. Get your ankle checked out, and rest. I’m going to need to borrow your shield for a while.’

  He stood up before she could say anything, slung the shield round to his front, and ran back across the road to take up the injured trooper’s space by the ditch. From the barricade to his right he saw the sergeant shake his head at him. He probably thought Daniel was an idiot, but he didn’t care.

  Stones bounced off the shield until Daniel’s left arm was aching, then their frequency lessened as the youths started to disperse. Daniel lowered the shield and glanced around. The road was littered with rocks and half-bricks. Behind him, he saw Sergeant Hayden arrive with half of his column; the troopers running across the road.

  ‘Lieutenant?’ the sergeant said as he glanced at Daniel with a puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘One of your column can take my place, Hayden,’ he said, turning back from the ditch. ‘I think your arrival might have persuaded the Evaders that they’ve thrown enough stones for the evening. Oh, by the way, there’s an injured trooper behind that wall beyond the road.’

  ‘I saw her, sir.’

  ‘Make sure she gets her ankle seen to.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Sergeant Monterey walked out from the bridge and gave Hayden a side-glance.

  ‘I’m going to walk to my quarters now,’ Daniel said, ‘so I can get cleaned up and a bite to eat. Make sure the troopers are rotated in shifts; twelve on, twelve off; and ensure everyone gets their evening meal. Do you have the address of the building I’m in?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Hayden said, passing him a slip of paper.

  ‘I’ll be back before midnight.’

  ‘Why, sir?’

  ‘I want to spend the night out here, to get a feel for it. If the troopers have to do it, then I should too.’ He glanced at them. ‘I know you’re thinking, “just another clueless officer”, but I couldn’t give a rat’s ass.’

  ‘Actually, sir,’ said Monterey, ‘I was thinking that you didn’t do too bad, for your first day.’

  Daniel narrowed his eyes for a moment, then smiled. He nodded to them, turned, and began walking across the road.

  All of his troopers were alive, and they hadn’t killed any civilians. His first day had been a good day.

  He only hoped the days to come would be the same.

  Chapter 13

  Unmasked

  The Circuit, Medio, The City – 11th Izran 3419

  ‘This is your fault, Aila,’ cried Ikara as she raged from behind her desk. ‘I expressly ordered you to quell the riots, and instead they’ve turned into the worst outbreak of trouble in a hundred years.’

  ‘There are lots of reasons, cousin, why it’s been impossible to stop the violence. Firstly…’

  ‘I’m not interested in your excuses!’ she yelled, throwing a full glass of water at her cousin’s head.

  Aila ducked, and watched the glass smash off the opposite wall. The gathered officers and officials in the chamber remained silent, their heads bowed.

  ‘I need more troops,’ Ikara groaned; ‘the casualty list grows every day…’ She stared at Aila again, her eyes tinged with fear. ‘What do the rioters want? Surely you must know that?’

  ‘They have a list of demands, cousin.’

  ‘Why is this the first time I’ve heard of a list?’

  Aila frowned. ‘I, eh, put the list on your desk some days ago. You told me you would read it and get back to me.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ said Ikara, her lips turning into a snarl. ‘I’ve never seen this list; I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘They want Princess Khora to resign her leadership of the City,’ said a voice from the crowd of officials; ‘along with all of her children.’

  Ikara half-rose from her chair. ‘Those ungrateful… After all we’ve done for this place… They deserve to hang, the lot of them.’ She sat again, putting her head in her hands. ‘I’m going to have to request more assistance; more reinforcements, from the other tribes.’

  Some of the officers glanced at each other. ‘Is that wise, ma’am? If foreign tribal troops enter the Circuit, it might inflame the situation more.’

  ‘Foreign?’ Ikara snapped. ‘Are we not all part of the same, happy City? Soldiers from Tara or Dalrig aren’t foreign; they’re your fellow citizens.’

  Aila coughed. ‘I’m not altogether sure, cousin, that every Evader sees it that way.’

  ‘Anyone who doesn’t is a traitor; simple as that. Does any mortal in this room believe that the, say, Rosers, are a foreign people?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘Excellent,’ Ikara went on, daring anyone present to meet her eyes. ‘Then there will be no objections if I were to ask the beloved God-Queen of Tara if she could spare some soldiers? Or my most noble mother of Pella? A few Dalrigian legions would help, no?’

  The group of mortals kept their eyes on the rug. Aila sighed. Her cousin was making a terrible mistake, but would only dig her heels in if Aila tried to reason with her.

  ‘I’ll do it tomorrow, unless…’ Ikara swung her eyes to Aila. ‘Dear cousin, you have until tonight to end the riots, or I’m going to ask Tara, Dalrig and Pella for troops, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Dismissed, all of you; you make me sick.’

  The officials crowded round Aila as soon as they had left the chamber, clamouring to know what she was going to do to end the riots that night.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said to them; ‘I’m heading out now. I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘Praise Malik!’ said one of the officials, raising his eyes skyward.

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘Is he coming to lend a hand?’

  The officials stared at her for a moment as she brushed her way past them. She turned for the stairs to the entrance hall, and hurried along, leaving the group behind her. She had a plan all right; one that involved the Blind Poet and a barrelful of brandy.

  It took her twenty minutes to get from the palace to the shabby streets where the Blind Poet lay. A riot had passed through the neighbour
hood a few nights previously, but the area had been quiet since. She sighed in relief as she saw light trickle from under a set of shutters; she had a dread that, one of these days, she was going to turn up in front of a burnt-out shell.

  You see me as Elsie, the swine-trader.

  She knocked on the door and waited. Things had changed since the riots had torn the Circuit apart and left half of it in smoking ruins, and people were wary and scared. A slot in the door opened and a pair of eyes peered through. Aila heard the sound of a few bolts sliding free, and the door swung open.

  ‘Evening, Elsie,’ said Dorvid, the husband of Nareen, the tavern-keeper. He beckoned her inside, his left hand clutching a two-foot iron bar.

  ‘Evening,’ she said as she walked in. The bar was almost deserted, as few liked to be out when a riot could come their way. Nareen was standing behind the bar, drying a row of glasses.

  ‘Elsie, it’s been a while,’ she cried; ‘I feared the worst. I even said a prayer to Yendra and the Three Sisters.’

  ‘I’ve been sitting in my little apartment,’ Aila said, taking a seat at the bar, ‘dying for a drink but, well, riots, eh?’

  ‘Your usual?’

  ‘Aye, ta.’

  A broad smile spread over Nareen’s face as she filled the tankard with ale. ‘I have some pretty amazing news.’

  ‘Can it wait, Nareen?’

  The tavern-keeper gave her a hurt look.

  ‘Sorry, but I’ve got a raging headache, and I’m really only after a quiet drink.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Nareen said, passing her the full tankard. ‘Maybe you’ll be more talkative after a few ales.’