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

by Christopher Mitchell

  Two women stood. One was elderly, and was leaning on a walking stick, while the other was young. His mother had been right; Emily was stunning, her blonde hair sitting curled on her bare shoulders. They both smiled as he approached.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said; ‘how nice to meet you.’

  ‘The pleasure is ours,’ said the grandmother.

  ‘Would you like a refreshment?’

  ‘No, thank you; your servants have been keeping us well fed and watered while we waited.’

  ‘What did you think of Millicent?’ said Emily.

  The grandmother gave her a quick glance. ‘I’m supposed to ask the questions, dear.’ She smiled at Daniel. ‘After hearing your mother talk about your exploits, my granddaughter has been keen to meet you.’

  ‘Please sit,’ he said, selecting an armchair for himself; ‘and I’m sure my mother was exaggerating.’

  ‘Don’t undersell yourself, Daniel. You acted, while around you others did nothing.’

  ‘What was it like?’ said Emily, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘What was what like?’

  ‘Being in the Circuit? Knowing that if you didn’t fight, then you might be killed?’

  He said nothing for a moment. ‘I had one aim, I guess; to make sure all of my troopers returned back to camp every day alive.’

  ‘Were you scared?’

  ‘Emily,’ said the grandmother, ‘I know you’re enthusiastic, but please, allow me to ask the questions.’

  ‘Sorry, Grandma, but Daniel’s done things that none of the other boys in Tara have done, and I have a hundred questions that I’d like to ask him.’

  ‘They’ll have to wait, dear. Remember that this is merely an introduction; you’ll have plenty of time to get to know him if you get on well and like each other.’

  Emily caught Daniel’s eyes and smiled.

  There was a low rumble from outside. Emily got to her feet and walked over to the window.

  ‘A carriage has arrived,’ she said, gazing out, ‘and Millicent and her aunt are getting on board. Oh dear. I suppose that means she won’t be staying the night.’ She glanced at Daniel. ‘What a pity.’

  ‘Tell me, Daniel,’ said the grandmother, ‘what are you plans and ambitions?’

  He smiled. He had practised this answer. ‘I want to progress as an officer in the militia, then move into managing the family’s estates and properties. I hope it’ll be many years before I become Lord Aurelian, but one has to be prepared.’

  ‘Are you going back to the Circuit?’ said Emily.

  ‘Not for the foreseeable future; the Evader rebels have put a bounty on my head.’

  The young woman gasped. She walked back over to the couch and sat, her eyes fixed on Daniel.

  ‘A bounty?’ said the grandmother.

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid I may have become a little notorious in the Circuit. However, I, we, are perfectly safe within Roser territory; the soldiers at the Union Walls will keep any Evaders from entering.’

  ‘Good,’ said Emily; ‘I wouldn’t want those savages anywhere near the civilised parts of the City.’

  She looked like she was about to say more, but her grandmother interrupted. ‘Do you have any questions for my granddaughter?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I heard you came top of your graduating class.’

  Emily blushed. ‘I did.’

  ‘What subject interested you the most?’

  ‘Political History and Law,’ she said. ‘I specialised in the Golden Age of Tara, and also the government and constitution of Prince Michael.’

  The grandmother smiled. ‘My granddaughter has whole bookshelves dedicated to the reign of Prince Michael; I’ve sat at dinners where it’s all she could talk about.’

  Emily glanced at Daniel. ‘Have you read much about the prince?’

  ‘Not too much.’

  ‘You do read, though?’

  ‘Yes. I have a small collection.’

  ‘What are you reading just now?’

  He cringed on the inside. ‘The Last Mortal Prince of Tara.’

  She smiled.

  ‘Well, I think that’s enough for now, young sir,’ said her grandmother. ‘Would you be so kind as to let your mother know that I’d like to have a little chat with her; I feel this has been a very promising introduction.’

  ‘As do I,’ said Emily, her green eyes on Daniel.

  Daniel stood and bowed. ‘I hope to see you again, soon.’

  Emily smiled. ‘I’m sure you will.’

  Daniel lay awake in bed, watching the dark purple light in the sky through an open shutter. A half-empty bottle of gin sat on his bedside table, drunk after his mother had told him to wait in his room so she could begin the serious negotiations with the Omertia family. He had heard her voice along with the grandmother’s echoing through the walls, laughing and talking for hours as he had worked his way through the gin.

  Could he marry Emily? She was clever but, like many in Tara, she might be a little too keen on Prince Michael, whom Daniel secretly loathed. He needed more time, to see if they would get on without a chaperone. He wished he could meet someone the ordinary way, like the peasants did, and fall in love without the pressure of both families watching. She was very pretty though, he couldn’t deny it. He glanced at the entrance to his bedroom, then tried to banish the thoughts that were swirling through his mind. Of course she wouldn’t come to his room. Her grandmother looked like the sort that would padlock her to the bed to ensure she didn’t get up in the night.

  He sighed, then heard it; a faint tap at the door. He rose, pulled on a pair of shorts, then went to the entrance and opened it. Emily was standing there in a silk nightdress, her hair down. She gazed up at him and smiled.

  ‘Hi, Danny.’

  ‘Your grandmother?’

  ‘Don’t worry about her; she’s had one gin too many and is snoring her head off. Even a dragon wouldn’t wake her.’

  He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her into his room.

  Chapter 21

  The Trail of Crumbs

  Port Sanders, Medio, The City – 29th Koralis 3419

  Citrus trees lined both sides of the road, and the morning was already hot under the late summer sun as Aila’s carriage rumbled towards Port Sanders. She had two jobs to do; one official, one not. She gazed out of the windows as they passed the rows of orange and lemon trees. Another summer was coming to an end, and within days the first rains of Sweetmist would be turning the rich soil into mud. The preparations for the abrupt change in season were well underway throughout the City. The almost-empty underground cisterns would refill in readiness for the four dry months of winter that followed Sweetmist, and the cycle of the City would turn once more.

  She wondered what Corthie would make of the coming storms. He had only known the City in the dry, hot summer months. Sweetmist would mean more days off for him, along with more chances for them to see each other. She shook her head, trying to dispel her desires. A demigod had no place falling in love with a mortal; she had to be strong. The next time they met, she would tell him that there was to be no more kissing or touching, and that she was not willing for her heart to go through the torture of watching him fade and die, while she remained forever young. It wasn’t fair on him either. The best thing he could do was find a nice mortal girl, and forget about her.

  She sighed. She had been through the same thoughts many times since she had taken the three crossbow bolts for him. Her instincts had kicked in the moment the four would-be assassins had aimed their bows at Corthie, but a dark place in her mind told her that she should have let him be hit. If he had died she would have mourned him, but if she kept seeing him the day of mourning would only be postponed, and the pain would be far harder to bear when it finally arrived. She didn’t love him, but she knew that if they kissed again, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

  Other demigods had long ago reconciled themselves to this truth, why couldn’t she? Many of her cousins and siblings had been
with mortals over the centuries, having children with them, and then moving on once they had died. Several servants in the Royal Palace had God-Child or demigod ancestry, and the Chamberlains in Tara could trace their line to Lady Mona, the eldest daughter of Prince Michael. Aila had not only refrained from having children, but, apart from a few drunken liaisons, she had stopped herself from seeing mortals altogether.

  But how was she supposed to forget him? She considered going into an opium haze for a few decades; emerging only once Corthie was gone and forgotten about, but that seemed a little extreme. Besides, her unofficial reason for going to Port Sanders was connected to the champion; she would need to get that out of the way first.

  The carriage passed a crossroads flanked with lime trees and Aila knew they were approaching the outskirts of the harbour town. From the window she could see the red roofs of the outlying estates and farms, and it was hard to believe that somewhere so peaceful and beautiful lay only seven miles sunward of Redmarket. The concrete slums of the Circuit seemed like a different world compared to the rural tranquillity of Sander territory. She saw the outer suburbs of Port Sanders appear. The expansion of the town had been curtailed many centuries before, to preserve arable land, but with the general depopulation of the City since the Civil War, the pressure had eased. At its height, in the year before the catastrophic Civil War had begun, almost two million mortals had been packed into the three regions of the City, but three centuries later that total stood at seven hundred thousand fewer.

  Many blamed Khora for the City’s decline, whereas others thought it better to have fewer mouths to feed. Regardless, it was agreed by all that the City was past its prime.

  The Governor of Port Sanders lived in a palace close to the harbour, and the carriage passed Lord Naxor’s residence, where he stayed after bringing the champions to the City. Corthie would have slept there, she thought, then frowned and tried to think of something else.

  The markets of the town were bustling, and the carriage had to slow down to pass through the crowds of farmers, merchants and shoppers. A flock of sheep barred the way for a few moments, the animals being taken from their pasture into shelter for the Sweetmist storms. The carriage turned left at the entrance to the harbour and she turned to glance at the sight of the Warm Sea stretching off into the misty horizon. Boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed in the harbour, the water reflecting the pink hues of the afternoon sun.

  The carriage came to a halt outside the palace and Aila waited for the driver to reach the door. He swung it open and she stepped down to the gravel drive. A palace courtier was waiting for her, dressed in the yellow and black colours of the Sander tribe.

  ‘Welcome back to Tonetti Palace, ma’am,’ he said, bowing low.

  ‘Is my cousin in?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, she is expecting you in her private study.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She strode across the bridge over the narrow moat and entered the palace gatehouse, walking under a large banner of a honeybee. Sander guards saluted her as she passed, her face well-known. She crossed the inner yard and walked into the main palace building, ascending a tower to the governor’s apartments. She went by more guards and knocked on the door of the study.

  ‘Come in.’

  Aila pushed on the door and walked into the room. It had a window overlooking the harbour and her eyes went to the view as they always did.

  ‘Good afternoon, cousin,’ said Lady Lydia, rising from behind a dark, oaken desk.

  ‘Lydia. It’s been a while.’

  Her cousin smiled. ‘I hear you’ve been rather busy.’

  ‘You could say that; this summer’s been a disaster.’

  They sat and Lydia reached for a beaker of water and two glasses.

  Aila watched her pour. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’ said Lydia.

  ‘The Sander militia is the only one occupying Evader territory that I’ve not had a major complaint about, and I know that you’ve had a lot to do with that.’

  Lydia passed her a glass of water. ‘I obey my mother. She told me to make sure my militia restrained themselves. It’s her you should thank.’

  ‘I met her, did you know?’

  ‘Yes, she told me.’

  Aila frowned. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘That you infuriate her. That you’re stubborn, and that you tried to punch your brother, Lord Collo.’

  ‘I should have done, the slimy little two-faced rat. I will punch him next time I see him, and that goes for Vana too.’

  Lydia smirked. ‘Dissension among the children of Prince Isra? I suppose some things never change.’

  ‘And your family’s any better? Try working with Ikara.’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Exactly. Your sister was a pain in the ass before the riots and occupation, but now she’s a nightmare; and she blames me for everything.’

  ‘I know; I read her reports.’

  ‘And?’

  Lydia glanced at her. ‘I like being stuck away in Port Sanders. Others may think it’s the backwater of the City, but that’s precisely why I’m so fond of it. It allows me to keep out of the quarrels of the demigods. In the last year I’ve only spoken to you, my mother and Naxor. So, I think I’ll keep my opinion of my younger sister to myself.’

  Aila sat back in her chair.

  ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that,’ said Lydia. ‘That glower on your face is one of the reasons you don’t get along with anyone. Perhaps Ikara would be easier to tolerate if you smiled a bit more.’

  Aila put a big fake grin on her face. ‘That better?’

  ‘Now you’re just being childish. Shall we get to business? I had a look at your request, but unfortunately the answer is no.’

  ‘What? I thought I was here to discuss it? You know that the food supplies in the Circuit are almost gone; if you don’t lower your prices, then people will starve this winter.’

  ‘I don’t set the prices; the merchants in the market do.’

  ‘But you have the power to intervene.’

  ‘I’ve decided to follow the advice of the merchant guild in this matter. They explained to me that lowering prices would put many of them out of business, and thousands of Sanders depend on them for their livelihoods. I felt there was little point in moving the suffering from your jurisdiction to mine.’

  ‘But you have the reserves to cope, the Evaders don’t.’

  ‘Yes, but who would plant next year’s harvest? Securing the future is more important than one season’s pain.’

  ‘So the Evaders will suffer, while the Icewarders and Sanders sit on enough reserves to feed everyone? No wonder the tribe feels everyone is against them; no wonder they rise up. I’m tempted to do the same myself.’

  Lydia smiled. ‘Straight to hyperbole? You sound like a mortal sometimes.’

  ‘Some of the Evaders,’ Aila said, her eyes narrowing, ‘will take matters into their own hands if the food runs out. There are many weak points on the frontier between my land and yours that a starving mob could break through.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘No, I’m just stating a fact. If you don’t want the fighting to spread into Sander territory, think again about lowering the prices of the supplies sold to the Circuit.’

  ‘Or, I could mobilise another thousand troops and post them behind the frontier, ready to annihilate any such incursion. The Roser militia have gifted me a dozen of their new bolt-throwing machines and if what you say is true, I will use them to tear any mob to pieces. Tell them that, when you return to the Circuit. Shall I call your carriage now?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But this discussion is over.’

  ‘It is, but I intend to stay in the palace tonight.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Do you know how long it is since I spent a night away from the Circuit and your charming sister? I don’t have any urgent meetings until tomorrow, so, may I please stay?’

  Lydia sighed. ‘Very well, al
though you’ll have to amuse yourself; I’m busy this evening.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of intruding on whatever it is you do in the evenings, Lydia. I was planning on taking a walk, then enjoying some food in a harbourside tavern; perhaps I’ll get a table by the pier and feed tidbits to the stray cats. After that, I’m going to get drunk, pick up a handsome sailor, and dance the night away.’

  ‘Sounds truly dreadful; please don’t waken the palace when you come in.’

  Aila stood. ‘Well, I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, but thanks for letting me stay.’

  Lydia looked down at the paperwork on her desk. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re not wrong there.’

  Aila glanced at the view of the harbour, then left the room. She knew the route to the guest quarters and made her way there, anger simmering within her. She hated having to ask Lydia for permission to stay, but it had been necessary; what boiled her blood more was her cousin’s flat refusal to do anything to prevent hundreds or perhaps thousands of Evaders from starving. The tribal treasury was almost empty, and the granaries and depots had only four months’ worth of food in them, nowhere near enough to last the winter.

  A courtier caught up with her as she strode through the hallways of the palace.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he said. ‘Lady Lydia has assigned me to assist you. Do you have any luggage, my lady?’

  ‘It’s in the carriage that brought me here. Could you bring it up?’

  ‘Of course, ma’am. Will you be requiring anything else?’

  ‘No, just carry my bags up and then leave me alone.’

  ‘As you will, ma’am.’ He bowed and hurried off in the other direction.

  She needed peace and quiet for what she was going to do; but first she would eat, and drink.

  Aila staggered back into her room, bumping off the doorframe and then hitting a table. She tottered for a moment, then shut the door and made for the bed. She collapsed onto it, her mind thick with brandy, and closed her eyes.