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

by Christopher Mitchell

  He reported to the desk sergeant, then climbed a flight of stairs to his quarters. He had a bedroom with a balcony, a bathroom almost as large, and a small study for entertaining. He had yet to use it, as he had spent most evenings in the quarters of the more senior officers, playing cards and listening to them drone on drunkenly about politics. He had managed to evade an invitation for that evening however, and all he wanted to do was to sink into a hot bath with a bottle of wine and a book.

  Once inside his quarters, he removed his uniform jacket and hung it up. Reaper servants would collect his laundry each morning, and return it clean and ironed later in the day, and a fresh pile of clothes was sitting on the end of his bed. He poured himself a glass of wine and walked out onto his balcony. Maybe if his posting lasted into winter, then he would be able to enjoy the view; but at that moment the thick fog suited his mood. He was hiding so much of himself from others that he felt no one truly saw him as he was. Maybe except for Lady Aila.

  The demigod had threatened him. It sounded impressive, and no doubt Emily would be thrilled to hear it, but he wasn’t worried. Lady Aila was one of those demigods who seemed to have nothing divine about them except their ability to stay alive; no vision or battle-vision, and certainly no death powers. That wouldn’t be what he would tell Emily, though; for her he would make it sound a bit more dramatic as she seemed to relish danger.

  Emily. It had been fourteen days since he had seen her, and without her presence, a few doubts had crept into his mind. She didn’t know him, and he didn’t know her; they had shared two nights together, but not a meal, or a walk, or even a proper conversation. Emily wanted to be free of her father, that was certain, but what else did he know about her? He had her letters, which arrived at the barracks in Pella every other day, but they had clearly been overseen by her parents, and the language was formal and stilted; full of generalisations about the weather. She seemed attracted to the notoriety he had earned in the Circuit; what would she do when she discovered his true feelings about what had happened?

  It was done, though; the engagement contract had been signed, and the marital exchange of land was sitting at the lawyers awaiting the marriage itself, after which, the Aurelians would become the owners of a tract of slum housing in the Circuit. If it were up to him, he would give it to the peasants who lived there, but he knew his mother would never agree. He wondered what Emily would make of the idea.

  Someone thumped on his door. ‘Lieutenant Aurelian?’

  Daniel walked in from the balcony, and heard more sounds, as if every door on that level was being knocked. He opened the door, and saw a colonel and a pair of sergeants standing outside in the passageway.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Urgent orders from Tara, Lieutenant,’ said the colonel. ‘The entire regiment is being recalled immediately. You have ten minutes to pack your things and report to the gatehouse.’

  ‘Recalled, sir?’

  ‘Are you deaf? Yes, back to Tara. We have to be out of Reaper territory before midnight.’

  ‘Why would Princess Khora…?’

  ‘The orders come directly from the God-Queen,’ the colonel said as he turned away, ‘not from the High Guardian.’

  Daniel watched the officer move on to the next door along, then went back inside.

  Tara? What was going on? He pulled his trunk from under the bed and threw his clothes in. If the Tarans withdrew, there would be hardly any soldiers left to protect Cuidrach Palace. At the meeting with Princess Khora, she had talked about how vital the Roser contribution was to keeping the peace in Pella, so why would an order arrive that countermanded that? A riot in the local vicinity was unlikely, but if the rebels in the outer suburbs heard the news the palace would be vulnerable. The Reapers must be returning, he thought. As the City authorities would never leave Pella undefended, that could be the only answer.

  He frowned, realising that he would have to wait for the famous view of the two bays from his balcony. He filled his trunk, then dragged it out into the passageway, where Reaper servants were waiting to pick it up for him. He led them down the stairs and watched as his trunk was placed onto the back of a wagon in an inner courtyard. The open space was filled with Tarans. Troopers were lined up, and some were already marching out of the gates, their packs strapped to their shoulders. Daniel scanned the yard, seeking out the major.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, saluting when he found him amid a group of officers.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ he nodded. He glanced around at the assembled officers, many of whom looked a little dishevelled from the bar. ‘It seems our time here has been cut short,’ he said to them. ‘The briefing will have to wait until we return to the regimental barracks in Tara, as our orders are clear. Those who have troopers under their command, ensure that you and they are clear of Reaper territory by midnight at the very latest. For those of you on my staff, I have hired carriages to take you back to Tara immediately. You’ll find them lined up on the harbour promenade. Four officers to each carriage.’

  ‘When shall we report, sir?’ said a captain.

  ‘Let’s say noon tomorrow; that should give you enough time to sort yourselves out after tonight’s little journey. We’ll hold the briefing in the officers’ mess; keep it informal.’

  A junior lieutenant spoke up. ‘Sir, do we know why…?’

  ‘No, and there’s no time for questions, even if I did. Dismissed.’

  Daniel strode through the arched entrance to the courtyard and emerged into the fog of the waterfront. He joined the queue of officers standing by the five carriages waiting to collect them, then boarded one along with two captains and a fellow senior lieutenant.

  Tara was only three miles from Pella by boat, but the journey was three times as long from palace to palace by road. The captains swapped theories along the way, but the consensus was that the Reaper militia must have unexpectedly returned early from duty in the suburbs to relieve the Tarans. Daniel glanced out of the window for most of the journey, wondering instead what he was going to do with the rest of his night. With the briefing called for noon, and the carriage due to arrive in Tara around midnight, he could pop into the taverns by the harbour for a few drinks before climbing the hill to the barracks. Or he could try to break into Emily’s house, the way she had broken into his?

  He shuddered. No chance. Her father would have his head if he caught him with his daughter. The redeployment of the regiment might be permanent for all he knew, and he would have plenty of time in Tara to see her; in fact, his mother might even bring the date of the wedding forward, and they could be together without having to sneak about.

  The carriages rumbled along the road that ran by the waters of Warm Bay, and Daniel gazed at the bank of fog until they reached the little lamps that ringed the centre of Tara. The carriages halted by Prince’s Square, and the officers disembarked. A bell from a clock tower rang out; midnight.

  Daniel walked up to the others. ‘Drink?’

  ‘I have another theory,’ said the captain who had joined them in the tavern.

  A lieutenant groaned. ‘Another, sir?’

  ‘Why, thanks; I’ll have a large brandy. Anyway, what if we’ve been brought back here because we’re being sent to the Circuit? We all know things there are still bubbling away, and the casualties are starting to mount up. Aurelian, you’ve been there, well, obviously; do you fancy another crack at the Evaders?’

  ‘Any time,’ said Daniel, swigging from his brandy glass. ‘Bring it on.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ laughed the captain.

  One of the other lieutenants shook her head at Daniel. ‘You can’t be serious. My cousin was there, he said it was the worst time of his life. He still has nightmares.’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad; I miss it, sometimes.’

  ‘That’s why the major has his eye on you,’ said the captain. ‘After what you went through, well, that would have broken some junior lieutenants, but you came out the other side smiling, as if it had been nothing particularly s
pecial. You’ve got a tough hide on you, and that attitude will take you far.’

  Daniel got to his feet. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ He made his way through the almost-deserted tavern towards the toilets. He went into a cubicle and closed the door. What had he been saying back there? It was like his brain had no control over his mouth. The thought of going back to the Circuit made him feel physically sick, and he could feel the waves of nausea begin to rise from the pit of his stomach.

  He calmed himself. It wasn’t going to happen. He had a bounty on his head, and the Adjutant of the Circuit had clearly threatened him in front of the major and the other officers; they wouldn’t send him back, would they? He took a breath, his eyes going to the narrow window slit. He frowned. Through the fog, a red glow was hanging in the sky. It looked like something was burning, only the light was coming from out over the waters of the bay.

  He washed his hands and returned to the tavern. The captain had gone, and only the lieutenants were still sitting round the table.

  One glanced at him as he sat. ‘We were thinking of heading up the hill to the barracks; you coming?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They all stood and went outside into the cool air. The fog lay thickly over the harbour, but Daniel could see small groups of people gathering; soldiers, and courtiers from Maeladh Palace, the black leopard of Tara emblazoned on their uniforms.

  A lieutenant pointed. ‘Look at that.’ The others turned, and they all stared at the red glow over the bay. ‘Someone’s set off a flare.’

  ‘Maybe a boat’s in distress,’ said another.

  Daniel frowned. ‘Then why are all those folk from the palace here? It’s like they’re expecting someone.’

  One gasped. ‘Maybe we’ll get to see the God-Queen; maybe it’s her that’s arriving.’

  ‘Why would she be out on a boat in this weather?’

  More groups were gathering by the harbour, and soldiers had set up a long cordon that stretched down to the quayside. Daniel and the others went forward, and stopped by the edge of the cordon.

  A shout rang out from the direction of the town. ‘Make way for the God-Queen!’

  They turned. A glow of torches was coming from an avenue by Prince’s Square, and civilians were emerging from taverns and their homes to see what was happening.

  ‘I was right!’ said the lieutenant. ‘The actual God-Queen is coming! Malik’s breath.’

  ‘But she’s not arriving by boat,’ Daniel said, ‘and she surely can’t be leaving. So, who’s she here to meet?’

  More people were spilling out into the streets, crowding round the area where the torch light was approaching. Daniel craned his head to look, but there were too many palace guards and courtiers blocking the way.

  ‘There she is!’ came a cry from the crowd.

  Emerging from the fog like a vision strode the God-Queen; tall, regal, beautiful. A slender crown was on her head, and she was wearing dark blue robes studded and embroidered with golden threads. By her side, a few paces back, walked Lord Chamberlain, her most trusted mortal advisor, also dressed in robes of state. Tarans were falling to their knees at the sight of Queen Amalia, but she kept her expression serene as scenes of near-hysteria gripped the public. Palace guards pushed back the crowds, wielding long batons and clubs, and striking anyone who tried to get too close to the living God walking among them.

  The procession reached the quayside, and the guards formed up in thick lines around the area.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ said Daniel. ‘Come on, let’s get a better view.’

  He and the other lieutenants began to circle round the crowd, looking for a way in to see the God-Queen. The noise by the harbour front was reaching a crescendo, with screams and shouted prayers punctuated by weeping. Amid the crowds were many aristocrats as well as folk from the lower classes, and one of the lieutenants pulled Daniel’s arm.

  ‘Danny, look,’ she said. ‘Lord and Lady Omertia. Is that Emily? Malik’s ass, you’ve done well for yourself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he cried amid the noise. ‘I’ll see you lot later.’ He pushed his way into the crowd towards them. The lord and lady had brought half a dozen Reaper servants to keep the crowds back from them, but they were tightly pressed together in the confusion. Emily was standing by her mother, trying to see what was happening, but she was being pushed and shoved from all sides.

  Daniel barged his way past a group of peasants and neared them.

  ‘My Lord,’ he said, trying to bow amid the mob.

  Emily’s father glared round, then his features softened a little as he saw it was Daniel. ‘Over here, lad; I could do with some assistance.’

  Daniel pushed more of the peasants away, clearing a little space around the noble lady and her daughter.

  ‘Thank you, Daniel,’ said Lady Omertia, her eyes shot with anxiety at the proximity of the crowds. ‘Do you know why the blessed God-Queen has emerged from the palace? Is her Majesty leaving us? Has she reconciled with the holy God-King?’

  ‘I don’t know, ma’am,’ Daniel said, keeping himself between the Omertias and the swarming groups of peasants.

  The crowd surged, and Emily was swept up alongside him. He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘Why are you here, Danny? I thought you were in Pella?’

  ‘Got recalled a few hours ago.’

  ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘No idea, but it must be connected to whatever’s happening now.’

  ‘Emily!’ cried her mother’s voice.

  Daniel turned. Lord and Lady Omertia were being pushed back by the crowds, the distance between them and their daughter increasing.

  The lord caught his eye. ‘You look after her, Daniel,’ he shouted; ‘you look after my little girl.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Daniel called back, then turned to smile at Emily, his hand still gripping hers. ‘Come on, let’s get closer to the front.’

  He used his shoulders to shove his way through the tight mass of peasants and nobles towards the quayside, his arm never leaving Emily. His uniform and strength got them close to the cordon, and he pulled Emily near as the crowds swayed and surged. The line of palace guards surrounding the God-Queen was three deep, but at least they could see her. She was standing alone, her eyes gazing out into the fog, where the red glow had faded. The prow of a ship appeared through the thick murk, and Daniel frowned, not recognising its shape or identity.

  He gasped. It was a warship.

  ‘Blades,’ he muttered, his heart racing.

  ‘What?’ said Emily. She lowered her voice. ‘Did you say “Blades”?’

  The sail of the ship came out of the fog, and the crowd stilled, their voices trailing off as everyone stared at the crossed swords on the huge standard fluttering from the mast.

  ‘Blades!’ someone screamed.

  Daniel thought the crowd was about to panic, but the God-Queen turned and raised her hand.

  ‘People of Tara, do not be afraid,’ she said, her clear voice carrying over the harbour front.

  The crowd silenced, her calm presence lending them courage. The ship reached the side of the pier, and a dozen huge soldiers disembarked, each in plate armour, their faces shielded by steel visors. They walked up the pier as others tied the boat up, and bowed low before the God-Queen. Another ship emerged from the fog to the right, then another, until half a dozen warships of the Blades had docked. Armoured soldiers were filing down the gangways, each as tall and broad as the first had been. All bowed to the God-Queen, then formed into ranks, flanking the ship that had landed first.

  ‘There are hundreds of them,’ whispered Emily. ‘Are they in charge now?’

  Horns and trumpets blasted out before Daniel could respond, and the Blade soldiers turned and bowed towards the lead ship as a man began to walk across the gangway. He had a silver band on his brow, and was taller than any of his soldiers. He had a full set of plate armour covering him, and the largest sword Daniel had even seen was strapped to his back. He
strode down the gangplank, then halted with one step to go.

  The God-Queen raised her hands. ‘By my will, I repeal the restrictions upon the Blades from entering Auldan and Medio. It is done, and I welcome Duke Marcus to Tara.’

  The crowd stood in stunned silence as the duke took the last step and set foot upon Roser soil. He strode up the pier, and got down onto one knee before the God-Queen, his head bowed.

  ‘Eldest son of my eldest son,’ she said, her voice ringing clear, ‘it is time you were given responsibilities that match your talents. For three centuries you have fulfilled your duty as Commander of the Bulwark, keeping the City safe from the eternal enemy, and for this, we give you the thanks you are due. It has come to my attention that discontent and disharmony are threatening the security and tranquillity of this beloved City, and so, therefore, I hereby pronounce the following.’ She reached out a hand, and Lord Chamberlain passed her a long, slender sword. ‘You are duke no longer,’ she said, holding the tip of the sword an inch over her grandson’s head. ‘Arise, Prince Marcus of Tara, the new High Guardian of the City.’

  The crowd gasped, and cheers broke out from some sections, while others stared in bewilderment.

  Marcus got to his feet, seeming like a giant compared to the mere mortals around him. He reached behind his back and drew the massive sword, then held it aloft in one hand, the blade almost as long as he was.

  ‘With the permission of the divine and blessed Queen Amalia, I accept the great honours bestowed on me. With my father’s sword, I pledge to bring peace and a new golden age to this City of ours. Even now, as I address you here in Tara, the failed regime of my predecessor is being brought to an end, and when the dawn of tomorrow comes, it will herald a new beginning for us all. I humbly thank the God-Queen for the great favour and trust she has shown in me. I will pray to her Majesty daily for assistance, and with her divine help, I have no doubt that this City shall flourish once again.’