The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  She practiced for a good while, exercising all the muscles she hadn’t used in days. One particular stroll to the far end of the barracks, away from everyone’s beds, taught her what that area was being used for. In a corner, a desk had been turned on its side to afford a little privacy, but the stench was unbearable, and she quickly retreated the way she had come. Back at her bedside, she realised the smell had been present the entire time, and she was just noticing it now.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Weir called from the window. ‘It’s alright, it’s Ethan.’

  Daphne turned her head towards the door at the end of the room just as it opened. Outside, two black-clad guards were flanking the doorway, while three others entered the room, along with the Holdings slave.

  ‘Good evening,’ Ethan said. He noticed Daphne standing by her bed. ‘You’re up, excellent.’ The guards shut the door behind him.

  ‘I have some news.’ He paused, wrinkling his nose. ‘Creator’s cock, it stinks like a dirty stables in here. Well, hopefully it won’t be for too much longer.’

  The guards had brought in a sack, and they started to unload its contents.

  ‘Here are tonight’s rations,’ he gestured to the food and drink being stacked onto the table. ‘Possibly your last night here.’

  Chane sat up and pulled herself out of bed. ‘We’re leaving?’

  ‘A scout arrived,’ Ethan went on. ‘He told B’Dang to expect the arrival of Agang Garo this time tomorrow. Knowing the chief, that probably means he’ll be here in the morning.’

  ‘And then what?’ asked Daphne.

  ‘That depends on how well his meeting with the other chiefs went. If all goes according to plan, the Sanang warbands will soon be striking at the Holdings invasion forces, leaving Agang free to return to Beechwoods.’

  ‘He won’t be leading the counter-attack?’ Chane asked.

  ‘No,’ Ethan said. ‘He has no desire to fight any more than he has to. And anyway, as soon as the other chiefs are involved he technically becomes out-ranked by half a dozen of them. He wants them all to fight back against the Holdings, he’s been trying to organise them for thirds, but they won’t allow him to lead. And if he can’t lead, he’ll be going home.’

  ‘Why did he attack us if he doesn’t want to fight?’ Chane said.

  ‘To show the chiefs it could be done,’ the slave said. ‘The Sanang warbands have been sitting cowering and skulking, bickering and fighting each other, all terrified of being the ones to make the first move against the Holdings. As soon as Agang heard that this fort was still occupied, while the others had been evacuated days before, he knew he had to lead the attack himself…’

  ‘What?’ cried Daphne. ‘He knew? The other forts had evacuated?’ She sat down on the bed, her mind spinning, trying to fit together events that had moved far from her control.

  Mink got to his feet. ‘You fucking bitch! I knew it!’ He raised his finger at Daphne. ‘You betrayed the Holdings and killed us all. You!’

  As Daphne stared open-mouthed, Weir strode up the aisle of the room, until he stood between her and Mink.

  ‘You need to watch your mouth, Lieutenant,’ he said.

  ‘What is this?’ Mink said. ‘You all know I’m telling the truth, we’ve just heard Ethan confirm it. The other forts had evacuated, while we alone remained. Why? Because she would rather obey her father than the queen.’

  ‘No orders arrived,’ Daphne said, her voice sounding desperate to her ears. ‘Do you hear me, we did not receive any orders to evacuate!’

  ‘I believe you, Captain,’ said Chane, joining Weir by Daphne’s bed.

  ‘But, Chane,’ Mink called across the room, everyone’s attention on him. ‘We talked about this, about how her father wanted her to stay on, occupy the fort all year. We agreed…’

  ‘No Mink,’ said Chane. ‘You agreed. I confess to thinking that the captain was incompetent, and that she’d only got the commission because of her father. Sorry about that.’ She glanced over at Daphne, who shrugged. ‘But I didn’t believe any of those bullshit rumours that she was deliberately ignoring orders. She’s not a traitor.’

  Daphne noticed Ethan nodding his head.

  ‘Thank you for your support,’ she said. ‘But I’m not sure we should be discussing this while he’s here.’ She jerked her thumb in the slave’s direction.

  ‘It’s been enlightening,’ he smirked. He motioned to the guards to leave.

  ‘I’ll be off now,’ he said. ‘Try not to quarrel too much. It could be a busy morning.’

  Chapter 6

  Trauma

  River Tritos, Sanang – 22nd Day, First Third Summer 503

  Later that evening, Daphne made a point of going to speak to Dreff. He had not uttered a word since she had awoken, nor had he left his bed. As she approached, she could smell his odour, rank and sour, and she suspected he had soiled himself.

  ‘Hello, Engineer.’

  He cracked open an eyelid, grunted, and rolled over.

  She looked around and caught Chane watching her. The lieutenant shrugged, mouthing ‘I’ve tried’.

  ‘Do you want to talk, Dreff?’ Daphne persisted, speaking in a whisper. ‘About Wilkom?’

  She saw the veins on the back of his hand stand out as he gripped the bed sheets, but he said nothing.

  ‘Maybe later,’ she said. ‘Listen, I don’t know if you were awake when Ethan was here earlier, but we might be leaving tomorrow.’ Continued silence from Dreff, motionless except for his shaking hand. She sensed waves of pain emanating from him, and remembered how she had felt earlier, held by Chane while she cried for Jaimes and the dead troopers. She felt that ache within her still, that loss, all the faces and names of the young soldiers who would never return to their families. And with Jaimes’ death came an absence, not only at her shoulder, but in her mind, where her thoughts seemed one-sided and small without him.

  But she was an officer in the queen’s cavalry, and she would not allow herself to weaken.

  There was a knock at the door. It swung open, and Ethan walked in, a bag slung over his shoulder. He nodded to a black-clad guard, who closed the door behind him.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said in the candle-light.

  ‘A little late for a visit,’ Daphne said, getting up from Dreff’s bedside.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind. I was at a loose end.’

  He put his bag down on the small table by the door.

  ‘Take a seat,’ she said, right hand gesturing.

  He sat and stretched his legs. She saw Chane approach from the corner of her eye. The rest of the room lay still. The doctors seemed to be sleeping, excepting Jonnas, who was sitting meditating, or possibly praying. Mink was sitting on his mattress with his knees up at his chest, but she could see his eyes watching her from the other side of the room. Weir lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed.

  ‘How’s the arm?’ Ethan said, keeping his voice low.

  ‘Painful,’ she replied. ‘I’ve been smoking the narcotics you left for me.’ She sat at the table next to him.

  ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘Sanang drugs. If it grows, they smoke it.’

  ‘And just what have I been smoking?’ she asked. ‘The doctors were curious.’

  ‘I gave you a roll of dullweed sticks. Uncut, very strong. I keep a bundle for injuries, or just to pass the time.’

  ‘And the plant it comes from?’

  ‘No idea, I’m not a botanist. There are hundreds of plants out here in the Sanang forest we Holdings have never seen before. I imagine the horticultural department back at the university will have its hands full for a few decades to come.’

  Chane sat. ‘They have other drugs, then?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Ethan said. ‘Keenweed, dreamweed, loveweed, even deathweed. Weed for all occasions. The Sanang are partial towards oblivion.’

  ‘And they drink too?’ she asked.

  ‘In copious amounts,’ he said. ‘A most rancid beverage, made from fermented and distill
ed oats and honey. Every household has its own still. They have weak versions for glugging down at breakfast, right up to raw spirits that you’d be better off using to remove stains. B’Dang’s boys have been knocking that stuff back with a passion tonight.’

  ‘You got any?’ Chane asked.

  Daphne raised an eyebrow.

  ‘If, like he says,’ Chane continued, keeping her voice calm, though with a hint of desperation in her eyes, ‘all of B’Dang’s mob are already out of it.’

  ‘They are,’ Ethan said. ‘They know their fun will be coming to an end tomorrow, so they started earlier than usual and have been out cold in their barracks for an hour. Even Agang’s lot are having a drink tonight.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ Daphne said.

  ‘They’ve been good boys, and seeing as it’s their last night, and B’Dang’s crew have already knocked themselves out, they felt they’d earned it. Not sure if Agang will agree, if he catches a whiff of it on their breaths in the morning.’

  ‘He doesn’t let them smoke or drink?’

  ‘Well yes, he has to let them cut loose once in a while. Not even Agang can make them give up their habits completely.’

  ‘Well?’ said Chane.

  ‘Alright, Lieutenant,’ Daphne said, ‘if Ethan’s sure it’s safe.’

  The slave smiled and pulled a jug from his bag, and some cups.

  Sergeant Weir appeared at their shoulder, pulling out a chair for himself.

  ‘Did I hear mention of a drink?’

  ‘Good to know that the ears of a cavalry sergeant are as sharp as ever,’ Ethan smirked as he poured. Across the room Daphne caught sight of Jonnas. He was still sitting on his bed, but he was looking over at the table with an expression of disapproval. Must have been praying, she thought.

  ‘None for me, thanks,’ Daphne said. ‘Though maybe, if you had something I could smoke, though not as strong as the ones you gave me for the pain. Don’t suppose you have any tobacco?’

  ‘It’s about the only thing they don’t smoke,’ Ethan laughed. ‘Doesn’t grow here. But I do have a few other sticks with me. I’ll look one out for you.’

  ‘By the Creator’s sweaty crotch, that tastes rank!’ Chane exclaimed, holding her cup of Sanang spirits aloft. A couple of sips later though, and her demeanour changed, becoming more relaxed than Daphne had seen her in some time. They were a pair of addicts, she thought, she and Chane, each needing a crutch to get through the day. She took the offered smoke stick from Ethan, and lit it off a taper.

  ‘Dreamweed, it’s called,’ he said. ‘After a while on the dullweed, I’d recommend switching to that. It doesn’t kill the pain completely, but hopefully in a while you won’t be needing such a powerful drug.’

  ‘And what would happen if I kept smoking the dullweed?’

  ‘Well, you’d be alright, but you’d feel terrible when you came off it in the end. I’ve seen Sanang drift through their lives on dullweed, looking like the living dead after a while, in their own little worlds. Quite popular among Sanang women. It’s not a lifestyle I’d recommend.’

  She smoked her dreamweed and relaxed, her muscles loosening. She thought about picking up on Ethan’s comment about Sanang women, but found herself lagging behind in the conversation. Weir started to tell tales of the first invasion, and Ethan joined in with stories about the Sanang. She tried to concentrate on what they were saying, but felt herself starting to drift.

  ‘Captain, you alright?’ Chane asked her, her hand steadying her arm as she swayed. Daphne looked up, her eyes struggling to focus. ‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’

  Chane’s breath smelled of alcohol as the lieutenant lifted her up, an arm over her shoulder. Weir came to her other side and, without touching her left arm, they carried her to bed, where she was asleep before her head touched the pillow.

  She awoke as someone shook her shoulder. ‘What?’ she whispered, thoughts fuggy, her body cool in the night air.

  ‘Something’s wrong, Captain.’ It was Delia.

  Daphne looked up. Their candles had burned out, but the room was dimly illuminated from outside, a flickering light of burning torches.

  By the door, she could she where Chane and Ethan had passed out. Chane had her head on the table, while Ethan was reclining with his legs stretched out, snoring.

  ‘What time is it?’ Daphne asked, rubbing her head.

  Delia shrugged. ‘A few hours after you fell asleep, still a few hours to dawn?’

  Daphne reached over to the bedside table to find her dullweed. As she was getting a light prepared, she looked up again. ‘What’s going on out there?’

  ‘That’s why I woke you, Captain,’ she whispered. ‘I heard Ethan say that B’Dang’s crew had fallen asleep drunk, but they’re all outside, busy.’

  Daphne lit her stick and took a couple of draws.

  ‘Let’s go see.’ She stood, and put her leather overcoat over her shoulders. She went over to the table, moved Ethan’s legs to the side, and stood on the chair next to him. She pulled herself up level to the little window slat, and looked out.

  The square in front of the gatehouse was lit by dozens of torches. The right gate was still hanging loose from one hinge, but the bodies had been cleared away. There were about ten large wagons in the square, with oxen attached to the reins, and men were busy loading them with crates and bundles.

  ‘They’re looting the camp,’ she said, mostly to herself. ‘Must be planning to leave before Agang gets back.’ She looked down at Delia’s anxious face. ‘Why are Agang’s guards not stopping them?’

  She jumped down from the chair, and starting shaking Chane’s arm.

  ‘Chane,’ she called.

  The lieutenant groaned, but didn’t wake up.

  ‘Damn,’ Daphne said. ‘Delia, go and see if Sergeant Weir will awaken. Quietly.’

  Delia nodded and went over to the sergeant’s bed. Daphne turned her attention to Ethan. No time for subtlety here, she thought, and slapped him across the face.

  ‘Fucking…!’ He grunted, eyes shooting open, bloodshot and glaring. ‘What the fuck!’ He quietened as Daphne put a finger to her lips.

  ‘Take a look outside,’ she whispered.

  While he got to his feet, Weir walked over, rubbing his stomach and yawning. ‘We got trouble?’

  ‘We might have,’ she said, glad to see him up.

  ‘That bastard!’ Ethan scowled from his position by the window slat. He jumped down and ran to the door. He knocked, and called out in a low voice. There was no response. He started to pound on the door.

  ‘Stop that!’ Daphne said. ‘Don’t draw their attention.’

  He turned, a panicked expression on his face. ‘We’re fucked.’

  Others in the room were starting to rouse themselves. Mink was sitting up in bed, while Jonnas and Delia were getting to their feet.

  ‘Everyone, quiet,’ Daphne said, hushing them.

  Weir climbed up onto the chair to take a look.

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘They’re coming.’

  As they all stood around frozen, staring at the door, Weir acted. He jumped down from the chair, pulling a knife from under his shirt. With his other hand he shoved Chane over to the ground, where she fell spluttering and groaning back into consciousness. He pushed in front of Daphne, getting between her and the entrance, and at the same time started edging her backwards away from the door.

  ‘Thank you, sergeant,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m your man, Captain.’

  Chane got to her knees, holding her head. ‘What the…’ she began saying when the door burst inwards.

  In strode B’Dang D’Bang, a broad grin on his tattooed face. He held a long knife in each hand, and swaggered towards them, warriors crowding behind.

  He looked around the room, until his gaze alighted on Ethan. He smiled at the slave, who looked terrified but defiant.

  B’Dang spoke to him for a few moments, and Ethan turned to face the prisoners.

  ‘The great B�
�Dang,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and fear, ‘apologises for interrupting the prisoners’ sleep, but his men are getting bored, and he promised them some reward before they burn the fort to the ground and leave.’

  B’Dang spoke again, and started pointing at the prisoners. Ethan listened, his face lowered.

  ‘He’s taking me,’ Ethan said in a whisper, then gestured to where Delia and Jonnas were standing. ‘And you two.’

  ‘The fuck he is,’ cried Chane, still on her knees. She tried to rise, but B’Dang leapt forward and kicked her in the chest, sending her toppling backwards, banging her head on the side of Dreff’s bed. The Sanang guards growled and took a pace forwards. About a dozen warriors were now in the room. Two of them grabbed Ethan. He didn’t resist, his face absent of any expression. Weir took a step backwards, to be in a position where he could get to Chane if he needed to, but still reach the captain. The lieutenant was on the floor, vomiting under the bed.

  Warriors approached Delia and Jonnas, who were huddling together against a wall. Weir stayed still, keeping his knife out of view, covering both Chane and Daphne. She could see his face contort as he watched the Sanang approach the young doctors, but he bit his lip and remained where he was, defending his officers. The other two doctors were sitting motionless on their beds, horror-struck, as was Mink.

  Daphne cursed her arm, her luck, B’Dang, the world. Helplessly she watched as warriors wrestled hold of her two doctors, and hauled them away. Delia slapped one of them, who punched her, breaking her nose into a bloody mess. Jonnas reached for her and got a cuff across the cheek that whipped his head back.

  There was a flash of movement, and Dreff leapt towards them, landing into the mass of soldiers. He was screaming, his limbs flailing wildly. One hand found the face of a Sanang soldier, and in a fury he plunged his thumb and fingers deep into the warrior’s eyeballs. The warrior pushed him off, bellowing, his hands rising to his torn and bloody face, dark weeping holes where his eyes had been. Dreff hit the floor, and the Sanang surrounded him, their clubs, axes and swords hacking and beating down in a frenzy, which continued long after Dreff had stopped moving.