The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Ten years?’

  ‘Yes. He was with one of the first Holdings merchant caravans, long before the war, when our nations were trading rather than killing each other. He was captured by a tribe up near the Blackcliffs, and fell to me soon afterwards. And now he is gone.’ He looked over at Daphne. ‘He taught me much about the Holdings. Your language of course, but also your ways, your history, your devotion to your creator god. He also taught me what he knew about your government, and your army.’

  ‘He was a traitor.’

  ‘No,’ Agang said. ‘He was not. He taught me out of pride for the Holdings, his love for your nation, and so that I could learn. So that I could change Sanang, end the bitter fighting among the tribes, and unite us. Transform us into a nation that the Holdings will see as an equal, rather than as a barbarous place to loot and pillage.’

  ‘You want to be king of the Sanang?’

  He halted. They were standing before the great hall, its tall doors open and welcoming.

  ‘I will lead the Sanang,’ he said, ‘and you, Captain Daphne, shall bear witness.’

  Chapter 8

  With the Enemy

  Beechwoods, Sanang – 5th Day, Second Third Summer 503

  ‘But what I don’t understand,’ Agang said in fluent Holdings, ‘is why the queen doesn’t remove the church from its place on the council, if they are such a hindrance to her rule.’

  Daphne sighed. They had been over this before. She picked up her cup of sweet, black coffee. ‘As I’ve said, Chief, the constitution of the Holdings lays out the precise membership of the royal council.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he replied, ‘but why doesn’t she just break the constitution?’

  Daphne looked out through the supporting pillars of the balcony, where they sat under shade, protected from the hot afternoon sun. She was unsure what to say, wary of her captor’s true intent.

  ‘None of the Holders would support her,’ Chane said, ‘and the church would see it as a great opportunity to play the martyr. The common people of the Holdings are still very religious at heart, and the queen couldn’t risk pissing them all off.’

  ‘But she controls the army,’ Agang replied, getting exasperated. His two nephews glanced at each other across the table. Daphne wasn’t sure how much they understood, but they could sense their uncle’s frustration. ‘She could crush any noble that disobeyed her,’ he continued, ‘then round up all the priests and prophets, make a huge bonfire, and throw them on it. The people would respect that. They would understand who was in charge.’

  ‘But the entire basis for rule would change,’ Weir said. He was contributing more to these discussions, Daphne noticed. For the first few days he had said nothing, barely grunting if asked a direct question, but as time passed, and their conditions of imprisonment remained free of any coercion, he had started to open up.

  ‘It would change,’ Weir went on, ‘from having the feeling that you were ruled through consent and free agreement, like a contract, to one where you were being ruled through fear and force alone. The Holdings folk wouldn’t stand for it, they’re too used to their constitutional freedoms, no matter how illusory they are in reality. They would rise up against the queen.’

  ‘I see,’ Agang nodded. ‘That makes sense. It is, in a way, what happened here about half a century ago. Following hundreds of years of rule by the seulitch, the people finally tired of their excesses and cruelties, and overthrew them. Unfortunately, Sanang has been without any central government since then, and the results are obvious to see.’

  He poured himself a mixture of coffee and chocolate, adding a spoon of honey.

  ‘You’ve never mentioned them before,’ Daphne said. ‘The soulwitches?’

  Echtang Gabo, the younger nephew, choked back a laugh.

  A glance from Agang silenced him.

  ‘The seulitch,’ the chief frowned, ‘and they are not a laughing matter.’

  Echtang mumbled something in Sanangka.

  ‘In the Holdings tongue, boy,’ Agang said, ‘so all present can understand. One day, when the Sanang nation is on an equal footing with the Realm of the Holdings, you will be in my court, and I’ll need you to be fluent, and polite, when discussing matters of state with their ambassadors.’

  ‘Sorry, uncle,’ Echtang said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Agang replied, turning back to Daphne. ‘We shall not discuss the seulitch. They mark a dark time that is best forgotten.’

  Daphne wondered why he was so hesitant to explain some aspects of Sanang history and culture to them. While he had spent many hours over the last ten days asking the captives questions, he had been less forthcoming about his own people’s ways.

  ‘Back to something you said, Lieutenant Chane,’ Agang went on, sipping his drink. ‘You claimed that the common people of your land are more religious, yes? That would imply that the upper classes are less so. Why is this?’

  ‘Better education,’ Chane said, earning a scowl from Weir.

  ‘You disagree, sergeant?’ Agang said.

  ‘Not that the rich can afford a better schooling for their children, that’s true enough,’ he replied, ‘but every child throughout the Holdings is taught to read, it’s in the constitution. Every town, village and farm has its own free school, and even the poorest brats have to attend, whether they want to or not.’

  ‘Yes, I can remember Ethan saying this, though I can hardly believe it,’ Agang said. ‘The queen pays for the nation’s children to be literate? Girls too? Seems like a terrible waste of money. What are all these peasants supposed to do with such knowledge?’

  ‘Read the holy book, of course,’ Chane said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘That’s what’s written in the constitution,’ she said, ‘that all subjects must be able to read and understand the scriptures of the Creator, so that they can be living exemplars of his word.’

  ‘Does anyone check to see that this is carried out?’ Agang asked.

  ‘Not so much any more,’ she said. ‘The church used to send out travelling examiners. They toured the Holdings, and anyone could be stopped by one of them, and have to prove their knowledge of the sacred text.’

  ‘And were people punished if they failed these little tests?’

  ‘Yes, but not by the examiners themselves,’ Chane said. ‘Usually the people of the village or Holdings would take the matter into their own hands, hold some public shaming. Varied from place to place.’

  ‘I once saw a man get whipped naked down the street,’ Weir said, ‘after an examiner said he was getting his verses all mixed up. Seems harsh now, but was funny at the time.’

  ‘But the examiners did not punish anyone?’

  ‘They’re men and women of peace,’ Weir said. Chane snorted, but he ignored her. ‘It’s their first vow that they’re never to raise a hand in violence.’

  ‘And you said that these tests no longer take place. Why?’

  ‘The queen,’ Chane said. ‘She put a stop to them.’

  Mink yawned, long and loud.

  Agang gazed over at him, looking annoyed at the interruption. He was perched on the very end of the long bench where the prisoners sat in a row, his legs crossed, and his arms folded. He hadn’t touched any of the food or drink laid out for them.

  ‘Do you have something to add, Lieutenant?’ the Sanang chief said.

  Mink said nothing.

  ‘Speak, man,’ Agang pressed, growing frustrated. Echtang looked nervously at his brother Gadang.

  ‘I don’t have to say anything,’ Mink stated. ‘You’re not my commander.’

  ‘You can answer him, Lieutenant,’ Daphne said.

  ‘I no longer recognise the authority of a traitor who discusses Holdings secrets with the enemy.’

  ‘He’s your officer,’ Agang said, looking at Daphne. ‘Feel free to punish him for his insubordination. My guards won’t intervene. Or, if you’d prefer, I could do it myself.’

  ‘No. Let him be.’ She looked at her lieutenant. ‘
Mink, best go to your room.’

  He got to his feet, looking down at her in contempt. He turned towards the door at the back of the balcony that led to their rooms. A pair of guards escorted Mink on his way out.

  ‘I’d happily assist in adjusting the lieutenant’s attitude, Captain,’ Weir muttered.

  ‘I can see you’re a loyal soldier, sergeant,’ Agang said, ‘but I can also respect Lieutenant Mink’s position. Are you not doing as he says, discussing your secrets with the enemy?’

  ‘Not the way I see it,’ Weir said. ‘You haven’t asked us a single question about our troop dispositions, tactics, logistics, supply chain or anything that might give you an advantage in hitting back at the Holdings. And if you did, then I would, with all due respect of course, tell you to fuck off. But you haven’t. How the government works is not a secret. Our constitution is pinned to the notice-board of every farm and village across the Holdings, where everyone is free to read it, and quote from it, which they do, some of them endlessly. Sharing this with you is not betraying the Holdings.’

  ‘Why haven’t you asked us,’ Chane said, ‘about the army’s position and defences?’

  ‘It’s not my war,’ Agang said, ‘it has passed from my hands. For this season, at any rate, I will conduct no more fighting. I was just the one destined to show the Sanang that the impossible could be achieved, that the Holdings could be beaten.’

  ‘Do you know how it’s going?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘Not as yet,’ he replied. ‘I know the numbers that travelled east to harry the Holdings’ retreat, right through the gap in the lines that your defeat opened up, but I’ve not heard the outcome of any confrontation.’

  ‘How many?’ Chane asked.

  ‘Now you ask me of my nation’s military dispositions?’ he laughed. ‘I think not.’

  Chane shrugged. ‘It’s not like we’re going anywhere.’

  Agang relaxed back into his seat, sipping his coffee and chocolate drink.

  Daphne looked at her surroundings. The balcony had a beautiful view over the lush forest surrounding the compound. The road was visible as a faint line in the trees to the south-east. Each of the prisoners had their own room on the attic storey above the great hall, and there was an indoor common room, where they could gather when it rained. There were no stairs down to the main rooms of the hall below, but there was a trapdoor in the floor of the common room, through which they received their daily supplies of food, drink and water each dawn. The guards ascended and descended via rope ladders, and the outside walls had been plastered sheer, with no finger or toe holds to assist in climbing the walls. With her left arm crippled, Daphne knew there was no way she would be able to get down, even if there had been footholds. Her arm had been steadily improving. She could now raise it as high as her shoulder, and she had recently achieved a weak grip between her thumb and index finger. Not enough to lift anything, but it was a start.

  ‘Do you have any complaints about your accommodation?’ Agang asked.

  ‘No,’ Daphne replied, ‘although it would be nice to go downstairs or outside, now and again.’

  ‘Maybe in time,’ he said, putting down his cup. He stretched his arms and rose. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my weapons masters to discuss my new battalion’s training, and distribute some swords to a few promoted officers.’

  He gestured to a guard, who yelled something down to the ground level.

  As the warriors fitted the rope ladders to the top of the balcony railing, Agang turned back to the prisoners.

  ‘Same time tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll be asking you about the prophets. I remembered something Ethan told me, that they hear voices in their head?’

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ Daphne said.

  Agang and his nephews leapt over the railing, and climbed down the rope ladders in a few seconds. Once down, the guards at the top shook the ropes from their pegs, and each slithered off and fell back to the ground.

  Weir leaned forward, and started to shovel food from Agang’s plate onto his own.

  ‘You’re going to get yourself a gut at this rate, soldier,’ Chane said.

  ‘Maybe, Lieutenant,’ he said, picking up a leg of poultry, marinated in rich spices, ‘but it’ll be worth it. This is the best damn food I’ve ever tasted.’

  Daphne eyed the half-eaten chocolate covered honey, nuts and oat cake sitting on her plate.

  ‘We need to find a way to get some exercise,’ she said, ‘or, up here with all this food, we’ll be out of shape in no time.’

  ‘Combat practice?’ Chane suggested. ‘In the common room? See if they’ll let us use wooden sticks. Two hours a day would do it, and give us an excuse to beat up Mink at the same time.’ She grinned over at Weir, who smirked back. ‘It would break up the monotony of the day. And it’ll help you, Captain, to keep your right arm in shape.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Daphne replied, ‘although we cannot force Lieutenant Mink to participate if he refuses. We can ask Agang about getting some wooden swords tomorrow, after we talk about the voice of the Creator with him.’

  ‘Crazy old priests,’ Chane said, ‘with their little voices telling them whenever the Creator farts.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Weir said, ‘I happen to believe in the prophets.’

  ‘Really?’ Chane replied. ‘You been smoking dreamweed again?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ he shrugged. ‘Passes the time, but that’s not the point. I believe that the Creator speaks his words to a few of his chosen people. It’s been proved that their words have saved the Holdings from disaster throughout history.’

  Chane smiled. ‘I’d like to hear that proof.’

  ‘Another time, perhaps,’ Daphne said. ‘Tomorrow, Weir, you should speak to Agang about the voice of the Creator. You’re a pious man, and the only real believer among us. My faith is of little use.’

  ‘I will then, Captain,’ Weir said.

  ‘And Chane,’ Daphne said, ‘keep your scoffing to a minimum. I don’t want to have to send you to your room.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  The following evening, Agang acquiesced to their request for practice weapons without any fuss, and a roped bundle was raised up through the trapdoor.

  Echtang and Gadang watched as Chane untied the cords holding the package together and removed four blades of polished wood. They were from a willow tree, Agang had informed them. He had decided to stay in the attic with them a little longer that evening so he could watch them practice, and the common room was busy with guards. At a snap of Agang’s fingers, they moved back against the walls. Daphne could see what looked like amusement in their eyes as she, Chane and Weir each took a blade. Mink sat in the corner on a chair with his legs drawn up, making a point of not joining in.

  Daphne gathered Chane and Weir close to her in the centre of the floor, her back to Agang and his nephews.

  ‘Remember,’ she whispered, ‘no mention of battle-vision, that’s our secret.’

  They nodded.

  She turned to face Agang, Echtang and Gadang, the chief a head higher than his nephews.

  ‘First,’ Daphne said, ‘Lieutenant Chane and Sergeant Weir will loosen up, and demonstrate some basic moves.’

  She took a few paces back to stand next to Agang, Echtang making space for her.

  She raised her hand to clap for them to start, and stopped herself, feeling foolish.

  ‘Begin,’ she said.

  Chane and Weir touched the tips of their wooden swords together, then backed off, circling around the centre of the room. The Sanang guards watched them, and edged a little closer.

  For a few revolutions, Chane and Weir were content to stretch their limbs, and get a feel for their blades, though their eyes never left each other.

  Agang said something to the guards in Sanangka, and they eased from their alert attitudes, coming in closer and forming a circle around the duelling pair. Some started to chat and point, especially at Chane as she circled with her weapon, smiling.

  �
�What are they saying?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘That they expect this fight to be over soon,’ Agang replied. ‘A few are hoping that they will be asked to practice with the sergeant once he has defeated Chane.’

  There it was again. The Sanang attitude to women. Daphne had yet to see a female Sanang since arriving at Beechwoods. All the guards were male, and so were the workers, merchants and labourers that they saw each day from their balcony. Daphne smiled to herself. She had a feeling that some of them were about to be surprised.

  Weir broke from his circling and lunged out at Chane’s left. The guards cheered. At the last second he pulled back from his feint and swiped up towards the lieutenant’s chest, but she had anticipated him, stepping nimbly to the right and parrying. They circled each other again, both smiling, then began a series of lightning fast exchanges, sweeping, cutting, blocking. The roar from the guards rose in volume, and Daphne could hear passion in their voices as they watched the two Holdings soldiers fight. She felt pride in Chane and Weir’s graceful movements, and her heart soared.

  ‘Are these two particularly skilled?’ Agang asked.

  ‘No,’ she lied. ‘Nothing exceptional.’

  Sweat appeared on Weir’s brow, and Daphne suspected he was regretting the extra ribs he had wolfed down at lunch. Chane lunged low, ducking under a powerful swipe, and sprang up under Weir’s guard, striking him on the chin with the hilt of her sword with an uppercut. The sergeant flew back onto the wooden floor of the common room, bounced an inch, then lay still.

  The Sanang fell silent.

  Chane stepped forward and offered Weir her hand. He groaned, rubbed his chin and took it. As she helped him to his feet he chuckled. ‘Damn, you were right, Captain, we do need exercise.’

  Daphne stepped into the centre of the room. The faces of the guards were a mixture of amusement, surprise and resentment. A couple of them started to mutter, and she guessed they were telling each other that the Holdings woman had cheated.

  ‘Nice demonstration,’ she said. ‘Well done, Chane.’ She looked over to where Mink was observing. ‘Lieutenant,’ she said to him, holding out her wooden blade, ‘would you care to take part?’