The Covenant Rising d-1

by Stan Nichols

  ‘What was that, ma’am?’ Kutch inquired, his tone courteous and soft.

  The woman stared, as though seeing him for the first time. After a beat, she said, ‘Lost two boys. One not that much above your age, the gods bless you.’

  ‘How did they…?’

  ‘War did for the eldest. One of those pointless wars against people we’ve no quarrel with. State killed the youngest.’

  ‘Executed for cowardice,’ Karr elaborated. ‘I knew him. If he was a coward I’ll walk naked into a barbcats’ den.’

  ‘Speaking his mind was his only crime,’ the woman judged, ‘and they took his life for it. That’s why I’m here, bringing what I can to the cause.’

  Karr thanked her and she reclaimed her place on a patch of floor.

  Nearby, he found another woman he recognised. Life had wearied her too, though her youthful looks remained more or less intact.

  The patrician related her story himself. ‘You lost your home in a forced clearance, so a palace could be built for a Gath Tampoorian overseer. Isn’t that right?’

  She nodded. ‘But that wasn’t the worst of it. When the people in our quarter united to object to the plan there was a bloodbath. My husband and my brother were… butchered.’

  ‘They sent paladins in,’ Karr supplied.

  ‘Bastards,’

  the woman hissed. She noticed Caldason’s sympathetic expression, and studied him with shrewd eyes. ‘You’re a Qalochian?’ she asked.

  He confirmed it with a slight bob of the head.

  ‘Then you know all about suffering at their hands. For my money, anyone who goes against those clan swine deserves a medal. I say more power to their sword arm, and good luck to them.’ Her smile had little warmth but a great deal of canniness in it.

  The remark was pointed enough to make them pretty sure she’d guessed who Caldason was. They left it hanging and moved on.

  ‘See him?’ Karr indicated a bearded, stocky individual, perched on a barrel. He wore a wool cap and was dressed in a heavy, dark blue long-coat. ‘Another defector. Navy, in his case. Second in command on a slave galley, would you believe. Hated the brutality and came over to our side.’

  Every step seemed to elicit a tale. Karr pointed out more volunteers.

  ‘That pair standing by the door – reformed bandits. Some very useful skills they’ve brought us. Him. See? A priest. Broke his vows over a matter of conscience. The couple over there – a merchant and his wife. They -’

  ‘I think we get the point,’ Caldason interrupted. ‘You have a groundswell of support.’

  ‘Yes, the Resistance is drawing from a wider pool than ever before.’

  ‘So all these people will be going to your island paradise?’

  Karr gave a small laugh. ‘It’ll hardly be that. But perhaps some of them will. We’ll see.’

  Caldason scanned the room. ‘It’s a motley crew.’

  ‘I think diverse is a better way of putting it. They have a range of expertise we need. More important, they’ve got something not easily measured. Passion. You can move mountains with that.’

  ‘Moving the empires might prove tougher.’

  Karr bristled. ‘Why do you always have to -’

  ‘Ssshhh!’

  Kutch had a finger to his lips.

  Goyter was standing on a crate. Now she called for order. Two men went to the conjunction of cogwheels in the middle of the room. They grasped a massive lever. Muscles working, they wrestled it down. The wheels slowed, their clinking grew lazy, then they squeaked to a halt. A final shudder released falls of fine white powder from somewhere above.

  With the machinery and chattering stopped, the silence felt strange. Everyone was standing by this time, and looking Goyter’s way. Karr, Reeth and Kutch found themselves at the back of the crowd, which suited them.

  ‘You all know why we’re here,’ Goyter boomed, ‘so I don’t intend making this any longer than it should be. You’ve taken a decision that’s going to alter your lives. And that’s maybe going to alter the way we live, for the better. It’s a decision you can’t go back on after tonight, so be sure. Are there any here who don’t want to go further?’

  Not a hand went up, and nobody moved.

  ‘No one’s backed out yet,’ Karr confided in a whisper. ‘I’m not sure what we’d do if anyone did at this stage. Have them killed, I suppose.’

  Reeth and Kutch exchanged a glance, almost entirely sure he was joking.

  ‘Good,’ Goyter continued, her strong, clear voice filling the room. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.’ She looked from face to face. ‘This is an uncommon moment, and one you won’t forget. Savour it.’ Following a reflective moment, she added, ‘It’s time to take the oath. Raise your right hand and repeat after me.’ Needing no written reminder of the pledge, she began reciting it from memory. ‘Of my own volition and free of duress…’

  She paused every so often to let them repeat the words. Caldason took in the chanting crowd – young, old, middle-aged. Even a few children, too young to understand, with their hands raised and wearing solemn expressions.

  ‘…I hereby swear allegiance to…’

  Some looked earnest, or ardent, excited, apprehensive, jubilant, glassy-eyed. A few were tearful. One or two seemed bored.

  ‘…oppose those who subjugate us and cause us…’

  He glanced at Karr and saw that he was silently mouthing the oath, gazing unwaveringly at Goyter.

  ‘…vow my mind, my body and my spirit to the…’

  Kutch was transfixed too, fascinated by the flow of lofty ideals and noble phrases.

  ‘…to protect the weak, fight for the downtrodden, speak out for the voiceless…’

  Had the emotions in that room been uniform, had sentimentality and pious conviction been the crowd’s only mood, Caldason could have dismissed it all.

  ‘…the inalienable right of all…’

  But it seemed to him there were as many reactions as there were different types of people present. That somehow gave a power to what was happening. Not a power he was unfamiliar with, but one he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

  ‘…nor rest until freedom…’

  Widely different people -

  diverse

  , Karr had called them – yet sharing a connection, an affinity of common purpose. The feeling it gave him dredged something from the pit of his memory. It rekindled the trace of a dream.

  ‘…This I do swear and affirm.’

  The end of the oath brought a hubbub. Clapping, subdued cheers, the resumption of chatter. Caldason refocused on the here and now.

  ‘Quieten down!’ Goyter shouted, dampening the new conscripts’ noise. ‘Those of you making your way back to your homes and families will be leaving here in small numbers and not all at once. The guards at the door will take care of that. Those who aren’t going back, just stay where you are and your group leaders will come to you. Let’s do this quietly and sensibly, shall we, folks?’

  She got a smattering of applause.

  ‘Aren’t going back?’ Kutch echoed.

  ‘Some have been selected to work clandestinely,’ Karr explained. ‘They’ll give up the lives they’ve known and be swallowed by the underground. New identities, new objectives. Others serve best by staying in the roles they occupy.’

  ‘It all sounds very organised.’

  ‘We’re still learning. It’s taken us years to build the movement’s structure. But now this new alliance means we have access to an even greater network.’

  ‘It’s quite exciting, isn’t it, Reeth?’

  ‘You see this as very romantic, don’t you, Kutch?’ Caldason replied. ‘A bit of an adventure.’

  ‘Well, I suppose -’

  ‘It’s not. It’s about real people taking real risks and maybe dying because of it. It’s about somebody’s wife or brother or father being maimed, tortured or worse. Why don’t you tell the boy about that side of it, Karr?’

 
‘You, sir, are a cynic.’ The patrician said it with good humour, though he couldn’t keep a mild undercurrent of genuine criticism out of his voice. ‘It’s all those things, yes. People will be hurt, and die, and misery’s unavoidable. It’s a dangerous enterprise. But Kutch is right, too; it

  is

  an adventure. Probably the greatest we’ll ever see. As for romance, what grander than the romance of liberty?’

  Caldason didn’t answer.

  People were leaving, let out in ones and twos by the pokerfaced guards. Those who stayed were being shepherded into units by their minders. Goyter moved among them, urging, smoothing tempers, answering questions.

  ‘What now for us, Karr?’ the Qalochian finally asked.

  ‘One more task. Though I hope you won’t see it that way. I thought it was time you met those people I told you about earlier. The little band of escapees who washed up on our shore.

  Ah.

  ’ He turned to the door.

  There was a minor commotion there. A small group was being brought in, cloaked and hooded. Several of the newcomers were obviously seasoned Resistance members, acting as guides and protectors. Their charges were a man, two women and a pair of children. Even at first glance they seemed an oddly assorted bunch.

  Diverse

  , Reeth thought.

  No one, least of all Caldason, knew everything was about to change.

  20

  The new arrivals rolled back their hoods and doffed their cloaks.

  At least, the women did. Both of them shook loose their hair, releasing a cascade of blonde and raven locks. Caldason immediately recognised the brunette as a Qalochian. Such meetings were rare enough to mean something to him, and he thought she had the same feeling. The children, who proved to be a boy and a girl once unwrapped, and quite young, looked bone tired. They all did.

  The man, on the short side and well-built, kept his cowl in place. There may have been a good reason for this, but all it did was arouse interest.

  Caldason was intrigued by the prospect of meeting another Qalochian. He was curious about the man who remained hidden. But he had eyes only for Serrah Ardacris.

  He instinctively knew another warrior, and would have even if Karr hadn’t already spoken about her. She had the effortless grace common to good dancers and good fighters – athletic, supple, light on her feet, with a muscular potency that didn’t submerge her femininity.

  There was a certain comeliness, too, under the wear and tear. It was to do with strength. Caldason knew that when people spoke of character it was usually strength they meant, and this woman’s face was etched with it. She had a

  presence

  , a bearing that spoke of confidence shot through with wilfulness. And maybe a dash of something a little like insanity.

  From across the room, she studied him in turn. A natural process when two people who live by violence recognise each other. Her gaze was unblinking, but not devoted exclusively to him. She constantly surveyed her surroundings and the people, seemingly relaxed but actually alert. It was the way of Caldason himself, though he was better at concealing it, having practised for so much longer.

  Somebody released the lever and the cogwheels started up again.

  ‘This is not the place for a meeting,’ Karr shouted over the racket, ‘even if we are among our own. We need privacy.’ He gestured to Goyter. After a hasty, whispered consultation, he said to Reeth and Kutch, ‘One moment, please.’ Then he went to the newly-arrived group at the door.

  Reeth glanced at Kutch. ‘Been a long day, hasn’t it? Lot to take in.’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘Are you all right with it?’

  ‘Yes. Well, kind of. A bit overwhelmed. Knowing I might be a spotter, hearing the Resistance plan… finding out about

  you

  .’

  ‘After a flurry of events, things have a way of settling down.’

  ‘They never seem to when you’re around, Reeth.’

  As Karr said something to the new arrivals, they all looked Caldason and Kutch’s way. What Reeth noticed most was the stare Serrah gave him. Proud, penetrating. That strength again.

  Karr rejoined them, the fresh group in tow. ‘Come on, there’s somewhere we can go.’

  Caldason and the boy fell in behind the newcomers and Karr led everybody to a small door on the far side of the room. He opened it and ushered them through, slamming it behind him at the last.

  ‘That’s better,’ he announced.

  It was quieter, and cooler. They were in a storehouse; a long, low building with sacks and barrels piled along each side of a central aisle.

  Glamour globes gave light here too, though there were fewer than in the mill, making it shadowy. Caldason quickly scouted, satisfying himself that they were alone.

  ‘I think you can remove the hood now, Kinsel,’ the patrician said.

  The stocky man did so, revealing an amiable, neatly bearded face. ‘Thank goodness for that.’ His voice was bass and smooth. His open smile was genuine.

  Karr returned it. ‘Time for introductions, I think.’ He gestured to the others. ‘Reeth Caldason, Kutch Pirathon.’

  Kutch said hello. Caldason gave one of his small, almost indistinct nods.

  Karr indicated the other group. ‘Serrah Ardacris, Tanalvah Lahn.’

  Serrah said nothing, and remained perfectly still. Tanalvah smiled and greeted them, adding, ‘And this is Lirrin and Teg.’ The children clutched her hands and studied the floor.

  ‘Hello, kids,’ Kutch returned. He got a shy peek from the youngest.

  ‘And Kinsel Rukanis,’ Karr continued. ‘Who you may already be familiar with.’

  ‘Not me,’ Caldason stated bluntly.

  Rukanis took no offence. ‘I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘I know about you, Master Rukanis, sir,’ Kutch volunteered. ‘I saw a likeness of you once. I’ve never heard you sing, but people say you’re very good.’

  ‘Thank you, Kutch. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to hear me some time.’

  ‘Kinsel is one of the most respected and talented classical singers in the empire,’ Karr explained.

  Rukanis tried waving away the compliment, cheeks colouring.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Caldason said. ‘The pacifist.’

  ‘This isn’t exactly luxurious accommodation,’ Karr cut in, ‘but, please, sit down.’

  Tanalvah perched on a crate, Teg in her arms, Lirrin beside her, holding Tanalvah’s dress and bashfully sucking a thumb. Kinsel lowered himself onto another crate nearby. Kutch choose a heap of plump sacks. The patrician settled for a barrel. Caldason and Serrah remained standing, eyeing each other.

  ‘So, how have things been for you?’ Karr asked the newcomers. He added, ‘It goes without saying, by the way, that everyone here is to be trusted, so we can speak freely,’

  Serrah Ardacris took him at his word. ‘We’ve been dragged from pillar to post and back again,’ she informed him crisply. ‘How do you think we feel?’

  ‘Yes, my apologies.’ To Reeth and Kutch he explained, ‘It’s been necessary to keep our friends moving since they sought our help.’

  ‘It would be good to stop,’ Tanalvah said, glancing at the siblings, ‘for the children’s sake if nothing else.’

  ‘Of course. We have secure accommodation for you now. You’ll be going there soon and you can rest properly.’ He turned to Rukanis. ‘But your situation’s different, Kinsel, and we need to discuss it as a matter of urgency.’

  ‘Do they know the circumstances?’ the singer asked, nodding at Reeth and Kutch.

  ‘Some of it.’

  ‘I’ve been involved with the Resistance for seven years,’ Rukanis told them. ‘I won’t bore you with my reasons, though they’re simply enough expressed in terms of my beliefs about liberty and freedom. My creed, as you pointed out, Caldason, is one of non-violence. I don’t think that means I’m any the less useful to the cause. My profession involves a lot of travel, an
d access to certain echelons of authority, and that has been of benefit to the Resistance. Everything went smoothly until…’ He looked to Serrah. ‘I…

  all

  of us owe a debt of gratitude to this woman. We wouldn’t be here without her.’

  ‘And we’re profoundly grateful to her for that,’ Karr stated. Serrah showed no recognition of the compliment. ‘But the circumstances in which you all met could have created problems,’ he went on. ‘From what our intelligence tells us we think no suspicions have been aroused about you, Kinsel. After all, you’ve been out of circulation for only a short while. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t been compromised.’

  ‘Your advice?’

  ‘It has to be your decision, but I think this may be the time to consider giving up your public persona and letting the underground protect you. You’ve had a good run, let’s not tempt the fates.’

  Rukanis sighed heavily. ‘I’ve thought about it, to be honest. The thing is, my day-to-day work. I have responsibilities there, too. People depend on me. I can’t just disappear and leave them in the lurch.’

  Karr smiled mischievously. ‘It couldn’t be that you’re loath to give up the glamorous life you lead?’

  ‘It’s nowhere near as glamorous as it might seem. And important as singing is to me, my work with the Resistance is more so. Anyway, who said anything about giving up singing? I fully intend performing under our new order.’

  ‘So you’ll think about joining us full time until then?’ Karr persisted.

  ‘I don’t want to address any of this until after the reception tonight.’

  ‘Might be best to forget that, Kinsel. Too risky.’

  ‘More risky than not turning up and snubbing some powerful people? And what about the information you wanted me to be alert for? Isn’t that still important?’

  ‘We can find other sources. Think of your own safety.’

  ‘Listen to him, Kinsel,’ Tanalvah cut in. ‘You don’t seem to realise how dangerous this all is.’

  The children’s wide-eyed gaze went from her to Rukanis.

  ‘I’ll be all right, Tan,’ he assured her gently, ‘I can look out for myself. You mustn’t worry.’