The Empress and the Acolyte

by Jane Fletcher

  The main room occupied two thirds of the building. It held a fireplace, a table, and a set of bunk beds. Another doorway led to a second room. Four soldiers were sleeping, top and tail, in the bunks. Two less fortunate comrades lay on the earthen floor. The fire in the hearth had burnt down, but still gave off heat and dull red light. Nobody stirred.

  Jemeryl smiled, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her. From the uniforms, she was sure that none of the soldiers was any sort of officer, and hence no witches were present. And now that she was in the warded building, there was no harm in displaying a bit of her own magic.

  Jemeryl tiptoed to a dark corner where she should be out of the way and grabbed a handful of sixth-dimensional tensors. Within seconds, she had used the energy to realign the links between the life forces of the fifth and the temporal currents of the seventh. The result was that anyone who looked in her direction would see only how the corner had been before she stood there—which was close enough to being invisible for her needs.

  The simplest option would be to take over the soldiers’ minds and fill them with the urge to go. However, direct tampering left residual traces that would be apparent for days to come, should anyone with the gift chance to look. As this might well happen if the deserters were captured and interrogated, a little indirect action was safer.

  The first thing was to wake somebody up. With a ripple in the sixth dimension, Jemeryl set icy fingers stroking the cheek of a rough-faced soldier on the floor. The woman’s eyelids flickered open. At first she brushed her weather-beaten skin, as if thinking to wipe away drops of water, and then rubbed more forcefully. Jemeryl brought sound into play, projecting footsteps, soft and unmistakable, pacing the room.

  “Who’s there?”

  The shout roused several of her comrades. “What’s up?”

  “There’s someone here.”

  A bull-necked man on the top bunk sat up and stared around in the dim firelight. “No.” He frowned. “You’re dreaming.”

  Jemeryl repeated the footsteps. Someone swore. Both soldiers on the ground sprung up and backed away. Now, everyone was awake and tense. They stared about, wide eyes darting, ready for the next sound. Jemeryl let them wait. She did not want to overdo things. The fewer unusual events they had to talk about, the better, but gradually, she made the temperature in the room drop.

  After two minutes of silence, one man laughed. “It’s nothing. We’re too edgy.”

  The women who had woken first rubbed her hands on her arms. “It’s cold.”

  “Toss something on the fire.”

  Another soldier, the youngest there, scrambled from his bunk and picked a log off the pile beside the chimney. Three seconds after he threw it on, Jemeryl caused a loud pop and a shower of sparks to erupt. She drove the sparks around the room in a swirl, just suggesting a figure of fire, and then, before anyone could be certain what they saw, she let it disperse. Everyone had jumped at the explosion, and Jemeryl hoped, got a good dose of adrenaline and a racing pulse. Now they looked unnerved.

  “Poxy sap.”

  Jemeryl repeated the footsteps, but this time from above.

  “What’s that?”

  “Only a bird on the roof.”

  “Go and check.”

  “I’m not chasing sparrows in the dark.”

  The youngest soldier had retreated until his back was against a wall. Now he jerked around. “Something touched me.”

  Jemeryl smiled. That last bit had been nothing to do with her. Suggestion and nerves were doing their job.

  The man on the top bunk jumped down. Using his heavily muscled frame, he barged through his comrades around the hearth. “It’s nothing. We just need to keep our heads screwed on. The bitch is dead. That’s what they say. We don’t have anything to worry about.” He knelt, scowling, and held his hands out to the flames. “What’s wrong with this frigging fire? I’m freezing.”

  Jemeryl channelled airborne moisture into a droplet a few feet above his hands, coloured it red, and let it fall.

  “Shit! Blood!”

  A few more red drops fell, hitting his comrades and the ground.

  “It’s raining blood.”

  Already, the youngest soldier had grabbed his gear and was heading for the door. Two others were close behind. Within ten seconds, the room was deserted.

  Jemeryl stepped from her corner, grinning. In broad daylight tomorrow, what would the soldiers make of the events? The cold before dawn had woken them. A bird had been walking across the roof. Water had condensed on the ceiling and dripped, and in the firelight it had looked red. And the battle-hardened warriors had fled. With any luck, they would feel too embarrassed to tell anyone—especially since their clothes would show no trace of bloodstains in the morning.

  Jemeryl shut the door that had been left open in the soldiers’ flight and sealed it with a spell that would allow only herself and Tevi access. Now that she was inside, the masking ward in the walls would prove very useful. She was free to work her magic, without fear of detection. But what was the source?

  Searching for the answer took Jemeryl no more than five minutes. A charm was built into the chimney breast, unmistakably Mavek’s handiwork, although Bykoda must have commissioned it. Jemeryl also discovered a secret store containing several other devices, some defensive and others deadly—quite hideously so. For what sort of dire contingency had they been stashed away here? The building had been constructed from real stone and imbued with magic that had outlived the Empress. Who had been intended to use it? And who was the intended victim? Jemeryl shook her head, grateful that she had not been privy to all the dark secrets of Bykoda’s Empire.

  Memories of the last three years made Jemeryl pause, staring into the fire. Bykoda was dead. The old woman had been tyrannical, unfettered by any moral restraint. She had taken people’s land, their lives, their minds, as if it were her right and in return had given them stability. And now the Empire was ended. Jemeryl could not condone all that Bykoda had done—far from it—yet the world was unlikely to be a better place for her passing.

  Jemeryl turned away and continued her search of the building. The door to the other room was locked, and the soldiers had wisely not tried to force it. Or maybe one had, and the rest had taken note of their comrade’s fate—a trap was set in the sixth dimension. Jemeryl disarmed it and looked inside. The room was either used as a store or a prison, and maybe as both, dependant on need. Currently all it held were the supplies from Bykoda.

  Back in the main room, the soldiers had left remains of their supper behind. Jemeryl doubted that they would be coming back for it. The packs from Bykoda held plenty of food, but it seemed a shame to waste what was there.

  She sat by the fire and picked up a loaf of bread and a wedge of rich white cheese, but then a wide yawn surprised her. On second thought, she was not very hungry. What she needed most was sleep. The food would keep for breakfast. Jemeryl pulled a blanket from one of the packs and crawled onto the lower bunk. There was little else for her to do, except wait for Tevi.

  *

  A yellow haze touched the eastern sky, rimmed with the first hint of pink. Dawn was close. Three birds called from the top of a nearby pile of rocks, but they were not songbirds welcoming the new day. The raw complaints of the carrion crows were as cheerless as the icy air, a fitting fanfare for the dead. There was plenty to attract them to this spot.

  Tevi stood on the gravel slope and fixed her eyes on the horizon. She remembered a conversation from her early months on the mainland, after the first time she had killed somebody. An older, experienced mercenary had spoken to her, trying to help her through the doubt and guilt.

  “At the end, you don’t know what it was about, or what was gained, or where the right and wrong of it lay. You just wake up in the morning, spare a thought for those who can’t, and thank whatever god watches over you.”

  The words often came back to her at dawn, especially ones like this, in the aftermath of battle. She walked down to the gra
vesite, dug wide enough for three. The dead soldiers already lay at the bottom. Two men and a woman, the youngest barely eighteen. Tevi looked at his face. He had trusted her leadership and followed her commands, and now he was dead. Tevi could feel the muscles in her jaw clamping. The guilt was hard to take. The thought that far more would be lying there if she had made the wrong decisions was a poor sop to her conscience.

  The rest of the platoon gathered around, shuffling uneasily. The nervous expressions and agitation in their ranks was due to more than grief for the dead. Tevi knew she would need to address the problem very soon, but for now, the funeral came first. The other officers, a junior captain and two lieutenants, stood a short way off, making no attempt to hide their expressions of boredom.

  Tevi knew that few commanding officers in Bykoda’s army would bother attending a funeral for common soldiers. Most would consider themselves generous just in allowing time for the troops to deal with their lost comrades in whatever fashion they thought fit. Some would even have ordered the corpses stripped and thrown on the pile of dead trolls.

  Tevi would not let the witches’ disdain stop her from doing what was right. She would honour her fallen subordinates. She would even have treated the trolls with respect, except that trolls never showed any reverence for their own dead. Maybe they did not care, or maybe they considered it tactless to draw attention to defeat. In the absence of better information, Tevi could do no more than follow the trolls’ own example and leave their bodies to the crows and foxes.

  The soldiers were a different matter. They left behind friends, lovers, and family. They had been her responsibility and she had failed them. To speak over their graves was the least she owed them. They had come from the southwest of the Empire. Tevi had a rough idea of their beliefs—enough, she hoped, to say the right things at their funeral.

  She raised her eyes from the bodies and began to speak. “Yesterday, three new heroes went to the halls of their ancestors. We will not forget them, their laughter or their tears. The world was brightened by their presence, and our hearts are now darkened by their loss. But they can go with their heads held high. Fate rolls the dice and we are the stakes. They were not cowards to argue the call. They faced their challenge. They passed their test with loyalty and courage...”

  *

  By the time the sun had cleared the horizon, the grave was filled and a cairn raised over it. The troops assembled for inspection. In all, nearly two hundred soldiers were lined up across the rocky hillside. Tevi chewed her lip as she considered them. Daylight made glaringly obvious the overnight changes to army equipment.

  The tabards emblazoned with Bykoda’s crest that used to shine like silk had turned to plain sackcloth. The untarnished blades were already showing signs of rust. Leather was disintegrating. In the background, the war dogs howled and whined. Inspecting the troops was a sham. Their kit was falling apart as they stood there, but the routine drill gave Tevi a better chance to gauge the mood. Something had gone wrong with Bykoda’s magic. The fact was obvious to everyone. The common soldiers eyed each other with fear and uncertainty. Even the officer witches were not hiding their disquiet.

  Tevi could guess the cause, but she was not about to share the information. She knew Jemeryl had no trust in oracles, and here was the justification. Despite confident predictions of date, Bykoda had clearly been overthrown sooner than expected. But this was not Tevi’s concern. All she wanted was to rejoin Jemeryl and return to the Protectorate. Already she had been delayed more than she had intended.

  Yesterday’s encounter had not been the straightforward battle expected. The trolls either had good luck or good scouts. By the time Tevi’s platoon reached them, they had retreated into crags on top of a hill. The position was well suited for defence. Even so, Tevi had the numbers for a frontal assault. Yet she would have taken heavy losses in the fighting, far more than three.

  She had played a bluff. The trolls had no way of knowing that she wanted the affair over with quickly. For several hours, her archers had peppered the hilltop from a distance. The trolls were too well protected to take serious casualties, probably no more than one or two over the course of the afternoon, but it inflamed their volatile tempers.

  Then Tevi had sent a squad of soldiers to dig ditches and ramparts, in full view of the trolls, as if she meant to blockade the hilltop. A drawn-out siege did not fit with the trollish idea of warfare. They had come roaring down from the crags, hoping to overwhelm the isolated ditchdiggers, and had run straight into an ambush. Tevi had been using the cover of archers to deploy her troops. A few of the trolls had managed to fight their way back to the crags, but their reduced numbers had been insufficient to hold out. Tevi’s soldiers had followed, scouring every crevice. Yet night was falling before they had been sure that every troll was accounted for.

  Tevi had thought about leaving as soon as the fighting was over. The moon was up, and there would be enough light to travel for a few hours. She could get halfway to the guard post, then rest and continue at dawn. But she had seen the bodies of her fallen soldiers. Staying for the funeral was a small enough payment to set against their sacrifice. And regardless of when she left, she would not reach Jemeryl that night.

  She sent news of the battle to Ranenok, asking that he let her lover know she was all right. She could not ask directly, but with luck, he would also give enough information for Jemeryl to work out about the delay to their plans. As soon as possible, Tevi would make her excuse to leave the troops and hurry to the rendezvous. If she could get there for mid afternoon, they would have a few hours to rest the horses, and then she and Jemeryl could set out for the Protectorate under the cover of dark.

  After setting up camp on the hilltop, her troops had bedded down for the night. Tevi was just about to seek her own bed in the officers’ tent when an indefinable wave had swept across the camp. Everyone felt the change, though none could explain what it was. War-dogs had started howling. Equipment had degraded in the soldiers’ hands. The contents of several packs had burst into flames.

  Tevi had sent one of the officers to contact Tirakhalod using a message orb, while she and the other two worked to maintain discipline in the platoon. The high morale of the triumphant soldiers had aided in this second task, but the orb had been less successful. Despite repeated attempts, no contact could be made with the castle.

  By morning, the mood of the platoon had fallen. Something was wrong, and everyone knew it. Tevi felt torn. She wanted to stay, watch over her troops, and return them safely to their barracks, but she could not. She had to leave and rendezvous with Jemeryl. Plus, if her guess was correct, the barracks might not be the safest location.

  Tevi finished walking along the last line of troops and moved up the hill to a spot where everyone could see her. She was not going to lie to them, but neither could she tell them the whole truth. Fortunately the whole truth was not required, and her plan should work out for the best for everyone.

  She raised her voice. “You did well yesterday. You don’t need me to tell you that. And you don’t need me to tell you that something odd happened last night. I wish I could tell you what it was, but nobody has any definite information. It might be some residual magic the trolls sparked off. It might be some sort of attack. It might even be something strange with the phase of the moon. But one thing we do know is that we stayed here last night and nothing bad happened to us. So rather than dash off into a trap, we’re going to carry on staying here until we know what’s going on. The trolls thought they’d found a nice defensive position. But they forgot all about how to make use of a defensive position—you stay put in it. We’re not going to make the same mistake. We’re going to fortify this hilltop and see if anything thinks it can get us out.” Tevi’s gaze travelled over the ranks of soldiers. Some were smiling; all looked happier. Safety and defence were what they wanted to hear. Even the officers looked more at ease. “All right. Parade over. To your posts.”

  The soldiers dispersed. As expected, the three
officer witches hovered nearby. Tevi summoned them over. They had been the most troublesome part of her command. Their attitude made it clear that they did not appreciate serving under an ungifted leader, although only Captain Altrun had raised objections.

  He was the youngest of the officers but the most adept at magic. Unlike the other two, he made no attempt to keep in good physical condition, as if boasting with his sagging waistline that muscles were not the source of his strength. He was the one to speak now, his round bland face fixed in an insubordinate sneer.

  “That’s it? We’re just going to sit here?” Tevi glared at him, until he added, “Ma’am.”

  “No. We’re going to send someone back to Tirakhalod to find out what’s happening.”

  “Do you want me to ask for volunteers?”

  “No. I’m going.”

  The witches looked surprised. “Are you sure...ma’am?”

  “Yes.” Tevi hesitated. She needed to pick her words carefully. “I was here for the tactics of the battle with the trolls. That’s over. The current problem is something to do with magic, and I can’t help with that. We need to send someone to Tirakhalod. If there is anything out there waiting to ambush us, then one person alone has the best chance of slipping through unnoticed. But if that person does get noticed, then I’m the one who stands the best chance of fighting a way through.”

  Captain Altrun frowned. “Wouldn’t one of the lieutenants be better? They could defend themselves with magic.”

  “Do you have any idea what has broken our link with Tirakhalod?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any idea what could have broken our link with Tirakhalod?” Tevi glared at them, noting the jitters. She had spent enough time talking to Jemeryl to know what witches and sorcerers found unnerving.