By the end of that first day more than three hundred people were dead. Over a thousand by the end of the week. Panic gripped Chadra. People barricaded themselves inside their homes and refused to come out. Whole families would be found dead once the sickness passed and the final accounting took place. Priests offered prayers to any god they could. Shamans and self-proclaimed hedge sorcerers offered charms of protection. They couldn’t keep enough. People bought them as fast as they could. Anything to protect them. It wasn’t long before that singular word spread, almost as fast as the death toll. Plague. There was no denying a devastating plague now ravaged across Delranan.
Even animals fell victim to the plague. Horses and wild dogs lay dead in the streets. The city stank of rot and of sickness. Chadra devolved into a graveyard. Bodies were stacked along the side of the road. Others stayed where they fell. Those few who were unaffected by the plague reluctantly agreed to take care of the bodies, but they were quickly subsumed with work. Some quit and, packing their belongings, headed for other villages with the hopes that the plague was not there. Yet others drank themselves to sleep nightly.
Harnin One Eye stood atop the parapet of Chadra Keep, staring down on what remained of the capital city. The plague had come from nowhere and all but ruined Delranan in a matter of days. He paced the dark corners of his chambers, waiting, hoping for the Dae’shan to return, but Pelthit Re never did. The sudden absence left Harnin with the feeling something nefarious was at play behind his back.
Thus far the majority of his household was unaffected. Chadra Keep was higher on the hill and separated from the city proper. Naturally suspicious, Harnin ordered the gates shut the moment the first report came in. His move paid off but, despite hope, wouldn’t last forever. He needed information from the outside world. Being trapped in his own castle left him impotent. Worse, Badron might already be returning.
“I have the latest reports,” Jarrik said, coming up slowly.
Harnin turned sharply. “Has everyone forgotten their manners? Just because there is a plague ripping my kingdom apart doesn’t give you leave to forget your place.”
Jarrik halted. A momentary flicker of amusement and hatred flashed before he managed to calm down. “My apologies, Lord Harnin, but I have the latest casualty reports from the city.”
“No doubt worse than the day before,” Harnin said, turning his back.
“Naturally. Though it appears the disease is abating. Less people are turning up to be treated.”
“Because we have far less people in the city that can,” Harnin replied. “We must have lost more than half of the population.”
“A fair assessment. We can only assume the outlying villages have suffered worse.” Jarrik rolled the scroll back up and shoved it inside his cloak. “How much longer are we going to hide behind these walls? Like it or not we need to be out there. Reassuring the people and bringing the rebellion to a close.”
“The rebellion is surely all but wiped out by now. Remember Jarrik, they are the people. The very same ones that now lie dead in the streets. They can’t fight us if they’re already dead.”
“Damn it Harnin, we don’t know that! Our soldiers are healthy and secluded in their outposts. All of the advantages are ours. We must press now,” Jarrik all but shouted.
“I’ll remind you to keep your outbursts to yourself, Captain,” Harnin said coolly. “The plague has put us all on edge. I will forgive you this time.”
“I don’t need forgiveness. I need actionable orders,” Jarrik insisted. “Let me take a detachment into the city. At the worst you lose twenty men and myself.”
“I’m glad you consider yourself so expendable. Losing you wouldn’t be the worst that could happen. You’re quickly outliving your usefulness, Jarrik.” Harnin paused. “Very well, take your soldiers and scour the city. Kill any surviving rebels and report immediately.”
Jarrik opened his mouth and closed it just as quick. He briefly considered throwing Harnin over the edge. Few, if any, would mourn the loss and possibly elevate Jarrik to the throne. He didn’t want to be in charge. Nothing good came from bowing under the pressures of the crown. No, Jarrik simply wanted to be free of the lunacy gripping Delranan. He wanted a return to before the night Chadra Keep was attacked. Before they went to war with Rogscroft. Life made more sense back then. Months later and both kingdoms stood on the brink of ruin.
There was a time he thought differently. He’d longed for power only to see how corrupt it made Men. Harnin’s fall into madness was a brutal awakening. It wasn’t long before Jarrik started to think Argis might have been the smartest of them. And look where that landed him. The poor bastard is already dead and doesn’t know it. Turning on Harnin and freeing Argis, while producing a potential ally as well as an unsuspecting informant to the rebellion, never crossed his mind. The hour had grown too late to think about switching sides now. His fate was cast. Changing sides would only infuriate another group of people. Best he wait until the storm blew over before making his bid.
He turned to leave and stopped. The chance to stab another barb in Harnin’s side was too great to pass up. “What of Lord Argis?”
“His usefulness is at an end. He will be dealt with accordingly.”
Jarrik cringed at the icy tone dripping venom. For a moment he almost pitied Argis.
THIRTY-FOUR
Insurrection
Chadra had become a ghost town. Not even crows hovered or perched on rooftops. Cold winds blew the overpowering stench of death through the streets, choking what little life remained. Several houses had already burned down, smoke and ash clinging to the rest of the city like a pall. Depression gripped Chadra and refused to let go.
Sneaking from house to house, unseen by all but the dead, shuffled the thief. She wasn’t sure how the plague avoided her and the idea was almost irritating. Either she was too good for the plague or the other way around. Not that she had many complaints. Dying in agony didn’t appeal to her. Unfortunately most of her friends were dead, as well as the vast majority of her family. So much had changed since the beginning of the rebellion. So many friends lost, victories and defeats. She lost herself in the quest to reclaim Delranan. And now she had nothing to show for it.
She scavenged what she could and bartered for what she needed. Life only grew harder. The one decent fact was the plague kept Harnin’s forces holed up, giving the survivors free reign to do what needed doing. Half-full pack already on her back, she crept around the corner of a blackened building. It had been a chandler before the plague. She frowned. Most of these sorts of places were picked clean. There was canned food aplenty throughout Chadra but her eyes were set on a much greater prize: medicine. It was the one thing she sorely lacked.
Hand on the front door, she froze suddenly. Echoes from heavy-booted feet marching through the ghost town sent chills through her lithe body. She knew that sound. Wolfsreik boots were specifically designed to echo the crunch and stomp of every footstep to instill fear in their enemies. She’d fought them before, though always on her terms. Only a fool took on any size element of the Wolfsreik at their discretion. Worse, their sudden presence back in Chadra could mean only one thing: Harnin was no longer afraid of the plague. She had to flee. There were many to warn.
Panic threatened to force bad decisions. She slowed her breath and tried to think. Echoes ranged up and down the empty corridors. Without knowing the direction her enemy came from she risked running into their arms. She could hear voices now. The soldiers were close enough she managed to pick out individual voices. That familiar gnawing feeling in her stomach started again. She had to run while she still could, but where? Which direction?
She closed her eyes and listened. Moments later she was able to pick apart the band of sounds, ruling out directions and avenues of approach. The first glimmers of torchlight reflected from the main road to her right. She grinned savagely and took off in the opposite direction. When she figured she was far enough away she found a deserted building and snuck insid
e. She needed to get a good look at the enemy. The information would prove invaluable.
She didn’t need to wait long. Two rows of soldiers marched into view mere moments after she tucked into the corner next to a second floor window. She began counting. While the numbers weren’t insurmountable, the Wolfsreik moved with enough force to keep any survivors’ heads down. Having seen enough, she readied to leave. That’s when she noticed the man at the head of the column. Jarrik, one of the lords of Delranan. Not for the first time she wished for a crossbow and the skill to use it. Instead she was forced to wait for them to pass. Leaving while they were still roaming the streets was tantamount to suicide.
“This is dire news,” Inaella coughed. Her body was covered with bruises and she lacked any strength. The plague hadn’t claimed her but it came close enough. She’d been bedridden for days while trying to recover. “Thank you, Ingrid. I can’t imagine how difficult it was to not get caught.”
“They weren’t focused on finding me,” Ingrid replied through the wet cloth covering her mouth and nose. “The real problem is Harnin has begun sending soldiers back into Chadra.”
Inaella attempted to smile but it hurt too much. “No. The real problem is we are too weak by far to combat the Wolfsreik. You say none of them seemed afflicted by the plague?”
“Not a one. They were as healthy as before the plague.”
“We’ve lost over half our strength. Most of the council is dead and there is little chance of coordinating our efforts to start fighting again. I fear the rebellion is finished.”
Ingrid clenched her fists. “Finished? This is the moment we need to strike! We have plenty of men and women who cling to death. Let us use them. Throw them at the enemy and infect their soldiers. Harnin is nothing without them and he knows it. We can break them here and now.”
“And do what? Chadra is not the city it used to be.”
“Let me call for reinforcements from the surrounding villages. We still have hope, Inaella, even if you can’t see it,” Ingrid protested.
Inaella admired the young woman. She had a fire too few of the rebellion’s leaders possessed. Unafraid, she reminded Inaella of Joefke. Pride and fervor were a good start but without a filter to control her emotions she feared Ingrid would burn out much too fast and wind up a corpse before her time. Youth had advantages but it was wasted on the young.
“Ingrid, I appreciate your zeal. You have been a great asset to our cause since coming to us but I can’t allow you to throw your life away needlessly. I have every reason to believe the plague was not contained in Chadra. Almost three days passed before anyone understood what was happening, and two more after that before they closed down the city. Who knows how many infected managed to get out before then? All of Delranan may be suffering for all we know.”
“All the more reason to send riders out. We’d all be dead if the plague didn’t burn itself out. Those still alive are immune. Anyone chosen wouldn’t have any reason to fear getting sick,” Ingrid said. “Either way we need to know. The rebellion isn’t over, Inaella. Not yet. Not when there’s still fight left in us.”
A coughing fit drove her back down onto the cot and she waved Ingrid off. “I will think on it, Ingrid. For now get some rest and see to the others. I’m afraid I must rest.”
Ingrid gave her a final glance before slipping through the curtain. Her mind raced through scenarios and possibilities. One inescapable fact stuck out from any angle she looked at it: the rebellion needed new leadership if it was to survive the next stage of the war. The plague took all of the fight out of Inaella. Fenning was dead, killed in the attempt to escape the Wolfsreik raid on their headquarters. Several others died from the plague. Only a skeleton representation remained and practically all of those didn’t want to fight anymore.
She couldn’t blame them. Her life was a bleak shell of what it had been, even before the plague struck. So many more had died during those first few days Ingrid found it difficult to wrap her mind around. She still caught herself turning to speak with an empty seat. The pain grieved her deeply. She used it for strength. Their deaths gave her purpose. It only took intent to force her point. The rebellion languished with inaction for too long. The time had come for a change.
Ingrid left the pitiful excuse for a command center and headed towards one of the safe houses set up throughout Chadra. Her mind blazed with ideas. The guards on duty were surprised to see her wandering about by herself but accepted her with smiles and open arms. She’d proven herself to them during the plague and they weren’t the sort to forget debts. Ingrid collected a handful of eager volunteers and gave them their orders. By dawn rebellion riders would be ranging across Delranan to assess the total damage caused by the plague and make their attempt at rebuilding lost fighting strength.
Satisfied, she gathered the strongest and largest of the remainder and headed back to Inaella. If the former aristocrat wouldn’t give up power peacefully Ingrid was determined to take it by force. None of them would survive the winter if she didn’t. Harnin wouldn’t waste any more time after the initial patrol returned with their report. That Jarrik himself had led the patrol spoke volumes, all terrible.
Inaella’s eyes fluttered open when she saw the curtains part. Distracted, she waved Ingrid off. “Ingrid, I need to rest. Come back later. I will summon you when…”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Inaella. I’ve come to get a decision. Now.”
“What is the meaning of this? I am the senior ranking member of the council and I will say when you get your answers.” The weakened woman propped herself up on one elbow and fixed Ingrid with a scowl. “This is not the time to show division. Not with the Wolfsreik back in the city.”
“This is the precise time, Inaella,” Ingrid countered. “We have sat by and watched as our city slowly died. The council did nothing. We sat and watched dozens of our friends get rounded up and executed under Harnin’s orders. The council did nothing. It is clear that this body is not capable of making the necessary decisions for our best interests.”
Inaella’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“The time has come for new leadership. A new direction is required if we’re to win,” she said flatly.
“Traitor! I should have your head.”
Ingrid didn’t move. “If you wish, though you’ll have trouble finding enough men willing to strike it from my shoulders. In fact I have a suspicion that many of those men you were counting on would be revolted with how quickly you adopted Harnin’s tactics. Face it, Inaella, your time is ended.”
“What will you do? Without weapons and the fighting force to use them your dreams will be washed away like rain through the gutter,” Inaella sneered. “You lack leadership. Always hiding in the shadows of others. It was a mistake admitting you to the council.”
“Some mistakes happen for reasons we don’t understand. Chadra is no more. You merely delayed the inevitable. I feel sorry for you, Inaella, I really do.”
“Save your pity, snake,” the raven-haired woman said.
Ingrid moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “Poor, poor Inaella. Where have all your servants gone? Your attendants to dress you and ensure you meet your schedules? You claim to know me? I know you as well. A broken aristocrat without lands, title or peasants to boss around. You are everything wrong with this kingdom. It’s time for a new order to rise out of your ashes. An order that will reshape Delranan into what it should be. Who knows, perhaps you’ll even live long enough to bear witness.”
Ingrid tossed her long, blond locks back over her shoulders and stormed off, leaving the stricken Inaella lost in the quagmire of her own contempt and self-loathing. Words wouldn’t come. In the end it was all she could do to collapse back into her dirty blankets and sweat and wonder what went so terribly wrong?
Fuming, Ingrid didn’t understand why she felt hollow. Rebuking Inaella should have been satisfying. She’d been waiting patiently for this moment since Joefke died. He was only a second co
usin and not very likable but he was family. She couldn’t tell the council this. They never would have allowed her to take his place, fearing ulterior motives and a possible play for control. Truthfully she never had designs towards sitting on the rebellion council. Rising through the ranks was hard but won through constant struggle with the enemy and careful planning.
She wouldn’t be where she was if not for the dedication of those who mattered the most: the people. Ingrid figured it was time for the aristocratic class to fall. They’d had their chance to govern the kingdom and made a royal mess of it. Delranan more than likely would never recover. A sad fact but one she was prepared to live with so long as what rose from the dust was better. The plague’s unexpected arrival was blessing and boon. So many good people had died that the kingdom was left with barely half of its population. She kept busy to keep from crying. None of her family, that she knew of, survived. The last of her name, Ingrid vowed to keep fighting until death or victory.
Inaella didn’t know nor would she ever that Ingrid had discovered the identity of the one responsible for selling out their headquarters. She took a team of personally dedicated fighters and hunted the man down. He died lost in his own screams. She had watched it emotionlessly even as he begged and pleaded for his life. His claims that he only did it to protect his family fell on deaf ears. Once he lay dead and broken in the gutters Ingrid took her fighters and killed his family. There was no room for weakness in the new rebellion.
Armed with righteous fury, Ingrid presented her offer to the remaining rebels. Her impassioned plea struck the right chords. All but a handful of the older, more devoted rebels left with her. Inaella’s rebellion was dead. She briefly contemplated turning the secret hideaway in but thought the better of it at the last moment. She wasn’t a savage after all. Ingrid ordered all of the weapons lockers emptied, food stores and supplies removed. They left just enough to keep the leftovers in supply for a few days. After that they needed to look after themselves. They weren’t Ingrid’s problem any longer.
A Whisper After Midnight Page 27
