The Magelands Box Set

by Christopher Mitchell

  She smiled. They were scared of her people, and that made her happy.

  She came to the bottom of the slope, and the road levelled out. Ahead of her, she could see the town gates through the pelting rain. A low rumble of thunder echoed from the hills behind her.

  To the right, a large raised earthen embankment ran the length of the road, right up to the town walls. On the other side of the road was a sprawl of huts and small wooden structures. She scanned the buildings as she walked, but saw only Rahain faces peer through the murk in her direction.

  One emerged from a hut and sidled up to her.

  ‘What you doing out in the rain, eh?’ he said, a wide hat keeping his face dry. ‘You looking for something?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘You wanting smokes?’

  ‘Fuck off, ya scaly wee arsehole.’

  ‘No need for insults, pet,’ he said, ‘was only asking. Couldn’t see any other reason why one of you lot would be out in weather like this.’

  He scurried off back into the disorganised mess of shanty dwellings.

  Keira walked on.

  The wall of the town was mostly a timber stockade, but the gatehouse was stone-built, and towered three storeys above her. The great double gates were closed, but a small entrance door had been cut into the right hand gate, and was open. Several soldiers in dark grey uniforms slouched nearby, sheltering from the rain under an archway next to the gates.

  They looked up at her as she approached.

  She nodded to them, and made to go through the door.

  ‘Hoi!’ one shouted. ‘Stop there, you stupid sow.’

  She turned, ready to say something back, but paused when she saw at least ten crossbows trained on her, the soldiers fanning out by the gate.

  ‘Where’s your fucking pass?’ the same soldier called to her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your pass,’ he repeated, ‘to get into the town. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Maybe she’s new, boss,’ another soldier said.

  The officer sighed. ‘Not had one of those in a while. Thought every fucking Kellach savage had been through Rainsby by now.’ He looked up at her. ‘Where you from then? You speak Rahain?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘Is this how you greet visitors to your shithole of a town?’

  The officer spat. ‘None of your lip, girl, or we’ll fill you full of holes.’

  Keira smirked at him, but said nothing. She could see the itchy trigger fingers of the soldiers, and didn’t want to give them an excuse.

  ‘Alright,’ the officer said, ‘you need to go to processing, and register with them. They’ll give you a place to stay, and you can apply for a town pass.’

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Where’s that then?’

  ‘Back up the road,’ he pointed through the rain. ‘There’s a gap in the embankment about a hundred yards away, you must have missed it on your way down.’

  She turned, and began walking along the road, the soldiers scampering back under the shelter of the arch behind her.

  After a minute, she saw the break in the raised bank, and left the road, her boots wading through ankle-deep mud. The path through the embankment was narrow, and well-trodden. She reached the other side and gasped, as what had lain hidden from the roadside was now revealed to her.

  Fields of tents and wooden huts stretched out into the distance before her all the way to the shore, a settlement bigger than any town that she had ever seen in her homeland. Under the lowering grey clouds, and through the torrential rain, the refugee camp looked filthy and miserable, the ways between the tents churned to mud. Ahead she saw a wooden structure larger than the others, its sides streaked with mud, and she headed for it, her feet disappearing into the thick wet ground. She passed between rows of tents. Most had their front entrances closed, hiding the occupants within.

  Even in the rain, she could smell the stench of the place, a powerful sour tang at the back of her throat, of piss, shit and misery.

  She knew she probably wasn’t smelling too sweet herself. Her thick layers of clothes, stolen from farmhouse drying lines on the way, were heavy, and she was sweating in the summer humidity. Back in Kell when it rained, which it did frequently, it was always cold, and this was her first experience of a muggy Plateau storm.

  ‘You look lost, hen,’ a woman called to her from an open tent, in her own language.

  ‘Aye,’ Keira said, stopping and turning to look at the old clanswoman. ‘I am.’

  ‘You new in the camp?’

  Keira nodded.

  ‘Come in out of the rain for a minute,’ she said.

  Keira looked up and down the muddy track.

  ‘I don’t bite,’ the old woman said, grinning. ‘Nae teeth.’

  Keira stooped down, and entered the long, low tent. Behind the woman several others slouched on blankets and furs. Some were sleeping, while others smoked, their eyelids heavy and drooping. They looked at her, their expressions vacant, and none spoke.

  ‘Don’t mind them,’ the old woman said, as Keira sat. ‘On rainy days like today, when there’s no work on, they just sit about and smoke. I don’t touch the stuff myself, so as you can imagine, hen, I get bored shitless watching them pass out. Nice to have someone to talk to.’

  ‘What are they smoking?’ Keira said.

  ‘Sanang weed,’ she said. ‘Town’s full of it. It’s the one thing the lizards make sure we have plenty of.’

  Keira didn’t know who or what the Sanang were, but kept quiet, painfully aware of her ignorance.

  ‘I do have some whisky though, hen, if you want a wee dram.’

  ‘Aye,’ Keira said. ‘That’d be braw.’

  The old woman smiled, and reached for a jug and a couple of dirty mugs.

  ‘I’m Laurie,’ she said as she poured two measures of clear spirits.

  Keira sniffed the liquid as she was passed the mug.

  ‘Don’t be putting that face on,’ Laurie said. ‘I know it’s not real whisky. Fuck me, I haven’t seen any of that since we got here. It’s the best we have, but.’

  Keira nodded and drained her mug, her throat burning from the raw spirits.

  ‘Fuck, that’s nasty,’ she said. ‘Had worse.’

  ‘What’s your name, hen?’ Laurie asked.

  ‘Keilyn.’

  ‘Fuck me, a Kell,’ Laurie said. ‘Not many of you lot left. And young, too. You’ll have no bother making ends meet, trust me.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  Laurie laughed. ‘Whoring, what else? A young woman like yourself? I’m sure you’ll be able to make a living.’

  ‘I’d rather hack my own head off than open my legs for money.’

  ‘Aye well,’ Laurie cackled, ‘we’ll see if you’re still saying that after you’ve been here a while.’

  ‘Thanks for the drink,’ Keira said, rising, ‘but fuck you.’

  She stepped back outside, the rain drowning out the laughter from within the tent, and trudged down the path towards the half-canvas, half-wooden structure ahead, the largest building she had seen in the camp.

  Two enormous guards were at the door.

  ‘Is this processing?’ she called out, the sound of the rain on the canvas drumming out a cacophony.

  ‘You new?’ said one in a Domm accent.

  ‘Aye.’

  He gestured with his head, and she stepped inside.

  She walked into a large canvas entrance hall, with benches along each wall. A man, a woman and a child sat by the main door, which led to the wooden end of the building.

  They turned as she walked over.

  ‘You new as well?’ she asked.

  ‘No, hen,’ the woman said. She was holding onto a young boy, who stuck his tongue out at Keira as she sat on the bench down from them.

  ‘This numpty here,’ she said, gesturing to the dour-faced man sitting beside her, ‘fell asleep with a lit weedstick in his hand and burnt the fucking hut down. Nearly killed the
bairn.’

  ‘Does everyone round here smoke that shit?’

  ‘No, hen,’ she glowered. ‘A few get drunk all day instead.’

  The wooden door opened and a Rahain man in a dark grey military uniform walked through.

  ‘Next,’ he muttered.

  The family stood, and followed the Rahain through the door. The woman turned her head as she went.

  ‘Take my advice, hen,’ she said, ‘and get out of this shithole while you can.’

  Hours later, a freshly processed Keira stepped back outside.

  The rain was still falling hard on the camp, and the skies were now darkening. Slung over her shoulder was the flaxen sack the Rahain had given her, containing a flea-bitten blanket, some wooden clogs for getting through the mud, and a metal mug and spoon. After searching her for weapons, they had given her directions to her new accommodation, a stamped registration card to prove she was a resident of the camp, and ten tokens that could be used to purchase supplies.

  In exchange, they had wanted information: her name, her occupation, her home village, the names of her relatives, and she had lied without pause. Keilyn ae Kielie ae Kell, a shepherdess from Armdale in the Southern Kell uplands.

  The camp grew dark. Few lights were lit, and the muddy tracks were empty as the rain battered down. She heard a low roar of noise, coming from a long, squat wooden building set beside a large crossroads.

  As she got closer, she recognised the noise, and smiled.

  ‘Evening, boys,’ she said to the two burly men at the entrance.

  They grunted, and one heaved open the heavy wooden door, releasing the sounds of drinking and singing from within, along with a thick waft of smoke.

  Keira entered. The place was heaving with clansfolk, crammed into every space in the long hall. There was a bar running along one wall, and tables and booths lined the others. Lamps were suspended from chains attached to the ceiling, providing a low golden light. A dense cloud of smoke hung in the air, and she felt light-headed inhaling the fumes. The noise from the mass of folk was almost deafening.

  She kept her hood up, and made her way through the crowd to the bar. She pushed to the front, and tried to catch the eye of a bartender, as they poured and served drinks.

  ‘Fucksake,’ she muttered, as an older man to her left got served before her. In the crowded press at the bar she felt her arse get groped.

  She looked around, and saw the older man leering at her.

  ‘Was that you, ya wee prick?’ she said.

  He laughed, and turned, picking up his large mug of ale.

  Keira head-butted him, cracking his nose, a flow of blood spilling down his chin. She grabbed his ale as he lifted his hands to his face.

  ‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said, and pushed her way back from the bar.

  She strode through the crowds to the nearest booths, and saw a small space at the edge of a bench, where five people sat round a table.

  ‘You look sort of normal,’ she said, sitting down. They glanced up from their drinks at her, four men and a woman, their conversation paused.

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ Keira said. ‘I’m new. Carry on.’

  The five turned back towards each other.

  ‘Anyway,’ one said, ‘what I was just saying, the tunnel story is pure bullshit. No one can dig a tunnel through an entire mountain range. The Rahain just keep telling us this so we stay in line, scared that a fucking army’s going to march up the road.’

  ‘They want to clear the camp,’ the woman said. ‘That’s their end game. Make us all move up to the new Holdings City on the other side of the sea.’

  ‘No,’ another said, ‘they need us here to do all the dirty work. We’re free labour, and they figure that as long as they keep us doped up we won’t cause them any bother.’

  Keira coughed.

  ‘The tunnel is true, by the way,’ she said, as they turned to look at her. ‘I’ve just come from there, and seen it with my own eyes.’

  ‘Fucking told you,’ the woman said to the first man.

  ‘They’re working on the last bit now,’ Keira said. ‘Be done in a few thirds.’

  ‘But how…?’ the first man said.

  ‘Their mages turn the mountainside into rubble, and thousands of our folk cart it away for them.’

  ‘The Kellach slaves in Rahain,’ one muttered, ‘some are still alive, then?’

  ‘There’s fucking plenty of clansfolk in Rahain,’ Keira said. ‘I was in their capital, saw a lot of slaves.’

  ‘Who are you?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Keilyn.’

  ‘And how the fuck did you get out of Rahain?’

  ‘Escaped,’ she said, drinking her ale. ‘Took me a couple of thirds to get here.’

  ‘Do you know anything,’ one of the men asked, ‘about Keira the fire mage? We heard she’d been captured, and was in Rahain.’

  Keira swallowed. ‘No.’

  The woman leaned over the table to her. ‘Do you know what she did?’

  ‘No,’ Keira whispered.

  ‘She helped the lizards kill the Rakanese refugees,’ she said. ‘Murdered half a million of them, burned the entire city in an inferno.’

  The woman sat back, shaking her head.

  ‘Shit,’ said Keira. ‘That’s bad.’

  ‘She has shamed us.’

  ‘She was our hope.’

  The table stilled into silence, while the raucous noise of the hall echoed around them.

  ‘So,’ Keira said. ‘What’s Rainsby like?’

  The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘A shithole,’ she said, ‘on a good day.’

  ‘I don’t get it though,’ Keira said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The lizards invaded us, right?’ she said. ‘They were at war with us, and thousands are enslaved in Rahain.’

  ‘Aye, so?’

  ‘Well,’ Keira went on, ‘isn’t this part of Rahain? Why are we left alone here? Why haven’t they enslaved everyone?’

  ‘The government in Rahain doesn’t rule here,’ the first man said. ‘Hasn’t done in decades, apparently. The mob that runs Rainsby make up their own rules, and there’s nothing the garrison can do about it.’

  ‘There’s a Rahain garrison here?’

  ‘Oh aye,’ he said, ‘a thousand of them. The alliance of crooked merchants and gang bosses that rule can muster five times that number in their own town militia. The proper soldiers just stay in their barracks all day, leave the militia to it.’

  ‘The town decided,’ the woman said, ‘that there were too many of us to kill or enslave, so they set up this camp, and have us carry out all of the crap jobs that need done, in return for food, drink and Sanang weed.’

  ‘Talking about food,’ Keira said, ‘I’m fucking starving. Where can I…?’

  ‘There she is!’ shouted someone.

  She looked up. The man she had head-butted was walking towards the table, at least a dozen large men behind him. The front of his tunic was covered in blood, and both of his eyes were puffed and swollen.

  ‘That’s the bitch who hit me,’ he said, pointing.

  Before any of his thugs could react, Keira leapt to her feet and punched the man in the throat, then kneed him in the face as he fell. He twisted backwards, his head cracking off the side of a booth as he landed, his neck at an angle. The men he had brought gazed at his prone body for a moment, then charged at Keira, swinging clubs.

  The area where they stood erupted into violence, as the men threw aside anyone in their way to get to Keira. She struck one in the face, but others lunged at her. One of them leapt over a table and onto her, and they fell to the ground. One grabbed her leg. She kicked out with the other, making contact. Hands reached for her face, and she bit a chunk out of a finger.

  ‘Hold her down!’ one of the men shouted.

  A fist struck her cheek, as she struggled and writhed against the hands of the men.

  ‘Get the fuck off me,’ she spat, as a kick landed against her stomach.
As she gasped, her eyes scanned round the hall, looking for a naked flame.

  A man stared down at her.

  ‘Do you know who the fuck you just killed, bitch?’

  His expression changed, and his mouth opened, as a blade passed through his chest from behind.

  Someone screamed.

  Keira looked up as the men around her loosened their grip. She tore herself free, and lashed out at them, punching one in the eye.

  An arm reached for her. She drew back her fist to strike, but saw who it was.

  Kylon.

  ‘What fucking took ye?’ she grinned. ‘I was about to burn the place to the ground.’

  Kylon shook her shoulder.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’ve got shit to do.’

  Keira grunted from the bed next to him, her eyes closed.

  ‘Fuck me sideways,’ she said, stretching out as the dawn sunlight spilled into the dark room through the cracks in the shutters. ‘You’re still the best ride I’ve ever had.’

  She sat up.

  ‘Where are my clothes?’

  ‘Those rags?’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I never had a chance to order up a fancy frock before I got into a bar fight.’ She gazed around the small room. ‘How come you’ve got a fucking palace, when everyone else in the camp’s sleeping in the mud?’

  ‘Money.’

  She leaned up on an elbow and watched him as he stood and got dressed.

  ‘And it’s three rooms,’ he said, pulling a tunic down over his chest. ‘Hardly a palace.’

  ‘What do you need three rooms for?’ she said. ‘Thought you were staying here by yourself.’

  ‘Leah stays here too.’

  ‘You fucking what?’ she said. ‘You fucking slag, you been shagging that cow?’

  He thumbed towards the door. ‘She sleeps in that room.’

  ‘So yer saying ye haven’t fucked her?’

  ‘Her,’ he said, frowning, ‘or anyone else.’

  ‘You’ve kept it in yer pants the whole time?’

  He nodded and sat on the bed, reaching for his boots.

  ‘Just as well,’ she said. ‘So, what’s the fucking plan?’

  ‘We get out of Rainsby.’

  ‘I just got here.’

  ‘That Domm you killed,’ he said, ‘was the brother of a camp boss. He’ll be after you. And me.’