‘Must you burn them?’
‘They’re being crucified first,’ Agang said, ‘for tradition’s sake. The pyres will be lit under them while they hang.’
Chane shook her head.
‘Do they not deserve to die?’ Agang said.
‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘But to inflict such suffering first, I don’t know, it seems…’
‘You people are so squeamish at times.’
‘But,’ she said, ‘as king, you’re the one setting the example. If people see you order barbaric acts, then they’ll think barbarity is permissible.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘It puts fear into the hearts of the rebels, and shows the people what happens to traitors. Rulers must be ruthless at times.’
She sat by the low table next to him and picked up a weedstick from an ashtray.
‘Did you enjoy your outing with Giles?’
Agang half-laughed. ‘He told you, did he?’
‘No.’
‘Have I just fallen for one of your tricks?’
She shrugged and looked away, smoking.
‘I needed a break,’ he said, watching her. ‘Giles is pleasant company.’
‘And my company is unpleasant, presumably?’
‘Don’t make this about yourself, Chane.’
Her hand wiped her cheek, but she kept her face turned away.
‘I’ll make an effort to spend more time with you,’ he said.
‘You shouldn’t have to make an effort,’ she replied. ‘You should want to.’
Agang felt his temper rise. He stood.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘too many times recently our conversations have turned out like this, with you complaining and moping and I’m getting a little tired of it. You need to stop these emotional outbursts.’
‘You’re the one shouting.’
‘Maybe you should have gone back with Rebecca and Gertrude,’ he said. ‘You’ve never gotten over the fact that you don’t control me, or possess me, and as soon as I start spending time with anyone else, you start weeping and whining.’
Chane stubbed out the weedstick and got to her feet.
She gazed at him for a second, beautiful despite the tears falling down her cheeks.
‘Fuck off.’
She turned and walked from the small chamber, leaving Agang standing alone.
He sat down and picked up his wine. He took a sip, then hurled the glass as hard as he could. It shattered, sending a spray of dark red across the wall.
A servant rushed in.
‘Is everything all right, your Majesty?’ he said.
Agang strode to the door. He passed the servant, who bowed low, avoiding eye contact.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Agang spat. ‘Clean up that mess.’
As Agang took his seat on the podium, he noticed that Chane was missing from the officials and dignitaries assembled to watch the executions.
Hodang glanced at the empty seat and raised an eyebrow.
‘You know how she hates this sort of thing,’ Agang muttered. He scanned the square before him. Eight upright beams had been set into the ground, each with firewood piled round its base. Hundreds of townsfolk had gathered, standing at the edges of the square, held back by a solid line of soldiers.
To Agang’s right sat Prince Gadang, and next to him was Imperial Legate Robban and Father Pieper.
‘How’s married life?’ Agang asked his nephew.
‘Strange,’ Gadang said. ‘Is it normal for wives to never say a word to their husbands?’
‘You’re asking the wrong person,’ Agang said. ‘Maybe she’s just shy. She’s still to get to know you.’
Gadang leaned over to the king.
‘And at night,’ he whispered, ‘she just lies there, in silence, and doesn’t move a muscle.’
‘But I assume you have…?’
‘Of course, uncle,’ Gadang said. ‘She’s my wife, and I take what I’m due, but she seems…’
‘She needs to learn her place,’ the king said. ‘It’s your job to show her.’
Gadang frowned.
As Agang glanced at the troubled expression on his nephew’s face, the doors of the courthouse jail opened and the eight prisoners were escorted out. They were naked, and each had their wrists bound to a crossbeam, their shoulders bowed under the weight of it. Whips lashed out, and guards marched them into the square.
The crowd roared their hatred as the prisoners were led out to the row of stakes.
‘They are hungry today,’ Agang said.
‘They hunger for justice, your Majesty,’ Hodang said.
The soldiers escorting the prisoners halted in front of the podium where Agang sat, and the crowd stilled.
He nodded.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and the executioners began their work. One by one, the prisoners were hoisted up onto the stakes. Agang had ordered that no ankles be broken, to ensure that their suffering lasted as long as possible. The crowd laughed as one of the naked captives lost control of his bowels, though the Holdings officials on the podium remained tight-lipped.
The screams and groans of the prisoners rose to rival the laughs and jeers, as the pyres at the base of each stake were lit. The flames were kept low enough to tickle only their feet and calves, and the prisoners flailed their legs about, trying to avoid being scorched.
‘Look at them,’ Gadang laughed. ‘Jangling like puppets.’
‘They’ll tire soon,’ Agang said.
Gadang sniffed. ‘Smells like bacon. Mixed with shit.’
Pieper gagged, his hand going to his mouth.
The fire beneath one of the stakes rose out of control, the flames whipping up the beam to the height of the prisoner’s head. He screamed in agony as his long hair caught fire. Guards pulled some of the flaming logs loose, and the fire fell down, but the captive’s scorched body swung limp, a faint foamy gurgle coming from his blistered mouth.
Gadang tutted. ‘Over too quickly for that one,’ he said. ‘Got lucky.’
‘He’s not dead yet,’ Agang said.
‘But he won’t last as long as the others,’ Gadang said, shaking his head. ‘I’m tempted to throw a couple of guards onto the fire as well, teach them to do their jobs properly.’
The crowd gazed transfixed at the spectacle, watching as the flames burned and the crossbeams suffocated. The cries of the tormented prisoners were the only sounds in the square, and even Gadang closed his mouth.
The smell of burning flesh filled Agang’s nose, and he wished that it was the firewitch and B’Dang that were hung up before him.
‘Your Majesty,’ Hodang said.
Agang turned to his chief minister, who was gesturing down to the courthouse behind them. A scout stood there, out of breath.
‘I’ll just be a moment,’ Agang whispered to Gadang, who paid him no notice, his attention fixed on the executions.
The king rose, and descended the steps at the rear of the podium, Hodang following.
‘Your Majesty,’ the scout bowed, his eyes lowered.
‘You have news?’
‘Yes, your Majesty,’ he said, ‘from the Sixth Royal Regiment. They are approaching Broadwater, your Majesty, and are beginning to arrive now.’
‘Just the Sixth?’ Agang said. ‘Where are the others?’
‘I don’t know, your Majesty. We got separated when B’Dang’s forces attacked the army.’
‘What happened?’
‘We were still over a day from reaching the Tritos, your Majesty,’ the scout said, exhaustion etched across his face. ‘The fires started at night, ripping through the army, cutting it in two. Lines of flame boxed us in. The Sixth were right out on the edge. We could hear the screams, but all we could see were flames. We tried to get through to the rest of the army, but the fires were too high, and too hot. We couldn’t, your Majesty.’
The scout hung his head.
‘Then we were attacked from the rear,’ he whispered, ‘by another regiment.’
‘W
hat?’ Agang said, gripping the scout by the collar. ‘One of my regiments rebelled?’
‘Many deserted, your Majesty,’ the scout gasped. ‘We who have returned are the loyal ones.’
Agang released the scout, who put a hand to his throat.
‘Do you know what happened to my nephew, Prince Echtang?’
‘It was his regiment that attacked us.’
Agang rocked back on his feet.
‘Your Majesty,’ Hodang said, pointing down the street. Down on the main road appeared the first soldiers of the returning regiment, dragging their feet, their armour ragged.
‘That doesn’t look like a full regiment,’ Agang said.
‘Barely half of us have made it back, your Majesty. The rest died or joined the rebels.’
Someone in the crowd also saw them, and soon every eye turned from the executions, to watch as the column of soldiers filed past, on their way to the citadel.
‘And Commander Mandalecht?’ the king asked.
The scout shook his head. ‘I don’t know, your Majesty.’
Agang clenched his fists, and turned to Hodang.
‘Recall every company and garrison from the Twinth and Mya regions,’ he said. ‘Make sure the Sixth get plenty of food, and send them every hedgewitch in town.’
Hodang nodded. ‘I’ll see to it at once, your Majesty.’
Agang frowned, and stepped back onto the podium to watch the rest of the executions.
It was past midnight when Agang went up to his chambers in the Great Hall, tired and reeking of smoke. As he entered his private sitting room, he noticed someone lying stretched out along a comfortable couch.
‘You?’ Agang snorted, glancing at the empty bottles and full astray on the side table.
Chane groaned, and opened her eyes.
‘Here to apologise?’ he said, throwing his overcoat over the back of a chair.
She sat up, and reached for a drink.
‘You missed the executions,’ he said.
Chane said nothing, sipping from her cup.
‘I assume you’ve heard about the return of the Sixth Regiment?’ he went on. ‘Or, what’s left of it.’
She nodded, her eyes red and unfocussed.
‘Have no fear,’ he said. ‘We shall prevail. Broadwater will not fall to the firewitch. I have faith in the War God. Why would he have helped me before, if I was destined to be overthrown in a rebellion?’
Chane started shaking, a snuffling noise coming from her. At first he thought she was weeping, but he realised it was laughter he was hearing.
‘You still haven’t worked it out, have you?’ Chane said, her words slurred and full of spite.
He sat.
‘Worked what out?’
‘Back in the Holdings,’ she said, ‘I’d heard tales of what vision mages could do, never really believed it to be honest. Thought it was a load of bullshit.’
Agang glared at the woman, impatient, but waited for her to continue.
‘But now,’ she said, ‘I see that freak Pieper, and what he can do. And you see it too.’
She laughed again.
‘Get to the fucking point,’ Agang growled.
‘Isn’t it obvious, you idiot?’ she said, a drunken grin across her lips. ‘They can put thoughts into people’s heads, make them hear voices and stuff.’
‘So?’
‘There is no fucking war god, you fool,’ she said. ‘The Holdings have been playing you.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Let me get this straight,’ she smirked. ‘Your army is besieging their capital, and you hear a voice in your head telling you to make friends with the Holdings, and so instead of destroying them, you help them destroy the Rahain.’
Agang’s mouth went dry. He gripped the sides of the chair, and he could feel a hammering behind his temples.
‘And that time before,’ Chane went on, ‘when you attacked Daphne’s fort, that must have been them too. I remember Daphne saying that at the time, but I paid her no attention.’ She shook her head. ‘Bitch was right all along.’
‘Get out,’ Agang sneered, his teeth bare. ‘Now, before I kill you.’
‘Fuck you,’ she said, standing. ‘There’s a convoy heading back to the Plateau tomorrow, and I’ll be on it.’
He stared at her, the urge to leap up and strike her almost impossible to restrain. He wanted to hurt her, but was frozen to the seat.
She walked to the door.
‘I used to think you were going to change everything,’ she said. ‘Thought you were different. But you’re just another arsehole.’
She opened the door and left, slamming it behind her.
Agang jumped up and punched the wall of the room, breaking his knuckles on the solid oak beams. He held his fist, grimacing and falling to his knees, his face screwed up tight.
He didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it.
‘War God,’ he whispered. ‘I know she’s wrong. I believe.’
He bowed his head, weeping.
‘Save me.’
Chapter 12
Dreams of Karalyn
Slateford, Rahain Republic – 21st Day, First Third Autumn 506
‘I’m doing it, wee brother,’ Keira said, ‘whether you help me or not.’
Killop furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what would happen if ma and da caught them.
Keira shook her head. ‘Stop worrying. You’re always worrying.’
‘Cause your plans are always stupid.’
‘Come on, it’ll be a laugh.’
‘Watching you beat up some lassie? Aye, hilarious.’
‘Cow deserves it but,’ Keira said, her face a shade away from violence. ‘Are you taking her side?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘but we don’t even know for sure that it was her that did it.’
‘Of course it fucking was!’ Keira shrieked. ‘You just see a pretty face, and think she’s all innocent. Well, she won’t be pretty for much longer, not after I’ve finished with her.’
His sister stormed out of his small bedroom, leaving the door swinging on its hinges. Killop gazed at the empty space where she had been, and swore to himself.
Why did he always have to clean up her mess? She couldn’t control her fists, or her tongue, and half the village thought she was mental.
Keira’s pet cat jumped up onto the bed beside him, purring and butting his head up against his leg. Killop rubbed him behind his ears, and the cat put a paw onto his lap.
‘Not now,’ he said, brushing the cat aside.
‘Where’s yer sister going with a face like that?’ his father said, standing in the doorway.
Killop shrugged.
‘Better go after her son.’
‘Why do I always have to keep her out of trouble? It’s not fair.’
‘She listens to you, son,’ his father said. ‘You’re the sensible one.’
Killop glowered.
‘One day,’ he said, ‘I won’t be there to stop her.’
His father chuckled. ‘When that happens, the world had better watch out.’
Killop stood and everything went black. The ground fell from under his feet, and he floated in darkness, silence surrounding him.
He panicked for a second, then realised he was dreaming.
He sensed a great presence, and a powerful wave of emotion struck him, and he spasmed as the surge went through his body. He began to panic again, his heart pounding, as the presence seemed to peel open his mind. Memories and feelings flooded him as if his head was being held under water, and he lost the sense of where he was, and who he was. He screamed in agony.
In an instant it stopped, and he found himself lying in his own bed, a dim light flickering on his table.
I’m sorry about that, Killop.
He sat up, shivering and sweating.
‘What?’
It’s me, Daphne, the voice said. I’m in your head.
‘Was that you? I thought I was going mad.’
No.
It was our daughter.
He reached out for a cup of ale and took a drink. It was stale, but helped soothe the dryness of his mouth. His shivering subsided.
I was reaching out to Slateford, Daphne went on. Karalyn must have sensed what I was doing, and followed me. She didn’t mean any harm.
‘She has powers?’ he said. ‘But she’s a baby, I don’t understand.’
I’ll explain everything when I get to Slateford. I’ll also be able to place protections in your mind, to stop her from doing it again.
He lay back down, sweat drenching his covers.
Damn, she said. I didn’t want our first conversation to be like this.
‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ he said, smiling despite the pounding in his head. ‘Are you close?’
We’re riding through the night, she said. We should be at Slateford by tomorrow evening.
‘You can ride a horse and use your vision at the same time?’
No, she laughed. We’re in a wagon. I’m resting in the back while Bedig drives.
‘That big handsome Brig man I’m not supposed to be jealous about?’ Killop said. ‘That Bedig?’
He felt Daphne hesitate for a moment.
‘I’m joking.’
Are you?
‘I’m jealous that someone else got to spend so much time with you, and got to hold Karalyn when she was a tiny baby.’
We’ll be together soon, she said. And when you meet Bedig, you’ll see there’s nothing to be jealous about. He’s been a great friend, but he’s not the father of our daughter, nor the man I want to be with.
He felt her move within his mind.
I need to be going, she said. Karalyn is still upset that I pulled her out of your head. She’s curious about you.
He smiled. ‘Tomorrow evening, then.’
And I wanted it to be a surprise, she said. See you tomorrow, Killop.
Daphne vanished from his mind, leaving a headache in her place.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his body exhausted but his mind dizzy and awake. He remembered how it had felt when Karalyn was in his head, and his thoughts felt raw and flayed.
His daughter had done that? He was unsure if he should be fearful or proud.
He stood, and pulled off his damp tunic. The shutters of his room were closed, and the night outside was pitch dark. He dressed in the light of the dim lamp, then picked it up and opened his door, which led to a suite of rooms on the upper floor of the mansion that he shared with the mages, and Bridget when she wasn’t staying in town.
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