by Gav Thorpe
"He's worried," whispered Lepiris. "The rebels have got him rattled."
Gelthius grunted in agreement. It seemed like Anglhan was trying to make some kind of case to his audience.
"No man likes to see another fall on hard times, and I have been there to provide useful employment for all of you. For some I even put food on the tables of your families when you could not, and for most I spared you the horror of being turned from your homes without a thread on your backs or a barley grain in your pocket. I do not claim that I did this wholly out of kindness, but I believe that a man should be allowed to rectify his mistakes if he can."
"What's 'rectify' mean?" asked Gelthius.
"Payback," chuckled Lepiris.
"It is with these thoughts in mind that I want you all to consider an offer; a choice each of you must make."
Anglhan paused and all across the ship was still, the air silent with anticipation.
"Today, all agreements are considered fulfilled."
There were a few shocked gasps, mainly from the crew, followed by a buzz of confusion.
"As of now, you are all free men, your debts to me paid in full," announced Anglhan, throwing his arms wide.
Some took the proclamation in stunned silence; others gave cautious cheers or laughed. Gelthius heard a sob and a thud, and looked over his shoulder to see Methrian had fallen to his knees. He looked back aft and saw an agitated Furlthia whispering angrily into Anglhan's ear. Clearly the first mate, who had a small share of the landship, had been telling the truth when he had said he had no idea of the captain's intent.
Gelthius turned to the nearest keyman.
"You!" he called out. He looked down at his shackles. "You heard your captain. I don't need these no more."
The keyman took a few uncertain steps and looked back at Anglhan, fumbling with the square-headed key at his belt. He stopped when the captain's voice boomed out again.
"As free men, I now present you with the choice I spoke of. That way," he pointed towards the low hills over the larboard bow, "is Magilnada, no more than two days of solid walking. As free men, you can head there and follow whatever path life presents to you."
He turned around and pointed towards the higher mounts to starboard.
"Before you all dash off, I must warn you that a man called Aroisius the Free leads an army not so far away. As you might guess from the name, he was once a debtor, but now he would see the tyranny of the king and his servile nobles ended. Magilnada is perhaps not such a safe place as you might think. You all know me well enough to know that I do not like being on the losing side of any deal. So trust me when I say it is in our interests to join with Aroisius the Free, so that we might all have an equal stake in the future of a new Salphoria."
Anglhan plopped down from the box and strode amongst the crew and debtors, clapping some on the arm, smiling and nodding to others.
"It is my intent to deliver this ship into the hands of those who would fight for our freedom. It needs a crew, and you are all welcome to join me. Those who wish to leave can do so, with food for three days and my best wishes. Those who wish to stay will be signed in as full members of the crew, with no obligation beyond our meeting with Aroisius. Our new allies will announce our coming," Anglhan waved a hand towards the captured bandits, "to avoid any unpleasant surprises. From then on, you can continue to serve with me, join the army of Aroisius or go your own way without recrimination."
"What's 'recrimination'?" Gelthius quietly asked Lepiris.
"That's payback too."
Anglhan had a key in his hand. With a flourish, face reddening, he bent down and unlocked the shackles on the closest debtors. He handed the key to one of them and waved towards their companions.
"As you enjoy that first taste of freedom, hear the turn of that key, I want you all to think about what you will do. I trust you all to make the right decision."
As their chains clanked to the deck, the debtors milled around aimlessly, unsure what to do. The key made the rounds, passed from each set of three men until it arrived at Gelthius and his benchmates. As it was handed to him, Gelthius grabbed the key like a hungry man offered bread and unshackled himself first, handing the key to Lepiris. Gelthius crouched and rubbed his chafed ankles. As he straightened, he found himself being stared at by Anglhan. The captain surged through the crowd and flung an arm around Gelthius's shoulders. The former debtor tried to shrink away, but the captain's grip was as solid as the anklechains had been.
"Here is Gelthius, a steadfast man we would all agree!" declared Anglhan. Gelthius cringed as the captain turned a broad smile upon him. "Tell us, Gelthius, what are you going to do?"
He felt the stares of everybody aboard, from the captain to the other debtors. Some were expectant, others encouraging.
"I figure," Gelthius began, but fell silent, unsure what he did figure. He took a deep breath and started again. "I figure that I got a better chance of having food in me belly staying with you than trying my luck in Magilnada."
"Good man, good man," said Anglhan, squeezing Gelthius ever harder. The debtor-now-freeman twisted his head away as his face was forced towards the debt guardian's flabby chest and odorous armpit. Much to Gelthius' relief, Anglhan relinquished his grip and turned towards another victim.
Gelthius felt a slap on the back. Fearing another crushing, he stepped away as he turned, but it was Lepiris. The two looked at each other, smiles cracking. Lepiris grabbed the back of Gelthius' head and pulled him forwards, planting a big kiss on his brow.
"Freedom, friend," Lepiris said, his voice breaking. They stood head-to-head, gripping each other's shoulders.
"Freedom," echoed Gelthius. "Spirit-blessed freedom!"
III
The landship creaked and groaned along the dusty track as the turnsmen — all but six had chosen to stay with Anglhan — laboured at their cranks. Anglhan stood on the aft deck in his most expensive clothes — bright red shirt, cloak of black wool, red-and-blue checked trousers held by a belt fastened with a gold buckle cast in the shape of an eagle's head, black boots with the tops turned down to reveal their fur lining. Around his head he wore a green scarf embroidered with a leaf design, ending in knotted tassels that hung to his waist.
He felt magnificent. The sky was blue from horizon to horizon. The air was fresh and clear. As the landship crawled slowly up the hillside, he looked to larboard and saw the great plain of Free Country stretching between the Lidean and Minean Mountains. He fancied he could see, beneath a white cliff, the city of Magilnada, though it was no more than a smudge of black against the white, and perhaps was not the city at all.
A shout from the mast top directed his attention past the bow. A large group of armed men stood across the road ahead, bows and slings in hand. As the landship approached, Anglhan recognised Reifan, one of the rebels he had set free. The tall, lean man signalled for them to stop, but Anglhan waved for the rebel to come aboard, not wishing to stop and lose momentum whilst still on the slope.
"I was not sure you would come," confessed Reifan as Anglhan helped him over the rail. He was a gangling fellow with a mop of red hair and sunburnt skin, his cheeks darkly freckled. The rest of the rebel group fell in beside the landship, walking in lines to either side, their weapons ready.
"I don't blame you for such distrust, lesser men than I might have second thoughts about this enterprise," replied Anglhan. He returned to the aft deck with Reifan beside him. "So, where are we headed?"
"Thunder Pass," said the rebel, pointing ahead where the mountains rose higher. "There are old mines there, near Litheis."
Anglhan turned to the steersman and gave instructions to bear to larboard, leaving the road. The man called to his two mates, and all three leaned heavily down on the tiller and hauled it to the side, teeth gritted. Slowly axles turned and the landship swung in the desired direction. The tillerman and his assistants ducked beneath the boom and reversed the manoeuvre, straightening the wheels.
"We should be there a littl
e after midday," said Reifan, shading his eyes against the sun. "Aroisius the Free is waiting for you."
"And I am eager to see him as well," said Anglhan, clasping his hands behind his back. He grinned at Reifan. "Very eager."
IV
Thunder Pass was a steep-sided valley, the walls pitted with caves and disused mine workings. Reifan guided the landship into an immense cavern not far from the entrance to the pass. Inside were hundreds of men and women, children also. Smoke from dozens of fires filled the cavern before seeping out of a fissure that ran halfway along the roof. The floor was littered with ash and other detritus. Rolls of blankets, barrels, boxes, bundles of staves, stacks of arrows and other equipment lined the uneven walls. The chamber echoed with ringing hammers and the rasp of saws, fiery crackling and shouts.
To Anglhan, who was a stickler for a neat and orderly vessel, it was quite a mess and the rebels' ragtag appearance dented his optimism a little. Reifan and his companions had led Anglhan to believe that Aroisius was well-prepared and organised. From here his "army" looked no different from the dozens of other dissident bands that had populated the mountains.
Anglhan tried to keep his smile, but Reifan must have noticed something in his demeanour.
"Don't be fooled," said the rebel. "This is just the workshop and families. Up top, it's a different story."
"Up top?"
"Don't worry," Reifan replied with a grin. "It's only a short climb."
While the crew made fast the landship, Anglhan and Furlthia disembarked with Reifan. The crew lowered blocks on ropes to chock beneath the landship's wheels and began bringing down the sail boom.
"Back to work," snapped Reifan as a considerable crowd gathered. He shoved a few of the most reluctant, and sent the children scurrying with a snarl. "You all have things to do!"
Outside, the valley was beginning to fall into shadow, while the sun shone from the almost sheer wall opposite. The dipping valley floor was broken by scrub and rocks. Piles of boulders and scree extended out from the sides from past landslides.
"They had to give up mining because of all the cave-ins," explained Reifan as he led them up the valley. "Even slaves cost money. It's called Thunder Pass for a reason. In winter, storms sweep right down here from coldward. Really bad blizzards and avalanches."
"And you stay here during that?" asked Furlthia.
"Safest place to be," said Reifan with a wink.
The way "up top" was a winding path just wide enough for two men to walk abreast, sometimes so steep that steps had been carved into the bare stone. There was no fence or guide rope and Anglhan was happy to follow behind his guide, keeping as close to the cliff as possible. Here and there a frayed rope or bent bronze hook showed where the ore had been lowered from the higher mine workings, but most had been scavenged over the years. Occasionally Anglhan's foot scraped over ancient nails and he stubbed his toe on a thick plank jutting from under the roots of a twisted, stunted tree.
He was lathered with sweat by the time the path reached the top of the cliff, and his knees were trembling from the exertion. Heaving in painful breaths, Anglhan forced himself up the last turn of the path, Furlthia giving him encouragement from behind. With a few more panting gasps, he came to the top. Reifan extended a hand and helped him up a last steep step.
They had come to a shoulder of Mount Litheis, which stood like a sky-piercing guardian at the head of the valley. The shoulder sloped gently to coldwards and duskwards, layered with thick soil and sparse patches of grass. The plateau was easily five or six bowshots deep and extended for more than twice that length, narrowing gradually and steepening as it progressed along the valley, until it merged with the steep sides of the mountain. A ridge jutted out two-thirds of the way along, providing a natural wind barrier, and it was in the lee of this that there were pitched dozens of tents. Several hundred, guessed Anglhan, each large enough to house twenty men. The camp was strangely quiet, the wind and snap of canvas the only sounds.
"Where is everyone?" Anglhan asked.
"Hunting, getting firewood, keeping watch," said Reifan. "Some old hill tribes have villages coldwards of here, far enough from Ersua that the Askhans haven't bothered coming after them. They've always hated Salphoria too, since their ancestors were driven up here by King Arnassin. We've trading parties that go to them throughout the summer, with crops, wool and other lowland stuff they can't get hold of any way. In return, they let us stay here and give us food, wood, rope, even some of their women."
"How long have you been here?" asked Furlthia. He looked around at the camp with incredulity. "I'm surprised nobody has found you yet."
Reifan had to think for a while before he replied.
"Seven years, I think. Maybe it has been eight." He looked away, deep in thought. "Yes, eight. I'm sure of it."
As they talked, they crossed the open ground between the cliff edge and the tents. The footing was slippery with moss and Anglhan wished he hadn't worn his best boots.
"It used to be that the brigands around here would move around a lot," Reifan continued, raising his voice as the wind gusted away his words. "They were afraid that the king would send men after them. Lord Aroisius realised that was their problem; they were easy to pick off, one group at a time. Although we have raided caravans in the past, we tend to go coldwards to Ersua instead, which means the chief of Magilnada isn't really bothered by us. That means we've been left alone to gather our strength. Aroisius the Free wants to take the city before winter comes. That way, the king won't be able to do anything until next spring, by which time we'll be ready to take whatever he sends at us."
They were in the camp now, threading their way through a maze of guy ropes and canvas. Contrary to Anglhan's first impression, the camp was not deserted. Groups of men clustered around small fires. They sharpened weapons, ground grain, stirred pots of broth or skinned deer and rabbits. Here and there small corrals had been made of rope fences, holding longhorned goats.
"In here," said Reifan, lifting the flap of a tent to their left. A warm gust greeted them and Anglhan realised how chill his skin had become despite the sun. With a nod of thanks, he ducked inside.
Aroisius the Free and his chieftains sat on a circular rug at the far end of the tent, arguing. The leader was a gaunt man, even taller and skinnier than Reifan. He had a wispy beard and thinning black hair that hung lankly over his shoulders. Anglhan guessed him to be about forty years old, though he could have been older. He looked up with bright blue eyes, animated, analysing every detail of his visitors in a sweeping glance.
Aroisius stood up as far as he could and walked towards them, neck bent so that his head did not touch the ridge pole running the length of the tent. He extended a bony hand and Anglhan shook it strongly.
"What a magnificent enterprise!" declared Anglhan, wearing his broadest smile. The chieftains looked at him dispassionately, eight bearded, gruff faces. The debt guardian continued on regardless, reciting the speech he had been rehearsing to himself for several days.
"I know that at first you must think me a strange convert to your cause. Am I not one of the men that has profited from the misery of those enslaved by the cruel edicts of that spirit-cursed fiend Aegenuis? I confess to you now that I was such a man. But sometimes a man lives his life with his eyes only half-open. He sees only what he wants to see, and I am ashamed to say that I was such a man until recently.
"But if the spirits bless a man, sometimes his eyes will open full and he will see all of the world, and the true part he has to play in it. Some do so reluctantly, bowed by the burden that they see they must bear. Not I! I am, it has been said, a man of opportunity. When I-"
"Shut him up before I do," growled one of the chieftains, rising to his feet, his fingers on the haft of a small axe at his belt.
Aroisius held up his hands for silence. He cocked his head to one side and looked Anglhan straight in the eye.
"Do not think that I am an idiot because I live in a tent on a hillside." His voice was
soft, cultured. "I know what it is that drives men like you: greed."
Anglhan opened his mouth to protest, but Aroisius stopped him with a raised finger.
"That was not meant as an insult, merely an observation. We all have our weaknesses. But we also all have our strengths, and it is those that interest me more. Even now, your mind is whirling with the possibilities. You are looking for the profit in this."
"I assure you, my intentions…" Anglhan's defence died away under Aroisius' unblinking stare. The rebel leader smiled thinly.
"I am sure we will come to understand each other better. For now, you should know two things. Firstly, that you are at my mercy. Your crew are being disarmed as we speak, and your Nemurians are being offered an agreement far more handsome than the one you have with them. This is not a threat, merely a statement of the measures I am taking to protect myself."
Anglhan smiled bravely, though inside his guts writhed with worry.
"And the second thing?" he asked.
Aroisius laid a hand on the landship captain's shoulder and gently guided him to the rug. A little pressure directed Anglhan to sit, and Aroisius joined him, crossing his long legs. He gestured to one of his chieftains, who twisted around and picked up a small chest. It was passed around the circle until it reached Aroisius, who placed it in front of Anglhan.
"Secondly, you should know that whatever schemes you were concocting, I can make it far more profitable to serve me."
The rebel leader opened the chest. Inside was filled with minted gold pieces, small and triangular with a stylised face on one side and a ziggurat on the other. Anglhan stared at it. He dragged back his hand, realising that he had reached out towards the money. Something struck him as odd.
