by Gav Thorpe
"I think 'scheme' would be an exaggeration. I'm playing for time. At the moment this can end one of two ways. Either Aroisius's attack succeeds and he kills us because he doesn't need us anymore; or, the attack fails and we're hunted down and killed as rebels."
"Thanks for the encouraging news."
Anglhan gripped Furlthia's arm lightly, but kept his gaze ahead, looking at the crew.
"I have to make sure Aroisius doesn't attack before winter. His current plan is half-arsed and doomed to failure."
"So? Just let him fail, and we'll take our chances. The longer we're mixed up in this, the harder it's going to be to get out. Why supply him with weapons? We'll be flayed and our guts ripped out as soon as we get caught."
"Weapons are a means for bargaining," explained Anglhan. "You've seen how poorly equipped that 'army' is. They have numbers, but little else. Aroisius has his chiefs convinced that he can deliver what they want. When I return with a hold full of spears and shields, they'll start to realise that he can't give them shit compared to me."
Furlthia was horrified. He fought to keep his voice down, his next words coming out in a strangled squeak.
"You want to take control?"
Anglhan's grip on Furlthia's arm tightened painfully.
"I want to be in the position that I could take over if I need to. I've got no need of a ragtag army, but being in charge is better than not being in charge, which is where we are at the moment."
Furlthia pulled his arm away and shook his head.
"I don't think you've thought this through. You've got to convince the dogfucker to sell you some of his weapons. And if you manage that, the rebels will get them and they'll be more ready than ever to launch their attack. You're right when you say you don't have a plan."
Anglhan looked at his first mate with disappointment.
"I never said I didn't have a plan," the captain said, tapping the side of his nose. "Let's just make sure we survive until the winter. You never know what might come up."
III
The rattle and thud of chains and manacles hitting the deck sounded across the landship. Anglhan sighed deeply and tilted his head back, letting the light rain patter onto his face. Having regained his composure, he looked at the group of surly men in front of him. Behind them, the dawn sun was just lighting the pale roofs of Carlangh.
"You're meant to be debtors," he said, slowly and purposefully. "You all look too well-fed as it is. If anyone comes aboard and sees that you're not shackled, we'll be found out for sure." He turned to Barias, who stood beside him, a grin splitting his bearded face.
"He's right, lads," rumbled the chieftain. "It'll be just for a few days."
"I swore I'd never wear one of these again!" said one of the men, holding up the ankle bindings. "Why don't you put it on?"
"I've got to go with the captain, see?" Barias replied with a shrug. "Make sure everything goes down proper."
With more grumbling and muted protests, the rebels filed belowdecks. The click of locks continued for some time before Furlthia reappeared. He handed the bunch of keys to Barias.
"Like we agreed," said the mate, with a sideways glance at his captain. "You can set them free anytime you like."
Barias took the keys and stuffed them into a pouch at his belt with a nod.
"All right," he said. "Let's get moving."
Furlthia bellowed a few commands down the hatch and the landship slowly got underway. The rising sun revealed the plains of Salphoria; an expanse of grasslands stretching from the mountains to coldwards all the way to the distant horizon. Herds of cattle roamed the grassland, watched over by groups of men with long spears and bows, with small boys running around the beasts with thin rods.
Ahead Carlangh rose out of the grass, on the gentle slopes of a broad hill. The river Briensis meandered hotwards down the mountains, watering the plains, before turning duskwards just before it reached the hill of Carlangh. Around the town a wide swathe of grass had been cleared in generations past, replaced by rows of cereal. It was harvest time and large numbers of women were already working in the fields, reaping the crop and piling it onto the back of carts drawn by laughing bands of children. A small procession was already making its way towards the town and the landship joined the back of the harvest parade.
The outer town consisted of a few dozen roundhouses built from mud bricks around wooden frames. It was little different from any other Salphorian farming town, save for one feature; at the brow of the hill stood a wooden fort. Its wall of sharpened logs, carried some distance from the forests in the foothills to coldwards, followed the contours of the hill in a rough circle, broken at even intervals by six towers. It covered an area far larger than the group of buildings outside its wall, which had spread out of the protective enclosure in past years because the growing population could no longer be contained.
This was the most dawnward extent of Salphoria proper. Though the king had an historical claim to the Free Country, he had signed an agreement early in his reign with the king of Askhor to grant Magilnada and its territories a neutral status. To all intents, Carlangh guarded the border of Salphoria. This had attracted families to make new homes here, marrying into the Carlanghians or simply bringing everything they had to the town. The expected boom in trade from Carlangh's new status never came, leaving the people scratching an existence out of the grassy plains while trade continued to go dawnwards through Magilnada, never coming within a day's travel of the old fort.
Rather than pass through the town, the crop wagons circled around the hill, following a winding track into the fort on the far side. Anglhan ordered the landship to do the same. As they approached, the captain saw a large number of armed men gathering on the rampart behind the sharpened logs of the wall. There were some nervous whispers from those rebels still on deck.
"Relax," Anglhan told them. He winked at Barias. "We're just here for a bit of trading. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Get the water butts out of the hold," said Furlthia. "We might as well fill up from the river while the captain does his business."
In this way the majority of the rebels were kept busy while the landship entered the Carlangh fort. A group of warriors waited in the square just inside the gate. They wore brightly striped woollen trousers and padded jerkins sewn with rings of bronze for protection, and pointed helms popular amongst the Salphorian tribes, decorated with crests of boar hair. All were armed with long spears and bronze-edged bucklers. They were headed by a broad-shouldered chieftain marked out by the bearskin cloak he wore.
"Probably fucked the bear too," Furlthia whispered out of the side of his mouth.
Fighting back a laugh, Anglhan raised a hand in greeting to Meaghran.
"Hello, friend! The spirits' blessings upon you!" he called out, but received nothing save a blank stare in return. The captain looked at Barias and Furlthia. "Wait here until I signal for you."
Anglhan clambered over the side and lowered himself to the ground as the landship came to a creaking halt. He hurried across the packed dirt of the square, palm still raised. Reluctantly, Meaghran raised his palm in return.
"You're the last person I expected to see out here," the commander said gruffly, before remembering his manners. "The spirits' blessings on you too."
Anglhan looked around at the fortified town, noting the patched canvas roofs on the granary stores, the frayed hems on the tunics of the guards and the sun-whitened wood of the buildings.
"Prospering as ever, I see," said Anglhan.
"Very funny," said Meaghran. "I suppose you're going to tell me that you've got a proposal I can't afford to ignore."
"The spirits themselves must have brought you my thoughts in the night, Commander. The very words I was thinking."
"All right," Meaghran said with a sigh. He gestured with his head for Anglhan to follow. "Come on; let's go to my rooms and discuss it."
The captain turned and waved for Furlthia and Barias.
"Who are they?" Meaghra
n asked as the pair shimmied down the ropes hanging down the landship's hull.
"My first mate and my storemaster," Anglhan replied quickly. Carlangh's commander eyed Barias with suspicion but said nothing.
They followed Meaghran across the square. He led them into a low building under the rampart of the wall, still swathed in shadow. Inside were two sparsely furnished rooms. In the first were a few guards who sat on the floor, eating from bowls and chatting. Meaghran ignored them and carried on through to the next room. The floor was covered with scattered straw, which to Meaghran's credit was fresh. He gestured to some low wooden stools and the four of them sat down.
"You came from dawnwards," said Meaghran. "Just been to Magilnada, yes?"
"I have," said Anglhan.
"Any news?"
"Nothing remarkable. The usual stuff. Prices are up, trade is down."
Meaghran nodded with little enthusiasm.
"Same here. The town's bigger than ever, the harvests better than ever, but you try getting a half-decent price… Someone's making money somewhere, but the spirits take me if I can work out who it is."
"I'm avoiding grain at the moment," Anglhan said. "Like you say, it's a bad market."
Meaghran stretched out his long legs and folded his arms.
"If it's not grain you're after, why are you here?"
Anglhan coughed twice and spat to one side.
"Sorry, my throat's a little dry."
"I see," Meaghran said with a smile. "That's how it is?"
He bellowed out of the door for someone to fetch beer and cups. A soldier returned shortly carrying a tray of jugs and mugs.
"Don't you have a slave for that sort of thing?" asked Barias. Anglhan's heart skipped a beat but he kept a smile on his face.
"Had to sell them all," confessed Meaghran as he poured the amber-coloured beer. "Too many families now to have folk standing idle while we feed extra mouths."
Anglhan raised his mug in toast before Barias could say anything else.
"With the blessings of the spirits, I think my coming here may solve your problems," he announced. "Well, some of them."
They all drank from their mugs, signalling that business could start in earnest.
"Weapons," Anglhan said, seeing no reason to delay. Meaghran's eyebrows rose in surprise. Anglhan plunged on. "I wasn't being entirely honest when I said there was no news from Magilnada. Rumour has it that rebels have been gathering in the mountains."
Barias shifted next to Anglhan, but he ignored the chieftain and continued.
"Speculation, there's nothing like it for good business. I would guess that you've got a few things in your armoury doing nothing but getting in the way. I could help you clear some space."
"You want to buy weapons from me? Who are you going to sell them to? I'm sure as the sky is blue that Gerlhan can equip his troops just fine."
"You're right, my friend. But the good citizens of Magilnada, they're not all that confident in their militia. And the freeholders in the farms outside the walls, well, they are getting very nervous."
"They're not really mine to sell," said Meaghran, without much conviction. "They were given to Carlangh by the king, to defend his lands."
"You're not selling them for yourself," said Anglhan, his voice as slick as oil. "You'll just be holding the money until you find someone to take it to Carantathi."
Meaghran looked at Anglhan for a long time and shook his head.
"No, it's too dangerous. You wouldn't pay what I would ask for, to cover the risk."
"I am happy to negotiate."
"No," said Meaghran. He stood up and offered a hand to Anglhan. "I'm sorry, but it'd be my skin on the line."
Anglhan took a small tin wafer from his belt and put it into the commander's hand.
"I really didn't want to do this," said the landship captain. "I'm happy to pay the price you name."
Meaghran looked at the token in his hand. It was no bigger than his thumb, stamped with three things: the seal of the king, a sum of money, and a name. On seeing the last, Meaghran's face flushed red.
"My son?" he snarled. "You've bought my son's debts?"
Meaghran lunged for Anglhan, grabbing the front of his jerkin. Barias hooked an arm around the commander's waist and hauled him away, the pair of them falling into the straw. Furlthia leapt up, putting himself in front of Anglhan.
"Calm down!" said Anglhan.
Meaghran tried to wrestle Barias aside but the chieftain shifted his weight, pinning down one of the commander's arms with a knee. Meaghran spat and threw the debt token at Anglhan.
"You filthy slavefucker! You dirty, lying bastard!"
Anglhan stood very still, his expression calm.
"I am doing you a favour, you stupid arse," he said slowly.
"Taking my son into slavery? What did the stupid prick do? I can't believe it!"
Anglhan stooped and picked the token out of the straw. He held it up between two fingers.
"It doesn't matter," Anglhan said. "Something to do with wool trade with the Fetea. Your son is in a cell in Labrias. I saw his token and bought it before anybody else could. I thought being a prisoner for the moment was better for him than the alternatives. If it wasn't for me, he'd be mining copper, panning salt or worse. You can have him back if you sell me what I want. Take this token to Labrias and the Fetea will hand your lad over without a problem."
The debt guardian picked up Meaghran's mug from the floor, dropped the tin token inside and filled it with beer. He proffered it towards the commander. Meaghran's shoulders sagged and he sank back into the straw with a groan.
"That stupid little shit. I knew it was a bad idea to send him away, but his mother insisted." He banged a fist against his forehead. "Shit."
Anglhan nodded Barias aside and helped Meaghran to his feet. The commander straightened his cloak and dusted down his trousers with sweeps of his hands. When he was done, he sat back on his stool, glaring at Anglhan.
"So what is it you want?"
"Why don't we have a look in your armoury and see what you have," replied Anglhan as he handed over the mug of beer.
IV
The crew heaved up bundles of spears, shields and swords to the landship, while Furlthia kept a tally of everything being loaded on a wax tablet. When the last box was being hoisted up, filled with bronze mail links, the first mate handed the tablet over to Meaghran.
"What's this?" the commander asked.
"We'll need your mark on this so that we can take the cargo into Magilnada," replied Furlthia. "Just to avoid too many questions. What happens after that won't be your problem."
Meaghran slipped a heavy ring from his left hand and pressed its embossed design into the wax. He handed the wax slate back to Furlthia. Anglhan joined them as the commander was putting the ring back on.
"This is yours," said the debt guardian, placing a sack of coins in Meaghran's hands. He glanced at the Carlanghian warriors who had gathered around the landship and raised his voice. "I've put in a little extra for your men; a thanks for their help in loading."
Meaghran growled in irritation.
"I could have my men take you prisoner right now," he said. "It'd be a justice if I did."
"Why don't you?" Anglhan asked innocently.
Furlthia edged a little closer to his captain, fingers on the handle of the knife at his waist. He looked over his shoulder and was pleased to see most of the landship crew were done with the loading. They lined the side of the deck, wiping their sweaty bodies, winking and waving at the local women. A few suggestive calls rang around the square. Several of the men lounged close to one of the spear throwers, the sharp point of its bolt aimed towards Meaghran. Barias was with them. The chieftain grinned at the group on the ground.
"We're not brigands," Meaghran said between clenched teeth. "Get out of here. May the spirits shit in your mouths while you sleep."
Furlthia followed his captain up the side of the landship and puffed with relief when the chocks
were stowed and the beat of the drum sounded. The vessel turned laboriously around the square and headed back out of the gate, followed by several dozen warriors. The landship headed towards the river.
"I don't think you'll be coming back here in a hurry," said Barias.
"I don't think we'll be back here, ever," said Furlthia.
"Oh, I don't know," Anglhan said with a smile. "I'm sure Meaghran and me will be doing business again sometime."
"He'll cut open your guts for sure," said Furlthia. Anglhan plucked the ship manifest from his mate's fingers and planted a light kiss upon it.
"Not while I have proof that Meaghran sold weapons to escaped slaves," he said with a wink and a satisfied chuckle. "Never let a fish out of the net unless you have to, my friends."
V
The weather was worsening by the time the landship returned to Thunder Pass. Twice on the journey back flash floods had swept across the mountains, bringing deluges with them. Light rain pattered on the deck and splashed from the sail as the crew steered the landship along the rutted road leading up the valley.
A large congregation of rebels waited for them outside the caves, Aroisius and his lieutenants at the front. Anglhan was eager and scrambled down the side netting before the landship had rumbled to a halt. He crossed the rocky valley floor almost at a run, a broad smile on his face.
"Success!" he cried out. "The spirits have blessed our endeavours. I bring you a cargo more precious than gold or rubies or iron. I bring you freedom!"
There was a ragged cheer from some of the assembled rebels, but Aroisius's expression remained stern. He eyed Anglhan carefully.
"You have my gratitude," said Aroisius. "How much did you pay?"
Anglhan had expected suspicion, but he was prepared for it.
"It is of no matter. Consider this equipment my gift to your cause."
"That is not necessary," said Aroisius. "I will cover half of the payment, as we agreed."
"Certainly not," said Anglhan in his most insistent tone. "We have the weapons already. Those askharins of yours can be put to far better use than simply swapping between our pockets. Think of the welcome you will have in Magilnada when, as the new lord of the city, you are able to show your generosity with a few well-placed donations to the local shrines and elders. What I have brought you might be the means to take the city, but it is only you that will be able to keep it."
