The Siege of Abythos

by Phil Tucker

  Kanna stepped forward. "Shift Shaykho, I am Kanna, leader of Shift Kanna." Her words were sharp, pitched to carry, almost aggressive. "You've heard of my cohort's disappearance. What you've heard is true. We chose to follow Asho, son of Zekko, and he led us out of Bythos. We walked through a lost Portal and emerged in a different land. A land underneath the sky."

  Murmurs sprang up. Kanna pointed at the ceiling. "This rock, this roof over our heads – I saw it go away. If you've gazed into the deepest chasm, then you have a hint of the feeling you'll get when you look up at nothingness. It hungers for you, that sky. It wants to pull you up, devour you."

  Asho blinked. Was she trying to scare them? Then he looked at the crowd and saw how riveted they were. Each and every person was waiting for her next word. He subsided. Waited. He had to trust.

  "My cohort is living under that sky right now, and I can tell you this from personal experience: after the terror comes a joy so fierce it bewilders. My cohort is now high up on a mountainside, working hard, mining, but coming home to their families and closing doors. There is privacy. There is fire and food and water that runs along the ground, clear and fresh and good to drink. Living trees, green grass, hope, laughter – it goes on. And, yes, hard work, because we have to earn that freedom. But it is freedom."

  She lowered her pointing hand, curling it into a fist. "I've come back with Asho to tell you about it, to tell you Asho spoke the truth. We can escape. We can take control of our lives. We can live under the sky, and drink that water, and climb those trees, and build our own homes, and protect our families, and be paid for the work we do."

  More murmurs rose around them, and Asho saw people exchanging glances. "Listen to him," Kanna said. "Give him five minutes now, and he might give you your life."

  There was no applause, merely an intricate silence, a textured expectation composed of curiosity, alarm, anger, and fear. Gone was the reservation. Kanna had cracked that wide open.

  Asho stepped forward, Kanna squeezing his shoulder as she moved to the back of the ledge. He stood still, hands by his sides, and simply looked around at the hundreds of people who were waiting to hear his words. His speech was completely gone from his mind. His eyes finally settled on Shaykho.

  "Am I a heretic?" He asked this quietly. "I was lifted out of Bythos when I was a child and given a sword and a seat at a castle table. Am I a Bythian? I've not worked in the mines. I've not been a slave. So I don't know. But everything Kanna said is true, along with one other fact: if I can live a different life, if I can taste freedom and wear a sword, then why can't you?"

  Shaykho narrowed his eyes. He'd not expected this line of approach. Nor, Asho, saw, had the rest of the audience. People were thinking.

  "My Lady Iskra is a fair woman in unfair world: a Sigean noble who married an Ennoian and now finds herself hunted by the Empire for daring to try to defend the lives of her children. For refusing to allow her brother-in-law to steal what was rightfully hers. For that, she has been branded a heretic. I followed her into exile, and thus am a heretic twice over. My life is worthless to the Empire. According to them, I'm bound for the Black Gate."

  By the Ascendant, what was he saying? Was this all meant to get people to follow him out? Was he sabotaging his own goals? He didn't know, but it was coming through raw and true and he wouldn't stop now.

  "Lady Iskra is going to fight the Empire. She refuses to bend a knee to a system of belief that punishes some and elevates others simply due to where they were born. She's going to fight, and I'm going to fight with her. Anybody who comes with me is also going to fight, one way or another, even if that means just helping by mining Gate Stone."

  Asho felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck. The air was stale, and he couldn't breathe. Everyone was staring at him, their faces implacable. Had he lost them? "But we're not fighting to destroy Ascendancy. We don't want to cast it down. We want to cleanse it, improve it. Change it so that our children won't be punished for being born to us, so that we all benefit from Ascension's guidance equally. Mark my words: Lady Iskra is going to take Aletheia, and after she does, she is going to usher in change such as the Empire has never seen – change for the better. Will you be there to benefit from it?

  "Because you can choose to turn away, to hold to the old unfair faith. Believe that you will be rewarded for a life of slavery and deprivation after you die. Pin your hopes on the future, and sacrifice today. Sacrifice your children, and their children, and so on into eternity. Accept that we truly deserve this fate. That we are no better than what they say."

  There were more whispers now, people once again exchanging looks, leaning over to murmur in each other's ears. Asho felt a slight thrill of hope.

  "What I'm saying is this: work with me to bring change to the Empire. Work with me to keep the best of Ascendancy while removing the worst. Change is coming, either in the form of a kragh horde that seeks to destroy our world, or Lady Iskra, who seeks to improve it. Now is your – "

  Asho choked off. A couple had entered the very back of the cavern, the man with wooden stumps beneath his knees and crutches under his arms. His parents, Zekko and Khayya. How had they made it all the way here? His father's face was neutral, his eyes sharp. Asho felt a flash of cold panic race through him. He'd not told them he'd be back.

  People followed the direction of his gaze and saw his father. The murmurs swelled. Asho coughed into his fist, tried to regain his momentum. What had he been saying?

  "I – I'm just here because I want to give you a choice. We deserve better. If you want it, then follow me." A weak ending, faltering and pathetic.

  Shaykho stepped forward. "What of your sister? What of Mikho? Why should we listen to you and not her?"

  Again the voices died down. Asho hesitated, then stepped right up to the edge. "I love my sister, and I rejoiced to see her alive and well. I'll speak no ill of her. But she serves a warlord, a kragh called Tharok. He comes to burn the Empire to the ground. I'll not –"

  "I'd rather live under a kragh than a Sigean!" The voice rang out from somewhere overhead.

  Asho searched out the source but couldn't find it. "Then do so! But I know Iskra to be good. I know her to be kind and fair. I'd rather serve her than risk everything under a warlord kragh I've never met!"

  A middle-aged Bythian woman sitting one ledge up rose to her feet. "Who is this Iskra to gainsay the Ascendant? Who made her so holy?"

  "Have you even seen the Black Gate?" This from another old man whose pale hair was dark with dirt. "You think it don't exist?"

  Asho didn't know whom to respond to first. Kanna stepped up beside him, but before she could speak, another voice cried out from the back of the crowd. "He's risked his life to come help us. Treat him with respect!"

  The middle-aged woman swung around. "Risked his life for free labor, more like it!"

  "Is it true you're working for the Ennoians? Hey? What of that?"

  "He isn't even a Bythian! Said it himself! Lapdog of the Kyferins!"

  Asho felt something within him grow cold, almost numb. People weren't even looking at him anymore. They were yelling at each other. He felt helpless. He'd trained his whole life to cut people in half, not unite them. He'd spent his life sulking and nursing his wounds, not learning to inspire and lead strangers. What was he doing up on this stage? Had he thought himself their savior?

  "If you want to spend your life grubbing down here in the dark, then –"

  "I say we go ask the overseers what they think about his words. Ask 'em if Asho's really in their pay –"

  "Sixty years I've worked to purify my soul! Sixty years, and if you think I'll toss that all away now –"

  The crowd was jostling before him, some men shoving at others' shoulders, some waving their fists as they yelled in each other's faces. Asho took a step back, and shrugged off Kanna's hand. "We're wasting our time here," he said, bitterness flooding through him. "I don't why I thought they'd listen."

  Kanna searched the crowd, her expressio
n bleak. "Think of what you're asking them. They need time."

  "They don't have time." Anger was rising inside him. "They need –" But again he cut himself off. Several strong men had shoved their way to the front, pushing back the crowd. Asho's hand reflexively went to his swordless hip. Mikho's men? No – his parents. His mother helped his father, and when they reached the front of the ledge, several hands helped his father up onto the platform.

  Asho reached out and helped his father steady himself on his wooden stumps, his bitterness compounded now with shame. The voices around him fell silent once more. Those who shouted were elbowed and shushed. For the first time, Asho saw the respect accorded his father, something akin to reverence. Zekko didn't raise his hands, didn't call out; he did nothing more than turn to face the crowd, head lowered, and wait.

  He didn't have to wait long. When the room was so quiet Asho could hear people breathing, his father finally looked up. "My name is Zekko, son of Thesku." He didn't even pitch his voice to carry. Across all the ledges, Asho saw hundreds lean forward to catch his words.

  "Ten years ago, I sacrificed my legs to save Lord Enderl Kyferin's life. I didn't do it because I thought him a good man. Though I came to respect him for his bravery and strength, I knew him to be greatly flawed. But my faith was in crisis. I needed a symbol. A sign. A reason to follow Ascension, when my entire being told me to reject it as wrong."

  Zekko looked up and slowly searched the ledges. He seemed to be in no rush; he allowed his gaze to drift over the sea of faces, then down to the general crowd. "I chose to believe in Ascension. I chose to make Enderl that symbol. But it was a choice, and ever since, I have sat with these worthless legs and a heavy heart, unsure of whether it was the right decision."

  Asho realized he had been holding his breath. Many others seemed to be as well.

  "My memory is not what it used to be. I don't remember the original thoughts, but rather the memory of them, and what I've told myself over the years ever since. The story I've created to explain to myself why I sacrificed my children and my legs and my life for Enderl Kyferin. Why he deserved it."

  Zekko lowered his head. "Ever since, I've been true to that decision. I committed to it, not because I knew it to be right, but because I was too scared of the consequences of being wrong. I was full of fear. Fear of a life lived in waste. Fear of having dedicated myself to a lie. And now, here we are." Zekko turned to regard Asho. "My son stands before us, offering us a choice. For some, this is your first time consciously choosing your path. For others, like me, it's a test of past decisions. If you choose to remain a slave, are you a slave in truth? I don't know." He looked back out over the crowd. "But my son is risking everything to give us this chance to choose. And I say to myself, how can I choose fear when I'm confronted with his bravery?"

  Zekko smiled, a sad and broken smile. It smote Asho to the core. "Perhaps my life has been wasted. Perhaps I threw away my legs. But I won't let a life of waste justify squandering what little I have left. I chose the old Ascendancy before. This time I choose to improve it."

  The shock caused loud murmurs to race through the crowd.

  Zekko's smile faded away. "Each of you must choose. But ask yourself what guides that choice. And if it is fear, I ask you to learn from my example. Learn from my failures. Don't make the same mistakes as this broken old man you see before you. Spare yourself that fate. Choose life. Choose hope. Choose change. Listen to my son."

  And with that, he turned, his eyes gleaming with tears. Asho felt his throat clamp shut, felt pain quiver in his chest, and then he was hugging his father, as roars broke out, cries and shouts and chanting.

  Asho squeezed his father tight, then pulled back, smiling and feeling something he'd never felt before, something wondrous and precious and fragile and magic. He couldn't put a name to it, but in his father's face he saw it reflected and he laughed, amazed, proud and humbled all at the same time. His mother climbed up onto the stage and hugged them as well, and then Shaykho was there, clasping Asho's father's hand. The shift leader turned to the crowd and placed a hand on Asho's shoulder, raising his other fist into the air.

  The crowd shook and trembled, and then a piercing pipe was blown. The change was startling. The Bythians immediately ceased their yells and turned toward the tunnels, some of them grumbling or arguing softly still, but all of them shuffling along the ledges and across the cavern floor toward the exits.

  That sobered Asho; no matter the height of their passion, they were still aware of their duties and the consequences of failing them. Could a people so ingrained in their ways shrug off the yoke of the Empire?

  "You're sure of this?" Shaykho was speaking with his father in soft tones, something akin to wonder and disbelief on his ancient features. "You're sure?"

  Zekko leaned expertly on his crutches and took Shaykho's hand in his own. "Sure? Yes, I'm sure."

  Shaykho sighed. "Very well. I'll confer with the others over the next few days. Damn it. Damn it all to the Black Gate." He scowled worriedly. "Our souls, our lives, our children and our future. But, fine." He turned then, clambered down stiffly from the ledge, and followed the last of his shift into the tunnels.

  Asho watched the old man go in amazement. "I thought he'd never agree. How? Why?"

  Zekko watched Shaykho leave with a pensive look in his eyes. "Back when Mikho was all for revolution, Shaykho was ready to join him. He'd just lost his wife to Ennoian brutality. My decision to stay true pulled him back from the brink. We spent long nights talking. In a way, what I said today was a continuation of those talks."

  "Father –" Asho didn't know what to say. He felt young, foolish, proud, wanting to grin as much as hang his head. "I should have told you I was coming back."

  Someone jostled him from behind, and then his mother was there, pulling him into a hug and kissing his forehead. "Yes, you should have, you foolish boy." She released him. "Did you really not think we'd hear?"

  "I – no? But –" Asho's words died away, and he found himself smiling at his parents, who were smiling back. It was the strangest feeling. "But I'm glad you found out."

  "Yes," said Zekko. "Oh, my children. You're changing the very world. How could we stay away?"

  "So, you've heard? Of course you've heard! I met Shaya and her massive kragh. Father, you'd not believe the size of the thing! Seven feet tall at least. But what are we going to do? How can we change her mind?"

  His parents exchanged a private look, then his mother slipped in under Zekko's arm, taking some of his weight on her shoulder. "Why should we?"

  Asho blinked. "She's calling for our people to support a kragh warlord. Who knows if he can be trusted? And even if he can, Lady Iskra will have to fight him if he means to conquer the Empire. Which means our fighting him. Which means our fighting Shaya."

  Zekko hitched his weight to his left foot with a wince. "Son, you cannot force. You can only persuade. If Shaya will listen, then she will change her mind. If she won't, then she will remain true to her cause. You must respect that."

  "All right." Asho hung his head. "I just wanted us all to work together. But have you seen her? Spoken to her?"

  His parents nodded. "We have," said Khayya. "Last night, in fact. We attended her first speech." Her eyes glimmered with tears. "She's grown strong. Seeing you both taking control of your lives so bravely – it's something. Something special."

  Zekko looked fondly at his wife. "We spoke afterwards. She was very happy to see us, but we couldn't agree to support her. It's my own ignorance, I suppose. I can't see living under the kragh. I can't imagine their creating a society. So I would rather choose Lady Iskra."

  Kanna had been standing to one side, arms crossed, waiting politely. Khayya smiled and beckoned, and the young woman stepped in close and was immediately engulfed in a hug.

  "Thank you, Kanna," Zekko said. "For helping my son."

  Kanna tensed, then relaxed and hugged back. She stepped back with an expression that was wry and mocking and pleased all a
t once. "He's lucky I decided to. He doesn't even know which end of a pickax to hold."

  Zekko laughed. "He's beyond needing to, I'd wager. These days its swords for him, not pickaxes. We're going to return to where we're hiding now. I need to rest. Son, you had better lie low. I've sent word to Mikho to stop harassing you, but I don't think he'll listen. Stay out of sight until your next speech. Don't tempt him."

  "Tempt him?" Asho bridled. "Hide?"

  Khayya laid her hand on his arm. "Yes, Asho. Mikho works by different rules. He's going to come after you at some point, but let's try to make that a public debate and not a brawl with knives, yes?"

  Asho deflated. "All right."

  "Oh, come on," said Kanna. "I'll find you an abandoned hovel fit for a Bythian emperor." She turned to Zekko. "I've asked Lhoja to assemble her shift two nights from now, and Zhahgo has agreed to let us address him in five nights."

  Zekko nodded. "Good, very good. I'll see what other doors I can open for you. There are still some who listen to me. I'll be there when you speak."

  "You will?" Asho felt a thrill. "You'll join me again?"

  Zekko's eyes twinkled. "Of course. I've already made a fool of myself once in public tonight. Why not again?"

  "Thank you, Father." Asho hugged him tightly once more, painfully aware of how his father's large frame had wasted away, feeling the bones beneath his clothing. "I will see you then, in two nights' time?"

  "Yes, you will." His father clapped him gently on the shoulder, then smiled. "You've roused me from my slumber, my boy. For the first time since you children left, I'm excited about the future. Thank you."

  Asho didn't know what to say, so he said nothing and leaped down instead to the cavern floor to help his father descend. They left through a narrow side tunnel, then followed it to an old service shaft with a battered supply elevator waiting for them. Zekko explained how a favor had been called in, then tugged on the signal rope; a moment later, the elevator began to ascend, the raw rock face scrolling by as they climbed up the snug shaft. A few minutes later, they emerged on the surface to find a group of Bythian laborers waving to them from the large wooden screw wheel they'd turned to bring them up.