The Sword Chronicles: Child of the Empire

by Collings, Michaelbrent

  Ambek ran.

  The back. Got to get to the back.

  There was an air-car in the rear hold. If he could get to it, he could escape. The guards would buy him time, if only with their lives. That was their job, after all.

  He heard screams behind him. He did not look back.

  As he passed by them, he grabbed four guards – three swordsmen from his personal retinue and an Imperial Rifleman. The Rifleman ran backward as they hurried to the rear of the chariot. He squeezed off several shots, but he was running as he did so and the shots were wild and couldn't possibly have hit anything.

  The door to the hold was ahead. Ambek started to feel a bit more in control of himself. The screams still sounded, but they were well behind him.

  I'm going to make it.

  He threw open the door to the hold and ran in.

  Just inside were his girls. They were caged, screaming at him to help, help, please help! One of them managed to get a hand on his pants. He nodded at one of his guards, who used his sword to silence her screaming.

  The other girls quieted as well.

  The air-car hovered before them.

  Free. Safe.

  Then two girls – the two from the air-car, the two who should have been thrown from the wing – stepped in his way. He wondered for an instant how they had gotten here, then saw the open side door. It was never locked – why lock the thing? Who was going to steal inside at thousands of feet about the mountains?

  Whether they had crawled over the netting that slung along much of the chariot, holding additional stores, or had simply been held fast to the body of the vehicle by that same power that had tied them to the wings did not matter. They were here now.

  And they would be dealt with.

  The one on the right, a beautiful girl in spite of a curving scar on her face, had a pair of Eastern-styled swords. The one on the left, who looked about the same age but was almost boyish in appearance and had scars running up and down her shoulders, had a dagger on each hip.

  Armed, but he still wasn't worried.

  He was about to give the order to kill them when the girl on the left shimmered. She resolidified in an instant and said, "You think you're going to kill us?" then stepped to the right and that same moment the Imperial Rifleman loosed a bullet that passed through the space she had been standing only an instant before. Then he gurgled and fell, one of the girl's daggers buried in his throat.

  At the same time, the other girl moved. She drew her swords so fast Ambek could barely see them. Two of his guards faced off with her, but neither even got in a single thrust. She was a blur of motion, and they both fell to the floor.

  The last guard danced to the side… straight into the first girl's remaining dagger, which was waiting for him as though she had known he would go there.

  Impossible. This is impossible.

  "Hello, Ambek." The girl with the swords approached, and he saw that she wore the black disc of a Blessed One.

  "But… but you… how can you do this?" he said. "You serve the Empire."

  She pulled back her sword to strike. "I am serving the Empire," she said.

  "Stop!" he shrieked. "You kill me and everyone on this ship dies!" The girl with the sword halted her thrust. Ambek realized the screams in the front of the air-chariot had grown silent, and a moment later he saw that the woman with the silver mask and the man with the white robe were standing behind him in the hold.

  "What are you talking about?" asked the girl with the swords. "What do you mean everyone dies?"

  "Everyone is dead," said the scarred girl.

  "Not everyone," said the sword girl – who seemed to be their leader. She nodded at the cages behind them, which held his girls, his playthings. "There's them. And remember what Smoke told us about how this thing flies? There have to be Pushes, locked away somewhere, keeping this thing moving."

  Ambek seized on that. In truth, he had been bluffing about everyone dying. There were Pushes, and they were locked below. But he hadn't even thought of that until the girl said those words.

  "Yes," he blurted. "Yes, exactly. They're onboard, but only I know where. And only I know how to tell them to slow down or speed up. And if I don't, this thing crashes, and kills us all."

  "They're locked up?" said the swordswoman.

  "Yes," he crowed. "Sealed inside their holds, the doors solid steel and the keys aren't even on this ship."

  Her face changed, and suddenly he knew he had made a mistake.

  "Then there's no way we can save them," she said. She pointed her long sword at his belly. Nodded behind him. "Where are the keys to the cages?"

  Some of the girls heard that, and started clamoring to be let out again. Ambek felt cold inside. "I'll never tell," he said. But beads of sweat exploded from his brow.

  The girl's sword slashed to the side, and a white line of pain flashed through his belly. He screamed. Looked down. Blood dripped from a thin cut across his stomach.

  "You'll tell," she said. "The next cut takes off your right ear, then your left. Then your hands, then feet. You'll die, but very slowly."

  Ambek looked in her eyes, and could tell that she was not lying. He reached beneath his tunic and brought out a silver key. Held it toward the girl with the sword.

  The one dressed like a boy shimmered again. "Careful," she said. "He'll try to grab you."

  Ambek felt something slam into the back of his head. It felt like a rock, and blood sluiced down his neck. He managed to turn and look behind him and saw the woman with the mask. She had her hands clenched around… nothing.

  But it was a nothing that hurt. Gods, it hurt.

  He handed the key over again, this time with no intention of trying anything. The girl with the swords sheathed the smaller one and took the key, then tossed it to the man in the white robe. "Let them out," she said. "Get them into the air-car."

  A few minutes later Ambek was sitting in one of the very cages he had until recently reserved for his prize pets. The door hadn't been shut yet, but he had no doubt it would be soon.

  "Are you just going to leave me here?" He meant it to sound commanding, strong. Instead he heard a mealy whine come from his mouth, and realized he was very close to peeing right there on the floor.

  "Not just," said the girl with the swords. She gestured at the half-dozen girls who had just been released. "Would you like to say goodbye?" she asked.

  A moment later, Ambek was wet with spittle, his ears burning with curses.

  "How dare you say such things about me," he said. "Me."

  The girl with the swords looked angrier than he had yet seen. "I wouldn't want you to have to hear anything like that," she said.

  Her swords flashed. For a moment Ambek wasn't sure what had happened.

  Then he saw his ears on the ground beside him.

  The door of the cage shut.

  He screamed, but the screams sounded pinched and far away.

  The people who had come for him now left him behind.

  They opened the chariot's huge rear door, then got in the air-car and seemed to simply drop behind the massive vehicle. Then out of sight.

  Ambek kept screaming.

  And was still screaming when his chariot – his small kingdom – spun its way into the side of the mountain of Fear and then tumbled in a shattered mass below the clouds.

  10

  Garden had left behind much to be a Blessed One.

  She knew that Armor had a family – or at least a wife. But he was unusual. When she had been called to service she had been told that most people who served the Empire the way she did renounced their ties to family, to friends, to everything but their service.

  Riada of the House Adara became simply a girl with no name. And then she was Garden the Blessed One, servant of the Empire and her Emperor.

  She had been a child of nobility. The House of Adara was one of the oldest families in Ansborn. Her father had been preparing her for marriage – rumor had it she might even have proved a fitt
ing consort for Malal himself – when her Gift appeared.

  Then, it was over. The dream that was her life – the servants, the balls, the suitors – all of it ended.

  She was a Blessed One. And that meant she could have anything she desired, but nothing she really wanted.

  She had almost despaired, the first lonely days; had almost lost hope in herself and in the kindness of Gods who were so cruel they could rip her away from the life she had loved.

  Then she met Sword. She met a friend… and more than a friend, a sister.

  That was why it was so hard to accept what Devar was saying. So hard to believe that Sword had done what he said she had done.

  "No," said Garden. "She wouldn't. She couldn't."

  The others nodded their assent. They were all there: Armor, Teeth, Scholar, Siren. Even Marionette, for once – though of course the little girl said nothing when Devar announced that Sword had turned traitor and had assassinated the Minister of Finance. The mad child had brought one of her dolls – broken and scarred as were all her playthings – and was making it dance on her knee, giggling every so often.

  "I agree," said Armor. "With respect, of course," he added, bowing to Devar, "but it seems at odds with all I know of her."

  "I am in accord with the observations and conclusions of my esteemed associate," said Scholar.

  "What he said," added Teeth.

  "How could she possibly have turned against the Empire?" added Siren.

  Devar nodded. "I understand," he said. "But I have something to show you. I'm going to leave for a moment, because she and I…." He grimaced. "We don't exactly get along, and this will be easier without us shouting at one another."

  He turned and left without a word. A moment later, a new figure entered the room. An old woman, bent over so far she was almost staring at the floor, a huge hump on her back. She wore the black disc of the Blessed, but Garden had never seen her before.

  Who is this?

  The crone spoke. "I am the Empire's Blessed One, known as Seer," she said. Her voice was surprisingly mellifluous. The tones danced pleasantly: the sound of a piper, playing a tune that would lead dancers to their doom.

  Armor nodded stiffly, as though he knew her and was constrained by his personal rules to be courteous… but it cost him.

  The old woman nodded to them each in turn. For some reason when her single eye fell on Garden, she felt unclean. As though the look itself brought a kind of filthiness she could not define.

  "How come we never met you before?" asked Teeth. He said it around a mouthful of pastry. Scholar rolled his eyes, then focused on the old woman: clearly he wanted an answer to the question, too.

  "Because the manner of my gift is not for missions of assassination, boy," said the woman. "At least, it is not for the carrying out of them, though it helps in the planning." She waited, as though to see if any of them would divine the meaning of that cryptic statement. Then added. "I am the Chancellor's – the Emperor's – primary source of intelligence. I can see through anyone's eyes if I can picture their face in my mind."

  Armor frowned. "If you can do this, why can't we simply root out any and all traitors? Why can't you always find out where they are and simply tell us?"

  The old woman laughed. Like her voice, the laugh seemed out of place: lovely and lilting. "How do you think you have found out where to go on all the missions you have performed for the Emperor, young man?"

  Armor looked nonplused. Garden supposed he wasn't used to being called "young man," and a very inappropriate giggle welled up inside her. She quelled it, covering it with a question. "So why don't you just look through Sword's eyes and tell us where she is so we can – get her back?"

  She had been about to say "stop her," but that seemed so wrong.

  Sword couldn't have done what Devar is saying. She couldn't. It's impossible.

  Seer shook her hand. "I have to be within a few miles of a person for my powers to work at their fullest – and it's even harder with a Blessed One. But when I am close, I can do this…." She held out her hands.

  Garden gasped. Suddenly she was standing in a large room. There was a strange hum all around, and the rushing of wind. Then she realized she wasn't just in a room, she was in a cage.

  And Sword was standing before her.

  She tried to call out. To speak to her friend. But she couldn't. Her tongue was tied.

  Sword moved. Her katana flashed. Garden felt pain, and looked down and saw….

  My ears! Gods, she took my ears!

  She heard screaming.

  Is that me? Am I screaming? Why doesn't it sound like me? What's going on?

  Then Sword turned and left.

  And as her friend turned her back, the vision ended.

  Garden heard gasps all around as the other Blessed Ones came to themselves as well.

  Did they all see that? Did they all feel that?

  Teeth was feeling at his ears, she saw. And Armor looked so gray his skin nearly matched the color of his mustache.

  When the vision ended, Seer was gone. Devar had returned to the room.

  "What you just saw was the last moments of the life of Ambek, Minister of Finance." Devar looked around the circle of Blessed Ones, capturing each one with his eyes. When he got to Garden he seemed to pause for an extra long time. His gaze bored into her and she felt like he knew what she was thinking.

  Please don't. Don't ask me for what I know is coming.

  "Sword has turned. There is no doubt," he said. "She is a traitor to the Empire. And she must be treated as such." He bowed his head, and when he spoke next, his own voice was muffled with grief, with disbelief, with pain. "We have to kill her."

  11

  The air-car felt crowded. Part of that was because it was crowded – it was a small ship, with barely room for the four Cursed Ones and the girls they had rescued from Ambek's chariot.

  But part of the feeling was because Sword felt so alone.

  Brother Scieran's plan had gone off perfectly. Wind and Cloud had used one air-car to drive the chariot into the path of the other – their only hope since the air-cars normally wouldn't have had a chance of catching up to the faster vessel. Wind had used her Gift to propel her and Cloud onto the wing while Arrow – the keenest eye and surest hand among them – landed the other air-car on the same wing and dropped off Rune and Sword for a full assault.

  Yes, it went off perfectly.

  Yet Sword still didn't feel like she was part of a team. She recognized they had all worked well together, and understood that the others had even deferred to her at key moments, but still…. When they got into the air Rune started joking with Wind and Cloud. Neither of the twins spoke, of course, but there were small smiles that clearly conveyed their friendship. Arrow pulled his air-car up beside theirs and held aloft a triumphant fist, echoed by the three other Cursed Ones.

  And she got the feeling his expression was meant to be enjoyed by everyone in the air-car but her.

  Sword missed her friends. They might have fought for a corrupt government, but they fought together. They fought as one. As family.

  So does that mean I want to go back there? Do I want to be a part of the wrong side of the fight if it means I can be loved again?

  No, of course not.

  But there was a portion of her that knew she was lying. That knew she hungered for Armor's fatherly embrace, for Garden to hold her hand again, for Devar to look at her the way he had.

  I miss them.

  She sensed someone nearby and looked up. It was one of the girls from the cages. She looked a bit older than Sword, perhaps eighteen or twenty Turns. Dressed the same as they all were: a simple white tunic that laced at the neck, nothing else. Not even slippers. An outfit designed only for someone who would never again leave the tiniest of worlds.

  Sword wondered fleetingly what Ambek had done with the girls he no longer had a need for, or an interest in.

  The air-chariot flew high. And the door on the side was open.
r />   She felt cold, and wished she could have made his death a bit slower, a bit more painful.

  "Can I…." The girl gestured to a space beside Sword.

  Sword nodded. The girl sat beside her. "Duolasa," said the girl.

  Sword stared at her, not sure what the word meant. It only gradually dawned on her that the girl was telling her her name. "Sword," she said.

  "Sword." The girl appeared to roll the name around in her mouth, as though sampling a new food. She nodded. "It is a good name." Then she bowed her head. "Thank you."

  Sword nodded back. "You're welcome."

  They sat in silence a while, then Doulasa said, "What is to become of us?" Her voice trembled, and Sword cursed under her breath. Of course these girls were still terrified. This one had probably been selected by the others to come and be the first to brave whatever new terror they were going to undergo.

  Duolasa shrank away from Sword when she cursed. Sword hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at me. We should have told you already." She glanced at Rune, who was now playing a dice game with Cloud while Wind piloted the air-car. Rune kept fuzzing in and out and the dice kept going her way. But Cloud didn't seem to mind the blatant cheating, and kept rolling the dice doggedly, as though he hoped to beat her Gift by willpower alone.

  Rune crowed at the end of a roll and then yelped as a shard of blue light jagged its way from his finger to her playing hand. She yelped and dropped the dice. "Ow!" she hollered. But she was grinning as this time the dice turned up his way. "Okay, no Gifts during play."

  Sword turned back to Duolasa. "I don't know what'll happen to you all long-term, but I think you'll be taken back with us for now."

  "Taken back?" The girl's expression was still fearful.

  "To where we live."

  Duolasa looked like she was about to bolt right out the side of the air-car. "Can't we just go home?" she whimpered.

  "Did you come from a city?"

  Duolasa shook her head. "No, we all came from a village. Anargyr. It's outside an Imperial Army base on the edge of the mountain."