Jonah watched Fin reach down to check if the rabbits were dead, but he knew his shots had hit their mark. The rabbits hadn’t suffered: two through the heart and the third in the head.
“It sort of looks like a big rat. But with no long tail ... and a shorter nose ... and longer ears. Oh, and the fur, Jonah! It’s so soft!” Fin had hold of the rabbit’s legs and held it suspended in the air while he gently stroked the velvety fur. Jonah’s yellow-fletched arrow was still in the creature’s side.
“So not really like a rat then,” Jonah said quirking his eyebrow at Fin. “Here, let me see.” He took the rabbit from Fin and studied the plump creature. It was twice the size of the chickens back home – incredible. These creatures were just another confirmation that the desolation that plagued the Empire was not everywhere. The rabbits were healthy, robust even. The only things which survived in the wild in Eura were desperate and deadly beyond comparison.
Jonah said a quiet prayer to the Empress and the Fates for bringing him to this land. He looked at the meadow again and imagined what it would be like to live in a place so full of life. I’d build us a farm. He nodded to himself. A farm with chickens, and pigs. There would be enough grass even for cows here. Then he and Ilene could indeed live out their romantic dream of being man and wife like they had heard in the stories of old.
Jonah pulled his arrow free from the rabbit and examined the spade-shaped arrowhead for any damage. Seeing none he wiped off the blood with the cloth hanging from his belt and slipped the weapon back into his quiver. These arrows had rounded sides and pulled free easily, unlike his war arrows with their wicked barbs which punctured armour and ripped flesh. Jonah liked these arrows so much more than his war ones.
Jonah held the rabbit up. “I sure hope it tastes better than rat.”
“Course it will, Jonah. Look at how healthy it is.” Fin smiled sadly at the rabbit. “Thank you for your sacrifice, little rabbit.”
Fin tied the rabbits together with a leather cord, slung them to the end of his bow, and hoisted them over his shoulder. “Now let’s get back to camp before we get into trouble. Can’t spend all night sightseeing can we?” Fin waded back to the brambles on the edge of the meadow. “We are required to attend a siege in the morning!”
Branson hadn’t waited for them and was already through the brambles with his rabbit. Branson will laugh about it later, once he has some meat in his old guts, Jonah thought.
Jonah stopped to look around one last time. The mists were beginning to thicken and soon the rabbits would venture back out, as even the bowmen’s sharp eyes would not be able to pick them out hopping through the long grass.
He took a deep breath and stared back towards the army campfires in the distance. The fires of war, he thought, it’s eerily beautiful. Thousands upon thousands of lights twinkled like stars upon the beach as rows of trebuchets, ballista and catapults launched burning projectiles at the walls of a castle atop the giant crag overlooking the sea.
It was only a matter of time now before the local lord capitulated.
The Eurans had lost only three ships to the storms, which was a drop in the ocean given the hundreds which had left Eura. The thousands of men and women who had landed from those ships were just as eager as Jonah to explore and discover the wonders this land held for them.
“Looks like they started without us,” Fin said from beside Jonah. “That’s just downright rude.”
“Yes, appears they did.” Jonah laughed quietly, watching the fiery objects arc through the night to crash into the castle. He drew his gaze away and looked out into the blackness behind the Euran ships, across the Barrier Sea and towards Eura.
They had sailed for months and months into what they thought was certain death, yet the Prince’s faith had never wavered. The Barrier Sea had been deathly quiet during those months, as if the very world was holding its breath. So many had thought the storms would return and drag them down into the icy depths of the aptly named sea. No one in the last millennium had dared try to cross its length and lived to tell the tale. Yet the ever raging seas had remained calm and allowed them to pass like favoured sons and daughters in some holy scripture. The Empress’s Blessing had proven true, and they had done what no one had done since the founding of the Empire.
Jonah shook himself out of his reverie. He was here now and he had a job to do. The Prince had known his soldiers needed a release after months of believing themselves doomed. The war machines had been offloaded first and been cranked into action before even the whole fleet had landed.
Commander Naseen had assured them that the Black Rain wouldn’t be needed until first light, but Jonah wondered if those walls would last even that long.
“Come on, Jonah.” Fin clapped his big hand on his shoulder.
Yes, I will have plenty of time to gawk at burning castles now that we’re here, Jonah thought.
He waded out of the tall grass, his leather breeches thoroughly soaked with the evening dew. They raced back towards their tents to start cooking what had only a day ago existed in fairy tales. Soon, after a fresh meal and a good sleep on the solid ground, it would be time to start building an empire on this side of the sea.
* * *
The Black Rain had shot from dawn till dusk: thousands of huge black arrows flying over the castle walls. The walls had indeed held until morning, and the occupants of the besieged castle had even mounted a counter-attack which had spooked many of the commanders for some reason. He hadn’t seen it, but apparently there were some very different warriors on this side of the Barrier Sea.
Jonah let the rumour slip from his mind as his aching muscles demanded his full attention. His entire body ached with the memory of a long day placing his feet against the thick yew foot-bow and using his full weight to haul back the bowstring. He would hold until an order to fire was bellowed by Commander Naseen, and then he’d let the giant war arrow fire up into the sky between his feet at a precisely ordered angle. Nock, draw, hold, release. Hour upon hour of the same motion had left him with few thoughts he could hold on to other than: get food, get a drink, then find somewhere to sit and pass out.
Nearly a full day had passed in blissful release from the ghostly fragments of memories floating through his mind, almost a whole day where the only thing had been the target. He had floated within that emptiness, within the stillness of his mind. No emotion, no pain, just the image of where he needed to send his arrow. He had lost track of how many arrows he had fired, but he didn’t care. The runners had kept placing arrows beside him, and so he shot, keeping pace with the drum. Notch, draw, hold ... BOOM, release, over and over again until the flag went up signalling for the Black Rain to stop. They had encountered no enemy fire, which wasn’t entirely surprising. Even from the defenders’ elevated position, the Euran foot-bowmen were still forty or fifty paces out of range of the enemy’s arrows.
Individually, the giant foot-bows were cumbersome, yet if allowed to set up from a defensible position, the weapon became an advantage. Thousands of men would lie down to put the force of their entire body into the great bows and fire the massive spear-like arrows well over two hundred yards, while being shielded from cavalry charge by lines of pikemen around them. The strategy had served the Euran army for hundreds of years and appeared to be just as effective in these lush green lands, as the besieged town and fort had offered up little effective resistance.
Commander Naseen had come to the Black Rain after the siege to praise them for their efforts. “Find the red flag along the battlements. Prince El’Amin has deemed you worthy of a reward. A dozen kegs of ale!” A roar met her announcement, and a procession of bone-tired archers shuffled through the castle gates trying to find the red flag along the battlements. That was where Jonah was headed now. Fin and Branson are probably already there, drinking my share.
As he made his way through the streets, he saw the damage wrought by the trebuchets, catapults, arrows and sappers. The lower town was a smoking ruin covered in thousands of the ma
ssive black arrow shafts. They littered every surface, some even lodged into stone, like enormous cactus needles. The sappers had opened up a hole where the front gates had been, and the infantry had crept in behind the falling wall of black arrows to deal with any who survived the onslaught.
Jonah tried not to look at the dead. Carts loaded with corpses were being taken out of the castle in a steady stream. He knew what his arrows did, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He considered himself cowardly for actively ignoring how his moments of calm also resulted in the death of others. Firing the arrows felt good. Yet as he saw the wagonloads of dead, that very same thought made him sick.
The Empire always wins, he thought, the sooner that lesson is learned, the better.
He followed the carts with his gaze until they passed through a gate. It was then he saw the burst of white, as dozens of Logistics Officers scurried in and out of buildings, already conversing with the survivors of the siege and organising them into queues.
How long would it have taken the white-suited bureaucrats to break down the local language? Hours? Minutes? Jonah often wondered how it was possible for them to dissect the essence of a language so quickly and precisely.
Just as the Imperial Army honed the skills of its soldiers into specialised and elite troops, so too did the Office of Logistics with its personnel. The white-suited officials could remember hundreds of laws, speak dozens of languages, perform amazingly complex mental mathematics on the spot and sort out logistical nightmares in minutes. Yet the most important function of a Logistics Officer was the ability to sense who in the population carried the holy seed or cradle of fertility within them, with but a touch of their hand. Their order was a blend of cleric and clerk, and yet, as they so fondly reminded others, they were also the very bones upon which the empire survived, hence the white uniforms.
The Logistics Officers, in those clean uniforms, stood out like white roses amongst the brambles of the dirty, battle-worn people around them. And as Jonah watched the group, he could see the words of the officials cut through the fear and animosity of the conquered crowds just as surely as if they had been wielding swords. A group of local people dressed in very rich clothes were herded together and seated at a table across from a white-suited officer. The Logistics Officer wore the badge of a magistrate, and was no doubt flushing out secrets, local politics, and an assortment of data of every kind.
Another Officer sat at a table outside a building now infested with white-suited officials. An orderly queue of people waited in line, looking sad and dejected. Each waited their turn to come to the table. It was most likely a census table. Jonah had seen this before.
The Logistics Officers would create records of the names, family trees, trade skills, current dwelling, sum of their holdings, and anecdotal notes on every person left in the town, for these people were now Eurans and expected to be productive citizens. The Empire’s records and bureaucrats were as ruthlessly efficient as any of its armies.
Jonah walked by another group and caught a snippet of the conversation. Something about how to properly honour the dead. Made sense: these Logistics Officers were encountering a new culture for the first time in centuries. It almost seemed odd that the Officers hadn’t already known the traditional burial rites as they would have for any town in the Empire. Part of the resilience of the empire, however, was how it incorporated so many local customs and tried to keep the status quo. As long as taxes, labour, and loyalty flowed the right way, which was always towards Eura city, the Empress would be happy. Some Imperial rules trumped local ones, but as long as those rules were adhered to, people could go about their business almost as if the Empire had never arrived.
Jonah’s fingers felt raw, despite the leather gloves he had worn, but it was worth it. The castle had finally surrendered. If they had been in Eura, the castle would have opened their gates as soon as they had landed. The Imperial standards floating above the army would have been enough. Hard lessons had been taught to those who resisted the Empire, and it looked like those lessons would have to be repeated to those who lived in these green lands.
Jonah's legs wobbled and he steadied himself against the wall of a quaint little house. Thatch and plaster. He looked up at the white walls and followed the dark lines of the thick oak beams. He smiled. Some of the mountain villagers in Northern Sandahar province built houses like this … and with this thought a memory tried to work its way to the surface. There had been some big gathering of his clan, the Sandirs. He and Ilene had gone together. She had been angry with him for some reason. What had we been fighting about?
A headache blasted into him, and Jonah fell into the muck and mud of the street. It was all he could do to keep his head out of it. He closed his eyes and could do nothing but hold himself in this position until the wave of pain, vertigo and nausea subsided. When it did, he was left shaking.
“Over here, Jonah!” Fin waved down to him, but then his voice caught. “What are you doing down in the muck there?”
“I – uh …” Jonah tried to answer, but it was all he could do to breathe steadily. A few moments more on his knees and he’d be alright.
“Here,” Fin said. He had come down the stairs and pulled Jonah to his feet as if he were a child. “Looks like you might literally need a helping hand, friend.” Fin was smiling, but there was concern in his eyes.
“I’m alright, Fin.” Jonah breathed easier as his vertigo and headache began to subside. However, the headache had sapped every last speck of energy from him. “Though I wouldn’t mind some help up those stairs.”
Fin practically had to carry him up the last few steps as his legs began to wobble again. Thankfully the keg of ale was not far along the battlements, and before Jonah knew it he had a mug of dark ale in his hand and a spot at which to lean against the wall. Unsurprisingly, Branson was slouched beside him, also mug in hand.
“Another headache?” Branson whispered quietly to him.
“Yes, I don’t know what brought it –” Jonah began.
“Best not to think about it.” Branson cut him off. “I’ll brew you the tea when we’re finished up here.”
“You’re good to me, Branson,” Jonah said.
“Probably too good,” Branson huffed back, but there was no anger in it. Jonah’s old friend hid his concern better than Fin, but Jonah could see it all the same.
They sat sipping their ale while they watched the Imperial messengers and arrow collectors running back and forth below. They moved with such speed it made Jonah exhausted just looking at them. Before his very eyes the buildings, which had just a moment before looked like pincushions, were being revealed in all their humble glory.
“Do you think they ever get mad at us?” he asked, pointing his mug down at some of the arrow collectors. “They bring us those tidy bundles of arrows, we fire them off into the air, and then they have to go and fetch them and bundle them back up, over and over again.” He took another sip of the dark ale. He didn’t know if he had ever tasted anything so good in his life. “That would get on my nerves I think, if I had to do their job.”
“Each piece of the great machine does its part,” Branson answered, his words already beginning to slur. “Discipline is the backbone of the Imperial Army.”
“Thanks, drill sergeant.” Jonah rolled his eyes. “I’d keep a bundle for myself so I would know that at least one bundle would stay tied.”
“You wouldn’t. That’s stealing from the Empire, technically. You’d get the skin flayed off your back for a measly bundle of foot-arrows.” Branson finished the last of his ale and let the wooden mug slap against the stone floor. “Them collectors, they have their own pride. They do a good job and do it fast, there’s satisfaction in that.”
“I suppose.” Jonah finished his own ale and looked sadly at the wooden bottom of his mug. But before he even thought of the poor ale’s demise, his mug was snatched out of his hand and replaced with a full one. He grinned, already feeling the effects of his first mug.
&
nbsp; Fin grinned over at him and Branson. “You couple of old farts will be snoring on each other’s shoulders in another five minutes I reckon.”
“Not all of us are built like bloody oxen,” Branson growled at Fin; but his heart wasn’t in it as he smiled when his own ale was replenished.
“Built like gnarled roots by the looks of you.” Fin winked down at them. “Good thing too, from some of the maps I’ve seen the Logistics officers recover it looks like we found a type of empire on this side of the sea. Salucia is what the locals call it. We landed in but one of nine nation states. The Prince’s gamble might end up making him Emperor.”
“How big did it look?” Branson asked.
“It’s at least half the size of the Euran Empire,” Fin replied.
“Empress save me; my feet won’t make it half that far.” Branson cringed as he rubbed a foot.
“Oh!” Fin stood up and pointed. “Here, stand up for a second, you’ve got to see this.”
Jonah clasped Fin’s outstretched hand and the big man hauled him and Branson to their feet. “What are we looking at?”
“Just there.” Fin pointed to an archway on the other side of the courtyard below them.
Jonah followed the line of Fin’s finger and saw a warrior walking with head held high down the street. She was clad from head to toe in metal and being escorted by no less than seven of the Eternal Hand.
“Their word for her is ‘Syklan’,” Fin said, “and I pray to the Empress I never meet one of them on the battlefield.”
The Syklan’s armour wrapped around her body like a dark grey second skin. The heads of snarling sea beasts were carved into her pauldrons, each one housing a strange globe in its maw. Jagged spikes lined her vambraces and adorned the knuckles of each gauntleted hand. The helm itself was almost skeletal.
Jonah felt the hairs rise on his skin as a shiver went down his spine. She looked like a demon from children’s fairy stories. Even under all that metal she walked with a deadly fluid grace, bespeaking her skill. Despite being all the way up on the battlements, Jonah didn’t feel he was safe. It was like watching a leopard calmly walk amongst them. She made the Eternal Hand seem more like her honour guard than her captors.
Visions: Knights of Salucia - Book 1 Page 5
