Fragile Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ groaned Cain.

  ‘Then get on with it, ya blond halfwit,’ said Logie. ‘As long as you’re standing at attention I don’t care if you shit yourself.’

  ‘Squad-leaders!’ cried the captain, and Logie went forwards to where the officer was standing by the standard.

  ‘Please, Pyre,’ said Cain, ‘let it be a fucking drill. I’m still reeking.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ said Kallek. ‘If I have to get up at this time of the night, then I want to smash someone’s head in.’

  Darine glanced at Lennox. ‘How you feeling?’

  ‘Like crap,’ he said. ‘We can’t have had more than a few hours’ sleep.’

  ‘Shit,’ whispered Libby behind him. ‘Look, they’re preparing keenweed for us.’

  Lennox looked up the line of soldiers. A staff officer was handing out something to the squad-leaders from a bag as the captain relayed his orders to them. He groaned. He hated keenweed.

  ‘Looks like a riot, then,’ said Darine.

  Logie returned to the squad, holding a lit pipe.

  ‘Two puffs each, then pass it on,’ he said, handing it to Lennox.

  Lennox put the horn mouth-piece to his lips and inhaled the harsh smoke. Within seconds his head cleared, and he felt fitter and stronger, his senses sharpened. He knew it was an illusion though, and that in a few hours he would be nauseous and exhausted. He passed the pipe to Darine.

  ‘Right, lads and lasses,’ Logie said. ‘Old Free terrorists have just hit a barracks of religious police in the Emery District. Three full companies are heading out. We’re going to seal off the entire area and kill or capture any Old Free we find.’

  The captain blew a whistle and the company began to march, squad after squad. Logie smoked the last of the keenweed and pocketed the pipe. He led the squad, Lennox and Darine a step behind him. The gates of the regimental barracks opened, and the soldiers marched through into the quiet streets. They quickened their pace, trotting down the wide boulevard tunnel that ran through the heart of the city. A curfew kept civilians indoors each night, and the lamps were low and dim, while the caverns echoed to the thundering sound of the soldiers’ boots.

  ‘What are we walking into?’ Darine called ahead to Logie.

  ‘Last report had the Old Free surrounding the police barracks,’ he said, keeping his head forward. ‘Someone managed to get word to us as they were setting the place on fire.’

  The company divided at a junction, with half going left, while the others remained on the main road.

  ‘They’re going round to the rear of Emery,’ Logie said as they watched the squads peel off, ‘to stop the Old Free bastards escaping.’

  Wails and screams started to be heard from a tunnel ahead, and the soldiers sped up again, running at full pace. Officers at the head of the column began to organise the front squads into squares, while the Fifth stood waiting their turn behind the others.

  ‘Fifth to Eighth!’ yelled a captain. ‘Form up!’

  The four squads came abreast of each other, their front ranks over-lapping their shields into a solid wall.

  ‘Go!’

  The soldiers charged into the tunnel and for a moment Lennox was blinded by the glare of the huge fire burning in front of them. A long, four-storey blockhouse was ablaze, with smoke and flames belching from the shattered windows. Bodies lay littered on the ground in front of the building – police officers, and others dressed in black.

  The terrorists were already withdrawing as they arrived; dozens of black-robed Rahain were running from the area next to the building, scattering into the many caverns and tunnels that dotted the walls.

  ‘After them!’ cried Logie. ‘Kill them all!’

  The soldiers lurched forwards, sprinting towards the black-clad Old Free. The squads that had arrived before them were engaging a large group, cutting them down as they fled, so Logie steered them towards the far side of the cavern. They ran hard, and overtook the terrorists as they were cramming through a narrow tunnel entrance. Lennox pulled his mace from over his shoulder, and brought the heavy iron head down onto the skull of a terrorist, crushing it. The rest of the squad joined him, and they battered they way through the group of Old Free, blood splashing over their breastplates.

  Squads began entering the tunnel to pursue the remaining terrorists. When about half were through, Lennox heard a great grinding of rock, and the tunnel ceiling collapsed. Tonnes of rubble fell into the narrow passageway, sealing it off and burying the dozen soldiers who had entered. Lennox rushed forwards through the haze of dust and began pulling away the rock from the entrance. He could see snatches of armour and uniform between the gaps in the rubble and gazed around, half in a panic, until he caught sight of Darine, Libby and Cain beside him, helping.

  ‘Fucking bastards,’ Logie cried, joining them. ‘Come on, everyone, dig.’

  The noise in the cavern abated as the last remaining terrorists were slaughtered. The fire in the blockhouse was raging on, casting bright light and flickering shadows across the walls of the cavern. The squad released the first buried body, of a male soldier, who spluttered, his entire uniform covered in dust and blood. He was carried away onto a stretcher, and the squad resumed digging.

  Two hours later, the squad were relieved, and fresh soldiers took over. Logie led them to a watering station set up by the blockhouse, where the fire was now contained. Dozens of scorched and burnt bodies were laid out in long lines along the side of the street.

  Young cadets handed them water-skins and the squad drank deep. Lennox could feel the keenweed wear off, and he grimaced as an ache spread through the pit of his stomach.

  ‘The police got fucked over tonight,’ Logie said, splashing water onto his face.

  ‘Could have been us in that tunnel,’ Libby said.

  ‘But it wasn’t,’ Logie said. ‘Pyre was with the Fifth.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that in front of Seventh Squad,’ Darine said. ‘They lost three in there.’

  ‘Tough shit for them,’ Logie said. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in their bunkroom tonight.’

  The squad quietened. They had never lost a soldier through violence, and Lennox couldn’t begin to imagine how that would feel. They were his family, and he felt a sudden pulse of relief flow through him to realise that they had all come through unscathed. He mumbled a prayer of thanks to Pyre.

  ‘Come on,’ Logie said. ‘Back to the barracks.’

  The streets were beginning to wake up as they marched down the long boulevard towards the regimental quarters. Market stalls were opening, and a few early wagons carrying supplies were out on the street, being hauled along by lumbering gaien. The civilians got out of the way of the soldiers as they marched, and none dared catch their eye.

  At the company barracks they bathed, then went for breakfast.

  There was a palpable air of anger in the half-full dining-room as news circulated of the casualties suffered by Seventh Squad. The captain walked by and stopped at their table.

  ‘You’ll be going back out tonight, squad,’ he said to them. ‘We’re going to flush the caverns east of Emery, show those bastards that the Army of Pyre always avenge their losses.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ cried Logie.

  The captain walked on.

  ‘Right then,’ Logie said. ‘As soon as you’ve eaten breakfast I want you all upstairs cleaning your armour and equipment ready for tonight. No sleeping until you’ve finished.’

  Lennox looked at the food on his plate.

  ‘I might get started now,’ he said to Logie. ‘Feeling shit after the keenweed. Don’t think I could eat anything.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ said the squad-leader, grabbing his plate. ‘I’ll have yours.’

  Lennox stood and made his way out of the dining-room. He headed up to their rooms, and let himself in. He set down his pile of armour and weapons onto the table and sat, his head spinning. He thought he was going to be sick, but managed to keep it in.

&nb
sp; His eyelids were drooping, but he forced himself to unpack his equipment. He threw his dirty undergarments into the laundry basket, and sorted out his armour, wiping the blood from the straps. His mace-head was covered in gore, and he picked off a tuft of hair. He groaned and got to his feet. He kept a scrubbing brush and cloths in his locker so he stumbled over to the row of cabinets. He opened his locker and began extracting what he needed.

  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was around, and checked that the book was still where he had hidden it beneath thick layers of leathers and mail.

  He dropped the brush and took a step back, his eyes wide.

  It had gone.

  He cursed, and began throwing the contents of the locker on the floor, his motions frantic. Sweat appeared on his brow, and he felt a surge of nausea. He fell to his knees and vomited over the floor, bringing up dark red liquid and bile from the pit of his stomach.

  Shit.

  The book. Someone had taken it.

  Chapter 6

  First Holder of the Republic

  Holdings City, Republic of the Holdings – 16th Day, First Third Spring 524

  Karalyn stared up at the enormous building in front of her. Once the headquarters of the city’s merchant guilds, it was now the seat of the Republic of the Holdings. It was faced in red sandstone, and its bulk dominated the neighbouring tenements. From somewhere inside, Karalyn’s mother ruled the republic; the largest province of the empire.

  Laodoc, Corthie and she had arrived in the city that morning, their wagon coming down the river road from Hold Fast. Six days of bumping along, enduring the irrepressible enthusiasm of Corthie who, having never left Hold Fast before, found everything amazing. She had left them in their rented apartment, despite her mother having offered the use of her official residence for them to stay in. Karalyn didn’t want to seem to be taking advantage of her mother’s position, and had paid out of her own savings for the modest apartment. She hadn’t informed her mother yet. She hoped she wouldn’t be angry.

  After telling Laodoc and Corthie that she was going for a walk, she had made her way to the government building, but she hesitated when she arrived, unsure of her next move. When she had communicated with her mother the evening before, they had arranged to meet after she finished work at dinnertime, in the official residence. She needed to let her mother know that they weren’t staying there, but more than that, she felt an urge to see her.

  She took a breath. What she was about to do, she hadn’t practised in years. There had been no point trying it in the desert with Laodoc, as he was already blind to her.

  Here goes, she thought, and reached out with her mind to anyone that could see her.

  I am not here. You do not see me.

  She walked towards the building.

  You do not see me.

  She went up the steps, passing workers and officials, none of whom glanced in her direction. There were guards at the door but she kept going and walked right past them. Inside was a long marble hall, bustling with people. She concentrated. There were so many eyes she needed to deflect, and it wasn’t as easy as she had remembered, but with an effort she reached them all.

  I am not here.

  She carried on walking, dodging folk as they almost barged into her. She smiled, feeling the rush of being invisible among so many, and starting to enjoy the power her skills were giving her. The things she could do if she were wicked, she thought. At the end of the hall was an ornate staircase, and she passed more guards and ascended the steps. She ducked behind a statue of a king at the top of the stairs, so no one would bump into her while she used her vision to find where her mother was. Her sight darted from room to room, down corridors and round corners until she found her, secluded away with a small group, their heads huddled over a table, deep in discussion. She snapped her sight back to her head and stepped out from behind the statue.

  ‘Hey,’ said a young guardsman. ‘Where did you come from?’

  She touched his mind.

  Forget me. I am not here.

  The man blinked, then he turned and walked away.

  She followed the route her sight had discovered and came to a guarded and closed doorway. The guards were staring straight ahead, but they would surely notice if the door seemed to open by itself. She gazed at the guard on the right.

  Someone inside the room is calling for you.

  The guard shook his head, then turned and opened the door.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, as Karalyn slipped past him into the room. ‘Did someone call?’

  Daphne Holdfast frowned and shook her head. ‘No.’

  The guard bowed. ‘Apologies, ma’am. Thought I heard something.’

  He closed the door and Karalyn moved into the shadows of the small chamber. For a second her mother’s glance lingered over where she stood, but it moved on, and the conversation around the table resumed.

  Karalyn ignored what they were saying, and gazed at her mother. By her body language and tone, it was clear she commanded the room, and the others deferred to her as if it were the natural thing to do. Karalyn hadn’t seen her in four years, but she looked the same, her hair tied back, her green eyes shining in the lamplight.

  After a few moments, several of the group got to their feet, nodding and saying their farewells. The door opened and they filed out, leaving Daphne alone with an older man. The First Holder of the Republic stood and walked with the man to the tall, open windows at the end of the chamber. The man offered her a cigarette, and they smoked together, looking out at the view over the city as the sun shone down upon the red-tiled rooftops.

  ‘That went better than I expected,’ the man said.

  ‘You’re always pessimistic about these things, Weir,’ her mother said.

  ‘Realistic, I call it,’ he said.

  ‘Now all we need to do is think of a concession we can grant the landowners,’ she said, ‘otherwise the vote will be too close to call.’

  Weir smiled. ‘I happen to know that Holder Wain has her eye on a stretch of land by the lower river. It’s in the region of two thousand acres. Ownership papers are held by the state.’

  ‘And the land itself?’

  ‘Been abandoned for over a decade. Used to be mixed farming and livestock.’

  ‘It’s too much,’ her mother said. ‘I can’t risk alienating Holds Vale and Terras if I grant this land to Wain alone. It’ll look like a bribe because, well, it is one.’

  ‘We could divide it up and auction it off,’ Weir said. ‘That way they’ll all get a piece.’

  Daphne smoked her cigarette as Karalyn watched her from the shadows.

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Make it happen. Tip off Holder Wain, let her know in advance so she has time to prepare a bid.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you. That’ll be all for now, Weir. I think I’ll catch up with some correspondence. Get yourself some lunch and be back in an hour.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Karalyn kept her gaze on her mother’s back as the man walked from the room.

  ‘Hello, daughter,’ Daphne said. ‘You can come out of the shadows.’

  Karalyn smiled, and walked forwards to join her mother by the window. Her mother turned to her and they embraced, saying nothing for a long moment.

  ‘How long have you known I was here?’ Karalyn said after a while.

  ‘I wasn’t completely sure you were, to be honest,’ her mother said as they disentangled. ‘I thought I saw an image of you flicker past when the guard opened the door, but you were very good at keeping out of sight. Perhaps if I hadn’t known you were arriving today, then I might have thought nothing of it. I assume you made it through the rest of the building without being seen?’

  ‘I think so,’ Karalyn said.

  ‘Well done. If you do go to work for Empress Bridget I’m sure you’ll do very well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Her mother smiled. She reached out with her good right hand, and
moved a strand of Karalyn’s hair from her face.

  ‘What a difference four years make,’ she said. ‘Eighteen. I can hardly believe it. I’ve missed you.’

  Karalyn frowned. She wanted to shout at her mother, ask her why she had kept sending her away as a child if she had missed her so much, but she knew the answer.

  ‘I missed you too.’

  Her mother lit another cigarette.

  ‘Could I have one?’

  ‘Of course,’ Daphne said, lighting one for her.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Did you smoke in front of your father?’

  ‘Only the once or twice. While he was drinking.’

  ‘I’ll sort that out when I get back. My term of office is up in under two years, and I don’t intend to stand again. I miss my old life, back on the estate. It’s so hard being apart from the family.’

  ‘Everyone’s very proud of you.’

  She shook her head. ‘It was a sacrifice I should never have agreed to. The burden has been heavy. All I want now is to carry out my job as well as I can and get home.’

  ‘Father will be pleased,’ Karalyn said. ‘He’s incomplete without you.’

  Daphne looked away. ‘Don’t say that. I know it’s true, but don’t say it. I feel guilty enough as it is.’

  They stood in silence side by side for a moment, smoking.

  ‘Did you get settled into the residence all right?’ her mother asked.

  ‘I decided to rent an apartment in town.’

  ‘What? Why? The residence has more than enough room and I was looking forward to having you and Corthie around for a few days.’

  ‘I didn’t want it to look like I was taking advantage.’

  Daphne smiled. ‘If that’s the reason, then you should come straight to the residence. It doesn’t matter what people think. My enemies will criticise me regardless. If you stay in the residence I’ll be accused of wasting public money, and if you stay in town then they’ll accuse me of being a terrible mother.’

  ‘Would we really be wasting public money?’

  ‘Of course not, I’ll fund your stay out of my own pocket. Ignorant people will still complain, but we shall pay them no attention. Are we agreed?’