Beggar's Rebellion: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Empire of Resonance Book 1)

by L. W. Jacobs

  Payback. It was always about payback—and they both wanted it now.

  With a final hum, his resonance died. Tai fell to earth.

  7

  To those who argue forced labor programs for the darkhairs are unfair, I answer this: have we not also labored our share? How did our Yersh fathers lift themselves from the mud? Look also how the Seinjials have improved their nature after only forty years under Councilate rule. Our first priority must be to bring them civilization. And if it profits the Houses, so much the better.

  —House Galya councilor, address to the Council, Yiel 86

  Tai hit the ground and bounced. His joints screamed with the impact, body no longer strong with resonance, and the world spun as the bends set in. For a few seconds or a few minutes after wafting, depending on how much resonance you’d used, the bends made you almost totally useless, nausea and vertigo hitting like you were still in the air and spinning out of control.

  He didn’t have time to lose control. He had a pack of Councilate brawlers screaming for his blood, Tulric at their head.

  Ahead of him swam the gates to a mine complex, just twenty yards off, or fifty—hard to see through the bends. But it was freedom. Safety. A second chance to save his kids.

  Tai ran. His feet stumbled, his head spun, his stomach tried to come out his throat, but he ran. He could hear the brawlers behind him now, running twice as fast as normal people could, swore he could hear Tulric’s voice bellowing among them.

  It didn’t matter. The pain in his joints didn’t matter. The nausea didn’t matter. He either made it to those gates, through them and into the protection of the mercenaries, or he died. It was that simple.

  So, he ran, doing his best to keep the compound gates ahead, to not fall headlong over the uneven ground, trying to find the rhythm of breath and movement. Men screamed—others were cheering?—his legs didn’t work and he was falling—

  Arms caught him. Thick arms, blurring in the vomit-inducing spin of the bends. “Got ye, lad,” a rough voice said. “And none too soon, it seems.”

  Footsteps pounded behind him. Tai leaned over double, coughing, doing his best to keep his breakfast. “Release that man!” a voice called behind him, indignant, out of breath. Tulric.

  “Who, this one here?” the rough voice called. “I think he’s a mind to try the mines. Don’t ye?”

  He prodded Tai with a foot as he asked, and Tai’s stomach lurched. But he knew what he needed to say, what game he needed to play to survive here. Amnesty. For a while, Ayugen had been thick with fugitives, criminals, and prisoners come to try working the mines, to get out of their sentences. They were all given amnesty on the way down, even if few made it out.

  “I do,” he coughed.

  “See there! A regular miner and upstanding citizen,” Rough Voice barked. Yati. It was a Yati accent. Tai risked a glance up to see a red-bearded man resting his free hand on a huge double-bladed axe, a cadre of mercenaries around him. Then the world bent in half again and he closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Safe. He was safe.

  “He attacked the prison camp and wounded one of our men. Killed him, maybe.” This wasn’t Tulric, the soldier’s voice deeper.

  “Did he?” The Yatiman sounded even more amused. “Our little milkweed here hurt a Titan? What are they training you in these days, table manners?” A scattering of laughter from the mercenary side. “Don’t matter friend, and ye know it don’t matter. He’s ours now. Arnchya?”

  This last was followed with another nudge, but Tai’s stomach bore it slightly better. He tried standing, opened his eyes to see Tulric and half a dozen other men in dark Councilate uniforms outside the complex’s wooden gates. He met eyes with Tulric. “I am. For now.”

  Tulric sneered back, though his face was drawn with pain. That was the brawler version of the bends—the breaks, they called it. “Soon as you’re not, come and find me, milkweed.”

  Tai cocked his head, giddy despite the nausea. He was alive. “I did find you, remember? Or are you limping for fun?”

  Tulric growled, but the rough-voiced Yati clapped Tai on the shoulder, world lurching again. “Did that too, didya? I think I like this milkweed. Now scram, lawkeepers, ’less ye want to break your own laws. We’ll see how ye do against twenty of my own fighters.”

  At this, the group around him bristled, swords flashing and arrows nocking and two or three women rising into the air with a buzz of power. The lead soldier glanced at Tulric, then waved his men off. Tulric clenched his fists, for all the world like a toddler who didn’t get their honeybread. Tai gave him a pouty lip, and he spun away with the rest.

  The Yati man guffawed, and Tai grinned, bends passing. This would only mean more payback in Tulric’s eyes, but that didn’t matter. He was safe for now.

  If you called trapped in a courtyard with twenty surly mercenaries safe.

  “Well now, milkweed,” the Yati man said, turning to Tai. “You got us all up from our comfortable seats and made us threaten a buncha Titans. Ye’d better be serious about working in a Coldferth mine, or might be we take out our trouble out on ye.”

  There was a general clink of weapon and mail as the others turned to regard Tai, grinning at this new entertainment. “I’m serious,” Tai said, straightening up to the man. Tai was taller, but the Yatiman had to be twice as thick. “How do I start?”

  The hill tribesman laughed. “Ye get yer meckring down the hole.” He swung his axe toward the pavilion in the center, where a wooden stairway led down into the earth. “Fifty balls to get out.”

  “Fifty balls?” That was a small fortune in yura.

  “Aye. No balls, and we keep ye down. S’what we’re here for, really. Don’t get too many people trying to come in.” The other mercenaries laughed, settling into stools, but the Yati man crinkled his eyes. “Watch yerself down there, lad. Ain’t all of ’em as nice as we are.”

  Tai just nodded, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. The mines were where the Councilate sent criminals to die.

  Where they sent the resistance fighters to die, when we were kids.

  The thought was disquieting, and worry rolled off Hake, but Tai squared his shoulders. It was this or get killed by Tulric and the lawkeepers—if he could even get past the mercenaries and out the gate.

  A thought occurred to him. “Got any mavenstym or wintermelon? I burned all my resonance fighting those Titans.”

  The Yati man grinned, revealing broken front teeth. “Don’t normally give out my leaf, but for you, milkweed?” He dug out a handful of dark purple mavenstym blossoms, dried and crushed. “You’re gonna need ’em down there.”

  Tai thanked him. This way at least he’d have his resonance, if he needed to use it.

  You don’t need to use it, ever again.

  A Coldferth man at the gate noted his name and the time of day, handing him a lantern and two strips of jerky.

  I think I used it pretty well, thank you, he thought back.

  If by well you mean tried to commit suicide against a fortress full of the Councilate’s best soldiers, then yeah.

  Tai shrugged. “I survived.”

  The man at the gate gave him an odd look—no wonder lighthairs were so strange, if they ignored their spirit guides. “Fifty balls to get out, no exit after sundown.”

  Tai said nothing, taking the lamp and gumming the mercenary’s mavenstym. It wouldn’t last forever—like regular food and energy, it would eventually burn away, but he would feel better going down with a second option.

  More like a last resort.

  The whole thing felt like a last resort. The lighthair lit his lamp with a candle burning on the table, and Tai took the stairs down. He should be dead already, considering what he’d just done. But since he wasn’t, there was still a chance to help his kids. Right? The stairway went down a long way, sunlight gradually fading to the flickering shadows his lamp cast against the cut stone walls. The problem was how to help them.

  Leaving aside the fifty balls we need
to even get out of this place.

  Tai rolled his shoulders. The air was humid, and warmer than he’d expected, a gentle breeze rising from the cave like the mouth of some underground beast. “We could get out of it easy, once this mavenstym digests.” He could already feel the ache in his spine ebbing. “Mercs or not, I don’t think they could catch me in the air. But where would we go? Tulric would find us anywhere in the city.”

  So, you leave the city. Marrem still has your money. The captain’s likely waiting on you. Buy some yura, take the ship to Worldsmouth, and we come back with money and a plan.

  Tai shook his head. “By the time we got back, our kids would be changed, or—” His voice caught. “We don’t need a plan. We need an army.”

  So, sell the yura and use the money to hire an army.

  “That’s two months downstream, however long it takes to sell out, then three months back up. I’m not leaving the kids in there half a year.”

  What good are you going to do them in here?

  There was a light ahead, what looked like an open chamber at the bottom of the stairs. Tai put Hake out of his mind. He needed to focus.

  The air smelled of moss and wet rock and—curried meat? He lowered his lantern, letting his eyes adjust. He was in a natural chamber, not as large as a market but near to it. Lamps spread pools of light at regular intervals, a few hanging from massive icicles of rock. In the flickering light, the walls appeared to be many colors—oranges and grays and browns, here and there a vein of red. There was no yura on them, but he guessed areas this close to the surface would be picked clean. Marrem said before the Councilate started harvesting, the walls had been entirely covered in yura. That people had come down here to commune with their ancestors, and left more yura when the ancestors were pleased, medicine for the next who came down.

  Medicine to make the Councilate rich now.

  “Ho, friend!” came a voice to his left, echoing off the walls. “First time in the caves?”

  Tai could make out a heavy figure approaching, sword strapped to his middle. “Yeah. Can you…point me to the best spots?”

  The man guffawed, clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll need more lamp tallow than that. And maybe a bowl of curry? Hungry work down there.” The curry scent was stronger now—his stomach rumbled, smelling barley and spices and perhaps some elk.

  He could also smell a scam. “For free?”

  The man laughed again. “Nothing’s free down here. But you can take it on credit.”

  Tai could make out a few figures around the room, some sprawled on the floor, all pale as ghosts. “I’ve got enough debt for now. Just show me where to go?”

  The heavy man shrugged. “Have it your way. You’ll want that passage to your right. And watch your lamp. It gets awfully dark down there.”

  Tai found the passage, lined with lamps, sloping steadily down. It was chiseled into the rock, like the stairway down had been—likely resistance fighters’ work, put to work expanding the natural caves after the war.

  If they had any left.

  The passage forked at the far end, one cave leading up in a scree of small rocks, the other dropping sharply down. Tai instinctively wanted to take the upper passage, to be closer to the surface, so he chose the lower, thinking it might be less explored. He clambered down the steep slope, finding a series of handholds where it got too steep, grateful the lamps had a small glass shield to keep them from blowing out. Now that he was out of the lit hall, the dark seemed to press in around his small flame. He couldn’t imagine being down here without one.

  I’ll remember the way.

  “Oh, great. Last I remember, you’re meck at directions.”

  Well I wouldn’t have to be if you’d had the sense to waft out of here.

  “So now it’s okay for me to use my resonance? Admitting that maybe I did manage to keep it under control back there?”

  Barely. But it’s better than being trapped down here.

  Tai shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I’m safe from the lawkeepers, I’ve got resonance if I need it, and maybe we’ll find a cache of yura big enough that we can hire that mercenary army—”

  Something knocked him in the head, and Tai stumbled sideways, his lamp spinning away.

  Feet scrabbled in the dark, a dark outline grabbing his lamp. “Hey!” Tai scrambled up. “What are you doing!”

  It ran. With no other options Tai followed, pelting around a curve in the rock, up a small slope, chasing the glow until it faded, until he was running in the dark, bumping into walls. Fear stopped him, fear of running into something, or falling down something. Of being lost down here. “HEY!” he called, voice echoing off the walls. “That’s my lamp! What the HELL?” Skittering footsteps echoed from farther down the passage, but without light, there was no way to follow.

  Hake gave off a wave of disappointment.

  “Shatter you, Hake,” Tai snapped. He blew out air, trying to collect his thoughts. He was alone in the darkness, not sure of the path out. “Guess it’s time for that new sense of direction of yours.”

  Hake stayed quiet.

  “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you, all right? Can we just get out of here?”

  Still quiet. Tai sighed and began feeling for a wall. The darkness was like a thick cloth over his eyes. There hadn’t been any side passages, so if he turned himself around…

  Slowly, painstakingly, Tai made his way back up the passage in the dark. Almost as eerie as the darkness was the silence—save for the far-off drip of water, and the occasional scrabble of a small creature, the only sound was his footfalls on the uneven floor. The handholds leading up were even more difficult, but reassuring because it meant he was going the right direction. He was to the lamp-lit hall a moment later.

  The light was wonderful—why had he never appreciated it before? The only problem was taking it with him. The man at the front would probably be happy to loan him one—for an outrageous price.

  Mecking thieves.

  Tai grinned. “Too bad I’m one too.”

  Tai reached up and pulled at one of the lamps on the wall, lifting it from its black iron stud. “Hey!” somebody yelled from up the passageway.

  “I—” Tai felt the resonance a second later, the low steady hum of a brawler, and knew there was no point arguing. He’d stolen a lamp, and they wanted it back. Never mind that he’d just had his stolen too, probably by one of them.

  Tai spun for the lower passage—better the known enemy—and dropped down the series of slopes, footsteps hard behind, rocks sliding down, leaping down the shorter falls, nearly losing himself in his struggle to climb down with one hand and keep hold of his lamp with the other.

  Tai hit the bottom and sprinted, recognizing the curves he’d just retraced, darting past them, taking a side passage, then another, the spaces getting narrower. His lamp—his lamp was a problem. So long as it was lit, the brawler would know where to chase. And if he put it out, he might not be able to find his way back. Tai would have to outrun him, get so far ahead the man lost sight of him and had to turn back for fear of getting lost himself.

  The passage opened out, the bobbing light of another miner ahead. Tai blew past him, brawler’s footsteps farther behind but still coming. He stooped into a narrow hall that wound down, air getting warmer, squeezing through a narrow passage here, losing sight of ceiling and walls there.

  A chimney opened up to his right, ceiling lost in dimness above. Tai scrambled up the wall, shoving his lamp ahead of him into the recess, then pressed his back against the light. Only a bit of light shone out. Good. He heard the footsteps, still coming, slowing now, and willed his breath to slow, to become silent. The footsteps stopped, and Tai could see the glow of another lantern.

  “Hey!” a man’s voice called, distorted by the passages. “Where are you, little thief?”

  Tai held his breath. If he used his resonance, he could take the man—but flying at high power in these narrow spaces, he’d probably hurt himself as badly as the brawler.r />
  You think?

  “You can’t steal a collier’s lamp and get away with it! HEY!”

  The voice sounded close. Tai kept still, lungs hitching after the run.

  Another moment, then a curse in a hilltribe tongue. “Well, hope you die down here, little man. You show your face up there again, and we’ll make sure you do.”

  Tai’s lungs burned, pulling against his sealed lips, and he willed them still a little longer. Footsteps faded in the other direction—three seconds—four—

  With a muted gasp, Tai drew in air, spots dancing in the dark. He risked a glance back at his lamp. Still lit. Okay. Tai sat back and breathed, letting the man get away.

  Well, forget about getting out the front entrance.

  I could still do it.

  You’d just, y’know, have brawlers behind as well as in front.

  We’re alive, at least. I kept you alive. You’re welcome.

  Tai slid out of the chimney and down the wall. He sat and listened at the bottom, wary, but heard nothing. If the brawler was waiting for him somewhere, he’d just have to deal with it. Though he couldn’t imagine someone waiting around that long for a mecking lamp.

  The first few paces back were easy—he remembered enough to climb down and take the tunnel as it curved left. From there, Tai followed what seemed the most obvious way out, stopping every now and then to look for footprints. In the porous scree of the tunnel floor, it was hard to read tracks, and Tai had never been good at reading trail. Still, he thought he could make out his footprints, lengths between them long enough for the kind of running he’d been doing. At a junction with another, narrower passage, he found the heavier, soled prints of the brawler, saw where he’d moved around, trying to decide which way Tai’d gone. From there it was easier, following two sets of prints up and over tight humps, narrow spaces and little rooms, always wending upward.