Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  ‘Good luck with that, little bastards,’ whispered Issar to her left.

  ‘And with the winter months coming, we’ll have more time to train our people. Perhaps, get those who work elsewhere an opportunity to practice?’ Owen asked.

  ‘A good idea,’ said the Emperor.

  Sent raised a hand. ‘Forgive me but the work never stops, Your Grace. Even in winter. Hunting can still happen, as you rightly pointed out, fishing, and the manufacture of goods.’

  The Emperor waved a hand. ‘Yes, of course, but we have the Gifted to assist us. They can be worked as hard as we wish. They can be worked into the ground.’

  Cade deliberately looked at Michael, who shifted uneasily. Yeah, she’d heard a couple of the older ones had already given up the ghost.

  ‘And will the Nidhal help?’ asked Winders. ‘Their thousand pairs of hands would make all the difference.’

  The Emperor looked at him, with something like surprise. He blinked. ‘No. Our Nidhal friends do not build. They fight, they provide for themselves. And they give me the honour of their protection.’ He dipped his head towards the Nidhal warrior sitting next to him, who responded by breaking into a beaming, fangy smile, his topknot bobbing. Cade raised an eyebrow, Gods Below, the Nidhal wasn’t pretty. The Emperor gave Winders another look. As if working out who he was. Winders needed to be careful, he was always too emotional.

  The meeting ground on for a little longer, with nothing of consequence to Cade discussed. As they were dismissed, Cade walked out with Issar, though not before she heard the Emperor ask for Carlha to hang back.

  They emerged into the light in silence; they’d decided very quickly it wasn’t good to talk in the pavilion. As they put some distance between them and the camp, Cade sighed. ‘Bastard was going to shut us down,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, we just got away with that, thanks to Carlha.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘If we can keep going, get the Emperor back to Vyberg, I doubt he’ll be interested to hear about our ownership of half the vineyards and most of the taverns,’ he observed.

  ‘The shock’s kept everyone off balance, for sure. But let’s say we get through whatever’s coming, who’s to say someone won’t open their mouth? Especially when taxes rear their shitty head, because they will.’

  ‘I got a list of likely suspects. I guess we just watch ’em to see who starts to squirm.’

  Cade wasn’t really listening, she was thinking. ‘And don’t get me started on when they put a garrison in place.’

  ‘We are running a legit business, Cade.’

  ‘Oh, yes, legit. Right up to the point they start asking for protection money. Crooked sons of bitches, leeching off good business-folk.’

  ‘That’s our people you are talking about, Cade.’

  ‘Yes, for now. But come on, Issar, human nature. Folk will be what they will be.’

  Issar scratched his head. ‘Then we get Devlin made garrison commander. He’ll keep people straight.’

  Cade nodded. She hadn’t thought about that. She barely saw him now. In fact, as the barracks gate opened, and they walked inside, Cadarn strode past them and went straight to where Devlin was hunkered over a table. Thick as thieves those two, these days. She wondered what that was about. She must remember to ask.

  ‘Now you mention human nature,’ said Issar.

  ‘What? Yes?’

  ‘That priest is trying to get daily services going in the church.’ He did quote marks with his fingers. ‘To exalt in our God’s return.’

  Cade raised an eyebrow. ‘Is anyone going?’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘People still believe in that shit? After everything?’

  ‘Old habits, Cade. Desperation, hope. It’s great to offload your responsibility on to someone else.’

  ‘I never did.’

  ‘That’s because we were never good citizens of the Empire, Cade.’

  ‘True.’

  They reached the bridge gate and the wagon. Cade stopped. ‘You think we should go?’

  Issar shrugged. ‘To the church? Up to you. But in the old days everyone went because if you didn’t you were an unbeliever, and that never ended well. I think they all did it because it was expected, not because they believed.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Cade thought about that. You go along and it shows your piety and loyalty, it doesn’t single you out, and then the game just carries on. It might be useful. But then she remembered what life was like back in Aberpool. When they had no choice about which god to worship. Fucking hypocrites worshipping fucking idiots. Did the old gods have this problem? Least they didn’t tax your ass or throw you in gaol. They certainly hadn’t done anything after the fall of the Empire. She looked back at the barracks. Both gates were open and at the far one she spotted Carlha. Where had she been? ‘Hey Issar? You coming back?’

  ‘Just got to speak to some people.’ Cade nodded. His people, his network of trusted eyes. ‘OK. Do us a favour. Let me know who is going to worship.’

  ‘Already making a list, Cade.’

  ‘Good man.’

  As Issar disappeared through the bridge gate, Cade stepped away from the wagon and waited for Carlha. ‘Want a lift?’ she called.

  ‘No, thank you, I’ll walk. My wagon is in the square.’

  ‘Nice moves with the Emperor back there.’

  Carlha stopped and smiled. ‘Someone had to protect our interests. I thought it might come better from me.’

  ‘What did the Emperor want?’

  Carlha ran a hand through her hair. ‘He’s invited me to dinner.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Cade!’ Carlha tried to appear shocked but didn’t quite pull it off.

  ‘You were literally laying yourself on the table for him.’

  Carlha’s eyes narrowed a little. She put her hands on her hips. ‘You know, there is no harm in actually making friends. Besides,’ she sniffed. ‘It seems to me he could do with some better company than he’s keeping. That priest gives me chills.’

  ‘Can’t argue with you there. Alright, just watch yourself. I reckon our Emperor might have a hair trigger.’

  Carlha pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

  ‘Good. Don’t need my business partner getting burned on a pyre or some bullshit like that.’

  Carlha flicked her eyes skyward and marched off. Cade watched her cross the bridge then returned to the wagon. She’d have to watch Carlha, that girl was getting used to moving in higher circles.

  Devlin and Cadarn had disappeared and the training troops had dispersed. She banged the driver’s bench. ‘Oi Evan, wake up. It’s dinner-time.’

  CHAPTER 45 – OWEN

  Owen drew back the curtain and stepped into the small wood and stone hut that had been given to him as his quarters. They hadn’t gotten around to sorting out a door yet, but at least the single room had a fireplace and a chimney. The barracks now had two smiths working metal and one had provided him with a grate. He had a proper bed in one corner, a table, chairs and a chest. It reminded him of his place back in Eagle’s Rest, but that was just a room, this was a chamber. A step up for the great general of the Empire. He shook his head and sat down. The table was scattered with bits of parchment and several crude maps. He ran his hand through his hair and shuffled through them, pushing an empty plate to one side. How did it come to this? There was a knock on the door frame and he looked up as the curtain parted a little and Killen’s face appeared.

  ‘Having fun?’

  ‘What do you think?’ He pointed to a vacant chair.

  Killen stepped in and settled. ‘I think not;’ a wry smile on his face.

  ‘Look at all this,’ Owen said, lifting some of the parchment. ‘Numbers, rolls, rations. This is not what I want to do. Seriously, was this your life?’

  Killen stroked his beard, running his fingers down each fork.

  ‘Back in the old days? Yes, I was a staff officer. All very restful and unexciting. They are t
rying to impose the old ways on you, Owen. This is how an Empire wages war, not a guerrilla campaign.’

  ‘I could get you to do this for me. Be my staff officer.’

  Killen waved his arms in a warding gesture. ‘Oh no. Not a chance. I’m done with that.’

  ‘But I need help–’

  Killen shook his head vigorously. ‘Talk to Devlin, or Cadarn. I’m entirely happy out in the field. I have responsibilities to my scouts.’

  Owen didn’t need the belligerence right now. He had enough going on. ‘You know I could order you.’

  Killen sat back, crossed his arms and made a face.

  Owen threw his hands up. ‘Alright, fine, I won’t. I need good men on the ground as much as I need planners. Besides your Erebeshi would cut me to pieces.’ He didn’t want to make anyone else as miserable as he was, least of all his friends.

  ‘You know, they just might,’ said Killen with a smile. ‘But seriously, Devlin has things sewn up here.’

  It was Owen’s turn to shake his head. ‘He’s doing a good job managing the training, but he is close to Cade. I’m not sure where her loyalties lie.’

  ‘She bowed to the Emperor, didn’t she? Cade’s smart. She knows which way the wind is blowing. From what I know of her, she fights when she has to but avoids it when she can. And if Devlin is prepared to back her, then she must have something going on upstairs.’

  ‘I suppose. I just don’t think everyone is happy that the Emperor has returned.’

  Killen narrowed his eyes, weighing Owen up for a second before he spoke.

  ‘Are you?’

  That took Owen aback. What was Killen asking? A question like that could get you into trouble. But he thought about it even so.

  ‘It is what it is. I’ve never stopped to wonder one way or another. The Empire is all I’ve ever known.’

  ‘It’s all any of us have ever known. But it was not the Empire nor the Emperor that helped us to survive. There was no divine intervention. No wrath of the gods to stop what happened to us. If there was a battle raging in the heavens between ours and theirs, at the least you would have to say, our god was the weaker.’ Killen stood and stretched. ‘People here have had a taste of a different reality to the one we had before. We are all here not because of the Emperor, but because a young Eagle Rider chose to keep fighting, because a rogue of a woman decided she wouldn’t let her people die as slaves.’

  ‘And that means what?’

  ‘What does it mean? That depends on your point of view. The way I see it, whatever happens next, if we make it through, things aren’t settled here, not by a long shot.’ Killen bowed his head. ‘I’ll see you later, General.’ He stepped out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.

  Owen leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, interlinking his fingers. If Killen was right, and he suspected he might be, then yes, there were choices that would have to be made. If they lived to make them.

  CHAPTER 46 – ELLEN

  Ellen looked up from her sleeping space as a shadow fell across her.

  ‘Good evening, Father.’

  ‘Ellen. I have come to take you to the Nidhal, they have requested your skills.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  He leaned forwards and unlocked the padlock that secured her chain to the iron ring set into the wall. She pushed herself up, pressing down on the blankets that served to keep her warm and off the earthen floor beneath.

  She picked up the length of chain hanging from her throat collar and handed it to Michael. He frowned at the chain, like he always did and then took the lead, heading out of the block. Ellen shared a few looks with those Gifted who were still awake and watched their departure with cautious, and sometimes resentful interest. No one had yet to quiz her on the regular nightly visits to the Nidhal encampment and she really didn’t want to explain. Though there might come a point when she would have to.

  The walked together, side by side, through the barracks. She kept silent, as was her role to play, and Michael did the same, though there were few about to witness it. Apart from the sentries, all was quiet and many of the garrison were on the islands or riding the hinterlands. It didn’t matter, the silence was companionable. She felt safer with Michael than with anyone else, even her own kind. One of the gates was pushed open and they went out into the night. More lights blazed in the Imperial encampment but Michael steered away from the well-trodden path that led to the central pavilion and navigated around the side, avoiding human eyes, and made for the far side of the Nidhal camp. The wakeful inhabitants here were less interested in the pair of them – they were accepted.

  ‘Are you well, Michael?’ she asked. He was quieter than normal, which would have been hard to notice at the best of times, yet she had grown used to reading his moods.

  ‘I am not sure.’

  ‘Oh.’ She would let him decide his next words in his own time. Michael was a brooder.

  ‘I just worry. I feel like I am losing the Emperor.’

  That was interesting. ‘How so?’

  Michael shrugged. ‘I wonder about his thoughts. He plays the leader, the beloved of the people, a gracious and caring god. Yet sometimes I see a glimpse of the man underneath and it is different. He is different now. He was happy and hopeful when we met the Nidhal. But after what happened at New Tissan, he listens to Father Llews and …’ He lifted the chain but said nothing more.

  Ellen understood. Understood it all too well.

  ‘There will be no forgiveness for us. Only servitude.’

  ‘Perhaps not even that.’

  Ellen’s heart skipped a beat. Was the end coming then? When would it happen, and in what manner? But she didn’t ask Michael. He was already struggling.

  ‘I have been speaking to Yarn,’ he said, almost like a confession. That wasn’t news, he did that a lot. But perhaps this was an admission to himself rather than her.

  ‘What does she say?’

  ‘That I am a good man.’ Again, a note to his voice, like he hated saying it.

  She reached out and slipped an arm through his. She felt him tense a little but he did not push her away.

  ‘She is telling the truth. You are. And I am grateful for it.’

  They arrived at a small fire burning just outside a crude hide shelter – unremarkable in the dark, for the many symbols and sigils that covered the skin were hidden in the shadows. Beside the fire was a formless shape. It shifted at their approach, becoming a head, arms and torso. It picked up a branch and poked at the fire.

  ‘Gantak,’ said Michael.

  ‘Michael,’ Gantak growled out in return.

  ‘How does Ellen do in her studies? Is she improving?’ he asked in a friendly manner, looking at Ellen to translate for the shaman.

  Gantak cocked his head and produced a set of throaty coughs, his version of laughter.

  ‘And that means?’

  ‘If we accept that Gantak knows more Imperial than he lets on,’ said Ellen, ‘I think that means improvement is an understatement.’

  ‘Really? Well, then I am pleased and impressed. But promise me you will be careful.’

  ‘I will, as I do to you every night,’ Ellen said, with a smile.

  ‘Then I shall leave you to it. I think I’ll go and find Weguek, I feel like a bout.’ Michael reached out a hand, hesitated a moment, then touched her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Ellen placed her hand over his.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She let go. Michael pulled away, a ghost of a guilty smile on his face, and disappeared into the night.

  She turned and took up a space opposite Gantak. He was looking at her with a lopsided grin.

  ‘Alright. Stop it. Michael is not used to showing his feelings. It’s good for him.’

  The Nidhal shrugged as if it meant nothing to him. He sat a little straighter and started to stare at the fire. He mumbled a few syllables and stretched his hand out, placing it over a flame. He did not flinch. Then he gently rotated his hand. In his
palm a flame continued to burn. He withdrew his arm and stared at the flame. He started to speak again, slowly and a little louder. This was deliberate, so she could understand the vocalisations. Yet she also knew that these words did not need uttering, they had power purely in the thinking of them, the visualisation of what they meant. But she was still a novice, and needed the anchor and focus that speaking the words lent to her.

  The flame in his hand started to grow, reaching upwards, extending higher, growing wider from but a few inches to almost a foot in length. Then he placed his other hand a little above the tip of the flame. Speaking another word, the flame detached from his lower hand and flew up into the top hand. There it pooled into a ball. Gantak stared at Ellen then brought his two hands together with a muffled clap. Then he split them apart. The fire was gone.

  The shaman’s eyes glittered with what appeared satisfaction. ‘Show off,’ Ellen admonished. Gantak coughed again, pointed at the fire and then at her.

  She took a breath and nodded. Alright then. She pronounced the words that had no discernible meaning yet had a physical effect upon her. There was a tingling inside her, a light headedness. She focussed it upon her hand and that tingling became an itch. And then she placed that hand into the fire. She had no fear of it, no fear of pain, for there was none. She had learned that already. And taking a piece of that fire, she let it settle in her left hand and made it grow. Wider, longer, and higher than Gantak’s. And then she put her other hand out, not above the tip but horizontal to the flame. Ellen tilted her left hand, so the column was now a line and she pressed her right hand to the end. Holding that line in place, she started to squeeze. Concentrating on the fire, thinking, willing it to bend to her desire, Ellen understood that it was a living thing, an element that could be moulded and controlled. She could feel that element, that force of life fighting against her, trying to follow its natural order. But she refused, squeezing harder, bringing her hands together. At the last moment she forced them outwards, and that ball of flame shot into the fire and exploded in a flare of heat and light. Gantak reared backwards at the force and was lost in the after image imprinted on Ellen’s eyes. She shot upright, she hadn’t meant to cause that much of a show. She scrambled over to Gantak. He was sprawled out, arms flung wide. Turning his head to look at her he croaked something out.