Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  The Emperor raised a hand. He’d already turned his head towards Father Llews who was shaking his head most vigorously.

  ‘We have no time. We will grow soft!’ he announced.

  ‘I think what the good Father is trying to say is that if we rest on our laurels it will only be harder to rouse ourselves,’ said the Emperor. ‘No. I am determined we must begin this endeavour at once. It is my calling. I know it. The great work of my divinity.’

  Surely the great work was to safeguard the Tissan people once and for all? Or had the Emperor forgotten that?

  ‘I intend that we march north in two days’ time. We’ll take as many provisions as we can put in the wagons and the first works parties. We’ll start a supply chain. Sent, I expect you will organise that.’

  Sent swallowed, ‘Uh, of course–’

  Cade coughed.

  The Emperor turned to her.

  She leaned forwards and placed her hands on the table. ‘Your Grace, we do have a bit of a problem.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s just that we lost a lot of good people, almost three hundred of our most able.’ She lifted a hand, pulled at an earlobe. ‘You could say that was probably your best workers right there. Those that are left need time to heal. Me? I’m buggered.’ She smiled apologetically. Owen had to admit, she was all balls.

  The Emperor’s face was inscrutable. It was disturbing. He’d never seen a face go so still.

  ‘Your Grace?’ Michael stood.

  ‘What?’ the Emperor snapped, tearing his gaze from Cade.

  ‘The Councillor has a point. We lost so many loyal Tissans. They gave everything for the cause. As they should. But we must repay their sacrifice, honour their legacy. Surely some time can be made to grieve? The people need a chance to recover. I know they would appreciate such an imperial gesture.’

  Owen was shocked. Did Michael just speak all those words?’

  The Emperor scowled, he tapped a finger on the table-top. He looked piqued. Almost like a child who had not gotten his way.

  ‘The work must start!’ Llews squeaked.

  ‘Keep your robe on,’ said Cade. ‘I’m just asking for a little bit of downtime here. Just think, you can play in your new church while you wait.’

  Father Llews eyes looked like they might pop out of his sockets.

  ‘Just a few days,’ Michael said, his voice soft.

  ‘We can assist with the planning,’ said Carlha, sounding overly eager. ‘Select workers.’

  ‘I can start making inventories of supplies,’ added Sent. He also sounded overly enthusiastic. Both he and Carlha were casting glances towards Cade. It was only then that Owen noticed Immayuk had made moves around the table, his hand on his blade. Owen’s drifted down to the hilt of his knife. He did it on instinct, sensing a threat. The Nidhal was hovering near Cade’s chair, his intent becoming clear. Surely he wouldn’t? Owen looked at the Emperor, the Emperor was looking at Cade. The Emperor’s eyes shifted briefly to Immayuk. The slightest shake of his head. And the Nidhal backed away.

  Owen took a breath. Gods Below. That almost happened.

  ‘Very well,’ the Emperor announced. ‘Three days of mourning. In honour of the fallen. Make the announcement,’ he said to Sent. ‘And then begin your preparations. Keep me informed of the numbers you select,’ he said to Carlha. Both nodded in relief. ‘Now, everyone, be on your way.’

  The gathering all stood and started to leave.

  ‘Father Llews – please escort my mother out,’ the Emperor said. ‘Oh, and Father Michael, General? A word.’

  Owen lingered. The Emperor took up a position looking out of the window. Michael stood a little apart.

  ‘Father, your intercession was … appreciated. Now wasn’t the time. But I think we have to address the problem, don’t we?’

  Father Michael remained silent.

  ‘General?’

  Owen blinked. ‘Yes, Your Grace.’

  ‘Your thoughts on Major Killen, Major Devlin.’

  ‘Um. Good men. Brave.’

  ‘Loyal?’

  ‘Your Grace?’

  The Emperor still did not turn around. ‘Where do their loyalties lie?’

  Oh. Now Owen understood.

  ‘Devlin has been with Cade since the start, as I understand it. He has supported her through it all. He’s not shy in saying she is a pain in the arse, though,’ he said lightly. He knew Devlin was too close to Cade, but maybe he could talk him round?

  ‘He backs her. That is the issue. And Killen?’

  Now he had to try. For his friend. ‘Major Killen has been with me for a long time. Has fought beside me. Led his brave Erebeshi scouts like they were still part of the Empire, even when we thought it was gone. I trust him.’

  The Emperor was quiet for a moment. ‘He fought alongside Cade. I saw them together afterwards. They looked … friendly.’

  ‘I’m sure it was just the relief of surviving the battle.’

  Another pause. ‘He has few men left.’

  ‘A handful of scouts.’

  ‘Not much for him to command, then.’

  ‘He also has a history as a staff officer,’ Owen offered. He was desperate.

  ‘You have no need of staff officers, General. The Nidhal do not need planners for war. They live on their feet and their wits.’

  Owen tried one more gambit. ‘Emperor, I need him. I need everyone I can get. This is not the Nidhals’ war. It is ours.’

  The Emperor finally turned around to face them. And the look he gave Owen was not friendly. Had he pushed too hard?

  ‘Thank you, General. That will be all.’ It was a cold, curt command.

  Owen bowed. Yes. He had pushed his luck. Best to get out of there. Nodding at Michael he left the room. He walked quickly to the door, was let out by the woman and stepped down on to the street.

  He walked a short way and stopped. He turned to look out on the Brevis Sea and sighed heavily. The war wasn’t done, and it wasn’t over. Yet he had next to no one to fight it. He had no doubts about the Nidhals’ bravery or prowess, but nor he did think they’d just fall into line so easily. Not now at any rate. Arluuq was not Nutaaq, that much was obvious. He did not have his dead brother’s vision. Unless the Emperor had plans for that too?

  Instead of this folly of trying to rebuild Vyberg, they should be preparing for the next campaign. Folk should be set to work – he agreed with the Emperor in that at least – but not in building monuments and cities. They need to learn how to fight, they need to build the defence of this place, they needed to forge weapons. A new force was needed, to wage another guerrilla campaign. He had seen enough now to know that pitched battles were too costly in manpower. But small strike groups would work. And it would reduce the risk of any sickness spreading. They had been lucky so far, no great malady had hit the population, but any army could be brought low. They did not have the healing skills or magic of the elves. And they needed early warning. Like waystations. Maybe small forts or fastnesses. Places those strike groups could rest up. At the least they could slow down advances. The battle to the south was far too close for comfort. Yes. Push out to the east, hold territory, but work on a mobile defence.

  A heavy huff right next to his ear caused him to jump.

  Shocked out of his reverie, he found Father Michael standing next to him. How had he moved so quietly? The man was staring out to sea, just like he had been. His arms were folded, lost within his sleeves.

  ‘Father, I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘It’s Michael.’

  Owen waited for more. None came.

  ‘You look … concerned,’ he ventured.

  Another moment’s pause. ‘Not unlike you, then,’ Michael finally responded.

  Owen wanted to ask a question. He wasn’t sure, hadn’t been sure. But something about the way Michael was behaving, the things he had done, the people he consorted with: Fenner and Ellen. The Nidhal even. That suggested this man was more than just a devotee or fan
atic.

  ‘Michael. You look as happy about what the Emperor is suggesting as I am.’

  Michael continued to look out to sea, but the edge of his mouth quirked upwards slightly. ‘You could say that.’

  Owen decided to plough on. ‘This isn’t the time to lose our focus and turn our backs on what needs to be done.’

  Michael’s mouth now dipped downwards in a deep frown. ‘I have heard similar things before. From others who had their ideas on how things should be. And it always ends up with someone’s death.’

  ‘We are at war.’

  ‘Not right now.’

  Owen wasn’t sure what that meant. But perhaps getting to the point might help?

  ‘And what did the Emperor ask you to do? What task has made you so glum?’

  Michael finally looked at him. His face was hard, and Owen felt intimidated, Michael’s looming presence was threatening. Tension was pouring off the man. Owen resisted the urge to step back.

  ‘He asked me to be what I am.’

  ‘A priest?’

  Michael cocked his head. A ghost of a smile. There was little warmth in it. ‘I’m no priest. I never was. I just fooled myself for a while.’

  Now Owen was confused. ‘What are you then?’

  ‘A killer.’ And Michael started to study Owen, like he was weighing him up.

  Owen felt a cold chill down his spine and was close to giving in to that urge to step back. And keep going.

  ‘Who has he asked you to kill?’

  Michael opened his mouth. Closed it again. Shook his head. ‘Anyone who isn’t loyal. Anyone who disagrees, who might convince others. Anyone who isn’t pure of mind or of body. A purge of those in power.’

  Owen could think of a few who fitted that description perfectly. Cade and her cronies. Devlin too. And now he worried for his friends. For Killen. Had he done enough to sway the Emperor?

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’ he asked.

  Michael shrugged. ‘Feel?’ He turned back to the water. ‘I’ll tell you what I know. I’m done being an instrument. I’m done satisfying the desires of others. I’m done taking orders. He can get his damned Nidhal to do it.’

  Michael spun on his heels and stalked away.

  Owen took a breath, puffed his cheeks out and blew out in relief. That had been uncomfortable. Then it hit him. The way Michael had looked at him and what he had said. Who else did the Emperor consider impure? The Gifted. Who else had influence? The General, perhaps?

  Owen shuddered. Had he just dodged an arrow? And if it wasn’t Michael, would someone else come for him? Owen turned and hurried back to the barracks. He needed to see Arno. He needed to see his Riders.

  CHAPTER 83 – MICHAEL

  Michael found himself outside one of the hostelries that dotted the island. He didn’t know why he had made a beeline for it but somehow his legs had taken him here. He had been lost in his own thoughts. The door was open and, as he loitered on the threshold, his eyes grew used to the darkened interior within. There was a bar against the far wall, a set of steps leading to a landing to the side of it. A man was working his way toward Michael wielding a broom. He waited as the man reached the door, brushing out a cloud of dust and sundry bits on to the cobbles. The man stopped, wiped a brow and noticed Michael.

  ‘You coming in?’ asked the man. He wore a dark leather apron over his tunic, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a set of thickly muscled tattooed forearms.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘We’re open.’

  ‘Oh.’ Why not?

  He made for the door and the man stepped to one side. As Michael went in, a woman cut in front of him, carrying a tray of mugs. ‘Open? We’re never bloody shut!’

  ‘People like beer. They like being with other people who like beer,’ the man replied, shaking his broom and following Michael in.

  He stopped, looked Michael up and down. ‘You drink beer? Uh, Father?’

  Michael was starting to hate being called that. ‘I drink beer.’

  ‘Good. You’re in the right place.’

  The man walked on and headed behind the bar, where a couple tapped barrels rested against the back wall. ‘Saying that, we got more wine than beer. But considering where we are …’

  ‘I’ll take a beer.’

  ‘Good man.’

  Michael was just as uncomfortable being called that. He waited as the man busied himself with holding a mug under a tap. The place was empty; a selection of tables and chairs scattered around.

  ‘Quiet here.’

  The man plonked the mug in front of Michael. A little beer sloshed over the side. ‘All the celebrating happened last night. There’ll be folk along later.’

  Michael took the mug, tasted the beer. He’d had worse. The innkeeper was loitering with an expectant look. Ah. Michael had a notion why.

  ‘Sorry, you want payment?’

  ‘Huh?’ The man looked confused for a moment. ‘Oh, yeah. You’re new here. We haven’t quite got round to that yet. Money, I mean. Word has it, the Council is thinking of minting some. Right now we just work on favours and goodwill.’

  ‘Really?’ Michael wasn’t sure what favour he could bestow. He opened his mouth to offer something, maybe some labouring but the man raised a hand.

  ‘Don’t sweat it. We know about you, we know who you are.’

  ‘The marines were in last night. They were telling anyone who’d listen what you did,’ said the woman returning to the bar with her empty tray. ‘You rolled up your sleeves and got involved. Like Cade did. Puts her money where her mouth is, that lass. If she had money.’

  Cade. He sighed. Took another drink. A mouthful this time.

  ‘What do you think of her?’ he asked.

  ‘Who, Cade?’ asked the man. He scratched his head. ‘She’s a scoundrel.’

  ‘Shifty as hell,’ agreed the woman.

  ‘But she’s one of us,’ the innkeeper continued. ‘You know where you stand with her. Do the job and she looks after you. She bloody saved us all. Three times now by my count.’

  ‘Four by mine.’ The women ticked off the list. ‘She got us out of the mountain, across the river, talked the dwarves away at the gates. And she beat the arses of the elves just two days ago.’

  ‘I thought it was the Emperor who did that,’ Michael replied, making sure he smiled when he said it. The two shared a look. Deciding what they should say next. That told him a lot. ‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘I don’t disagree. She’s quite something.’

  The man nodded, looking relieved. ‘As I said. She’s done right by us. Got things back to almost how they used to be. Life is almost normal.’

  ‘In more ways than one,’ said the woman, patting her tummy.

  Ah. Right.

  ‘We’ve got a chance at something now. A chance at starting again. This time with no bullshit. No fear of the lash, of being slaves. We get to work for ourselves, make a go of things. That’s worth fighting for, eh?’

  ‘Yes. Worth fighting for.’ Michael drank a little more. Cade, the damned woman had earned more love and respect than he could credit her for. And the Emperor wants me to kill her. Because she was the biggest threat he now faced. A woman who the people loved. Because she didn’t demand it.

  CHAPTER 84 – CADE

  ‘That went well,’ Cade announced.

  ‘I’d hate to see what bad looks like to you,’ muttered Sent. He was sat in the back of the wagon with Issar, who they’d collected from the council chambers.

  ‘I don’t know how you do it, Cade, I really don’t,’ bemoaned Devlin. He was riding alongside Anyon who sat in the driver’s seat.

  ‘And yet she does it all the time,’ added Issar.

  Cade leaned forward from the other position on the bench and spread her arms wide.

  ‘What?’ She knew what. She just felt like being bloody-minded.

  When no one had anything else to add, she turned and looked at the chaps in the back. They all had faces like they were off to the gallows.
>
  ‘Look. Someone had to say something.’ She believed it too. The way the Emperor was talking. That wasn’t good. In fact, it sounded like a pile of shit.

  ‘I don’t dispute that,’ Sent responded. ‘But when the Emperor wants something to happen, it doesn’t usually come as a request.’

  ‘And he wanted us to become slaves,’ she replied.

  ‘Indentured workers,’ said Sent.

  ‘And the difference is?’ Issar asked.

  ‘Isn’t that what we’ve always been?’ Sent leaned forwards. ‘But at least we can negotiate, set up some kind of workable solution so that we all don’t go down.’

  Cade realised that. And she could understand in the new order of the things she and a few like her could stay above the rat-race. Be the controllers. The Accounters. The faces of the mine owner Vidar and his Accounter Geir appeared in front of her. No. No way she was letting things go down that path again. She surprised herself by that thought. She could have played it safe, been diplomatic like Carlha and Sent. But she’d had enough of others bullying her. She’d had enough of bullies. Period. And anyone who toadied up to them. Hmm. Carlha. She’d seen her head off without hanging around to talk to the Emperor. What was she thinking now? Was she making a power play? Not for the first time Cade wondered if she had made a mistake. If the balance of power was shifting, would Carlha fall in with him? Would Krste do it if asked? His loyalties were divided now.

  ‘But as it is,’ Sent was still moaning, ‘you had to go and antagonise the Emperor. It’s not healthy, Cade.’

  ‘And because of me, we have more time and we get to choose who goes. That’s something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s something,’ agreed Devlin.

  ‘Good. Somebody agrees with me!’

  ‘But it still doesn’t change the fact that the Emperor now has a hard-on for you, Cade.’

  She scoffed. ‘He’ll get over it.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Issar said quietly.

  Cade chewed her lip. Honestly. What could the Emperor actually do? She gazed out over the water. They were crossing over to her island. Her island. She liked the current setup. They’d just fought for their lives to keep it that way. She thought of Evan. Yeah. Lost a lot of good people. And for some reason they keep taking the knocks meant for me.