The Queen's Executioner

by Christopher Mitchell

  She leaned by the wall next to the door, her sword held level by her head.

  The door opened, and the Rahain guards walked through.

  Before they could take in the scene in front of them, Daphne’s blade flashed out, slicing each through their throats.

  Lacey’s crossbow went thrum a moment later, catching one of the guards in the chest as he fell. He flew backwards, crashing into the back wall. Lacey shrugged, as the others glared at her. They heard raised voices, coming from the room next door.

  ‘Fuck,’ Bridget groaned. ‘The rest are coming.’

  Daphne dashed out into the corridor, and disappeared to the left.

  ‘Where’s she going?’ Lacey said.

  There was a cry from the corridor, and more shouting, and Killop ran to the door. He burst through, to see Daphne carving her way through half a dozen Rahain soldiers, her blade whipping out, as she spun, ducked and rolled.

  Killop stood, awestruck. He felt the others join him at the door, also watching the slaughter. What Daphne was doing was impossible. Her speed was mesmerising, her movements fluid. She was using her left arm to shield, block, and also as a weapon, while the sword in her right hand slashed through the leather armour of the guards like it was paper.

  ‘Look at her go!’ Bridget whispered.

  They watched enthralled as Daphne rammed the end of her blade into the eye socket of the last living soldier. She leapt up, and used his falling body to pull the blade out as she landed.

  ‘Fucking bravo, Daphne!’ Bridget shouted and clapped, a grin splitting her face. Kallie and Lacey looked on, saying nothing.

  Daphne sheathed her sword, blood streaked across her.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘There will be guards down from the floors above in an hour or so. We’d best be out of here by then.’

  They followed her as she led them through more corridors, where they dodged a pair of half-sleeping guards at a junction. They took the paths that led downwards, and continued deeper into the bowels of the tower. It grew dark, and Daphne stopped. She began rooting about in a pile of debris by the rough entrance to another tunnel.

  She pulled a satchel from the heap of rubbish, out of which she took a torch and a flint set.

  The others waited in the shadows as she tried to light the torch.

  ‘Damn it,’ Daphne muttered. ‘It’s got damp down here.’

  Killop stepped forward.

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Kallie said. ‘She’s not one of us.’

  ‘She trusts us,’ he replied. ‘I trust her.’

  He knelt by Daphne, and took the torch in his left hand. He looked at his right, his palm and fingers dirty and scarred. It had been a long time, he thought. Not since the Rahain had arrived at Fire Mountain, and he had allowed Keira to use his powers to destroy a flying beast. He smiled at the memory, and focused, letting energy gather in the space between his hands.

  Blue lightening sparks flew out of his fingertips, leaping the gaps between the digits on each hand. He threw the sparks at the end of the torch, and it burst into flames. He eased his power off, and sat, grimacing. He handed the lit torch to Daphne, and took a moment to steady himself.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Lacey said. ‘Our secrets are not for other folk to know.’

  Killop looked up. Daphne crouched next to him, her face open with surprise, as she stared at the burning torch in her hands.

  ‘Lead us out of here,’ Killop said.

  Daphne nodded, and stood. ‘Follow me,’ she said, and started down the tunnel.

  The clansfolk followed Daphne down the dark, rough tunnel. The way was hard going, with the roof low and sharp, and Killop had to stoop to avoid scraping his head. He was soon disorientated, as they made their way through the warren under the High Senate complex.

  After what seemed an hour, Daphne raised her hand, and they halted. She leant the half-burnt torch against a rock, and reached into the satchel. She took out a flask of water, and passed it to Bridget.

  ‘Drink,’ she said. ‘We’re nearly there.’

  As the others rested, Daphne approached Killop. He looked at her in the dim light. She appeared calm and composed on the surface, but her eyes were troubled.

  ‘They don’t like me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  Daphne smiled. ‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘Them not liking me. But it’ll complicate things, when we get to the surface.’

  ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Lacey asked.

  Kallie and Bridget also turned to look.

  ‘We were talking about what to do,’ Daphne said. ‘About the plan. About how you not liking me might make things difficult.’

  ‘Ha!’ Lacey smirked. ‘Who doesn’t like you?’

  ‘Well,’ Daphne replied, ‘you, for a start. And Kallie. I don’t think Bridget minds one way or the other.’

  Lacey’s face went red.

  ‘You’re right,’ Kallie said. ‘I don’t like you. I know why you’re here. I know what you want.’

  Bridget sighed. ‘Can we not leave this until we’re out of here? And you’re wrong Daphne, I do like you, despite you having a crazy crush on my best friend’s partner. I had hoped you’d got the message last time we spoke, but at the same time, if you weren’t still after him, we’d all be back in our cells.’

  ‘Thanks, Bridget,’ Daphne said. ‘I think.’

  ‘The prophecy was wrong,’ Kallie said. ‘It said I would be reborn when the fire goddess returned. Well, Keira is here, somewhere in the city, and nothing’s changed. If that prophecy’s wrong, then so is the one about you and Killop.’

  Daphne said nothing.

  ‘Tell her, Killop!’ Kallie cried. ‘Tell her she’s delusional!’

  ‘I’m with Bridget on this,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here first, talk it through later.’

  Kallie stared at him, shaking her head.

  ‘You can talk about it all you like when you get to the surface,’ Daphne said, ‘but I won’t be there.’

  Killop turned to her, but she kept her gaze averted.

  ‘By now,’ she went on, ‘your escape will have been noticed, and guards will soon be swarming through these caverns, hunting you. The path up to the surface is there, to the right. That low tunnel. You can take the torch, I have another. I’ll stay here to cover your tracks, and will lead your pursuers in the opposite direction. I know a dozen other ways out of these tunnels.’

  Her voice had been steady throughout, though Killop could feel the pain in her words.

  ‘Alright,’ Lacey said. ‘How far is it to the wagon?’

  ‘About another ten minutes from here,’ Daphne replied. ‘Stick to the path. It rises steeply, so be careful. When you get to the wagon, go straight into the back, then knock on the front rail three times. I’ve already paid the driver, he’ll be waiting for the signal. The wagon will take you all the way to the open air, by the Gate of Pillars. From there, you can flee into the countryside.’

  Bridget hugged her. ‘Thank you, Daphne.’

  ‘Take care, Bridget,’ Daphne whispered, her voice hoarse.

  Kallie picked up the lit torch, and nodded at Daphne.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Lacey said.

  ‘One moment,’ Daphne said. She took her spare torch from the satchel, and lit it off the brand in Kallie’s hand.

  Kallie, Lacey and Bridget moved to the tunnel’s low entrance.

  ‘Killop?’ asked Kallie.

  His feet felt frozen to the ground. He looked from Kallie to Daphne.

  Daphne leaned in close to him.

  ‘Go,’ she whispered. ‘Our love survived us being apart before, it will again. Go.’

  He stared at her, feeling like he was dreaming, his heart aching.

  ‘I’ll find my sister, then I’ll come for you,’ he said.

  ‘Killop!’ Bridget called.

  He nodded to Daphne, then turned and joined the others, leaving the Holdings woman standing alone in the
dark tunnel, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek.

  Chapter 25

  Radical

  Rahain Capital, Rahain Republic – 5th Day, Second Third Spring 505

  ‘Careful with that box,’ Laodoc called out. ‘It has many old and fragile books in it.’

  ‘Apologies, Councillor,’ the porter muttered, struggling under the weight.

  Beoloth approached.

  ‘Is this the last of it?’ Laodoc asked him, as he watched his possessions being loaded up onto the wagons parked outside the front of his mansion.

  ‘Almost, my lord.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Once they’ve finished, tell the workers they can stop for lunch before setting off for Slateford.’

  ‘I will, my lord,’ Beoloth said, remaining where he was.

  ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ Beoloth said. ‘Some visitors have arrived from the High Senate. They want to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Really?’ Laodoc said. ‘I wonder what that could be about. Where are they?’

  ‘I showed them to the green room, my lord.’

  ‘I shall go and speak to them,’ Laodoc nodded. ‘You can finish up here.’

  Laodoc walked back to the mansion. He suppressed a nervous grin, and felt that he could even burst out laughing if he wasn’t careful. Daphne Holdfast had been true to her word, and had freed the Kellach captives. She had then informed Laodoc in a highly unorthodox manner, by entering his mind to communicate with him. He chuckled. A most interesting young lady.

  He composed his features as he walked to the green room, making sure his face was appropriately sombre. He entered, to see three officials standing by the bay window. One was in a uniform he recognised from the time of his own arrest, that of a state investigator, and the other two fellows were his guards.

  ‘Good morning,’ Laodoc said, ‘and please forgive the lack of refreshments. As you can see, I’m preparing to make a move up to my hillside estate.’

  ‘An interesting time to be leaving the city, Councillor,’ the investigator said.

  ‘The second third of spring?’ Laodoc replied. ‘Why is that interesting?’

  The investigator studied him.

  ‘So, what can I do for you?’ Laodoc said.

  ‘A few nights ago,’ the investigator began, ‘four Kellach Brigdomin prisoners escaped from the cells under the Tyrant’s Tower.’

  ‘Impossible!’ Laodoc cried. ‘Isn’t that the most heavily guarded part of the High Senate?’

  ‘It is, yes.’

  ‘Oh dear, how embarrassing for you,’ Laodoc said. ‘Have you come to warn me that my life may be in danger from these fugitives? I thank you for your concern, but why would they bother with me?’

  ‘Three of the slaves used to live here,’ the investigator said, ‘as part of your so-called academy.’

  ‘So-called?’ Laodoc said. ‘Sir, I am grievously offended. My political career may be in tatters, but I am still proud of my academic achievements. Did you ever read the research I produced on the fascinating subject of the gestational cycle of the copper-horned gaien? It really has much to recommend it…’

  ‘Councillor,’ the investigator frowned, ‘please account for your whereabouts at the time of the escape.’

  ‘That, I’m afraid, I cannot do.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Because you haven’t told me when it was,’ Laodoc replied. ‘A “few nights ago” is a little vague. You weren’t trying to trick me now, were you?’

  ‘Councillor,’ the man frowned, ‘where were you on the night of the second day of the second third of spring?’

  ‘Ahh, three nights ago,’ Laodoc smiled. ‘Now, let me see…’ He put his hand to his chin. ‘Yes, I remember, three nights ago I stayed over at the residence of a Professor Helliur. She and I are old friends, and we had dinner and a few drinks. A lovely woman. When you question her, be sure to mention I said that.’

  ‘Thank you, Councillor,’ the man said. He gestured to the two guards. ‘We will leave you now. The slaves had help to escape, and we believe that whoever provided that assistance must have had inside knowledge of the layout of the tower. If you hear anything, please let us know.’

  Laodoc watched in silence as they walked to the door. As soon as they were gone he sighed.

  Fools, he thought, they knew nothing. It felt odd not to care about getting caught, and he would have liked to have seen their faces if he had told them he had known what had happened. He couldn’t though. Daphne had kept her side of the bargain, and he would never betray her.

  His mood slumped as he walked back through the deserted house, its remaining furniture all covered in dust sheets, and the shutters up on most of the windows. Memories of Simiona were in every room. Here was where she had assisted him each morning in the running of the household, there, where the skirting was loose, was where she had once tripped and skinned her knee. He stopped when he got to the front door. His legs felt heavy, and his spirits were low. Outside, the workers were sitting in the shade, eating their ryebread lunch. Behind them, the line of wagons stood loaded, and ready to go.

  ‘Well done, Beoloth,’ he said, forcing cheerfulness into his voice.

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘Good luck on the road,’ Laodoc said. ‘I will follow you up to Slateford in a few days. Take good care of the wagons, and make sure the porters and guards are well paid on arrival.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘I’d best be off,’ he sighed. ‘I have a few things to say at the City Council.’

  Laodoc was not looking forward to retiring. He knew he had determined to do so, but dreaded the speech he would have to make, with all the insincere apologies, cringing and hand-wringing it would involve. Most of all, he hated the idea that the other councillors would then offer their own speeches, just as dishonest as his own, in which they would applaud his integrity, while pretending to respect him, and reduce their animosity to the level of a great game. After that, he would probably have to spend time with them in the bar, acting as if they were all good friends, when he hated almost every one of them.

  But then it would be over, and he could retreat back to his house, and get ready to move into retirement at Slateford.

  He was greeted on the front steps of the council by a Conservative politician with a smug smile, and he guessed that Ruellap must have told everyone about his impending announcement.

  Inside the entrance doors, he saw Pleonim and Wyenna. He sighed, knowing it would be bad manners to avoid his Liberal colleagues.

  They nodded at him as he approached.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he said.

  ‘My dear Laodoc,’ Pleonim said. ‘Good to have you back, old chap. Our side has missed you over the last third. And your vote.’

  ‘Would it have made any difference to a single debate?’ Laodoc asked.

  ‘No,’ Pleonim said. ‘The war coalition are tighter than ever. No one’s breaking ranks. They’re going to push for a general city-wide mobilisation this evening.’

  Laodoc gasped. ‘More troops?’

  ‘The High Senate believe that the hundred and twenty thousand already requisitioned isn’t enough for a complete circumvallation of the Rakanese camp,’ Pleonim said. ‘They think another thirty to forty thousand should do it. They have also decreed that the City Council shall be responsible for fulfilling the requisition.’

  ‘And where is the council supposed to get all those new soldiers?’

  ‘Farms, factories, wherever they can find them,’ Wyenna said. ‘And the High Senate also want to summon every mage under fifty that hasn’t already been called up.’

  ‘Well, at least I’m too old for that,’ Laodoc said. ‘But really, every mage? If I recall the numbers correctly, the army only required a score of mages for the entire campaign in Kellach Brigdomin.’

  ‘Yes,’ Pleonim said, ‘but the Kellach peninsula is actually just a long mountain rang
e, where one mage could create an earthquake on his own, while the Rakanese have settled on a flood-plain. It’s just clay and soil, no bedrock close to the surface. It’s going to require a considerable effort to generate an earthquake if they decide they need to.’

  ‘If they decide they need to?’

  ‘They would have already done it if they could,’ Wyenna said. ‘The day after the guards were killed by the Rakanese mage, the High Senate almost voted to obliterate the entire camp, and would have, had the migrants built on rock instead. They came that close to destruction.’

  Laodoc stared at them. ‘Our leaders are insane.’

  Pleonim laughed as if he had been joking. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’ll be out of it soon enough. Off to enjoy a comfortable retirement in the countryside.’

  ‘I still can’t believe you’re going,’ Wyenna sighed, ‘just when we needed you the most.’

  ‘Thank you, Wyenna,’ he smiled, ‘though you’re probably the only one who thinks so.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ she muttered, frowning.

  They strolled together towards the debating chamber, while other councillors nodded to Laodoc as they passed.

  ‘This feels a little disconcerting,’ he said. ‘None of the usual scowls. I almost miss them.’

  They took their seats by the other Liberals, many of whom stood to let Laodoc pass. A few looked at him with a sense of disappointment, others with mild contempt.

  The lord speaker banged his fist for silence.

  ‘This session is now commenced,’ he called out. ‘Who is looking to speak?’

  A dozen councillors stood, but as was tradition, Ziane, the longest-serving in the chamber, was given the nod.

  ‘My fellow councillors,’ he cried, ‘the crisis our beloved Republic currently faces is one that requires a singular dedication, a steadfast and unyielding will, and, yes, sacrifice. We know from yesterday’s reports that our mighty army, whose soldiers valiantly protect us from the murderous Rakanese hordes, are moving into position around the gigantic slum the migrants have thrown up. We also know, that to encircle the Rakanese completely, a further requisition of troops will be required. The High Senate have handed us here in this chamber the honour of ensuring that this requisition is fulfilled.