The Severed City

by Christopher Mitchell

He brought over her coffee.

  She leaned back and took the cup, and lit a cigarette.

  Agang walked away, avoiding the clouds of tobacco smoke. He pulled a rope, and the long curtain which divided the room opened, allowing daylight to flood the end where the bed lay.

  Chane puffed out her cheeks and sighed.

  She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Sorry for being a grumpy bitch.’

  ‘You keep me grounded Chane. With all the bowing and saluting I get every day, I need you around. Someone I can be myself with.’

  She looked like she wanted to say something, but kept silent. She picked up a brush, and pulled it through her long dark hair.

  He needed her for more than that, he knew. Her instruction in Holdings training methods and military organisation had revolutionised his army, making it the best in Sanang. Her relentless drive and optimism about his cause had prevented him from veering off course on many occasions, and she had shown him complete loyalty. When Daphne Holdfast had run away from Beechwoods over a year and a half before, she had left Chane behind, gifting Agang the ultimate proof of her fidelity.

  And, for over a year, she had shared his bed.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Enter,’ Agang called.

  Chane got to her feet, transformed from the sleepy and dishevelled woman he had awoken into an apparition of regal beauty, her robes shimmering, her slender figure tall and graceful, and her expression serene.

  And that, he thought. He needed her for that. Her beauty often gave pause to visitors, once they had got over the surprise that a woman was even present, and an unveiled one at that. Not that Agang ever allowed her to leave his quarters, unless on an escorted trip to see some of the other Holdings slaves in the citadel, when she would be fully covered head to toe. Only here in his rooms would he let her be seen, and the rumour of the stunning foreign slave serving his desires helped enhance his reputation among the common folk in the town.

  The door opened and Hodang Tipoe entered, a pale middle-aged man.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, bowing as a guard closed the door behind him. His eyes flickered over to Chane, and she gave him a knowing smile.

  ‘I know what you’re both thinking,’ Agang said, as he walked to a large table at the end of the room. ‘You’re asking yourself what, after we stayed up half the night studying the plan, we could possibly learn by going through it one more time.’

  ‘I do have rather a lot on today, my lord,’ Hodang said, ‘what with two dozen allied chiefs arriving this afternoon.’

  ‘I won’t keep you long,’ Agang said. He unfolded a large map, and his thoughts went back to Chane. Another thing he needed her for. She was a gifted map-maker, and had drafted many copies of maps of the Holdings, Sanang, and the Plateau for him. She had also trained some of his best scouts in the art, and together they had created what he believed to be the only collection of accurate maps that existed in the entire country.

  The two people he trusted most gathered at his shoulder as he set the map down, smoothing its edges on the table-top.

  ‘Let’s start with the setting-off points for the regiments, and the provisioning along their routes.’

  He heard a soft sigh behind him, and a smile touched his lips.

  Muffled and distant, the drums and cheering began.

  Hodang glanced up at Agang and nodded.

  In the great feasting room of his hall, decorated with garlands of fresh flowers on every table, Agang sat on the raised throne, trying not to fidget. This was the part he hated. Not the meetings, not the confrontations, but the waiting.

  ‘Drummed in by the third regiment, my lord,’ Hodang said from below his shoulder, pitching his voice so that only Agang could hear. ‘All the folk of Broadwater are lining the streets, all the way up River Road, thronging the kerbside, cheering and celebrating the arrival of the war-chiefs, who have come to make council on Summer’s Day with the great and mighty Agang Garo, Lord of the Beechwoods and Master of Broadwater, commander of eight thousands swords.’

  Agang grinned at his friend’s words. Dispensing flattery was a traditional role of the chief minister, and Hodang did it well, skirting the edge of irony. He caught the eye of his nephew Echtang Gabo, who was standing next to his older brother a few steps below the level of Agang’s throne. He flattened his smile into something more appropriate and nodded at the boy. He noticed a door open to his right, and Mandalecht Naro, the one-eyed commander of the two regiments of soldiers garrisoned in the town, strode into the hall. He bowed low in front of Agang, then took up position alongside the others of his inner council on the steps below the throne.

  ‘By now,’ Hodang continued, whispering up to Agang, ‘the chariots of the allied chiefs will be reaching Castle Road, where they will dismount and be escorted by the fourth regiment up to the citadel, where the great lord awaits his guests. The war-chiefs, who are more used to hamlets and hovels, will no doubt be gawking in stupefied awe at the mighty works of the great Agang, to have built such a city, the likes of which have not been seen in Sanang since the days of the accursed Seulitch.’

  Agang felt a surge of pride. The words might be ingratiating, but they were still true.

  ‘Home to five thousand souls,’ Hodang went on, his voice a mesmerising whisper, ‘a population exceeding ten times that of its nearest rival. And a place of law, order, and civilisation, eked out of the forest by Agang the Enlightened One, the Protector, who guards the common folk. The wonders brought into being by the Master of Broadwater are thought incredible by those who have not witnessed them, a school for the sons of the common workers, an infirmary for the sick, temples for the pious, a courthouse and jail to shield the people from wickedness, and to administer justice to the lawless robbers that haunt the forest. A training ground for the renowned army of Agang, a forge to make steel weapons, a market where all-comers may safely and fairly trade their goods, and the high citadel, where the Lord and Master sits.’

  Agang could no longer tell the difference between flattery and the truth.

  ‘The allied chiefs ascend Castle Road on foot, past the exposed bodies of crucified bandits, two hundred captured from a recent raid into the forest, for such is the grim determination of the Lord Agang to rid Sanang of outlaws, that he will not rest until all the lands within his wide reach are free to walk without menace.’

  Agang knew that wasn’t entirely true. The town jail had been emptied to bring the number of executions up to two hundred. Still, the effect of the scene was impressive. A hundred crucifixions on either side of the road, all the way up the slope to the gates of the citadel. He hoped a few were still alive, groaning out their death agonies.

  ‘At last the chiefs set eyes upon the great hall, a tower, a bastion, the largest and most wondrous building in all Sanang. Within awaits the Summer’s Day celebration in the great feasting room, for all the war-chiefs and the nobles of Broadwater, and the Lord and Master himself in person. After the feast lies the hard business of politics for the chiefs and their lord, but until then, let the old grudges be forgotten. The men of Sanang shall drink, and feast, and smoke together.’

  The great doors of the hall swung open, and a gust of noise from outside billowed in, shouts of welcome mixed with the cries of the crucified. A crowd was in the doorway, and Agang could see it stretching all the way through the citadel, and down Castle Road. At its head were the allied chiefs, two dozen of the most powerful lords and leaders of Sanang.

  Hodang Tipoe faced the crowd, and spread out his arms.

  ‘The great Agang Garo, Master of Broadwater and High Chief of Sanang, welcomes you to his hall, and bids you to feast.’

  ‘We all know,’ B’Dang D’Bang said, waving his stick of dreamweed at the other chiefs gathered in the council chamber, ‘that Lord Agang has only ever won a single battle, despite the hero-worship heaped on him by the peasants. Indeed, so pleased was he with his victory, that he built his little town upon the battlefield.’

  There wer
e a few laughs at the little town remark. Agang remained passive, sitting at the high table with his closest advisors, while the war-chiefs filled the benches before him. Most had brought in their drinks and narcotics from the feasting room once the banquet had ended, and many were already intoxicated.

  ‘If I were in charge,’ B’Dang went on, ‘I’d gather all of our forces, and lead the greatest assault ever seen, upon the Wall of the Holdings.’

  Drechtan Goe, warlord from the west, snorted. ‘And get slaughtered like last time? I thank the gods daily that you are not in charge.’

  There was more laughter. B’Dang scowled, wrinkling the tattoos on his face.

  ‘Why don’t we just listen to what Lord Agang has to say?’ Drechtan went on. ‘At New Year he vowed he would deliver his plan for vengeance upon the Holdings. Let him reveal it now, on Summer’s Day as he promised.’

  The chamber hushed.

  Agang nodded to Hodang sitting on his right, and the man passed him a folder filled with documents.

  ‘This is my plan,’ Agang said. ‘A plan for the entire country, one that I urge us all to follow.’

  He paused, scanning the faces of the chiefs, knowing that none of them were literate.

  ‘My chief minister shall now read out the salient points.’

  Hodang nodded, and drew a single sheet of paper.

  ‘Dated Summer’s Day, year five-oh-five,’ he began. ‘This is the plan of the Lord Agang Garo for the restoration and reconstruction of the nation of Sanang.’

  Agang could see the looks of confusion pass over the faces of the chiefs.

  ‘The plan proposes the following: the introduction of education across allied Sanang territories, the construction of highways and bridges to link all regions of the nation, the foundation of a national army and a unified system of laws…’

  ‘What about the Holdings?’ called out Toa Banga, a cousin of B’Dang. ‘Skip all this bullshit, and get to the part about us kicking their arses.’

  Hodang looked over to Agang.

  ‘The plan,’ the high chief said, ‘contains no provisions for any military action against the Realm of the Holdings this year.’

  Several angry voices cried out.

  ‘Why is anyone surprised at this?’ B’Dang said. ‘We all saw Agang’s cowardice at the wall, when he refused to renew the assaults. He doesn’t want to attack the Holdings, because he wants to be like them.’

  Agang felt Mandalecht Naro on his left bristle at the insult, and raised his hand to calm him.

  ‘The Realm of the Holdings is wealthy, stable and powerful,’ Agang said. ‘It’s no secret that I wish Sanang to be these things also. Do you not wish that for our country?’

  ‘I want revenge, you book-loving fool!’ B’Dang shouted.

  ‘It pains me to say it, but he’s right, Agang,’ said Anganecht Bristang, the chief from the region between the Mya and Twinth rivers. ‘Four years of invasions, and each one ripped through my land, turning it into a desert. My people scream for revenge.’

  ‘The Holdings will never invade us again,’ Agang said, ‘now they know we can defeat them, and now their war-mongering queen is dead. Their new king has forsworn the idea of any further invasions. We must use this time to rebuild our country. Think of what we’ve achieved so far. When the Holdings first invaded, they smashed us to pieces. In the second invasion, they crushed us again, right here at the Fords of the Twinth. In the third year we pushed them back, and in the fourth we defeated them. We obliterated their field army at these fords, and sent them running all the way back to their wall.’

  ‘Yawn, yawn,’ B’Dang said. ‘Yes, we’ve all heard of your glorious victory, you tell us about it often enough, but you cannot be our high chief on memories alone. If you don’t give us vengeance, then another leader will. I nominate Anganecht Bristang. After all, as he said, it was his lands that were raped more than anyone else’s. He should lead us, if you, Lord Agang, cannot.’

  The old chief snorted. ‘No chance, you shit-stirring little thug.’

  ‘The Holdings will never invade us again,’ Agang repeated, ‘but that doesn’t mean it would be wise for us to assault their wall. They have learned from their defeat, and their defences are lined with crossbows and catapults. If we repeat our mistakes, and charge as we did last summer, they will destroy us. It was only because I refused to sacrifice my army in the pointless assaults on the wall that we were able to resist their counter-attack in the autumn, otherwise our victory on the Twinth would have been for nothing.’

  The chiefs looked unconvinced, and many sat shaking their heads.

  ‘We will leave you for a few moments,’ Agang said, standing. ‘Allow you to consider my plan. Think on it carefully before you cast your vote. Give me a year to rebuild our country, let Sanang know peace for a time, I urge you.’

  His advisors also stood, and Agang led the way out of the council chamber, to a small suite of private rooms.

  A servant brought him a glass of honey wine.

  ‘Please, my lord,’ said Mandalecht, as he drew on a smokestick, ‘let me kill that little fuck B’Dang. Why you let him insult you…’

  ‘B’Dang’s a joke,’ Agang said. ‘It does me nothing but good when he speaks, because everyone knows how ridiculous he sounds.’

  Mandalecht shook his head, the vein above his eye-patch bulging, a sure sign his best commander was doing his best to hide his rage.

  ‘Well, my lord?’ Hodang asked.

  Agang sipped his wine. ‘Do it.’

  Hodang nodded and reached into his robes for another folder. He passed the documents to Mandalecht.

  ‘You know what to do,’ Agang said.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ his commander said. He called to a pair of guards, saluted Agang, and strode from the room through a side door.

  ‘Well, that’s it then,’ Hodang said.

  ‘Did anyone believe for a moment that the chiefs were going to accept your plan?’ said Badolecht Nang, his high mage.

  ‘No,’ Agang replied, ‘but I had to try. I had to offer them the choice.’

  ‘Is that long enough, do you think?’ Hodang said.

  Agang nodded, and led the way back into the council chamber.

  ‘We have come to a decision,’ said Drechtan Goe, as Agang and his advisors sat. ‘The chiefs reject your plan, Lord Agang. Some of us here agree with the noble aims of rebuilding the country, but the thirst for revenge over the Holdings must be quenched first. They cannot be allowed to invade us for four years and walk away unpunished. Once vengeance is ours, then we can turn to your ideas for peace, and consider them anew.’

  ‘Very well,’ Agang nodded. ‘I’m disappointed, but my resolve remains.’

  ‘You must be replaced as high chief,’ B’Dang said. ‘You have gone back on your word. You promised us revenge.’

  ‘And you shall have it,’ Agang said, rising. ‘I declare to you, Sanang shall have revenge. I wished to offer you an alternative, to give you a glimpse of another Sanang, but you have rejected that path, and so now you must follow me down a different one. I have already dispatched orders to my entire army to move out, all eight of my sword regiments. I will lead them to punish the Holdings, as you desire. And the allied chiefs will follow me.’

  ‘If we go to war,’ Drechtan called out, ‘we’ll be there.’

  ‘But what about the wall?’ Toa Banga said. ‘Didn’t you tell us earlier that you believed we would be destroyed if we attacked their wall? How can we trust a leader who thinks we’ll be defeated?’

  Agang nodded to Hodang.

  ‘We’re not attacking the wall,’ he said, as his chief minister laid out an enormous map on the table. The chiefs approached.

  ‘Here is the wall,’ Agang pointed, ‘and here we are, at Broadwater.’

  The chiefs crowded around the table, peering down at the map. Agang wondered if this was the first time some of them had seen one.

  ‘This is the mountain range,’ he said, ‘the Black Hills that se
parate us from the rich farms and towns of the Plateau. And here,’ he pointed at a thin red line that snaked through the mountains, ‘is the pass my army will take.’

  ‘A pass?’ Drechtan said.

  ‘My scouts have been searching all spring,’ Agang said, ‘mapping every ridge and valley, and speaking to every goat-herder, looking for a passage through.’

  He paused, noticing the incredulous expressions on the faces of many.

  ‘And we found a way. It’s dangerous, and open only in high summer, but once we cross the mountains, we will be able to strike deep into the Holdings-owned regions of the Plateau, raiding their towns, and killing any who stand in our way.’

  He let them gape and gaze at the map for a few moments, as smiles started to spread among the chiefs.

  ‘Here is my new plan,’ he said. ‘To be on the Plateau in a third and a half, spend the same time collecting our due recompense from the Holdings for four years of invasion, and then come back via here,’ he pointed at the thick line of Holdings fortifications. ‘We will assault their frontier wall from behind, and raze it to the ground as we pass.’

  ‘That’s more like the Agang Garo that I remember,’ Anganecht Bristang laughed, ‘back when you were a savage young warlord, before you got all civilised.’

  ‘I’m a bit more organised these days,’ Agang said, frowning at being reminded about his past.

  ‘This changes everything,’ Drechtan said. ‘Shall we vote on it?’

  ‘You may vote if you wish,’ Agang said, ‘but as I mentioned before, orders to my regiments have already been sent out. I will be invading the Plateau regardless of any further vote you wish to take.’

  ‘So you think you’re our king, do you?’ sneered B’Dang.

  ‘I am high chief,’ Agang said, staring B’Dang in the eye. ‘And I command the armies of Sanang. Do any here refuse to follow me?’

  He looked around the table. No one spoke.

  ‘Good,’ Agang said. ‘Now, I suggest you send out messengers to your forces. We leave in the morning.’