The Severed City

by Christopher Mitchell

  He frowned.

  ‘Come on then, Lizardo,’ she said. ‘Let’s hear your fucking plan.’

  An hour before dawn, a mist lay over the face of the land, grey and still, hiding the tall stone tower until the wagon had almost reached it. At its base an iron gate blocked the road, and to either side a deep ditch and earthen rampart stretched from one end of the narrow valley to the other.

  ‘Halt!’

  The wagon shuddered to a stop as soldiers approached.

  A hundred yards away, Keira emerged from the ditch, and sprinted up the side of the steep earthworks, over the top, and down the other side, rolling to a stop at the bottom. She peered up. The soldiers were searching Leon’s wagon, but no one at the gates was looking in her direction.

  The wee bastard’s right so far, she thought. So long as he wasn’t grassing her up to the guards at the gate. If he was, then it might be time for some fire and violence. She waited, watching as Leon passed an officer the documents he had forged the night before. Amended would be a more accurate term. He had removed the section about his precise destination, and made it vaguer, or so he had told her. She had no way of knowing as she couldn’t read Kell, never mind Rahain.

  She didn’t trust him, but she was running out of choices.

  Behind her, to the east, an army was searching for her. It was only a matter of time before their hunt reached the valley. She could no longer flee that way, not unless she was prepared to take on the lot of them. North and south were blocked by the sheer mountain ridges. Heading west for the river, right under the noses of the soldiers guarding the tunnel fort, was the only direction left.

  She watched as soldiers waved to Leon, and the wagon started to move down the road. She smiled, and began running, taking a course parallel to the peasant. The mist got thicker, and soon she could barely see a thing more than a yard or two in front of her. She slowed, remembering the distances Leon had taught her. West for a hundred and eighty yards, then south for another hundred to the road, and he would meet her where the out-buildings of the camp began.

  She paused when she reached what she thought to be the right distance. Above her the sky was lightening, growing a paler shade of grey, while the dense mist that surrounded her made her feel as if she had been transplanted to another world.

  She sensed movement and peered into the murk.

  Her heart nearly jumped through her throat, and she bit her tongue to stifle a cry.

  Ahead of her, through the swirling grey mist stood three figures. Kellach Brigdomin. Their skin was dull and grey, their eyes lifeless, their clothes tattered rags.

  ‘The dead,’ she whispered.

  One of the figures, a bearded man with hollow cheeks raised his finger and pointed at her.

  Keira froze. Her instinct was to run, but she couldn’t move, her feet stuck to the earth.

  A chill wind blew past her cheek, and the mist cleared a little, and Keira saw that between her and the figures, there was a long, high, barbed wire fence separating them.

  The slaves, she realised. She had reached the edge of the vast labour camp. She tore her attention away from the captives, shook the dew from her hair, and ran south, towards the road, trying not to think of them. She had thought them dead. In the grey light and the mist they had looked dead. She had never seen Kellach with their spirit broken before, and it shook her.

  She saw the wagon ahead, parked by the side of the road. Leon was beckoning to her.

  ‘Shit, woman, what took you?’ he said, sweat staining his tunic. ‘Get on, quick.’

  She jumped up into the back of the wagon, and snuck down into the gap where she had hidden before. As she pulled her legs in, Leon placed the wooden slats down, covering her. In the darkness of the narrow compartment, Keira drew her knife.

  She heard the reins crack, and the wagon lurched off.

  Keira closed her eyes and withdrew to a quiet place in her head, thinking only of her breathing, and blocking out the images of the dead-but-alive Kellach.

  The wagon jolted to a halt. She jerked open her eyes, unsure how much time had passed. She peered out through a crack in the wooden beams, and saw the great stone walls of the fort rearing up to her right. Muffled voices came from the front of the wagon, and she heard Leon’s clipped responses. There was movement, and Leon stepped down from the wagon. Four soldiers approached, and he was led off into the fort.

  ‘Fuck,’ Keira breathed. That hadn’t been in the plan.

  She turned her head, trying to get a better view of the exterior. She could see the road ahead, where it branched into two long earthen ramps, just as Leon had described. One headed up to the tunnel entrance to the south, visible as a black dot against the mountainside. The other ramp led to the tunnel that was still being built, and disappeared round the corner of the fort. Beyond the ramps the ground levelled out into a series of fields, before ending in the face of the cliff, where the river ran. Their plan had been for Leon to tell the guards he was heading for the completed southern tunnel, and then steer the wagon off the road as soon as they were out of sight of the fort, and make for the river.

  She squinted the other way, and saw the road behind her, closed in on either side with the shacks and rough structures of the settlement that had sprung up between the fort and the labour camp. The sky was lighter to the east, and the sun would soon be up.

  She breathed, waiting. Where the fuck was he?

  Her fist clenched around the hilt of the knife. She breathed again, and tried to think happy thoughts.

  Kylon.

  She smiled, her mind drifting, as she pictured his lean, hard body, and the moody look he always wore that made him appear older than he was. She wondered if he had been in the Rakanese camp when she had destroyed it, but felt no anxiety for him. He was touched in some way, that lad, and she knew it would take more than earthquakes, floods and a flaming conflagration to put him down. Kalayne had told her that he had seen Kylon in visions that stretched far beyond that year or the next, and that she would see him again, though he had refused to say where or when.

  There was a noise to her left and she peered out. Soldiers. Three of them stood, eyeing the wagon and nodding.

  She breathed again, her nerves almost snapping.

  The scaly bastard had betrayed her.

  She would not be captured again, she swore it. If she was going to die, then she was going to fight. She caught a glimpse of a campfire in the settlement, and there were torches lighting part of the road ahead. She would bring fire and death to the soldiers. Her mind went to the Kellach slaves.

  A shaky scheme formed in her head. Burst from the wagon, bolt through the settlement, burn everything in sight, and break open the camp. Free the slaves. Then they could make a real fight of it. Fuck, they might even win.

  She reached up her hand. Before she could push herself free, there was a great thud, and the wooden boards above her shook, as the soldiers piled trunks and crates onto the back of the wagon, sealing her in.

  Keira kept her body still as she heard the soldiers board the wagon, sitting down on the crates.

  ‘Thanks for the lift,’ said one of them.

  ‘No problem,’ she heard Leon say. The peasant climbed up onto the front bench, lashed the reins, and the wagon moved off.

  ‘We’ve been waiting two days for someone to take us through the south tunnel,’ a soldier said.

  ‘Well,’ Leon said, ‘it’s your lucky morning, lads.’

  ‘I’m glad to be out of that shithole,’ said another.

  ‘Worst fucking assignment yet.’

  Dust from the wooden boards floated down to Keira’s face. Just above her, a soldier’s boot shook as if the man had a tic.

  ‘I never want to see another Kellach again in my life.’

  One laughed, but it sounded hollow. ‘Rate the tunnel is chewing them up, I doubt there will be many left by the time it’s finished.’

  She felt the wagon tilt as it began to climb the long slope of the southern
ramp. Up ahead, there was another guard-post about two hundred yards away, where the entrance to that section of the great tunnel began. Keira swore to herself. They were going the wrong way. Her eyes went to the cliffside where the river lay, then back up to the tunnel entrance. Her fist gripped her knife hilt. She had to get out before they reached the tunnel. The guards stationed there were bound to find her.

  When the wagon was about a third of the way up the ramp, she heard Leon whisper, ‘Get ready.’

  The peasant wailed aloud, and started to convulse as if having a seizure. The reins flailed, and the gaien began to speed up, veering off the road, and careering down the steep embankment towards the valley bottom, and the cliff.

  The gaien reached a fast unsteady gallop, and the wagon bumped and jolted.

  ‘What the fuck!’ a soldier cried.

  Keira held onto the sides of the tight compartment, bracing herself as they hurtled downhill.

  The gaien reached the valley floor, and the wagon levelled, before twisting on its axle, and toppling over onto its side, throwing passengers and crates onto the gravelly soil. The beasts dragged the wagon on for a few more yards, then shuddered to a halt.

  Keira kicked open the wooden slats, and jumped to the ground. A soldier lay before her, his neck broken. Another was crawling away to her right, his legs bloody and trailing. She looked back to the ramp. The sky was brightening, and dawn was almost upon them. Up by the tunnel gate she could see soldiers pointing down at the wreckage of the wagon. Some were hurrying down the slope.

  She turned. Ahead was the cliff, and she could see the river, tumbling down from the heights and flowing through channels to the valley floor. She started to run.

  There was a groan to her left, and she glanced over. Leon lay prone on the earth, holding out his arm to her.

  She looked back to the ramp, and then over to the cliff.

  ‘Fuck,’ she said, turning towards him. ‘You hurt?’

  ‘Think my ankle might be twisted.’

  ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’

  He laughed. ‘Didn’t know the old beasts had it in them.’

  ‘Fine time to find out.’

  She leaned down and picked him up, slinging him over her shoulder.

  ‘Whoa!’ he cried.

  ‘Shut your whining face,’ she said as she ran. ‘Can you swim, by the way?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Me neither,’ she said. ‘This’ll be interesting.’

  She reached the river. It was white and rapid, surging down a channel from the left. She walked along its bank, following the fast-flowing water.

  There were shouts in the distance behind her. She turned, and saw soldiers reaching the wagon. She crouched low, and picked up her pace.

  ‘I thought you’d betrayed me back there,’ she said.

  ‘I knew you’d think that,’ he said. ‘They said they needed a lift, and I couldn’t think of any reason to say no.’

  She looked up. Ahead of her, the northern wall of the valley cliff loomed larger. She would soon be cornered.

  ‘There it is,’ she said, pointing.

  At the base of the cliff, the river course turned west, diving through a wide foaming channel and disappearing into darkness.

  She set him down on the rocky bank.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said, staring at the water falling into a dark abyss.

  ‘Can you see any other way out?’

  ‘I won’t survive going down there,’ he said. ‘I’m not a Kellach like you. I can’t break a bone, and then be up and walking about in a few days.’

  ‘I’ll look after you,’ she said, wading out into the cold river. She held out her hand. ‘Come on.’

  Leon grunted, and raised his arm. As he was about to take her hand a crossbow bolt ripped through the side of his face, sending him spinning into the water with a great splash.

  The sun appeared at that moment over the eastern ridge, its golden rays illuminating the valley and turning the river into a blinding cascade of sparkling light.

  ‘Fuck,’ Keira muttered.

  She ran, as crossbow bolts flicked through the surface of the water around her. She reached the channel at the base of the cliff, using all her strength to defy the current as it tried to sweep her away. She put a hand up to brace herself, and leaned over the edge. The river fell away into a roaring pit of darkness that swallowed the light in a crescendo of noise.

  She glanced back at the body of Leon, as it floated in the eddies by the sunlit bank.

  ‘You were right,’ she said, ‘it probably would have killed you.’

  She took a deep breath, and jumped.

  Chapter 7

  Plateau City

  Holder’s Bay, Inner Sea – 4th Day, Second Third Summer 505

  ‘This is wonderful,’ said Sami. ‘So beautiful.’

  ‘It’s just water,’ Shella said. ‘Okay, there’s lots of it, but still.’

  Daphne kept her mouth closed, and clutched the handrail running along the side of the sailing ship. Gulls squawked and circled overhead, as the great wooden bow ploughed through the rolling waters of the Inner Sea.

  Down, and up again.

  ‘You don’t look too good, Miss Daphne,’ said Jayki.

  ‘Understatement of the fucking year,’ Shella said. ‘She’s turned green.’

  ‘Maybe you should go below deck, miss,’ Sami said.

  Daphne shook her head. ‘It’s even worse down there.’

  Down, and up again.

  ‘I just want the ground to stop moving,’ she groaned. ‘I haven’t slept properly in days.’

  ‘We’re nearly there, miss,’ Sami said. ‘The first officer said we should be arriving this evening.’

  She shielded her eyes from the bright reflection of the noon sun shining on the sea, and peered northwards, in the direction of the Holdings-occupied Plateau. There was maybe a grey smudge of shoreline on the horizon, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Down, and up again.

  She clenched her eyes shut, the constant nausea sending her demented. She wanted to cry. Why did any woman ever have a second child, if they had to go through this torture? Her hair blew about her face in the sea wind, hiding her sleep-deprived eyes and thin features. She thought she was supposed to be putting weight on, yet her sickness and aversion to food had seen her shed pounds.

  Three thirds gone, six to go.

  She tightened her grip on the handrail, her gorge rising.

  Down, and up again.

  Unable to hold it in any longer, Daphne retched over the side of the ship, her empty stomach producing nothing but bile. She hugged her strained and sore chest, her throat raw, and bitter with the taste.

  She spat, drool flicking through the wind, clinging to her lips and hair.

  A damp flannel wiped her face, and she turned to see Shella frown at her.

  The Rakanese mage shook her head.

  ‘Let’s get you below, Daphne,’ she said. ‘You need to lie down.’

  Daphne knew that being horizontal made her feel sicker than standing, if that were possible, but she allowed Shella to escort her down the steep wooden steps to the lower decks, while Jayki and Sami remained to look at the view.

  They reached the small cabin shared by the passengers, and went in.

  On a low bed, Bedig lay still, groaning.

  Shella helped Daphne sit on her mattress, then went over and kicked Bedig’s bunk.

  ‘You still fucking sea-sick, you useless twat?’ she laughed down at him.

  ‘Brig aren’t made for boats,’ he croaked, keeping his eyes closed.

  ‘Now that’s funny,’ Shella said, sitting by Daphne. ‘These brutes can withstand poisoning, wounds, broken bones, fuck I can even remember when Kylon got shot twice in the back and he still kept running…’

  She reached under the bed and pulled out a canvas bag.

  ‘Which was just as well,’ she said, ‘as he was carrying me at the time. And yet you put them in a little
boat, and they go all weird on you.’

  ‘I’m not weird,’ he said. ‘I’m sick.’

  ‘Wah, wah,’ she said. ‘You big kid.’

  ‘Daphne’s sick too,’ he said. ‘Why does she get all the sympathy? I get none.’

  ‘She’s baby-sick, you cretin,’ Shella said. She opened the canvas bag, and looked at Daphne. She took out a small wallet, one that Daphne recognised.

  ‘Okay,’ Shella said, ‘this is one of those special occasions.’

  Daphne looked up.

  Shella pursed her lips. ‘I’ve been saving the last one, for this moment.’ She sighed. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s just this once, okay? I don’t want you throwing up when we arrive.’

  Daphne nodded as Shella passed her the smokestick, and lit it with a Rahain match.

  She took a draw, sighed and closed her eyes.

  ‘Working?’ Shella asked.

  Daphne smiled and nodded, feeling relief wash over her as her stomach settled, and the pain and nausea subsided.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  ‘Up for talking?’ Shella said. ‘I’ve got tonnes I want to ask, and you’ve been sick for so long. I thought it would have worn off by now, but I guess you’re just unlucky.’

  ‘Unlucky?’ Daphne snorted. ‘Sometimes I think it’s going to tip me over the edge.’ She reached for a jug of water, and poured herself a mugful. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘What did that man say to you in Rainsby?’ she asked. ‘The Holdings man, was he an agent? I saw the two of you together before we boarded the ship.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Daphne said, ‘he was an agent, working for the Holdings crown. Apparently he spotted us when we arrived. He’s a vision mage, and he sent a message to Plateau City, telling them where we were. They gave him a message to pass on to me.’

  She took a draw of the smokestick as Shella waited.

  ‘It was just the usual nonsense,’ Daphne went on. ‘Well done, blah blah. And telling me to make sure Princess Shella and Prince Sami were taken directly to Plateau City as fast as possible, along with Councillor Laodoc, of course.’