The Severed City

by Christopher Mitchell

  She leapt out into the entranceway, took half a second to aim, and loosed. Killop pulled on her belt and yanked her back behind the lip, where she fell in a pile on top of him, as crossbow bolts flew down the tunnel.

  ‘Did you hit one?’ he asked, pushing her off.

  She shrugged, a half smile on her face.

  Killop chanced a look, and saw a Rahain officer flat on his back in the hall, an arrow through his eye. Next to him, another officer was standing, his face crumpled in rage.

  Killop’s eyes widened as he recognised the officer.

  ‘The next arrow’s for you, Commander Likiat,’ he cried.

  As the officer stared over the shieldwall and into the darkness of the open tunnel, Killop turned to the Kellach raiders.

  ‘Everyone, go, up the tunnel now. Stick to the sides. Run.’

  He waited until they had all sprinted up the dark tunnel, the injured warrior being supported by two others, then he stepped out into the light, his shield up before him.

  ‘I am Chief Killop of the Severed Clan,’ he shouted. ‘Come and get me.’

  Likiat stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

  ‘After him!’ he screamed, and the Rahain ranks started moving.

  Killop swivelled the shield to cover his back, and ran as fast as he could up the pitch black tunnel. He counted his paces, and knew where the steps began, but still stumbled and tripped.

  ‘Come on,’ Larissa cried, pulling him to his feet.

  They rushed up the steps in the darkness, until a small lamp ahead of them marked the top. The tunnel levelled out and swung to the right.

  ‘Keep going,’ he said to the others, and they backed off down the passageway.

  Killop and Larissa stood at the top of the stairs, waiting.

  ‘I don’t like being the mouse in this game,’ she said.

  The sound of boots approached.

  Killop bent over and picked up two Rahain lamp bases from the ground. Each had been modified, so that the wick protruded from the sealed ceramic base, which had been emptied out and filled with Brodie’s raw spirits. He handed one to Larissa, and removed the glass cap from the lamp on the wall, exposing its flame.

  They held the lamps to the fire. As the first Rahain soldiers came into sight at the bottom of the steps, they threw the lamp-bases down the stairs. Each exploded in a ball of bright fire, covering the soldiers in the front ranks in flame.

  Killop and Larissa watched for a second, then ran down the passageway.

  They entered the long stretch of tunnel that Dyam had filled with traps and ambushes. They found one of the fake walls, and dropped off the injured raider in a chamber there, where a dozen Kellach warriors waited.

  ‘How’s it going, Chief?’ one of them whispered.

  ‘The plan’s working,’ he said. ‘Remember your orders, stay quiet, and stay hidden, until you hear the signal.’

  They nodded, and Killop went back into the tunnel, fitting the camouflaged wooden panels in place to hide the warriors within.

  One of the raiders had lit a lamp, as there were dozens of obstacles along the whole stretch of the tunnel, to where it ended at the great cavern. Dyam had arranged beams to be placed across the passageway, forcing them to duck, and clamber, or squeeze past one at a time. As they made their way through the lamplight, Killop counted dozens of murder holes in the walls to either side, where he knew the clan’s Rahain crossbow teams were hiding.

  Before they were halfway to the cavern, they heard the sounds of soldiers behind them, as the Rahain entered the long tunnel.

  ‘Keep the lamp lit,’ Killop said. ‘We want them to see us.’

  The raiders raced in the direction of the cavern, the Rahain catching them up, the lither bodies of their people finding it easier to negotiate the obstacles.

  A crossbow bolt slammed into a beam by Killop’s head.

  ‘Fuck,’ Larissa shouted. ‘They’re in range.’

  Killop scrambled over the final obstacle, and rolled onto the floor. There were only fifty yards to the cavern, but the Rahain had a clear aim.

  ‘Run,’ he shouted.

  The raiders sprinted, as the Rahain neared. A hail of bolts came at them, and another warrior fell. Killop felt a bolt strike the shield on his back as he reached the cavern, and dived down to his left.

  ‘Keep moving,’ he cried, getting back to his feet. ‘To the tunnel on the other side.’

  The floor of the great cavern was empty. As he ran, he glanced at the enormous dome overhead. Halfway up was a balcony, where he could see figures moving.

  They had reached the centre of the hall when the Rahain burst through like a flood, dozens, then hundreds, racing across the cavern after the raiders. Every exit had been blocked bar one.

  A crossbow bolt struck the neck of another raider, and she fell, leaving only two remaining with Killop and Larissa. He could feel his knees groan in pain as he ran, his breath gulping. He concentrated on not falling, but his head was swimming.

  They ran through the open archway of the only unblocked tunnel, and collapsed to their knees as soon as they had gone ten yards. Warriors belonging to the clan’s Rahain units moved up past them, lining their great door-sized shields into a wall, blocking off the tunnel entrance. Kellach warriors emerged from chambers on either side of the tunnel, and moved into ranks behind the shieldwall.

  ‘You made it then, Chief,’ Dyam said. She walked up to the barrier of shields, and peered through a crossbow slot. ‘And the cavern’s filling up.’ She turned to Killop, who was pushing himself to his feet. ‘I’m going upstairs. Whatever happens, Chief, do not let the Rahain break through into this tunnel.’

  ‘Understood, Commander,’ he said.

  Larissa watched Dyam walk away. ‘Who does she think she is, ordering the chief about?’

  ‘If we win today,’ he said. ‘It’ll be down to her.’

  Larissa frowned, and looked away.

  There was a roar of noise, and the shieldwall was forced back a pace as the mass of Rahain in the cavern charged. Killop’s crossbow teams were firing, and more ceramic spirit bombs were hurled over their heads and into the attacking ranks of Rahain.

  Killop and Larissa ran forwards, adding their weight and strength to the shieldwall, where Kellach warriors four-deep where pushing and straining.

  Time ran into itself as Killop heaved, and shoved with all of his strength. Sweat was falling down his face, and his arms ached. One of the shields making up the wall was torn down, and a flurry of bolts struck the warriors behind. Killop lifted his own shield, along with others, and they waded forwards to plug the gap. Kellach and clan Rahain dead littered the floor.

  There was a scream from inside the cavern, and Killop glanced up to see dozens of dark objects fall like rain into the cavern from the balcony ringing the dome. The objects were smashing down into the crowded sea of Rahain in the vast cavern.

  ‘This is it,’ Killop called out. ‘Pull back!’

  Killop tried to disengage from the Rahain soldier facing him, but the press of bodies was too tight, and he couldn’t move his legs. There was a flicker of light from the cavern balcony, and he saw the silhouette of a teenage girl flash up onto the side of the dome.

  ‘Fuck,’ Killop breathed, and closed his eyes.

  The explosion blinded and deafened him, throwing him backwards a hundred feet down the tunnel, as blasted bits of flesh, shields and crossbows flew around him. He blinked, and in that blink a second could have passed, or an hour. His sight was gone, his ears ringing. He tried to crawl, but his legs weren’t responding.

  He lay down. His breath was hoarse, but he couldn’t feel any major injury. His hands worked their way down his legs, and found the body of someone on his feet. He pushed them off.

  He began to see a faint glow of light, fires burning, and he saw his hands, then his body. He looked around as his sight started to return. He was in the tunnel, but the entrance to the great cavern was blocked, filled in with rubble from the explosion
.

  He sensed movement, and saw a shape crawling down the corridor, a blurry figure trailing a smear of red on the ground.

  Killop got to feet, and staggered, his balance upset. He pulled the broken and twisted pieces of his shield from over his shoulder and threw them to the ground. Noises started to reach him. Calls for help, cries and groans, and then Rahain voices, up ahead.

  He turned, and saw a chamber to his right, with lamplight coming from the entranceway.

  ‘It’s a miracle you survived, Commander,’ came a voice from inside.

  Killop swayed, then walked to the entranceway. His hands went to his belt for a knife, but it was gone, and he realised his clothes were in tattered strips. He looked around, and saw a broken sword. He picked it up by the hilt.

  He reached the chamber, holding onto the wall of the tunnel, and looked inside.

  A man was sitting on a stone bench, his head in his hands, his Rahain uniform covered in dust and blood. Another man was standing by him.

  Killop charged forward. With his left hand he grabbed the standing man, and with his right he plunged the broken blade into his chest. He fell to his knees as he forced the man to the ground.

  He looked up as the officer raised his head.

  ‘You,’ said Likiat.

  ‘Aye.’

  Killop pushed the dead Rahain aside and stared at Likiat.

  ‘I thought it might be you,’ he said ‘I thought the Rahain might send Laodoc’s son to catch his slave.’

  ‘I volunteered,’ Likiat said, gazing back at Killop with defiant loathing. ‘My father is a traitor, hated by everyone who loves Rahain.’

  Killop got to his feet.

  ‘The senate will send another army,’ Likiat said. ‘Your slave rebellion…’

  Killop surged forwards and slammed the broken sword through Likiat’s heart, watching as the life in his eyes went out.

  ‘He might have been useful alive,’ a woman’s voice said from the entrance to the chamber.

  He turned to see Larissa walking towards him. Her clothes were ragged, and she had blood running down the side of her face and neck.

  Killop let go of the hilt, and Likiat slipped off the stone bench and onto the floor.

  ‘It was personal.’

  Larissa came to stand by him, and looked down at the body.

  ‘The exits are blocked,’ she said. ‘Might be a while before we get out of here.’

  ‘The battle will be raging, we should…’

  She put a finger to his lips.

  ‘I think you’ve done enough for today, Chief,’ she said. ‘The Rahain are beaten, let the others finish them off.’

  She took his left hand, and put it behind her waist.

  She stepped closer.

  Killop gazed down into her face. After so much blood and death, the warmth of her body as she pressed it close to his awoke something in him, a desire to live, a relief, a wild relief that they had survived.

  ‘We’re alive,’ she whispered, and kissed him.

  The sound of grinding stone awoke Killop, and he opened his eyes. Next to him lay Larissa, sleeping by his side. He couldn’t see her in the darkness of the chamber, but he heard her breathing.

  The patter of footsteps approached and he sat up. A beam of light shone through the doorway, and Killop squinted into its sudden brightness.

  ‘It’s him,’ a voice said. ‘It’s the chief, we’ve found him!’

  Killop blinked. Three Kellach warriors stood in the entranceway before him, one holding a powerful storm lamp. He nudged Larissa with his elbow and rearranged his clothing.

  A figure pushed between the warriors at the doorway.

  ‘Thank fuck,’ Bridget said. ‘We thought you…’ she tailed off as she noticed the woman lying by his side.

  Larissa frowned, and sat up, pulling a ragged tunic over her breasts.

  As Bridget began to smile, Tiel entered the chamber.

  ‘Chief!’ he cried. ‘You are alive, thank the fates. The day is ours, we were victorious! The traps, the fires, it all worked. And the clan Rahain, chief, you will be so proud of the way they fought.’

  Killop nodded.

  Bridget noticed the two Rahain bodies lying by the bench to her left.

  ‘Is that the Rahain commander?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye,’ Killop said. ‘Laodoc’s son. I killed him.’

  She gazed down at Killop and Larissa. ‘You did what you had to, I guess.’

  Chapter 21

  The Handover

  Rainsby, Alliance-Occupied Plateau – 5th Day, First Third Winter 505

  ‘Take that off, Echtang,’ Agang snarled from his elevated chair. ‘It’s no wonder the Holdings think we’re barbarians, when our warriors parade through the streets with those things round their necks.’

  His nephew’s expression was sullen, but he did as Agang ordered, and removed the necklace of Rahain forked tongues from over his shoulder, while Hodang and Lomecht looked away.

  ‘Just one more day in this town, my lord,’ Hodang said. ‘Praise the gods.’

  ‘There is only one god worth praising.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Hodang said. ‘Apologies, my lord, of course.’

  His temper made them humour him, and that only enraged him more.

  Unable to bear the sight of his advisors a moment longer, he stood, and left the room, climbing the wooden stairs at the rear of the town hall to the terrace on the roof. An icy wind howled through his furs and layers of clothes, and a thick frost covered the ruins of Rainsby.

  He looked north, where the frozen harbour held the Holdings fleet fast in sheets of ice, the masts and decks glistening white. They had lost two vessels in a storm on the way, and over five hundred soldiers from the King’s Combined Battalion had gone down with them: Sanang, Holdings and Clackdomyn.

  The remaining three and a half thousand had been enough, however, to assault and take the harbour, and the stretch of sea wall that ran to the gates on the western side of the town. Resistance had been fierce, from the town militia and the Rahain garrison, but the mixed companies had held their own, and repelled every effort to re-take their positions.

  Five days later, the main alliance armies had arrived along the western road, over sixty thousand soldiers and warriors. The others had allowed the Sanang to take the lead, and with the gate on that side of the town held open, they flooded through the streets in minutes, killing anyone who got in their way. The slaughter and destruction had lasted three days, while the Holdings Cavalry moved past the town to occupy the southern road, and the Clackdomyn attempted to keep their brethren in the enormous slum-camp from getting involved.

  The peasants in the slums to the south of the town had fled when the alliance had turned up, but the Rahain trapped inside the walls had not been so lucky. By the fourth sunrise, when the carnage had ended, the enslaved survivors numbered in their hundreds, thousands having perished at the hands of the Sanang.

  His Sanang.

  He gazed over the devastation his warriors had wrought. Barely a quarter of the buildings were untouched and intact, the rest were either gutted out, or had been razed to the ground. The frost lay thick on the burnt-out shells of homes, and covered the muddy streets that had flowed with blood.

  The wealth looted from the town had been astonishing. Vaults of gold coins and treasure lay beneath the town hall, and were now heavily guarded, while the merchants’ quarter had provided a rich haul for his warriors. Squads of soldiers from the mixed companies had been dispatched to guard the long warehouses lining the sea-front by the harbour, to protect the thousands of tonnes of sugar, tea, coffee, timber, iron and a hundred other trading commodities from thieving hands.

  On the fourth day after their arrival, several tonnes of Sanang weed had been burnt in a bonfire by Holdings soldiers, and the town knew a peaceful night, sedated by the thick smog of fumes that blew back over the ruins.

  When the flames had died down, the main alliance army had continued south along the road
towards the tunnel, leaving Agang and the high command behind to plan the next stages.

  ‘Brooding again?’ he heard a woman say.

  He turned his head and saw Chane standing by the rooftop railings. ‘You need to control your temper better,’ she said. ‘A king must have unlimited patience, and exude calm, even if inside he is boiling over with rage.’

  He gazed at her. She looked stunning, a picture of regal serenity. Her spirits had lifted recently, from about when the fleet had departed Plateau City. She seemed bolder now, as if she was clearing out a space for her own authority. She no longer hid in his quarters, but attended meetings at his side, including those with the Holdings and Clackdomyn. He liked her new assertiveness, for it was obvious in everything she did that she was acting for his best interests, proving her usefulness and loyalty to him all over again.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘though at least I’ve learned to walk away, rather than take it out on those around me. That must count as progress.’

  ‘True,’ she said, ‘but they worry in your absence, like lost hens.’ She gazed out over the ruins. ‘Are you regretting the sack again?’

  ‘Always,’ he said. ‘The screams of those being tortured and burnt alive never leave my dreams.’

  ‘It was the price of the alliance,’ she said. ‘Without it to dangle in front of the allied chiefs, many wouldn’t have followed you here.’

  ‘Maybe I would have been better off without them,’ he said. ‘Half of our sixteen thousand warriors are mine; maybe I should have sent the rest home.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘What do you think they would do in Sanang, while you are away for the rest of the campaign? You cannot trust them to support Gadang in Broadwater. It’s bad enough that B’Dang got away.’

  ‘Don’t say his name to me.’

  ‘I know you lost face with the Holdings over his escape,’ she said, ‘but they’ll forget that, and Rainsby, when you march in triumph through the streets of Rahain.’

  Agang smiled.

  ‘The army will be reaching the tunnel in a few days,’ she went on, ‘and the Holdings advance scouts might already be there. Their squad mages should be able to get a message to us soon, maybe even before we leave Rainsby tomorrow.’