Resistance

by Alex Janaway

  ‘Never a minute’s rest,’ Beautiful sighed loudly.

  Beautiful and Coyle moved away from the wagon and Fenner urged the draft horse onwards again.

  ‘I got those two as our flank scouts. Just in case. Wendell is the rearguard. When he’s not falling asleep,’ he added loudly.

  ‘Hey! I’m awake. Here,’ Wendell passed Father Michael a large chunk of bread and a waterskin.

  Father Michael gratefully nodded his thanks and attacked the bread with gusto.

  ‘Was it just you, or did anyone else get away?’ asked Fenner.

  ‘Only me,’ said Father Michael, his mouth full of bread and water. He paused. ‘They took Bron and Uther out.’

  ‘Bastards.’ Fenner was quiet for a moment, looking distant.

  Father Michael swallowed and tore off another mouthful.

  ‘I killed one of them. Leisha.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘But I got knocked into the river. Someone lobbed a rock at my head.’

  ‘Lucky for you you’ve got a thick skull.’

  ‘I don’t feel particularly lucky at the moment.’

  ‘And lucky you were by the river,’ persisted Fenner. ‘If you went under they must’ve figured you were a goner.’

  ‘What about you?’ asked Father Michael. ‘You said the Admiral told you this would happen?’

  ‘Uh-huh. We got a message. It didn’t say much. Just that we had to be ready.’

  Father Michael thought about that and realisation hit. ‘And you weren’t there when they struck. You could’ve made the difference.’ He felt anger start to swell.

  Fenner put a hand up.

  ‘Oh, I know where you’re going with this. And you know it ain’t true. We would never have been enough. The Gifted must’ve been waiting for the Nidhal to go before they made their move. Once that happened we were all on borrowed time. We had to change the rules.’

  ‘It’s what we do,’ said Wendell, piping up from the back.

  ‘We had to put some distance between ourselves and the eight Gifted,’ continued Fenner. ‘In a straight fight, they’d kill us all, no matter how many of them we might have been able to drop.’ He reached out and took the waterskin from Father Michael. He took a long pull and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. ‘We faked our wagon breaking down. We didn’t know if anything was gonna happen and we couldn’t just start shooting without good reason. But I trust the Admiral’s instincts and decided that we’d try and shadow the party, wait for the Gifted to make their move and then …’ Fenner threw the skin into the back of the wagon, ‘we’d come up with a plan. Fact o’ the matter was, we weren’t expecting Raspa and his buddy to stay behind.’

  Oh. Father Michael coughed. ‘Sorry, that was my fault. I suggested it.’

  Fenner eyed him. ‘That right, huh?’ He snorted. ‘I guess not much harm done. We just had to improvise, that’s all. We were ready for a fight anyway, and as soon as I saw Raspa make a move, we were all over it. Not much a Gifted can do against crossbow bolts coming at them at point blank range. Still …’ He cocked his head at Wendell. ‘They went down swinging. We got lucky. Like you. And the way you tell it, I count three dead Gifted and two of ours lost. You gotta say that’s a damned fine score. Better’n any we’d have a right to expect.’

  Father Michael stayed quiet, he needed to think this all through. He had been angry at the marines for a moment, letting his emotions cloud the truth. They were right. There was more to this going on. The Admiral had sent word, and yet had not warned either he or the Emperor. Perhaps it was all just suspicion. That would fit with the old sailor’s view on life. And did any others know? What of the Arch Cardinal? Surely any plan Cardinal Vella had concocted would have been smelled out by him? Another uncomfortable thought came to him – was it the Admiral making a power play and the Gifted were acting on the orders of Vella to protect the Emperor? No, it makes no sense. Even with his cracked skull, everything Father Michael had witnessed pointed to the Gifted as the betrayers. The marines were many things but they were loyal. And, now that he dwelled upon it, there was other evidence as well. Eilion had been opposed to the idea of the Emperor returning home by eagle. It made sense. It was not in the plan.

  ‘How did the Admiral know?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s a question way over my head,’ said Fenner. ‘He must’ve picked up on something. There was a reason he sent us along on this merry jaunt.’

  ‘The Cardinal, he must have seen something.’

  ‘I guess. You know what cracks me up? It’s the notion that they probably got the order to do it the same time we got ours to do something about it. Now that, I believe, is what they call irony.’

  ‘The Emperor,’ he said. ‘They wanted him alive.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘So what does that mean?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine, Father. That’s politics and stuff. Not really my skill-set.’

  ‘But he is alive,’ Father Michael said firmly.

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Then we can take him back.’

  ‘We could try.’ The doubt in Fenner’s voice was clear. Father Michael looked hard at Fenner. ‘I’m just saying. The odds are better, but I got one marine who can only fight sitting down and, forgive me but have you actually seen yourself, Father? You are a tough son of a bitch, I know. But there ain’t no way you are going toe to toe with anyone right now.’

  Father Michael started to protest and then stopped himself. Fenner, frustratingly, was right again, so he remained silent.

  ‘Now that’s a face that says it wants to break something,’ said Fenner.

  It was not far from the truth. Father Michael wanted to break Eilion and all the Gifted. Break them for their disloyalty and for the shame they had inflicted on him. His first true test as a protector to the Emperor and he did not even have the comfort of knowing he had died defending him. He had lost. It had been all he had thought about for the last three days of walking. And it galled him. He had never lost, and now, for the first time, when it truly mattered, he had let the Emperor down, and it weighed heavily on him. Was it shame in failure? Or is it my pride? Truly, Father Michael could not decide which.

  ‘What now?’ he asked Fenner.

  ‘We keep rolling on. It’ll be dark soon. Why don’t you rest up, join Wendell in the back. I’ll get our resident healer to look at you when we make camp. You’re no good to us the way you are, we need you back at fighting strength.’

  Father Michael could not argue with that logic; rest would be most welcome. He stood up on the footboard and climbed into the back of the wagon. Wendell made space and Father Michael lowered himself down and gingerly rested his injured head against a sack. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

  ‘Are you sure we can’t make a fire?’ asked Coyle.

  ‘No,’ said Fenner.

  ‘Have you forgotten what we’re doing?’ asked Beautiful. She leant over Father Michael’s head, inspecting his wound.

  ‘It ain’t dark yet,’ complained Coyle.

  ‘And what if they spot the smoke?’ said Beautiful, pointedly.

  Father Michael hissed as her fingers pressed down on the edge of the gash.

  ‘Sorry, but it’s got to be cleaned’ she said.

  ‘Father, you know why we are being cautious,’ said Fenner. ‘We’ve been heading east for three days. When we got to the waystation yesterday it was deserted. No birds, no Riders, but someone had been there just hours before. What that means, I don’t know. Maybe the Riders were in on it, and have flown him back but I doubt it. Shit, maybe they think we were in on it. All I know is that there are several Gifted still ahead of us, moving in a wagon going to the same place we are, holding the Emperor captive. They must know by now that something is wrong because their comrades never caught up with them, which will have led them to the conclusion that we were the ones who took them out. So we’re playing a game of cat and mouse here.

  ‘I don’t think the Riders we
re in on it either. But it’s possible they have no choice now but to follow Eilion’s orders. He has the Emperor,’ Father Michael suggested.

  ‘Right,’ announced Beautiful, releasing Father Michael’s head and stepping back. ‘I’ve had a look, I reckon it’s not infected so you’ll probably be ok.’

  Father Michael looked at her. ‘Is that it?’

  She shrugged and walked over to the wagon. ‘That’s just my opinion. But the wound looks clean,’ she said and started to rummage among the supplies in the back. ‘You feel any different? Smarter? Stupider?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ replied Father Michael.

  ‘There you go then. Here,’ she returned, clutching some strips of cloth. ‘I got these bandages off the Nidhal. They’ve been boiled and some kind of plant paste rubbed into them. They swear blind it works.’ She set to laying the strips over his head and under his chin. ‘Besides, didn’t I hear you got immunity to poisons and all that stuff?’

  ‘Not to anything out here, I don’t,’ Father Michael said.

  ‘Ah, you’ll be alright, big guy,’ she said, tying off the bandages and giving him a slap on the shoulder. ‘Give it a couple of weeks and you’ll be right as rain.’

  Father Michael did not want to have to wait two weeks and, despite her optimism, he knew head wounds needed longer than that to heal completely. But he was grateful for her ministrations and held his tongue.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Beautiful nodded her acknowledgement as she collected her crossbow. ‘I’m going to take first watch,’ she announced, popping a piece of cured oreq meat into her mouth and heading away into the lengthening shadows of dusk.

  Father Michael looked to Fenner. ‘Can we catch up with them?’

  ‘Maybe. We got ourselves a few weeks to do it in,’ said Fenner.

  ‘And if we catch them, then we can take back the Emperor,’ said Father Michael.

  ‘That’s highly debateable. They are still Gifted and they know we’re coming for them but we’ll sure as the Seven Hells try. And say we succeed, then what? Go back to New Tissan? It seems to me like there won’t be a warm welcome for us there.’

  ‘There doesn’t have to be,’ said Father Michael. ‘He is the Emperor. The Gifted are still only few in number. When we return he will have command of all the loyal citizens of New Tissan. They will have no choice but to submit.’

  ‘I guess you have it there, Father. Here,’ He handed over some more of the oreq meat. ‘We’ve got plenty of this stuff, and you’ll need it to regain your strength. We’ll need every ounce of it if we are going to beat those Gifted bastards in a scrap.’

  Father Michael accepted the meat gratefully. Yes, he fully intended to do just that.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – CADE

  Cade leaned against the side of the cavern partway up the track that wound its way to the Heights. From there she had a perfect view of the Downside Gate, the torches bright in their stanchions. It was almost time for the evening shifts to return. She pitied the poor bastards who barely saw any sunlight working those hours, even though she had done her best to get folk rotated. When the shifts came through the gate then it would be time for the Accounting. Regular as clockwork. Though her eyes were not good enough to see them all from here, it was clear there were fewer guards on duty these days. That made sense, Vidar’s business was now spread so wide, he had fewer resources to police it. After all, the humans were a beaten, wasted race. There was no fight left in them. Right? Case in point, at shift changeover there were only a half-dozen guards watching the exchange of the mining tools. None went into the shafts anymore. Except Geir, you couldn’t keep that bastard away. Up above, in the canyon, another six dwarves watched all the comings and goings. Six, for hundreds of humans. A crazy small amount. If that had been the case back in Aberpool, why, she would have complained to the warder. It would have been an insult to the thieving profession to be considered that low a risk.

  Either way, Issar had done a good job. He had organised teams of watchers to track and report these details. Never the same folk twice, always making sure there was no pattern. Not that he expected the dwarves to be that observant, but why give them a reason to suspect? Quite the spymaster he had become. She picked at something stuck in her teeth and retrieved a small piece of unmilled grain. She flicked it over the path, raised her arms high and stretched. Right. It was time to kick things off. She turned and walked back up the path towards the cave. Ducking inside, she found Meghan deep in conversation with Issar.

  ‘What are you two cooking up?’ she asked.

  Meghan looked at her and frowned. Issar looked guilty. But then again that was his resting face.

  ‘We’re just going over the reports,’ Meghan replied.

  ‘And?’

  ‘No change,’ said Issar.

  ‘So why the long faces?’ Cade asked.

  ‘I’m just worried,’ said Meghan.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Cade.

  ‘That’s because I do the worrying for you,’ replied Meghan, finally raising a smile.

  Cade grinned at her and settled down on her haunches. Issar passed over a beaker. Cade sniffed it and her nostrils stung. ‘Your home brew?’ she asked.

  ‘Last chance to try it,’ warned Issar.

  ‘You know, if there was ever a way to prove they haven’t broken us, this is it,’ Cade mused. No matter how deep in the shit they were, someone always found a way to make booze. She took a glug and winced. ‘Oh, sweet Emperor.’

  Issar beamed proudly.

  Cade let out a breath and gulped, trying to swallow the fire attacking her throat. ‘Where – shit that’s rough – where is Devlin?’

  ‘Right behind you.’ He settled down next to her and pulled the beaker out of her hand. He took a swill and swallowed, before handing it back to Issar with a nod.

  Cade stared at him. ‘Why are you not choking?’ she asked, in disbelief.

  ‘What? On that? It’s just a bit of courage before the fight. Believe me, I’ve had worse,’ he replied.

  ‘I’m not sure I have,’ said Cade.

  ‘Either way. We’re all set.’

  ‘Everyone knows what they have to do?’ asked Cade.

  ‘As I said, all set.’

  And just like that, they were about to start what could turn out to be the biggest, stupidest mistake of her life.

  ‘You know, if this works. I’m going to retire,’ she announced.

  ‘If this works, then you’re not going anywhere,’ Devlin countered. ‘This was your idea.’

  ‘I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?’ she responded.

  ‘I suppose not. But you must have realised. It was always going to come to this.’

  Cade didn’t respond. Truth was, she really hadn’t.

  ‘You have to admit, it’s been amazing how everyone has rallied round,’ said Meghan.

  ‘They weren’t in a position to argue,’ said Issar.

  ‘Even so. We are asking a lot.’

  ‘They all had a choice. Die here or make a run for it,’ said Devlin.

  Cade grunted. Not much of a choice. And despite what Meghan was saying, there were plenty of folks who would still take this life over anything on offer out there. She couldn’t blame them. But she sure as the Seven Hells wasn’t going to die here because they didn’t have the balls to do something about it. It was a good thing that she’d bought enough good will and plenty of muscle to keep the naysayers in line.

  ‘Is there anything else we got to talk about?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope, don’t think so,’ said Devlin.

  ‘Then I’ll see you topside,’ said Cade.

  ‘Alright, then.’ Devlin stood and proffered a hand to Issar, pulling the Erebeshi up. ‘Good luck to us all.’

  ‘Yeah, but let’s hope luck doesn’t have to come into it,’ muttered Cade, pushing herself off the floor.

  The two men left the cave but Meghan remained sitting on the floor.

  ‘You worrying agai
n?’ asked Cade, putting her hands on her hips.

  Meghan looked up and smiled.

  ‘Me, worried? No. Hand up, please.’

  Cade took her hand and hauled her up into an embrace. ‘You aren’t?’

  ‘No. Not at all. Just look at how far we have come.’

  ‘Not that far,’ said Cade.

  ‘Only because you never have perspective.’

  ‘Do I want that?’

  Meghan leaned in and kissed her.

  ‘Yes. It might make you feel better about yourself.’ She took Cade’s hand and led her out of the cave. ‘Who else could’ve organised all of this?’ Meghan said, waving her hand across the cavern floor. ‘Who else could’ve come up with a plan to get us out of here?’

  ‘Right girl, right time.’

  ‘Since when have you been so modest?’

  ‘Since everyone started looking to me to solve their problems. I’m making this shit up as I go along, you do realise that, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve known that from the start,’ said Meghan laughing.

  ‘Damn, I thought I hid that better.’

  ‘Cade?’

  A voice called softly from the entrance to the cave that held their water supply. Someone was standing just inside the entrance.

  Cade stopped and looked inside. She couldn’t make out who it was. She took a step towards them.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Cade. What have you done?’ asked the voice, quietly. It was a male voice that she recognised. She took another step.

  ‘Gwillem, is that you?’

  Gwillem stepped into the middle of the cave entrance. She hadn’t seen him since he had lost his shit with her over the death of his wife. Which, she still maintained, was not her fault.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Cade.

  ‘I wanted to tell you something,’ he said.

  ‘Like what? I’m kinda busy right now.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Please do you have a moment?’

  ‘We don’t have time for this,’ said Meghan, coming forward.

  Cade put a hand up. ‘It’s okay, give me a minute.’ She figured she owed the guy that much.