The Mortal Blade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (The Magelands Eternal Siege Book 1)

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Oh aye,’ he laughed, ‘I’d forgotten that. Hey, Tanner, Quill. I’m going for a walk with Elsie.’

  The two mortals frowned at him, while Nareen raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You’re going with Elsie? The hog-trader?’ said the tavern-keeper, a jealous edge in her voice.

  ‘Aye,’ she said, ‘I’ve some pigs I want to show him.’

  Corthie started to laugh, and he stumbled into a table, sending it flying.

  ‘Maybe we should be heading back to the Bulwark,’ said the man Corthie had called Tanner. He glanced at Elsie. ‘This is not the first tavern we’ve been in tonight, and I think the lad’s had quite enough to drink.’

  ‘Ah, shut yer face,’ Corthie said, straightening himself. ‘I’m fine.’ He threw some gold onto the counter. ‘Any chance of another bottle, my sweet Nareen, for the road?’

  Nareen fetched a fresh bottle from under the bar, and passed it to Aila, who was standing closer. ‘Next time you’re in,’ she whispered, ‘I want to hear all the details.’

  Aila winked at her, and then joined Corthie as they left the tavern. Tanner and Quill got up too, and followed them out into the dark streets of the Circuit. Flames were lighting up patches of the sky in the direction of the Union Walls, and there was a low rumble that echoed off the concrete buildings. Aila started up the street and Corthie strolled by her side, swigging from the bottle.

  ‘A beautiful night,’ he said, gazing upwards. ‘I still can’t get over how the sky can be that colour though.’

  ‘Yeah? And what colour’s the sky where you’re from?’

  ‘It gets dark at night there; there’s no colour at all. Just darkness.’

  ‘Weird.’

  ‘So, where are we going, Miss Elsie?’

  ‘I want to show you something.’

  ‘Your pigs?’

  ‘No, not pigs. A couple of them were unpleasant at times, but even I would never have called them pigs.’

  ‘Oh, intriguing.’

  ‘It might explain a bit more about the Civil War.’

  ‘I think I’d prefer pigs.’

  ‘Tough. You asked about Khora, and I’m going to give you an answer.’

  The streets were deserted, and they passed through them in peace. Aila led them round Redmarket, avoiding any sight of the palace, and through a confusing maze of alleys. They went down a narrow, almost hidden side-alley, and she stopped outside a nondescript door. She glanced at Corthie’s friends.

  ‘You two will have to stay outside.’

  They looked up to the champion.

  ‘Do as Elsie says,’ he said. ‘Wait for us out here.’

  ‘But, boss…’ said the woman.

  ‘I’ll be fine; you worry too much.’

  Aila pushed the door open and stepped inside. Corthie followed her and she closed the door behind them. He gazed around at the small, walled garden. The trees were heavy with thick, green leaves, and the beds of flowers looked well-tended.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’

  ‘It’s the Shrine of the Three Sisters. I like to come here sometimes, and remember.’

  She walked forwards and sat on one of the benches, then watched as Corthie explored the garden. He got down on one knee to look at a rosebush, his fingers touching the petals and thorns; then his eyes were distracted by something against the far wall.

  ‘Are those graves?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, three of them. The daughters of Princess Yendra; a rebel leader like my father.’

  He stood, and walked over, peering down at the words engraved into the thick granite headstones.

  ‘Kahlia, Yearna and Neara,’ he read. ‘Did you know them?’

  Aila felt her throat catch. ‘Yes.’

  ‘They died in the Civil War, did they?’

  ‘Yes. Princess Khora was responsible for them all.’

  He nodded. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Halfway during the war, Khora sailed to Icehaven, and murdered Princess Niomi, her own twin. Neara happened to be in the palace at the time, and died in the fire that Khora started. But that wasn’t the worst of her crimes. At the end of the war, she betrayed Princess Yendra; tricked her into believing she was helping, when all she was doing was leading her into a trap. I live in Redmarket, and every night I go to sleep in Yearna’s room; the woman I watched being hacked to pieces by Prince Michael on the steps of the palace. That monster may have wielded the sword, but it was Khora who tricked Yendra and made it possible.’

  ‘I heard that Yendra was the villain; that she’d murdered Prince Michael.’

  ‘She killed him all right; I was there. Kahlia died, struck down by Michael’s death powers, but Yendra got him in the end. And all the time, Khora was watching from the shadows, and as her reward, she was given the entire City to rule.’

  Corthie lay down on one of the benches, and for a moment Aila thought he was falling asleep.

  ‘Not the entire City,’ he said; ‘not the Bulwark.’

  ‘You’re right; her rule ends at the Middle Walls, and she has no authority over the Bulwark. That was the God-King and God-Queen’s doing. They assigned Marcus to the Bulwark and Khora to Medio and Auldan.’ She shook her head. ‘The two most vile people imaginable, ruling half the City each. I couldn’t even begin to think up a worse scheme for the City’s governance. Look, I know I was warning you about Khora, but don’t even get me started on that obnoxious sack of donkey dung the duke. He’s a real nasty piece of work, I…’ She paused, and squinted at Corthie. The champion’s eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling. ‘You awake?’

  ‘Aye, just listening.’

  ‘Pass me the bottle.’

  Corthie got up and sat next to Aila on the bench. He took a swig then handed her the brandy.

  ‘You never really answered my question before,’ she said.

  ‘What question?’

  ‘About why you haven’t taken anyone to your bed.’

  Corthie was silent for a moment as she slugged the brandy down. She was drunker than she had been in a long time. She knew she could surge her self-healing powers to sober herself up, but at that moment, with Corthie sat next to her on the bench, she didn’t want to be sober.

  ‘I guess I grew up watching my brother,’ he said. ‘He was such an asshole to girls that I always swore I’d try not to act the same way. I suppose I want to get to know someone first, but it’s been hard, because every girl I meet either throws herself at me or starts praying.’ He laughed. ‘I’m not sure which is more annoying.’

  She eyed him. ‘Not every girl.’

  Corthie turned his face and his gaze met hers. ‘Some are harder to impress than others.’

  He moved closer to her and Aila’s heart jumped. This was a mistake; she shouldn’t do this; he was mortal and she couldn’t allow her heart to be broken…

  His lips touched hers, and she forgot everything else.

  Chapter 14

  The Best Day of the Summer

  Arrowhead Fort, The Bulwark, The City – 15th Izran 3419

  ‘Circle round again, lizard,’ Corthie cried as the wind swept through his hair.

  ‘I am not your beast of burden, wolf-man,’ said Buckler, ‘and my limbs are tiring. If you insist on continuing to annoy me, I shall drop you without warning.’

  Corthie glanced down as the dragon turned in the air. Buckler’s fore-limbs were clutching the champion by the shoulders as he flew, and Corthie marvelled at the view of the City on one side, and the never-ending sea of greenhides on the other.

  ‘Hey, see that big one over there on the little hilltop?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Take us in low; I want to kick the bawbag in the face.’

  Buckler made a rasping noise that Corthie interpreted as a sigh, then surged downwards at speed. Corthie gave an exhilarated howl of laughter as the air rushed past. They came in low, and he aimed his steel-capped boot just as they soared over an enormous greenhide. The studded heel connected with the greenhide’s
face and it roared in agony as Buckler rose again.

  Corthie whooped. ‘That was fantastic.’

  ‘You’re a child at times, Corthie Holdfast. What am I saying? You’re a child all of the time. A murderous child. You enjoy killing, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘It is a necessary evil. Humans lust after death; I was taught this in my youth, and you are the living exemplar; the idea made flesh.’

  ‘It’s us or them with the greenhides, lizard, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘As I said; a necessary evil. You don’t have to enjoy it so much.’

  ‘Shut up and drop me off down there, on that big boulder. All this time talking could be better spent.’

  Buckler swooped down in a graceful motion, and deposited Corthie on top of the high boulder as the greenhides swarmed around. Corthie slipped the visor down on his helmet, and nodded to the dragon. Buckler soared away, leaving Corthie on the rock, his full set of fitted steel armour shining in the dawn’s rays. He drew Clawhammer from over his back and hefted the weapon that the best armourers in Arrowhead had fashioned for him.

  ‘You weren’t expecting me to turn up here, were you, ya green runts!’

  The swarm of greenhides turned towards him, and screams of rage rose up around the boulder. Some broke in panic, the sight of Corthie enough for them, but others scrambled up the side of the enormous boulder, their jaws snapping.

  Corthie leapt into their midst, laughing as he swung Clawhammer in both hands.

  Corthie staggered as he strode across the moat-bridge, leaking blood from a dozen places. His whole body felt drained, and the weight of the armour was bearing down on him in the summer sun. The crowds on the walls were cheering, and the rest of the Wolfpack had lined up by the gate in the outer wall to applaud him in. A shadow flitted across his path, and he waved up to Buckler, his arm aching from the effort.

  ‘That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Quill as she walked with him to gates. ‘You’ve outdone yourself this time.’

  Tanner joined him on his other side, sighing and shaking his head. ‘One tiny mistake, lad…’

  ‘I might have misjudged how far away I was when I got Buckler to drop me.’

  ‘No kidding?’ Tanner narrowed his eyes. ‘You had to wade through a mile of greenhides.’

  ‘Stop nagging me, Tanner; I’m aching, and bleeding, and I just need to sit down for a bit.’

  They went through the gates to a roar of cheering voices from those assembled in the courtyard. An old man shook a large bag of gold at him.

  ‘I’m rich, sonny, because of you!’

  Corthie smiled. ‘I get over a hundred, did I?’

  ‘You smashed your own record, sonny; the best day of the summer!’

  A hymn rose up from the gathered ranks of his religious followers as they greeted his passage through the courtyard. Corthie couldn’t make out the words, but smiled at them anyway.

  ‘Which way’s Arrowhead?’ he muttered to Quill.

  She gave him a worried glance. ‘Left.’

  ‘Don’t look at me like that; I got distracted out there, and lost track of where I was. And, I was half-blinded by all the smoke and flames that Buckler was spewing all over the place. I could hardly see a…’

  A man ran out from the crowd, something glistening in his hand. He rushed towards Corthie and plunged a blade into his right side, between the plates of steel. The courtyard erupted into pandemonium. As Corthie sank to the cobbles, a hand clutching his side, he saw dozens of his religious followers surround the man who had stabbed him. In a flurry of frenzied blows and kicks, the man fell, his cries lost amid the cacophony of violence. Corthie felt arms pull him along the ground, and saw Quill draw her sword, fending off the jostling and surging crowds. The rest of the Wolfpack piled in, shoving the civilians out of their way and clearing a space round the champion. The courtyard felt like it was shaking from the noise of the crowds. Some were screaming out lamentations, while dozens were on their knees, tears streaming down their cheeks as they prayed for Corthie the Redeemer.

  ‘We need to get him out of here!’ yelled Quill.

  ‘He’s bleeding too much,’ said Tanner, his voice low. ‘We can’t move him.’

  Corthie tried to turn, but his vision was swimming, and his head fell back, the rim of the helmet hitting the cobbles with a crack. For some reason, his thoughts went to Aila. He pictured sitting with her in the Blind Poet, getting drunk together, and he focussed on the image, as the pain threatened to swamp him. He had liked spending time with the demigod, and had assumed he would see her again at some point, but he had been in no rush; after all, neither of them were going anywhere. But maybe not; maybe his life was ending and he would never see her again. That would be a pity, he thought, as his mind drifted into oblivion.

  Corthie rolled over and stretched, then grimaced from the pain in his side. He opened his eyes. He was in his room in the Wolfpack Tower, and from the purple light coming in through an open shutter, it was the middle of the night. He pulled back the sheets and placed his feet onto the rug that lay by the bedside. He was naked, except for a clean pair of shorts, and there were bandages on his legs, shoulders, and a wide swathe of them over his torso. He glanced down at his right side, where the blade had entered, then staggered to his feet.

  ‘Hey!’ cried the familiar voice of Quill. She threw off the blanket from the chair where she had been sitting and rushed over. ‘Get back into bed, now. Where in Malik’s name do you think you’re going at this time of night?’

  ‘Up onto the roof,’ he said as she escorted him back to bed. ‘I fancied some fresh air.’

  ‘I can open a window for you. Sit down. That’s it. Legs under the sheets.’

  ‘Stop fussing.’

  She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him. ‘You were stabbed yesterday morning, boss; you shouldn’t be attempting to get out of bed for days.’ She reached under the mattress and showed him a chamber pot. ‘I brought this for you. Use it. Don’t get up to go to the bathroom, not until the fortress medics have cleared you.’

  He frowned at the ceramic pot. ‘There’s no chance I’m going in that thing. I don’t know what you’re worried about; I’ll be up in no time. Is there anything to eat? And can you get me a cold ale? And that window you were talking about…?’

  Quill got up, her gaze lingering upon him for a moment. He thought she was going to say something, but she turned and walked to a window. She unlatched it, letting in the cool night air. She then went to a cabinet, lit another lamp, and began to fill a tray with food and drink.

  ‘So who was he?’

  She turned. ‘The guy who stabbed you? I’m not sure. The Redemptionists didn’t leave much of him behind after tearing his body limb from limb. I think soldiers are searching for his left arm; if they get it, they might be able to identify him from his tattoos.’ She brought over the tray and set it down for him on the bed. ‘There are all kinds of rumours. The demigods are jealous of your success, or it was ordered by a rival religious group who claims you’re the anti-redeemer, whatever that is. Everybody’s speculating, but no one knows.’

  Corthie nodded, his mind on the food. He was always ravenous after being injured, and the more he ate, the quicker he would heal. He slurped down half a tankard of ale and wiped his lips.

  ‘The Wolfpack are out tonight without you.’

  ‘I guessed as much,’ he said, picking up a roasted hunk of meat; ‘I’ll be back out tomorrow night, though.’

  Quill’s face flashed in anger. She clenched her fists as she rose to her feet. ‘You are staying in bed, for at least three days, and then you’ll be staying up here in your quarters for another three days, before me and the rest of the Wolfpack will even consider you going back out there, boss. Don’t you understand? You’re wearing yourself out; they’re wearing you out, the idiots in command of the Bulwark. I saw the state of you this morning, and that was before you were stabbed. Out of the sixty-nine days s
ince you first went beyond the walls, you’ve had two nights off. Your body can’t take it; I can see it starting to break down before my eyes…’ She paused as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Corthie put the hunk of meat back on the tray. ‘Alright. I hadn’t realised you felt that way. Look, I’m fine, I’m half Kellach Brigdomin.’

  She sat down again, her eyes red. ‘Half what?’

  ‘The people I’m descended from, on my father’s side. I never get sick, Quill; never catch a disease, and I can eat things everyone else finds poisonous. And we heal; not as quickly as those with self-healing powers like your demigods, but much faster than other folk. My old tutor once told me that he had a theory that the Kellach Brigdomin were bred by a god to be warriors. It’s that, mixed with my mother’s battle-vision that makes me who I am.’ He caught her glance. ‘A compromise. Three days off in total, but I’m warning you, by the third day I’ll be so bored that I’ll be a right pain in the ass.’

  ‘You can still die, Corthie. You might walk around like a god, but you’re not.’

  ‘I know that, Quill.’

  ‘Do you? Do you understand the consequences of failure?’

  ‘Of course I do, but I’m not going to dwell on them. When I’m out there, I let my battle-vision consume me; if I stopped to think about getting killed I’d hesitate, and then… well, I’d end up being dinner for the greenhides. Let me worry about being Corthie Holdfast. So, three days, aye?’

  She lowered her head. ‘I’ll speak to Tanner and the others.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When they get back in at dawn.’

  ‘Alright, thanks.’

  She watched him as he tore through the hunk of meat. ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘Yeah, Tanner.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He was… concerned about that woman you went off with from the Circuit. Elsie, was it?’

  Corthie said nothing, but groaned inside. Neither Quill nor Tanner had said anything to him about how the evening in the Circuit had turned out. They hadn’t seen him kiss Aila, though, he was sure about that.