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

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘What would happen to the Circuit in this scheme, sir?’

  ‘We would completely redevelop it; businesses, industry, new homes, and I propose that we move most of the Reapers from Auldan into Medio to fill some of the space. That way, Tara would directly benefit, as Outer Pella could be turned into farmland. See, I’ve thought of everything.’

  Lady Omertia shifted very slightly in her chair. ‘He’s very proud of his plan.’

  ‘He has quite the political mind,’ said Daniel’s mother.

  ‘Indeed he has,’ said Lady Omertia. ‘If that the politics out of the way, I’d like to move on to discuss the marital exchange.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ said Daniel’s mother. ‘For our part, we were thinking of offering the Omertias an estate in Sander territory. It has six farmsteads, and covers forty acres of fertile land, where cotton is grown. It has been in the Aurelian family for over three hundred years, and is very pretty, as well as profitable.’

  Lady Omertia smiled. ‘Sounds charming. For our part, we wish to offer the Aurelians the ownership of ten acres of residential land within the Circuit.’ She paused, but Daniel’s mother didn’t react in any way. ‘Its average annual take in rental income is considerable. Of course, this year hasn’t been quite as profitable, but I’m sure it will reap dividends once the troubles are over.’

  ‘That seems perfectly acceptable to me,’ said Daniel’s mother, smiling. ‘Shall I have my lawyer send over the fine detail for you to read?’

  ‘Thank you, and I shall instruct ours to do the same.’

  The lord coughed. ‘I have a map of Sander territory somewhere. I don’t suppose you would oblige me by pointing out where this estate of yours lies?’

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ said Daniel’s mother.

  The lord stood, and ambled over to a large bookcase.

  ‘I think I might use the bathroom,’ said Daniel.

  Lady Omertia smiled. ‘Of course, it’s down the hallway; the third door on the right.’

  Daniel got to his feet and left the chamber. He kept the fixed smile on his lips as he passed a servant in the hallway, then went into the bathroom and locked the door. His face fell. The lord was a fool. A dangerous fool. He wanted to deport a quarter of a million peasants to a barren shore where the greenhides would rip them to pieces within days. He hadn’t wanted to ask the question of what the lord thought would happen to the Evaders if they were sent across the straits, dreading what the response would have been.

  He sat on the edge of the bath-tub and stared at the tiled floor.

  A low, gentle tap came from the door. He stood, and opened it. Emily put a finger to his lips to quieten him, then pushed him into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close, then leaned down and kissed her neck. His hand moved down from her waist.

  ‘Uh uh,’ she said, pushing him away.

  He stared at her, his desire burning.

  ‘We’re not in the villa now,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I want to speak to you; we’ve never had a chance to talk alone. We’ll have plenty of time for the intimate stuff when we’re married, but first I want to make sure you’re the right one for me.’

  ‘Of course, I couldn’t help myself; you’re irresistible.’

  ‘Good. I like that you want me, but I need more, Danny. What will you give me if we marry?’

  ‘Um, I think our mothers are discussing the marital exchange just now.’

  ‘I’m not talking about wealth or land, Danny, I’m talking about you and me. If I become your wife I will give you all of myself, my heart, my soul, my loyalty to the end. If you become my husband, will you give me the same?’

  He took her hand. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll be the only woman for you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Loyalty is everything to me, Danny. I want to escape this house, and I need to be free of my father. He’s controlling and treats me like an infant, and he treats my mother… I’d better not say. I need to know that you’ll be different, that you won’t sleep with other girls, and that you’ll treat me with respect. I want to be your partner, Danny, not your quiet and obedient little wife.’

  ‘You’ll be Lady Aurelian one day,’ he said, his body boiling over with desire, ‘and I promise I’ll be loyal. I’ll be loyal, and I’ll respect you, always.’

  She gazed at him. ‘I wish we were back in the villa.’

  ‘So do I,’ he said, reaching for her. He kissed her throat.

  ‘But we’re not,’ she said, pushing him back. ‘We’re so close, Danny; let’s not wreck it now. If my father even suspected I was downstairs he would call the whole thing off, and I’m not risking that.’

  For five minutes with her, Daniel felt he would risk anything.

  ‘Go,’ she said; ‘I’ll wait here a little longer.’ She pushed him towards the door. ‘Go.’

  He unlocked the door and slipped out, hearing the bolt slide home behind him. He felt like screaming, his thwarted desire pushing out every other thought. He knew she was right, but his body disagreed. He tried to control his breathing, then walked back along the hallway to the drawing room.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Daniel,’ his mother said, ‘I thought perhaps you’d got lost.’

  ‘Ehhh…’

  She rose to her feet. ‘You’ll be happy to know that the marital exchanges have been agreed, and only await the paperwork from the lawyers being signed.’

  ‘It was a pleasure to have you visit,’ said Lady Omertia, also rising.

  ‘You’ll have to come over one evening,’ said the lord, ‘then I can show you both some more of my plan for the Evaders.’

  ‘That’s sounds… wonderful, thank you.’

  They filed out into the hallway, and a servant handed them their raincoats. The lord shook Daniel’s hand, and the two ladies kissed each other’s cheeks.

  ‘Until next time,’ the lord said as the front door was opened.

  Daniel and his mother crossed the driveway under a line of umbrellas as the wind and rain gusted around them. They climbed into their carriage and it set off.

  His mother wiped the rain from her face and turned to Daniel. ‘Do you realise how close you came to ruining everything?’

  ‘What? I thought my answers were all right. I played along with his crazy ideas, didn’t I?’

  ‘I’m not talking about your answers, I’m talking about what took you so long in the bathroom. Do you think I’m stupid? That silly girl.’

  Daniel stared at her, unsure of what to say.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘We were talking, that’s all.’

  ‘Really? And I suppose you were up all night “talking” in the villa too?’

  ‘You knew about that?’

  Her mother looked at him like he was mad. ‘I have ears.’

  Daniel grimaced. ‘Please don’t talk about it.’

  ‘Look, I like to think I’m an indulgent parent, and I don’t mind what you and Emily got up to in the villa; I actually thought it was quite cute, but in her parents’ bathroom? Dear Amalia, spare me from stupid children.’

  ‘Honestly, we were just talking in the bathroom. I wanted more, but…’

  ‘Well, at least she has a tiny bit of sense, but her father would never have believed it was an innocent chat. Lord Omertia is a vile man, let’s not beat around the bush, but once the marriage contract is signed, then Emily will become an Aurelian and she will move under my protection. Promise me that you’ll do nothing stupid like this again until the contract has all of the required signatures; then, you can do as you please. Do you promise?’

  Daniel frowned, and gazed out at the rain. ‘I’ll try.’

  A messenger with an umbrella was waiting for him as the carriage reached the regimental barracks. He gestured to his mother to wait for a moment as he climbed down and took the slip of paper from the messenger.

  ‘What does it say, dear?’

  He frowned. ‘My new deplo
yment begins tomorrow. I’m to report to the Eleventh Royal Foot at dawn.’ He glanced at his mother. ‘Pella.’

  ‘Good, then the rumours were true. I assume this means you have the evening off?’

  ‘I do, yes.’

  ‘Then I insist you spend it at home.’

  Daniel turned to the messenger. ‘Please let the commander know that I have received the order and will report as requested.’

  The man saluted. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Daniel climbed back into the carriage and it pulled off again. ‘I’ll have to leave early,’ he said. ‘I need to collect a few things from my quarters before going to Pella.’

  ‘I’ll have a servant wake you.’

  The ponies pulled the carriage up the hill towards Princeps Row. Somewhere behind the thick, black clouds the sun was setting, and Daniel missed seeing the sky. Water streamed down the slope of the road, filling the gutters and spilling over the cliff in little waterfalls.

  ‘What a noise the rain makes,’ said his mother. ‘As I mentioned before, this is a ridiculous time of year to be travelling. I hope you’re given a carriage tomorrow, I’d hate to think of you having to walk all the way to Pella in this. Have you ever met Lord Salvor?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, he’s the demigod you need to impress in Pella. He’s one of Princess Khora’s more, shall we say, competent children? Mind you, there’s not much competition there. Ikara is a fool, and Lydia does nothing but sit on her hands in Port Sanders. Poor Doria is all but ignored, while Naxor swans around like he owns the City. The glory of the demigods has certainly faded.’

  Daniel smiled. ‘I thought you didn’t discuss City politics?’

  ‘This is not politics, it’s gossip. I’m not demeaning their authority, just their personalities. Duke Marcus, now there’s a man. It’s a pity he’s required in the Bulwark; he’d sort out the Circuit in a day.’

  ‘Come on, now you’re sounding like Lord Omertia.’

  ‘Really? I’m hardly advocating the mass slaughter of the Evaders, am I? A little law and order might not go amiss, though.’

  They pulled into their driveway, and the carriage came to a halt under a wide, rainproof awning. A servant opened the side door, and they hurried into the mansion to avoid the wind.

  ‘Dinner’s in an hour,’ said his mother as they took off their raincoats. ‘Try not to drink too much gin before then.’

  Daniel awoke with a finger pressed against his lips. He opened his eyes, and saw a hooded figure in his bedroom leaning over him.

  He scrambled away, his hands gripping the covers as his heart raced. The figure pulled the hood back from her face.

  ‘Emily? What in Malik’s name…?’

  ‘Shush,’ she hissed.

  He stared at her, and noticed her long, hooded cloak was dripping rainwater onto his floor. ‘How did you get in? How did you know I was even here?’

  ‘I’m pretty resourceful,’ she whispered. ‘My father kept drinking after you left; once he starts he doesn’t usually stop until he’s unconscious, and this evening was no different. My mother went to her room to pray, probably for a better husband, and I hope Amalia’s listening to her.’

  He said nothing, his eyes never leaving her face.

  ‘Did you mean what you said, when we were alone before?’

  He nodded. ‘Every word.’

  ‘Until your dying day?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then,’ she said, unbuttoning the raincoat and letting it fall to the floor, ‘I don’t need to wait on a contract.’ She pulled back the blanket and slipped into the bed beside him. ‘I belong to you now, just as you belong to me.’

  Chapter 25

  The Fog of Balian

  The Circuit, Medio, The City – 3rd Balian 3419

  After thirty-two continuous days, the rain had stopped and a thick Balian fog had descended over the City. Aila didn’t know which she hated more, but at least they were closer to the dry, crisp days of winter that were coming.

  Fog would help a lot of assassins, she thought, as she followed the man through the twisting streets, but not her. Her disguise was herself; she didn’t need anything that could make her lose track of her quarry, especially one that she had been hunting for so long. She had retired Stormfire for the moment; the appearance was too well known among the underworld, and she didn’t want the notoriety to influence, or panic, her target. The man halted by the side of a canal, the mist drifting around him like a shroud. He tilted his head, as if listening, and Aila remained motionless in the shadows, her dark cloak covering every inch of her except her face, which she had told the world to see as belonging to an old peasant woman.

  The man turned his head, scanning the street and the canal. A rumble of cries echoed through the fog, coming from a few streets away. Another disturbance, Aila thought, another deadly game between the rioters and the occupying forces. One or two soldiers from the other tribes were killed or seriously wounded every day by the insurgents, their bodies strung up from the balconies of abandoned housing blocks, or left mutilated in the gutters. The savagery of the rebels was matched by the ruthlessness of the Auldan militia. That Aurelian asshole had inspired his comrades by his actions in the summer, and there had been other tenement fires, where crowds of Taran or Dalrigian militia had stood by and watched as entire families had burned.

  The man glanced in the direction of the noise, then turned and carried on walking. The bag over his shoulder looked heavy, and the man was tall and well-built, his shoulders wide and powerful. Her thoughts went to Corthie and she almost stumbled.

  No, she chided herself. Not now. Concentrate. She had shed enough tears over him, and she would probably shed more; but not now. She slipped out of the shadows and followed the man. He led her into an area she wasn’t familiar with. It had been knocked down and re-built within a decade or so, and she could remember the stinking tannery that had occupied the site before; now there was a maze of ramshackle streets, with houses piled up in ungainly stacks. More shoddy housing constructed by the Taran aristocrats who owned the land. Scum, she thought. Parasites who sat back and counted the gold fleeced from the residents by their teams of rent-collectors. Yendra’s laws would have seen them lose their land, with it being redistributed to those who lived there. It had been the last straw for Prince Michael, who had taken the side of a few wealthy Taran nobles over the masses of suffering poor.

  And what had Khora done to help? Nothing.

  The man glanced around, then entered a housing block. Aila crept through the dark shadows, the fog clinging to the air as she hurried to the entrance. She listened at the door, then slowly pushed it open, half-expecting the man to be standing ready with a sword, but the hallway was empty. She entered, and closed the door behind her without a sound. The block had a dozen or so tiny apartments, and she went to the bottom of the stairs and glanced upwards.

  There he was, ascending the steps above her. She timed her own steps to match his, and followed. He stopped on the third floor, and she heard a set of keys jingle for a second, and then a door opened and closed. She raced up the rest of the stairs, her soft-heeled sandals making no sound on the steps, and unclipped the little strap that held her sword securely in its sheath. She reached the landing and knelt by the door, listening for a few minutes. She could hear movement inside, but no voices.

  She examined the lock. It seemed simple enough, but she knew there was probably at least one bolt also protecting the door. She took her picks from her belt pouch and got to work. It was slow going, but she knew silence was more important than speed. The mechanism clicked as she turned it, and she drew back from the door, waiting to see if the noise elicited a response from the man inside, her hand on her sword hilt.

  Nothing.

  It was time.

  You see me as Stormfire.

  She placed her fingers on the door handle and turned. The door opened an inch. No bolts?

  He knew.

  She edged to the side of the doorf
rame, drew her sword and swung the door open. A crossbow bolt flew past her, striking the concrete wall opposite and gouging out a two-inch hole. Aila burst through the entrance before he could loose again. She cursed as she saw him pick up a second loaded bow, then dived to the floor as the bolt whistled over her head. She pulled her knife from her boot and hurled it at him, but he brought the bow up to his face, and the blade embedded itself into the thick stock. She rolled to her feet and rushed him, her sword flashing in the dim light. He swung the crossbow, and the edge of her sword snagged among the cords of the pulling mechanism. He pushed, shoving the bow into Aila’s face as he let go of it. Aila dropped her sword, and it fell to the floor with the bow in a tangled mess.

  The man smiled at her as he pulled a knife. ‘Stormfire. I wondered when you’d show up. Out of weapons? What a shame. Perhaps you’re not as good as they say you are.’

  You see me as the worst nightmare of your childhood.

  The man’s eyes widened and he let out a garbled cry. Aila grabbed the stock of the other bow and rammed it into his face. He fell, but slashed out with his arm at the same time, cutting through Aila’s thin leather armour with the knife. She almost fell from the pain, but brought the stock down again, battering it against the side of the man’s head. He collapsed to the ground, his eyes closed.

  Aila fell to her knees, blood flowing from the wound in her abdomen. She powered her self-healing, first to rid herself of the pain, then to close the wound. She groaned as the pain faded, then checked her stomach, wiping away the blood to see that the injury had healed. She glanced at the man. He was good, and had been the first for over twenty years to get that close to Stormfire. But, more importantly, he was alive.

  Aila didn’t like torturing people. It made her feel like a demigod, but not in a good way. Inflicting agony upon a mortal when they were at your mercy seemed like something her brother would do.