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

by Christopher Mitchell

  She gazed at the man tied to the chair. She had secured the front door of the apartment, but no one in the block had come by to see what had caused the noise. The sounds of violence had become common in the Circuit, and folk ignored what was happening right under their noses, worried that they would be next. The contents of the sack that the man had been carrying were laid out on a table; piles of gold, and an assortment of weapons. She had also examined the unconscious man’s upper left arm, and had seen the scarring that had removed the tattoos.

  Another Blade in the Circuit.

  She didn’t relish what had to be done next, but it was necessary. She waited until the man began to stir.

  You see me as Lord Kano, Adjutant of the Circuit.

  She slapped him across the face. He spluttered, his eyes opening. He glanced around, then halted, staring at her.

  ‘My lord…’ he gasped, his eyes wide.

  ‘Stormfire is dead.’

  The man let out a groan of relief. ‘You killed her, my lord?’

  ‘Yes. We knew she was tracking you, and followed her here. However, I now have a problem. You were alone with her in this apartment for longer than I’d hoped, and she may have had accomplices. I need to know what you told her.’

  ‘Nothing, my lord, I swear it.’

  ‘So you say. I wonder if perhaps you have outlived your usefulness. If your face is known, then the work you do may well be compromised.’

  ‘There was no one else here with her, my lord, no one.’

  She shook her head and scowled at him. ‘Right now, I have thirty fighters positioned around this building; do you see or hear them? Of course you don’t. How can you be sure she didn’t have others with her? I also counted the gold. It’s short.’

  ‘What? No, my lord.’

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice you taking your cut?’

  ‘I would never, my lord, I swear. Stormfire must have taken it after I was knocked out. If I delivered less than was promised to the gangs, they’d kill me. They’re already jumpy, and many are on the verge of calling off the riots; if I tried to short-change them, they’d stop the fighting tomorrow.’

  ‘Have they threatened you?’

  ‘Yes, my lord; they’re losing too many of their young fighters to the Tarans, and they want more, my lord; more gold, more weapons. If I don’t get that money to them by tonight, they might go on strike.’

  ‘On strike?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. They said they will lay down their arms and stay indoors unless the gold keeps flowing in. I’ve already had to increase the payments to account for the damn weather. I have done everything exactly as you commanded, my lord, but the Circuit is nearing exhaustion. To keep the troubles going, I need access to more gold.’

  Aila paused, the knot in her stomach turning nauseous. Her brother had commanded this? The Bulwark was paying for the riots to continue? Much clicked into place in her mind, and she glanced at the man, knowing she had heard enough.

  ‘Close your eyes, Blade.’

  ‘But, my lord,’ he cried, ‘I have been loyal to you and the duke; faithful, always…’

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  He did so, his breath coming in gasps. She gripped the hilt of her short sword, and swung.

  An hour later, Aila was in a carriage, travelling through the thick banks of fog towards the Union Walls and Auldan. She had returned to Redmarket after killing the Blade, and had tried to prepare herself as best she could for the confrontation she had been dreading. It had been over a month since she had been in Port Sanders learning about Khora’s part in the assassination attempts made on Corthie’s life, but after her meeting with the champion at the Middle Walls, she had avoided the entire subject.

  She was still angry with him, still hurt. She had walked into the meeting with Corthie determined to end it with him, but when he had walked right up to her and tried to kiss her, everything had changed, and in that moment she had lost her heart to him. And then, a few seconds later, everything had changed again. She felt bereft, but how could she lose something she had never had?

  She hated him for the things he had said to her, especially that nonsense about his sister. It was an excuse, nothing more, and how she had managed to restrain herself from punching him, she would never know. And then, he seemed to change his mind all over again, telling her that he wanted to run away with her so they could be together. Asshole. She had surrounded herself with work, buried herself in it, and sometimes hours would go by without the image of him entering her mind.

  She loved him, she couldn’t help it. She had never loved like this before, but it would pass, eventually; maybe. If she waited a few decades he would be gone forever; a few centuries, and her memories of him would fade, as had her recollections of all the mortals she had cared for. For the seven hundred and sixty-seven years of her life, this had been the case. Mortals bloomed and died, bloomed and died, while she and her family remained unchanging, but the way she felt about Corthie was different, and now she was on her way to speak to the God-Child who was trying to kill him.

  The carriage went through the gates in the Union Walls and continued into Auldan. The fog outside remained thick and impenetrable, and they could have been anywhere. Khora had based herself out of Pella since the start of Sweetmist, and the thought of returning to her childhood home, and the place of her enforced house-arrest, weighed almost as heavily upon Aila as the prospect of confronting Khora. She had promised Corthie that, if the princess was guilty, she would kill her; would she?

  Yes, she thought; she would do it for Corthie, and hang the consequences.

  The carriage reached the shores of the Inner Bay, although no water could be seen through the fog. They took a road that ran by the beach and entered Pella through its old town walls. The day had not long passed noon, but the streets were quiet, and Aila could hear nothing but the clip of the ponies’ shoes on the road and the rumble of the carriage wheels.

  Then she saw it; Cuidrach Palace, the place of her birth, and her home for many years. Her father Prince Isra had ruled the Reapers from there for centuries until the Civil War, and she now loathed and loved the building with equal measure. The sprawling palace covered a large area of the town’s harbour front, with wings and interior courtyards that had once resounded to the noise of her father’s eleven children, and she remembered playing with Kano when he had been a boy. She had loved him dearly, but now he was an enemy.

  The carriage halted before the main gates and Aila stepped down to the ground.

  ‘A pleasure to welcome you home, my lady,’ said a courtier.

  ‘I haven’t been here in over forty years.’

  ‘Indeed, my lady; however, Lord Salvor has kept your rooms as they were.’

  Aila smirked. ‘Including the bars on the windows?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ the courtier said, blushing a little; ‘they have been removed.’

  She walked up the steps and into the entrance hall of the palace, the courtier flanking her.

  ‘Where is Princess Khora?’

  ‘She is with Lords Salvor and Naxor, ma’am, in the governor’s office. Are they expecting you?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Perhaps, ma’am,’ he said as he kept pace with her stride, ‘I should go on ahead, if you’ll allow me, so that I can introduce your arrival?’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘I said it’s fine.’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but I may have to insist. Princess Khora does not like to be surprised.’

  ‘As she and her two sons have vision powers, they probably know I’m on my way.’

  They reached the door to the Governor’s office. Two guards stood by, in the pale green uniform of Reaper militia. They glanced from Aila to the courtier.

  ‘You know who I am,’ she said; ‘get out of my way.’

  The courtier said nothing, and the guards stood aside. Aila pushed the doors open and strode into the large chamber. Khora was sea
ted at a long table, with Naxor, Salvor, and a group of militia officers, some in Taran uniforms.

  Khora’s eyes went to the doors and she frowned.

  ‘Good afternoon, aunt, cousins, mortals,’ Aila said. ‘How are you enjoying the Fog of Balian?’

  Khora scowled at the mention of her slain son.

  ‘Lady Aila,’ said Naxor, rising; ‘cousin, we weren’t expecting the pleasure of your company. If you would care to wait for a few more moments; we were rather in the middle of things.’

  ‘It can’t wait.’

  ‘Really?’ said Naxor. ‘What could be of such importance that you interrupt the business of the High Guardian of the City? My mother has summoned these officers here today due to matters of great urgency.’

  ‘My words are not for them; dismiss the officers and make them wait.’

  Khora took a breath, then nodded to her son. Naxor frowned.

  ‘My apologies,’ he said to the officers; ‘as you can see, my cousin bears news for my mother that, quite clearly, cannot wait.’

  The Reaper and Taran officers glared at Aila. She frowned. One of them seemed familiar from a drawing she had seen being posted around the Circuit. He was young, maybe twenty, and wore the uniform of a Taran lieutenant.

  ‘You,’ she said, as the officers were getting to their feet. ‘What’s your name?’

  The Taran glanced at her, his face steady, but his eyes showing alarm.

  ‘This is Lieutenant Aurelian of the Taran Eleventh Royal Foot, ma’am,’ said a captain.

  ‘Aurelian?’ she said. ‘You mean the criminal who burned a tenement of civilians to the ground? The one who was mysteriously transferred out of the Circuit as soon as I requested an interview with him. That Aurelian?’

  The captain’s eyes flickered, but he stood his ground. ‘He is beyond your jurisdiction, my lady.’

  She walked up to the young lieutenant. ‘Why did you do it?’

  The room stilled.

  ‘I, uh… I…’

  ‘He was doing his duty, ma’am,’ said the captain, ‘and I would appreciate it greatly if you would stop harassing one of my most promising young officers.’ He glanced at Khora for support, but the princess’s attention was elsewhere.

  Aila smiled, her eyes never leaving Aurelian. ‘Justice is very patient, and it never forgets.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Naxor. ‘You wanted them to leave, and now you’re preventing them from doing so.’

  Aila raised her hands. ‘I’m done.’ She turned and took a seat at the table opposite Khora as the officers filed out of the room.

  Khora levelled her eyes at her. ‘Speak.’

  ‘Duke Marcus is paying gold to the gangs in the Circuit to keep the riots going.’

  Lord Salvor’s mouth opened, and he half-stood. ‘What? Is this true? This is an outrage. What is he trying to achieve? Do you have evidence?’

  ‘Sit, and calm yourself, son,’ said Khora.

  Aila smiled at her. ‘You already knew, didn’t you?’

  Khora expression remained steady. ‘Yes.’

  Lord Salvor’s face went red with anger, and he clenched his fists. He stared at his mother and brother. ‘And did he know too?’

  Lord Naxor nodded. ‘It was I who informed our mother some time ago.’

  Salvor banged his fist off the table.

  ‘Go to your room if you cannot control yourself,’ said Khora. ‘I don’t have to explain my actions to anyone, except the God-King himself. You are well aware that your brother is my closest advisor; this does not mean that I value you any less. My children all fulfil the roles I have given them, but there are things I would tell you that I would not utter to Ikara or Lydia for example.’

  Salvor lowered his face.

  Aila glanced at him. ‘Maybe you should leave for the next part; I wouldn’t want you to have to be sent to your room by your mummy for having a tantrum.’

  ‘You disgust me,’ he said, lifting his eyes to meet her. ‘Having to watch you in an opium haze for years on end; debasing yourself like that; you should have been executed with the other traitors at the end of the war.’

  ‘Lady Aila is right,’ said Khora. ‘Leave; now.’

  Salvor stormed from the room, the door banging as he slammed it behind him.

  ‘I would be obliged,’ said Khora, turning to face Aila, ‘if you would refrain from antagonising the very people who are on the same side as you, my niece. You like to think that you can remain apart from having to choose between me and Marcus, but if that were truly the case, you would not be here. Now, the Blades. Naxor brought me evidence some time ago that gold was being channelled from the Bulwark to the Circuit.’

  ‘Why did you not tell me?’

  ‘Because knowledge has to lead to action, and there is no action I can take. Do I announce to the City that Duke Marcus is behaving in this manner? Who would believe me, and what difference would it make? I cannot march an army into the Bulwark. Should I complain to the God-Queen? She would probably use that as an excuse to have me removed from power. What about the God-King; should I appeal to him?’

  ‘So, you sit and wait for Marcus to make the first move?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘There is one thing you could do, of course, that doesn’t involve armies. What about assassinating those close to Marcus? His strongest allies?’

  Khora raised an eyebrow. ‘My. I don’t know what to say. Are you encouraging me to murder your brother?’

  ‘What? No, I didn’t mean him.’

  ‘Then who exactly? Marcus himself? This is dangerous talk, Aila.’

  Aila glanced at the faces of Khora and Naxor. Who was trying to trap whom? She swallowed. ‘What about his champion? He could be a powerful ally of the duke.’

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ said Khora.

  Aila tensed, her hand inching towards the knife hidden in the folds of her cloak. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Naxor here has suggested the same thing to me, more than once. I told him not to be ridiculous. Why would I want to harm the man who is keeping the walls free of greenhides?’

  ‘Because he is a threat to you?’

  ‘He’s not a threat. If he ever becomes one, then I would consider it, but not before. If I went around assassinating everyone who might become a threat to me one day, there wouldn’t be many people left in the City by now.’

  Aila stared at Khora, but her aunt’s face was unreadable. She turned to Naxor. ‘Why did you kill your servant Tangrit?’

  Naxor frowned. ‘How did you know about that?’

  ‘Why did Tangrit pay to have a team of assassins try to kill the champion?’

  ‘Because he was a traitor,’ said Naxor, ‘which is why I killed him.’

  ‘I see,’ said Khora to her; ‘you came here thinking it was I who was responsible for the attempts on the champion’s life? Tell me, what would you have done had it been I?’

  Aila frowned, knowing they were going to read the thoughts from her head no matter what she said next. ‘I was going to kill you.’

  Khora and Naxor glanced at each other, then stared at Aila. She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes for a moment as they trawled through her thoughts and memories, feeling as powerless as she ever had. It was done, though, and at least she had discovered another part of the truth.

  ‘Oh, Aila,’ said Khora; ‘oh dear.’

  ‘You impersonated me at the Middle Walls?’ said Naxor. ‘I’m impressed. And kissing the champion, three times?’ He laughed. ‘You wicked girl.’

  ‘Son, please,’ said Khora, ‘can you not see how much she is hurting?’

  ‘I don’t want your pity,’ said Aila.

  ‘Stay here tonight,’ said Khora; ‘sleep in your old rooms. I must resume my meeting with the officers of the militia, to finalise our plans for opposing an invasion by the Blades into Medio and Auldan. I do not wish you to be at that meeting, especially after seeing how you talked to that Taran officer. I’m not your mummy, but I would
very much like you to go to your room. Tomorrow, we can discuss Stormfire, and how we can work together to save the things we love.’

  Aila got to her feet.

  ‘I’ll send you up some brandy,’ said Naxor, winking; ‘you look like you need it.’

  Aila sat on the huge bed, gazing around at her old possessions. Her room looked like a museum, an image of her life from before that had been frozen in time; only tidier. For hundreds of years she had been confined within those walls, the windows barred, and the doors locked. She knew that, on this visit, she could walk out any time she liked, so why did she feel so trapped?

  Khora and Naxor had read her every thought, every fear, every desire. She lay back onto the bed as she imagined Naxor laughing at the way she felt about Corthie, and tears welled in her eyes. Khora was different. She wanted to trust her, but could never forget how the princess had betrayed Yendra at the end of the war.

  A knock came at the door.

  ‘Yeah?’

  The door opened and servant walked in with a trolley. ‘Dinner, ma’am.’

  Aila remained where she was until the door closed again, then she got up and wandered over to the trolley. Covered dishes and plates filled the surface, along with a bottle of brandy and a note. She unfolded the slip of paper.

  Aila,

  Sorry for laughing; it’s been so long since my own heart was broken that I had forgotten how it feels. Drink the brandy, rest, and tomorrow we’ll work out how to beat Marcus.

  As long as there is breath within me, I will never let the duke hurt you.

  My love, Naxor.

  Aila felt the tears roll down her face, and she succumbed to them. She would do as her cousin asked and then, in the morning, she would do the unthinkable; she would make her peace with Khora.

  Chapter 26

  Change of Plan

  Arrowhead Fort, The Bulwark, The City – 3rd Balian 3419

  ‘There is something seriously wrong with this City’s weather,’ said Corthie as he gazed out of the tall windows of his bedchamber. ‘Where’s the rain gone? Is it morning?’