Roon-Kotke smiled at the mention of Fura-3. Han would have loved this.
The assembled casters lined up and volley-fired again. Roon-Kotke loosed his own lance. Junn-Kri and Lor did likewise. The oconic bolts scorched down the tunnel, slamming into the old brickwork, erupting in plumes of fire, smoke, stone and earth. There was a roaring sound. Rocks shattering. Bricks bursting. Mud boiling. The ground shook, stones falling from the ceiling. The paved floor behind them cracked, leaving a jagged scar, and they were soon enveloped in a rushing cloud of choking dust. Roon-Kotke covered his eyes as grit and small stones clanged against his armour.
“Stand ready,” shouted Rahi beside him. “Watch out for more of those creatures.”
Slowly, the smoke began to clear. Roon-Kotke coughed and spat into the dirt, trying to clear his mouth. His vision was hazy. Eyes caked in dust. He heard a scratching sound to his right and realised he’d dropped his lance. A spider advanced on him, dragging itself across the dirt, four of its legs injured. He backed away, hands in front of his face, expecting it to jump at him. But before it could, Junn-Kri stepped in and skewered the creature with the bayonet fixed to his own weapon. Roon-Kotke nodded his thanks.
“Over here,” came a shout.
Roon-Kotke turned and followed the voice, stumbling over shattered brick, boots kicking up dust. The tunnel was now blocked by a wall of earth and stone. No way through. Its secrets lost. Around him, members of Rahi’s squad were exterminating any of the creatures that remained alive, stabbing them as Junn-Kri had done. Most were too weak to put up a fight. Others struggled to crawl on busted legs and were quickly dispatched. For a moment, Roon-Kotke couldn't see Rahi. Then he spotted her at the edge of the mound of dead creatures, picking them up one-by-one and throwing them aside.
“Help me,” she said flatly.
Roon-Kotke stumbled forwards again and stood by her side. He picked up a dead arachnid. Half rat-thing, half spider-thing. Two animals he hated combined into an abomination he hated even more. And the smell... Dark blood spattered his arm as he tossed the creature away. Others had joined him now, removing the dead animals. Roon-Kotke wanted to ask why. But Rahi-Khun’s grim expression warned him off. She had lost a friend. Roon-Kotke knew what that was like.
“Here!”, someone shouted. Rahi dropped the dead creature she was holding and moved around to where Caster-Sergeant Dai-Min Khundhan stood. He pointed at the heap of dead spiders and Rahi squatted down to look at something. Roon-Kotke couldn’t see what. She clicked open a chamber halfway down her lance.
“Stand back everyone.”
Roon-Kotke shuffled back, stepping over the bodies of dead spiders. Carapace crunching under his boots.
Rahi jammed the end of her lance into the mound and there was a rushing, whooshing sound as a Knockdown fired, blasting the dead creatures up into the air, propelling them backwards, slamming them into the rubble that now blocked the tunnel.
Roon-Kotke stared, mouth agape, a smile breaking on his lips. For there, beneath the pile of nightmarish corpses was a blood spattered Sanctuary, a perfect domed shell of thickened air, beneath which sat a weary, scruffy-looking caster with a great big sword in his hand.
43. OUR FIGHT BEGINS
“YOU’RE A HARD MAN to kill, Mulai,” said Roon-Kotke.
Lokke waited in front of the oconic gate, watching a technician link it to a capacitor via two thick copper pipes. Behind him, the other technicians, porters and cooks of the victorious Fuerzi-Kri queued as he did, some of them cut and bruised after the battle, none seriously injured. Behind them, Rahi-Khun’s casters still roamed the dimly-lit tunnel, hunting down any spiders that had escaped the searing Fura-3 blasts and the subsequent ceiling collapse.
He still couldn’t believe he was alive.
“I understand I have you to thank for saving my life.” Lokke grabbed the Corporal by the hand and shook it. “Rahi told me you argued my case with the Captain. Told him who I really am.”
“True,” agreed Roon-Kotke, although he looked a little sheepish. “But I reckon Junn should take the credit. After all, when we were last down here, he dropped that bag of Witching Jars you found. They saved you. Not me.”
“And I taught him how to read the glyphs...” Junn chipped in.
“Well,” Lokke said, releasing his grip on the Corporal, “you tried. Turns out, Sanctuary was the only one I remembered, and only because the symbol looks like a tent with arrows sticking out of it. But thank you. All of you. I suppose I owe you each a blood debt for this?”
Roon-Kotke shook his head. “Not me. I already owed you from our mission with the spouters, so I think we're even.”
“There is no debt between us either,” Lor-Qui added.
“You've saved my life twice,” said Junn. “So I still owe you one.”
“No debt incurred on my part.” Rahi walked over to join them. She draped an arm around his shoulders. Gave him a squeeze. “You're an honorary Ocosconan. Besides, you’d have done the same for any one of us.”
Lokke forced a smile. That wasn’t strictly true. He probably wouldn’t have charged into a spider-infested tunnel to save Star Man or Fisty. Or Fuzz the technician. And definitely not the cook. Or miserable old, Mulai-hating Trur-Gem. But Rahi was right. He would have fought to save Roon-Kotke, Lor-Qui or Junn. Maybe Hannar-Ghan too (if he hadn’t turned out to be a filthy Yafai spy.) As for Rahi, she rarely needed saving; might punch you in the face if you even tried.
“Again,” Lokke said, wriggling free of Rahi’s embrace. “Thank you.”
“Just out of interest,” Roon-Kotke asked. “What were you going to do if we hadn't come back for you?”
“To be honest,” said Lokke, as the gate opened with the clunk of a lever and a sad oconic sigh. “I hadn't thought that far ahead.”
Roon-Kotke walked through the portal first and Lokke followed him through, crossing an unknown distance in a heartbeat, stepping from the cold gloom of the tunnel into the welcoming light of Refu Ruka. On the other side, the caster he’d dubbed Star Man lowered his lance as they returned; a gaggle of technicians beckoning them forward to make room for those coming behind. Zan-Naka Mindhan still lay unconscious on the floor.
Lokke frowned as he stepped aside. “What happened to the Captain?”
“Let’s just say that he and Rahi had an argument about your punishment,” said Roon-Kotke. The men and women of the Ocosconan Eighth filed through the gate behind him, pushing and shoving, keen to get through before the capacitor’s charge ran out. “Rahi won it.”
“Did he have time to send my message to the Mulai?” Lokke felt a sudden jolt of panic. “Did he warn them of the Yafai’s plan? The gromes? If not, we need to—”
“Don’t worry,” Roon-Kotke said, kneeling down next to Zan-Naka, checking he was still breathing. “Trur-Gem is preparing to leave. They will know of it.”
“Is he…?” asked Junn.
“No.” Roon-Kotke said. “More’s the pity. What shall we do with him?”
“How about we throw him in with the spiders?” Rahi suggested, a hint of anger in her voice. “See how he bloody likes it!”
“No.” Lokke stared down at the comatose Captain. “He doesn't deserve that. He was misguided. Motivated by a desire for vengeance. And if anybody knows what that's like, it's me. It clouds your judgement. Makes you a little crazy… Does Refu Ruka have a jail?”
Roon-Kotke stood and shook his head. “Not as such. But one of the store rooms has a big iron door that locks. We can put him in there. You!” He beckoned Star Man over. “And you!” He pointed at one of the cooks who’d fought alongside them, a huge meat cleaver in his hand. “Take the Captain to storeroom three. See that he's secured. We’ll deal with him later.”
The two men each grabbed one of Zan-Naka’s arms and dragged him away.
Roon-Kotke watched the men leave. “He's certainly not going to be happy when he wakes up. He's just tossed away his career… I warned him. Told him who you really were. But he was adamant he had the right man.”<
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“About that…” Rahi pulled Lokke aside. The Terminus was starting to get crowded. “What are you going to do now? People know who you are. They know you're a wanted man with a big old price on your head. If that information gets out, Mordume will come for you. Even out here in the Wilds, you're still technically on Imperial soil. I think we need to get you out of here. This place is no longer safe.”
Lokke glanced around the Terminus, eyes flicking across the faces of the Ocosconans who’d risked their lives (albeit under orders) to save his. A grey-haired trapper; a stern-faced female tech in a borrowed helmet; a disinterested caster stroking his bushy moustache. Maybe they weren’t all Mulai-hating separatists, but most of them were certainly Mulai-disliking and distrusting separatists. Rahi’s suggestion made a lot of sense. But taking her up on it felt like giving up. Admitting defeat.
“No,” he said. “There’s still work to do. Su-Zo and I made a deal. We clear these gates. That’s why he sent me here. We might find a weapon. We might not. Either way, the High Lord will help me bring down Tydek Mordume. I can’t do it on my own. So, I'm not going anywhere. Not yet.”
Rahi looked exasperated. The two of them had always argued. It was one of the reasons they didn’t last. “But what if somebody here turns you in?” she said. “You’re worth twenty-five thousand crowns…”
True. The bounty on his head was a problem. It made him a target for any man or woman in the Empire. He looked at the Fuerzi-Kri again — a bald-headed tech with bags under his eyes, a ginger-haired cleaner, the lofty Dai-Min Khundhan from Rahi's squad. Anybody at Refu Ruka might give him up. Lokke realised that he’d need to persuade them not to. Or at least give it a damned good try. He was so close to completing his part of the bargain with Su-Zo.
He clambered up atop a spent capacitor.
“What are you doing?” Rahi hissed at him. “Get down from there!”
“Don’t worry,” he said, steadying himself on the capacitor’s flat top-edge. “I just want to say a few words to everyone.”
Some of the Ocosconans were already looking at him.
“Do you have a plan?”
“No.” He smiled down at Rahi. “I’m pretty much making this up as I go...”
“You’re what? Now wait a…”
Lokke didn’t wait. “Good people of the Fuerzi-Kri,” he announced. The buzz of conversation in the Terminus ceased. Everyone turned to look at him, a sea of scowls, frowns and sneers. He’d made a few speeches in his time, but always had time to figure them out first. This one was poised to gush out like wine from a split cask. No telling how much of a mess it would make.
“Thank you for coming to my aid. You are a credit to the blues you wear. And to Ocoscona. It has been an honour to serve with you these past few weeks.
“As some of you might have heard, I'm not Ember Cobb.” A murmur rippled through the crowd. “I'm Lokke de Calvas. Caster-Colonel of the Old Hundredth. You've probably heard some bad things about me. That my wife was a Yafai spy and that I stabbed the Watcher.” He held his chin up. Defiant. “They aren't true. If I’m honest, I wish I had run the Watcher through. He stole the Mulai election from me. He murdered my wife and shamed her memory. Then he named me Enemy of the Empire to cover up his crimes, forcing me to flee the only home I’ve ever known.
“So I turned to the only man I could trust. Su-Zo Zozadhan. Your commander. He knows me. He believes in me. I saved his life at Fora Dezier. So he saved mine by sending me out here. To you… Only now do I see the wisdom in it. For I've not been hiding out at Refu Ruka. I've been training. Preparing.” He pointed back along the line of gates, towards the first chamber of the Terminus. “For whatever lies through that last oconic gate, I think we've already found the weapon that will free Ocoscona…”
The crowd murmured again, whispering like wind through the trees.
“I think,” said Lokke. “I think that weapon is me.”
Lokke felt a tug on his trouser leg. He looked down at Rahi. “Get down from there,” she mouthed. He simply smiled.
“There’s a price on my head,” he continued, “and I wouldn’t blame any of you for turning me in. But I hope you won’t. In fact, I hope you’ll all keep my secret. Just a little while longer. For when we are done here, I want you to join me… Join me as I return to the Briar and crack the failing Empire apart from within. For I am the weapon that Tydek Mordume fears most. Not some Kajjon relic. For only I can call the Mulai legions, Karonne and Ocoscona to my banner. Only I can sweep away a rotten Watcher and those who yank his strings. Our fight begins here. You are the key to my vengeance. I am the key to your independence. And upon my honour, I will do everything I can to make both of those things happen. Or I will die in the attempt…”
Lokke looked out across the Ocosconans crowding the Terminus. He wanted to yell ‘who’s with me!?’ but he feared the stony, uncomfortable silence that might follow such a rallying yell. After all, this was a tough crowd. Arano’s balls! Did he really just call himself a weapon? Thank the gods he didn’t use the word ‘great’ in front of it. As for Ocosconan independence, the Sentinel would never agree to it. But he wouldn’t give her a choice. To save the Empire, he’d need to tear it down.
“Uh, thank you,” said Lokke instead.
“An interesting speech,” said Rahi, looking up at him.
“Nobody else seemed to think so,” Lokke complained, jumping down from the capacitor.
“Give them time to think on it, Colonel. First you’re Ember Cobb, then you’re Lokke de Calvas, the most wanted man in the Empire. The Captain ordered your death, then we turn against him to save you from giant flesh-eating spiders. It’s been one hell of an afternoon… I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.” She held out her hand. “Join me?”
“Rahi, I… Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She rolled her brown eyes at him. “It’s just a drink, Mulai. Why do you men always think women want to throw themselves at you?”
“Because when we first met, you threw yourself at me!”
“I was a little drunk. You were a little drunk. We had fun though didn’t we?”
He smiled at the memory of it. “We did.”
“And there ain’t nothing wrong with a little fun. You should try it.” She clasped his hand in hers. “Got to move on, Lokke. Make the most of the here and now. Because didn’t you hear? There’s a crazy Mulai in these parts calling himself a weapon and talking about a revolution.”
“Hey, Lokke? Roon-Kotke tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I have a word?”
Rahi let his hand go. “Catch me up,” she said with a wink.
Lokke watched her go. Couldn’t help it. She was like Aarhyn in many ways. A force of nature. In time, maybe there might be something between them again. Perhaps when all this was over. When Mordume lay dead and the Empire had fallen, rebuilt anew. When he could look ahead, not back over his shoulder. And when his mind was not plagued by memories, dark and heartbreaking.
“What is it?” he said to Roon-Kotke.
The Caster-Corporal pulled him aside. “Look, I need to tell you something. Something Hannar-Ghan said…”
Lokke interrupted him. “Before you do. I didn’t get a chance to say… I’m sorry for your loss. Sorry how it all turned out. I know you and Han were close.”
“Not as close as I thought,” the Corporal said sadly. “Almost everything that came out of his mouth was a lie. Which is why I’ve been in two minds about telling you what he said to me at the end. It was about you.”
“Me?” Lokke frowned, puzzled. “What did he say?”
“Well, it’s odd. He said he wanted to repay his blood debt. You saved his life when the cart crashed on that bridge, remember? He told me something. Said to pass it on. I don’t believe it myself. From what you’ve told me, he can’t have been telling the truth… I suppose I might have misheard it, although—”
“Roon.” Lokke stopped the Corporal from rambling. “Whatever it is, just
tell me…”
“Alright. Han said…” Roon-Kotke took a deep breath. He seemed to be reluctant to get the words out. “He said your wife isn’t dead.”
Lokke stared at the Corporal, wide-eyed. “What?!”
“He said Aarhyn de Calvas still lives.”
Lokke turned away, the shock of Han’s message sending his mind reeling. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head, unable to believe it. Not wanting to believe it. Hope flickered, but he snuffed it out. Impossible. He’d watched Aarhyn fall. He’d seen the fear in her eyes. He remembered Mordume shoving her with both hands, sending her smashing through the window, out into the cold night air above the Briar far below, falling in a glitter of broken glass…
There was no way she could have survived.
“No,” he mumbled again. “He… He lied.” It was the only explanation. “Obviously, Hannar-Ghan lied. He would have said anything to save his own skin.”
“That’s what I thought at first,” said Roon-Kotke, his voice low. “But he’d already given up by that point. Resigned to his fate. I’m just telling you what he said.” The Corporal sighed. “I had to tell you. If I were in your place, I’d want to know.”
“It’s a lie,” Lokke said through gritted teeth. Hannar-Ghan tormenting him from beyond the grave.
“Aye, it could well be another lie. But what if it isn’t?”
***
When Roon-Kotke returned to the barracks, he found a letter waiting for him. His heart sank as he recognised the handwriting, sank even further when he ripped open the wax seal and saw that his debt to Hou-Mar Ghandhan had swelled to fourteen thousand crowns. He sighed. Couldn’t pay it before, certainly couldn’t pay it now. Where was he supposed to get that sort of coin?
He crossed to the wooden chest at the end of his cot and heaved it open. Fishing out his purse, he counted his money. He had precisely fifty-four crowns, leaving him thirteen thousand, nine hundred and forty-six short. They wouldn’t kill him for it — a dead man can’t pay his debts. But they might break his legs. Knock his teeth out. Hack his fingers off one by one. Even if he managed to flee to Ocos, they might even threaten the ones he loved. His mother still lived in the old city. As did Eani-Oka, the girl he hoped would become his wife some day.
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