The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘As long as he can stop them making a direct charge,’ Klannit frowned. ‘The way I figure it, he should have arrived at Meadowhall yesterday afternoon or evening, just as we were getting to Goatcross. Pyre’s bollocks, I wish I was there.’

  ‘Conor’s not stupid,’ Kalinda said. ‘He knows how to fight the Rahain.’

  Killop caught his sister’s eye, and they shared a glance. Over the spring campaign, both had seen Kell warriors disobey their commander’s orders to stand firm, and instead charge the lizard ranks, only to be mown down by a blizzard of crossbow bolts.

  ‘Scouts,’ the chief said, ‘did the town guard have anything to say about Conor mobilising more warriors?’

  ‘Aye, Chief,’ Koreen replied. ‘They said an order had gone out to all villages and communities to retreat to the Brig Pass, or to gather their arms, and assemble at the standing stone marking the northern end of the Kylanna lands.’

  The chief gripped onto the balcony rail, and gazed out into the darkness, in the direction of the Kell capital where, at that moment, Conor’s four thousand Kell were facing fifteen thousand Rahain solders. Killop had never seen the chief look so helpless.

  ‘Thank you, lass,’ he said, his smile not reaching his eyes. ‘To Meadowhall in the morning.’

  Chapter 25

  Meadowhall

  Road to Meadowhall, Kell – 4th Day, Second Third Summer 503

  The heavy rain poured down upon them, soaking through their clothes, and making the plodding donkeys miserable. The looming grey clouds dimmed the evening light as Killop scanned the horizon, looking for somewhere amid the thick hedgerows to camp for the night. There was an old farmhouse, he remembered, up a lane nearby. He shook his head, spraying water from his hair. Maybe he was mistaken. They were three days from Goatcross, and it had been a long time since he had been that way.

  He looked back at the column behind him. No one was speaking, and they were drenched and tired from another long march.

  Since passing Middlemill, they had barely seen a soul on the road. Some old folk, leading their laden donkeys to town, oblivious of any invasion, and a couple of young Lach warriors who had got lost, and were now tagging along with the chief’s group.

  They passed a large, tangled hedgerow on their left, and Killop saw the old buildings that he had remembered. There was a low roofed farmhouse and a dilapidated barn about a hundred yards from the road.

  ‘This way,’ he shouted down the line, waving his arm.

  They turned up the lane, the wind and rain lessening in the lee of the great hedge. Killop approached the modest dwelling. It was quiet, and its front door opened at a push. He glanced behind him. He nodded at Calum, and they went inside.

  It was two-roomed, with simple living and sleeping quarters. Although meagrely furnished, many personal possessions were in place. Clothes hung from a wooden stand in front of the fireplace, and more were scattered across the double bed in the other room.

  ‘Going to be a tight squeeze,’ Killop said.

  ‘Give the Lach the barn to sleep in?’ Calum suggested.

  ‘The turnip-munchers would probably burn it down, and I don’t think the farmers would be best pleased.’

  ‘You think they’re coming back?’

  ‘I think they mean to,’ Killop said as they left the bedroom. He stopped at the front door and beckoned to the party outside.

  ‘No one here, Chief.’

  Within a few minutes the group were inside, and a fire was blazing in the corner of the living room. Outside, the rain continued to hammer down, drowning out the braying of the donkeys in the leaky barn. They searched the house and out-buildings for supplies, and found cider, apples, bread and cheese. The chief promised aloud that he would return to repay the farmers in full, once the war was won.

  Folk crammed onto the few seats, or squeezed themselves into a space on the wooden floor. As the room warmed up, steam began to rise from the clothes of those nearest the fire, and condensation was soon dripping from the ceiling. No one seemed to care, and the food and drink began to flow.

  Keira was sitting as close to the fire as she could get without being scorched. The rest of the squad was in a rough circle next to her.

  ‘This is better than another night in the tents,’ said Conal.

  ‘Fucking reeks, but,’ Keira said. ‘Two dozen hairy-arsed Kell…’

  ‘You watch who yer calling hairy-arsed, hen,’ Clara laughed. ‘Kylon might take offence.’

  Killop glanced at the well-groomed young man, who was glowering in the corner, nursing his crossbow. He had spoken less since leaving Kalayne’s than he had all summer.

  ‘How would anyone notice?’ Keira said. ‘Dourface and Tornface, what a fucking pair.’

  ‘Mind if we join ye?’ said a young voice with a strong Lach accent.

  They looked over to see the two new warriors standing at the edge of their circle, looking even younger than Conal.

  ‘Aye, we do,’ Keira said, swigging her cider and not even bothering to look in their direction.

  The Lach twins looked away, shame tinting their cheeks.

  ‘Never you mind her,’ Killop said. ‘Come and sit down. Make some space you lot.’

  Kallie and Calum budged over, and they sat, bedraggled and wet.

  ‘I’m Lacey,’ the young woman said, ‘and this is my wee brother Leckie.’

  Keira glared at them.

  ‘Why are you wee toerags not out in the fucking barn with the rest of the livestock?’

  The twins’ faces went red.

  ‘That’s a good sign,’ Clara said, while Conal handed out cups of cider. ‘Toerag is one of her more endearing terms.’

  ‘Aye,’ Kallie said, ‘better than what she usually calls the Lach.’

  ‘Better than what most of us call them,’ Calum said.

  Killop turned to them. ‘I’m Killop, leader of this squad of numpties, along with Keira, my charming and soft-spoken sister, who also happens to be mage to the chief.’

  He pointed around the circle. ‘Kallie, Calum, Kelly…’

  ‘Tornface,’ Keira muttered.

  After a pause, Killop continued. ‘Kelly, Kylon, Conal, and Clara.’

  The new arrivals nodded to them.

  ‘What’s your story, then?’ Killop asked.

  ‘We left with two hundred Lach warriors a third ago,’ Lacey said. ‘Meant to be going to a pass up north to help fight the Rahain. But before we could get there, we were separated from the others, and got lost. Ended up wandering through half of Kell. By the time we reached the mouth of the pass, we found out that the Lach, and the whole damn Kell army, had already left.’

  ‘Then we had to leave, quickly,’ Leckie said. ‘Thousands of fucking lizards were coming up from the river, and we only just managed to run for it.’

  ‘Then we found this road,’ Lacey said, ‘and guessed it’s where the other Lach would be.’

  ‘And then we ran into you lot,’ Leckie said, ‘and Lana ae Lachyn turned out to be with you.’

  ‘And she told us to ask you…’

  ‘No,’ said Keira.

  The others glanced at her.

  ‘They’re way too stupid to join our squad,’ she said, ‘if I’m correct in assuming that’s why Lana sent them over here. Is that not right, ye gormless wee bawbags?’

  ‘It’s only until we find the rest of the Lach,’ Killop said.

  ‘Could be fucking autumn by then,’ she said. ‘Fine. Have it your way, ya soft-hearted eejit.’

  She drank her cider, then held out her cup for more.

  ‘Wait a wee minute,’ she said. ‘Conal?’

  ‘Aye, boss?’

  ‘Yer still my runner,’ she said, ‘but by the looks of those two donkey molesters, you’re no longer the bairn of the squad. Put down that jug. It’s time to explain the duties and responsibilities of being the youngest to our new recruits.’

  The next morning was as fine as could be wished for in the second third of summer. The ski
es were clear, and a warm and gentle wind blew from the west. They sat outside the farmhouse as the two young Lach scuttled about getting everyone their breakfasts, to the sound of a critical running commentary from Keira.

  ‘I’m taking the lassie,’ she said to Killop, once she had been handed her bowl of warm barleymeal and milk. ‘She’s the least useless one.’

  ‘Fine,’ he replied, looking at the contents of his bowl, ‘though judging by this goat-sick, Leckie might need a fair bit of coaching.’

  The buzz in the camp increased, and they looked over. Kalma was sprinting up the lane towards them, from the main road where she and her brother had been posted since dawn.

  ‘Folk approaching from the west,’ she said as she arrived.

  Klannit got to his feet.

  ‘Kell?’ he said. ‘Warriors?’

  ‘Looks like civilians, boss.’

  ‘Half-squad,’ he yelled. ‘With me, now.’

  The four other members of his half-squad rose, grumbling and brushing the breakfast crumbs from their clothes. Conwyn belched.

  ‘Come on, ya lazy wee shites,’ Klannit snarled and, without waiting for them, started to stride down the lane.

  ‘Fucksake,’ Koreen muttered, fastening her leathers on, and grabbing her axe.

  They trotted down the lane after Klannit.

  Killop finished his cider, and put down the half-eaten bowl of gruel.

  ‘Kylon, Clara,’ he said, getting up, ‘let’s go.’

  The three of them followed the others down the lane. Clara was walking without her crutch, her healing complete. Like Kylon, she had a crossbow slung over her shoulder.

  ‘Clara,’ he said as they walked, ‘I want you to keep a close eye on Leckie. The lad’s a clumsy wee bairn, he needs somebody to keep him right.’

  ‘Aw, Killop,’ she said, ‘just cause I’m the oldest woman in the squad, doesnae mean I’m everybody’s ma.’

  ‘True,’ he said, ‘but I cannae think of anybody else who could do it.’

  ‘What about Lacey, who’s looking after her?’

  ‘Keira’s taking her on.’

  ‘Unlucky lass,’ she chuckled.

  They arrived at the roadside.

  Klannit and his half-squad had stopped a few carts, overflowing with crates, sacks and other belongings, and crowded with fearful and tired old folk and children. The elderly driver of the lead cart was arguing with the Kell champion.

  ‘You cannae stop us like this,’ the old man was shouting. ‘Get off the road!’

  Klannit stood, hands folded across his wide chest.

  ‘You’re going the wrong way,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t get it,’ the driver bellowed back. Several of the children were looking scared at the raised voices. ‘We cannae go back that way.’ He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Place is crawling with lizards since the battle. The bastards are rounding everybody up!’

  The warriors looked up at the mention of battle.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ said Klannit, his voice low.

  ‘We got fucked, is what happened,’ he replied. A couple of the children started to cry. ‘Whole entire army got wiped out. That was two days ago. Meadowhall fell yesterday.’

  Not even Klannit could keep his expression even at the news. His face contorted in pain and shock, and he stood in silence, helpless.

  ‘Now,’ the driver said again. ‘Please. Will ye get out of our way?’

  Klannit stepped to the side, his head bowed. Unsure, his half-squad looked at each other for a moment, then did the same.

  The warriors stood at the side of the road as the small convey got underway again.

  ‘Shit,’ Killop whispered as they trundled by. A little boy waved at him from the back of a wagon.

  He waved back. ‘We best go tell the chief.’

  They were sombre and silent as they continued their march west along the road. The chief looked as distraught as Killop had ever seen him, and had aged before his eyes. He remembered the garrulous big man he had been at the start of spring, when the Kell had expected to throw the Rahain invaders back with ease. He seemed to have aged a decade since that first campaign.

  They met more civilians fleeing to the east, whom they asked for information, but they learned nothing new. All told the same tale, that the Kell army had been destroyed, and that the lizards had taken Meadowhall. But no one they talked to had witnessed the battle itself, and the warriors knew how rumours spread and grew. By noon the going was hard, there were so many carts and groups of bedraggled people travelling in the opposite direction to them on the road.

  As a large wagon rumbled past them, Calum looked up.

  ‘Hey, you!’ he yelled, pointing to the back of the cart. A young man glanced over. He was dressed in dark green battle leathers, and was crouched among some crates. He saw the warriors, and panic shot across his expression. Before he could leap from the cart, Calum and Kelly had bounded forward. They yanked him to the ground and led him struggling to the side of the road. The huge cart lumbered on.

  ‘And who might you be, son?’ Klannit said to him, as Calum and Kelly each held an arm.

  The young man said nothing, his eyes darting from face to face.

  ‘Your squad? Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  Killop looked at the lad. His kit was in perfect condition, though he was missing his sword and shield.

  ‘Did you see the battle?’ Klannit said.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Run away, did you, son?’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ He lowered his head.

  Klannit reached out, and grabbed the young man by the hair, pulling him close.

  ‘Go to the mountains,’ he said, right in the boy’s face, ‘and when you get there, keep going. When you can’t go any further, find some place to hide, and pray the lizards don’t find you.’ He released him with a shove. ‘Now, fuck off!’

  The young man turned, and ran. He disappeared around the bend in the road, in the direction of the big wagon.

  Killop glanced at Klannit.

  The Kell champion said nothing, but turned back onto the road and started walking again.

  It was almost evening by the time they came upon the remnants of a squad of warriors on the road. There were three of them in battered and ripped leather armour, all boasting at least one wound. One was limping, bleeding from her calf, and was being supported by her sister, while the man was drinking from a stoneware jug as he staggered along.

  As they were still a mile from the river ford, they moved to a small copse of trees to the south of the road. They decided against lighting a fire, and they ate their cold dinner in the fresh evening air. The three wounded warriors were sat down, and the chief crouched next to them.

  ‘Tell us what happened.’

  The man stared at the chief with drunken eyes, his mouth open, but said nothing. The two women glanced at each other. The less injured of the two nodded to her sister, and turned to face them.

  ‘After Hiddenburn, sir,’ she said, ‘we were quick marched all the way to Meadowhall. We arrived at night, in sight of the town, and camped. In the morning, the lizards had assembled in the field between us and the town, rows and rows of them, standing there waiting for us. We were ordered to hold fast, which we did, sir, nearly all day. But the lizards had machines that could hurl boulders as big as a bull, and they were smashing the town to pieces. We stood there all morning doing nothing, just watching Meadowhall being destroyed.

  ‘In the afternoon, the lizards turned the machines on us, and the boulders started knocking lumps out of our lines, so word came down that we were to retreat, and fall back out of range of the rock-hurlers. Retreat. That was when some of the warriors went a bit mental, sir.’ She paused and looked away, ashamed.

  ‘And?’

  ‘The front lines charged.’

  The chief let out a painful groan, and put his head in his hands.

  Kalinda put her arm round his shoulder.
>
  ‘Keep going, lass,’ she said to the injured warrior.

  ‘Most of us were cut down by their crossbows before we reached them,’ she said. ‘The whole lot of us came on. I guess Conor had no choice but to follow those who’d charged. By the time we hit their ranks there might have been maybe a quarter of us remaining, I’m not sure. Everything got confused when we struck their lines. Looking around, I could only see a couple of my squad near me. We were on the far left of the line, and the lizards we hit broke, and ran to the south, so we followed them, and carved them up. By the time we got back to the battleground, it was over. There were no Kell left standing that I could see.’

  ‘And Conor?’ Kalinda asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice a whisper. ‘We turned north-east, and put as many miles as we could between us and the lizards.’

  The chief mumbled something.

  Kalinda glanced down. ‘What was that?’

  He looked up, his eyes red.

  ‘Kalayne was right,’ he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. ‘We’re all dead.’

  The squad looked at each other, but no one spoke. Klannit and Kalinda helped the chief get to his feet and without a word, the three of them walked off into the trees.

  In their absence, Killop and Keira took charge of the camp. Conal and Koreen were sent out to scout, Leckie tidied away their dinner things, and Lacey followed Keira around like a confused baby goat mistaken about the identity of its ma.

  As Clara was showing Leckie how to warm milk without burning it, the chief, Klannit and Kalinda returned. They looked pale and withdrawn, though the chief tried to smile when they walked into the camp.

  ‘Lana, Keira and Killop,’ he said, ‘please come with us.’

  Killop looked at his sister as the chief turned away from the camp. The small group followed him through the trees and out into a farmer’s field, knee-high in green barley. For a few minutes they walked along a track up a gentle slope until they came to the top of a low ridge, with a view down to the river. The seven stars were shining in the sky, and their pale reflections shimmered on the surface of the water below.