The Magelands Origins

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘It’s my fault,’ said Koreen. ‘If I hadn’t been injured, we’d have left the mountain days before, and we wouldn’t have got caught.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Bridget, taking the water. ‘It could have been any of us that took that bolt.’

  Koreen shook her head.

  ‘So she’s out there, somewhere?’ Killop said, his eyes gazing up at the mountain peak.

  ‘She thinks you’re dead, but,’ Bridget said. ‘She said you’d rather die than surrender.’

  They fell into silence.

  ‘I’ve spent the last few days,’ Killop said, his voice low, ‘sitting in this shithole of a camp wishing I had died. Kelly was killed, fighting to her last breath like a true Kell. The bastards shot me,’ he looked down at his bandaged leg, ‘but I didn’t die, even though I wished for it.’

  They gazed at him.

  ‘What about you?’ he said. ‘How did you get caught?’

  Conal and Koreen lowered their eyes, while Bridget shrugged.

  ‘The lizards sneaked up in the dark,’ Kallie said, her face pale, ‘and surrounded us while we were in the shelter, getting ready to sleep. There were crossbows aimed at us from all sides. There was no time to fight.’

  ‘It would have been suicide,’ Bridget said.

  A horn blew, and they looked up. Squads of Rahain were running from the mouth of the temple in full retreat. Several were injured.

  ‘Domm still holding out, then,’ said Conal.

  A low, appreciative chatter spread through the camp, as the mass of prisoners watched the Rahain retreat. There were a few jeers.

  Before long, a crowd of Rahain officers and mages had gathered in front of the temple entrance, pointing and arguing.

  Killop and the others rested and fell quiet as they watched the Rahain.

  The camp stirred into life as soldiers began massing by the wall which faced the southern spur of the mountain. The shields on that side of the wall were upended and removed. Rahain with crossbows started blowing whistles at them from the north side, gesturing for them to move.

  Killop stood, favouring his healing leg, and they joined the captives walking towards the gap in the wall. The prisoners streamed out of the camp and, shepherded by the endless ranks of Rahain, they climbed the hillside.

  ‘Where are they taking us?’ said Conal.

  Killop frowned. ‘I think they want us to see something.’

  They reached the top of the spur, which led up a gentle slope towards the mountain. The sun was low in the cloud-patched sky when they reached a high ridge overlooking the caldera, where they stopped.

  Killop and the others sat on the grass, amid flowering gorse, bare rock, and clumps of fern. The Rahain settled into position on the slopes below the prisoners, except on the side facing the caldera. There, the land fell away in a steep cliff, down to a ravine separating them from the main mass of the mountain.

  He heard Conal voice a prayer.

  ‘The holy mountain,’ he whispered.

  Killop glanced around. Many of the clansfolk were facing the caldera, standing or kneeling, with their arms raised, and their eyes closed, chanting prayers he remembered from his childhood.

  Amid the low voices, a gentle rumbling began, a tremor. Those standing staggered a little, and then it ceased.

  The rumbling began again, and the earth beneath their feet started to shake, jerking as it rose in intensity. Across, on the other side of the caldera, an enormous fragment of rock came loose, swayed like a drunk for a moment, then fell. It smashed down into the basin, disintegrating into a cloud of flying debris, the grating sound echoing off the mountain’s rim.

  Several of the clansfolk began shrieking, as more chunks of the mountain came loose and fell. There was a harsh grinding sound, as if the earth was being split in two, and the top of Fire Mountain cracked and shattered and crashed down into the caldera, in an explosive roar that deafened Killop. He threw himself to the ground as he was showered with dust and pelted with stones. The entire ridge where the captives had been herded jolted sideways, and a great shard of the cliffside fell away, taking a dozen captives with it. Killop took Kallie’s hand, and they crawled up the incline, away from the crumbling cliff edge. Others, in anguish and despair, were running in the opposite direction, and throwing themselves to their deaths. Clansfolk were screaming and shouting, bewildered in the fog of dust that had descended over them.

  In the chaos, Killop tripped over a ledge of stone and fell into a mossy ditch, Kallie toppling with him. They held each other as the ground started to settle, the jolts becoming less frequent.

  The earth stilled.

  ‘They destroyed our mountain,’ Kallie sobbed. ‘Why?’

  He held her close. The dust covering her face was smudged where tears ran, and her eyes were hollowed out with loss. He had no answer to give. He helped her to her feet, and they looked out towards Fire Mountain.

  The entire peak had gone, sent crashing down into the caldera. Fire Mountain was now no higher than the hillside ridge where they were standing. The caldera, the home of Pyre, had been buried beneath millions of tonnes of rock, entombed.

  Despair gripped the survivors, and they clustered in confusion on the hillside, staring in shock at the destruction of their homeland’s most potent symbol, the only thing that had united them all, Kell, Lach, Brig and Domm, before the Rahain had invaded.

  ‘Pyre!’ screamed someone, a high piercing cry amid the wailing and keening.

  ‘They want us to know,’ said Killop, ‘that we can never come home again.’

  It was dark by the time the horde of captives was returned to the valley. To their left, the long colonnades of the temple front were invisible, covered by a tremendous rockslide of rubble and stone that had swallowed up the first thirty yards of the valley.

  Ahead, the walls of the internment camp had been taken away, and in their place were long rows of wagons.

  ‘No!’ cried someone from among the mass of prisoners, and confusion raced like fire through the crowd. Killop heard the thrum of crossbows, followed by screams in the distance.

  He gripped Kallie’s hand as the herd of captives ran in a half-panic down the hillside, where they came to a shuddering stop, halted by the sight of hundreds of crossbows pointing at them from soldiers stationed among the covered wagons.

  Clansfolk were shouting, and crying, and pushing, and the crowd swayed back and forth, penned in on all sides by ranks of Rahain. Killop spied Bridget and Conal through the crowd and he pulled Kallie along, using his size and strength to barge through. They reached them, and found they were holding onto Koreen, who was doubled over and weeping in pain.

  Killop put a hand on her shoulder, while Kallie pulled in close to them.

  ‘She fell,’ Bridget said. ‘Hurt her bad leg.’

  ‘Hold on, Koreen,’ Killop said.

  ‘What for?’ she gasped, gritting her teeth, and clutching her thigh.

  ‘Good question,’ said Bridget. ‘What are we going to do?’

  Killop craned his neck and looked out over the top of the crowd. By the wagons, the first of the clansfolk were having chains attached, surrounded by soldiers with crossbows. Batches of captives were being led up into the back of the nearest wagons, long chains connecting each by the ankle. Once they had boarded, the chains were affixed to the wagons’ rear axles, and the oxen at the front were whipped into motion. As the first wagons trundled down the valley, others were pulled up, ready for the next batch.

  ‘We stick together,’ he said, ‘and wait for our opportunity.’

  ‘I’d rather die,’ said Koreen.

  ‘Fuck that,’ said Bridget. ‘I’m not one for death or glory. Being alive is infinitely preferable.’

  ‘I’m with Bridget,’ Conal said. ‘I’m not afraid to die, but I want to see the Rahain pay for what they did to us, and if that means having to live as a slave for a while, then I will.’

  ‘Kallie?’ Killop asked.

  She hadn’t s
poken since they had witnessed the destruction of the holy mountain. Her face was pale, her eyes emotionless.

  ‘I don’t care.’

  Killop’s heart broke at her words.

  ‘The war is over,’ he said, ‘but we’re still alive, and enough of our people have survived to be worth living for.’

  ‘But as a slave?’ Koreen whispered. ‘Our lands, our people, our lives, they’re all in ruins. Think back to all we ever knew, of our lives before. None of that exists any more. The lizards took it all.’

  ‘But, Koreen,’ said Conal, ‘we have to be alive to get revenge.’

  ‘What?’ she cried. ‘Ye want to slaughter thousands of Rahain civilians, because their soldiers did that to us? Will it make ye feel better, to kill their children? Will it make ye happy?’

  Conal swallowed and looked away.

  ‘Justice,’ Killop said, ‘not revenge.’

  Koreen snorted. ‘And how will we get justice for what they’ve done to us?’

  He watched as more wagons were loaded with captives.

  ‘We’ll find a way.’

  Epilogue

  Blackwatermill, Northern Frontier of Kell – 14th Day, Second Third Spring 504

  Killop washed in the cool river with the other captives, the warm sun beating down on them. Relief at being clean filled him as he scrubbed the sweat and dirt from his skin, his left ankle sore and blistered from where the chain was attached.

  During the course of their long journey north, they had met and mixed with other groups coming from Domm, or Lach, or Brig, and there were now hundreds of wagons in the convoy, guarded by the returning, victorious armies of Rahain. Every ten days or so, they would stop to let the chained-up prisoners out so they could clean themselves and the wagons, and this time the Rahain had chosen the river frontier that marked the furthest extent of what had been Northern Kell, to rest for a day.

  The Rahain were allowing ten wagonloads of slaves at a time to wash in the river, under heavy guard, and Killop and the others had waited for their turn, and were making the most of their precious few minutes. Only Kallie remained despondent and grim-faced, sitting on the bank while Bridget, Conal and Koreen splashed around in the water. Killop held back from expressing his simple joy at being outside in the sunshine, conscious of Kallie’s mood. She had remained taciturn, but also irritable and on edge, liable to lash out at him if he said the wrong thing, which he often did. He had to be strong, or at least seem strong for her, someone she could depend on, who would be there for her. He knew she mourned Kelly, and felt a tremendous weight of guilt that they had never truly reconciled after Calum’s death. They all had their bad days, the journey had been uncomfortable and miserable, and some days had been bleaker than any he had experienced before, but apart from Kallie, each had shown a spark of spirit amid the despair. When he thought of his people, he felt pride at their unbreakable resilience, and at how strong they were.

  He finished washing and sat down on the bank next to Kallie.

  ‘We’re leaving Kell for the last time,’ she said, surprising him by speaking.

  ‘Maybe.’

  She started to cry. ‘I hate everything,’ she said. ‘I hate life, I hate the Rahain, I hate the clansfolk, I hate you, the way you always try to be so fucking happy all the time, when inside you must be dying too. I wish I were dead.’

  ‘You will be reborn.’

  She glanced up at him.

  ‘When the fire goddess returns to you.’

  Kallie stared at him, piercing his soul with her eyes. ‘The fire goddess?’ she said. For a second he thought he saw a glimmer of hope appear on her face, and he clung on to it.

  The guards shouted and gestured at them, signalling that their time in the river was up.

  Killop and the others trudged back to the convoy. They reached a guarded area set aside for them to dry in the sun before being loaded back onto the wagons. As they sat on the grass, a woman from one of the other groups approached them, water dripping from her ragged clothes.

  ‘Hai, you!’ she said, a Lach by her accent. ‘Were you talking about the fire goddess back there?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said.

  ‘You’re fae Kell,’ she said. ‘Did ye know her?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The fire goddess Keira, ya eejit!’

  He paused for a moment, then nodded. ‘I’m her brother.’

  ‘Hai! Hai!’ she shouted to the other slaves who had been in the river. ‘It’s Keira’s brother! It’s the mage’s brother!’

  Dozens of slaves crowded round him, all trying to speak at once. He raised his arms to fend them off, while Conal and Bridget pushed away the closer advances of the crowd.

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Is it true she killed six flying snakes in one morning?’

  ‘At Marchside, she took out all of the lizard stone-throwers, single-handed.’

  ‘When is she coming to save us?’

  ‘Quiet!’ Killop cried. Several Rahain soldiers were showing interest in what was happening, and were looking over. Conscious of the gazes of their captors, the slaves fell silent, and began to sit, forming a circle around Killop and the remnants of his old squad.

  Every face gazed at him, and he saw a fragile hope in their weary eyes. They waited for his words, and he knew he could crush their spirits if he said the wrong thing. He thought about his sister, and wished Kylon was with him, to find the words he couldn’t say.

  ‘For a start,’ Killop said, his heart racing, ‘it was three flying snakes, not six. And at Marchside, Keira had the help of the best squad in the army, some of whom escaped with her.’

  ‘You saw her escape?’ someone asked.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘but they did.’ He pointed at his old squad mates.

  ‘It’s true,’ Kallie said to the crowd. ‘I watched her leave the mountain, heading north, along with Lacey her devoted torchbearer, Kylon the best swordsman in Kell, and Kalma the finest archer I ever saw.’

  Killop gazed at her, knowing how much she hurt inside. He took her hand.

  ‘Is the fire goddess coming to save us?’ a young boy asked.

  ‘Aye,’ Killop replied, ‘though I don’t know when. We must be strong, and we must be patient. I don’t know how long we’ll have to wait before we can go home. But I know that Keira will never give up, she will never stop, not until we’re all free, free to walk our green land again.’

  ‘Tell us,’ a woman said. ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Once,’ he said, ‘when she was a wee girl…’

  This concludes The Magelands Origins

  Want more?

  Find out what happened to Daphne, Killop & Keira in book one of The Magelands Epic, The Queen’s Executioner.

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  The Queen’s Executioner

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  Author’s Notes

  September 2019

  This is where it all began. I wrote Trials and Retreat together, as a single book, back in early 2016.

  In the first draft however, the Daphne and Killop chapters alternated, and that format was originally meant to be the first book in the Magelands series. However, after a lot of thought, I decided to disentangle the two stories, and lead with The Queen's Executioner for the series.

  After some heavy re-writes and revisions, I felt that this was the right time to release the two stories, but back-to-back, rather that with alternating chapters.

  I also want to point out that Retreat of the Kell is my wife's personal favourite and, no matter how many book I write in the future, I think it always will be.

  About the Author

  Christopher Mitchell is the author of the Magelands epic fantasy series.

  For more information:

  www.christophermitchellbooks.com

  info
@christophermitchellbooks.com

  The Magelands Series

  From the Ashes

  The Queen’s Executioner

  The Severed City

  Needs of the Empire

  Sacrifice

  The Magelands Origins

  (The Trials of Daphne Holdfast

  & Retreat of the Kell)

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