Striking Chains

by Kris Schnee

  The Citizen said, "Are you leading a revolution?"

  "You're... Citizen Astor, aren't you? It's been a while." Dominic saw eagerness in his eyes. "Yes. I was hoping you could stop Torrin's forces from helping the State, or even have them change sides."

  "I'm not in charge of Torrin, sadly, or its armies. But I can offer you some support. Starting with a drink." He poured several mugs of a steaming drink that smelled like roasted wood.

  Dominic drank after he saw the others go first. He appreciated the warm mug between his hands. "How do you get a hot drink out here without a fire?"

  "That's just one trick we can share with you later. For now, my friend here from the tribes wants to ask you something."

  The shaman, or whatever he was, wore feathers and bones over his hide cloak. He spoke only in Waldic and required much translation from the others. "Do you perhaps know someone with a missing eye?"

  "No; why? The closest I can say is that my... friend Irene lost her arm."

  The shaman looked impressed. "Which?"

  "Left."

  "You see?" the shaman asked Citizen Astor, who translated with some embarrassment. "And the prophecy said the wanderer will come from the west."

  Dominic said, "I'm from well south of here, actually. A Baccatan village, and Temple Island."

  "But you come from the west today." The man nodded decisively to himself. "Our people are prepared to make war on Torrin, if you will promise our safety."

  "Your safety, in a war?"

  The Citizen said, "We've discussed the idea before. Yes, Servant, it's treason. He means his people can arrange a little performance in which we lead some of the city garrison out to the woods to chase them, while other Waldics take the north border forts. Then when your army arrives, it can do so from the north."

  "Citizen, our target right now is the western border forts followed by Seaflower." Dominic switched to Baccatan in case either the griffin outside or the shaman understood Mithriaic well. "Are your people really prepared to fight and die in an uprising? Was the city that eager for revolt before this business in the west?"

  Astor looked aside and down. "Some are. We're going to have to kill our own leaders to make this happen. Stab some Servants in the night, then hold the High Citizen at spearpoint. If we do that, maybe it'll be almost bloodless."

  "But you don't know. And I agree, you'll need to murder some of my former colleagues."

  Astor hissed. "You've seen what they're like! Unless we do this, there'll never be another chance."

  "For what?" asked Dominic. "Do you hate the State that much?"

  "We want to... to honor the old gods in peace. I can't even speak of them honestly within my city. We're still kin of the northern tribes and some of us want to get along better, to let them visit freely."

  "You would have no border, then, and strange temples in the city?"

  "Oh, we'd have a border; it just wouldn't be between Torrin and the tribes." His expression hardened. "It may even be between Torrin and Baccata, if we can't believe and worship as we please. What do you make of this western sun religion, Dominic? Are you just using it as an excuse, or do you really believe it?"

  Dominic sighed. "I believe there's something good in it. I haven't seen their 'King' myself and studied their artifacts and temples. But it seems like a better set of beliefs than the State's."

  Astor drank, then turned to the shaman and spoke rapid-fire with him. When Dominic could follow Astor's words again the Citizen was saying, "Guarantee that Torrin will have the right to worship as it pleases, and to make peace with the tribes, and we will make the State's army at Torrin hesitate and split. We'll make it happen."

  That army was already in the field, closing in on the Mithraians. Dominic said, "If you're willing, so am I. But I have no formal rank anymore, and that griffin outside is suspicious that all I want is a noble title and a crown."

  More quick talk between the shaman and Astor. The shaman laughed and said, "Let me teach you a spell, then. It may help."

  "What spell?"

  The name was incomprehensible. Astor gave it as Hawk's Dawn, as though it were part of the hawk-oriented tribal faith. He also handed Dominic a slip of paper.

  Dominic looked at it. "It will impress the westerners. Tell no one where you learned it." As soon as he'd read, Astor snatched it back.

  The spell diagram that the shaman marked out on a wooden plank was a strange one. He thought at first that it was a do-nothing spell, purely used for teaching magic theory. It drew a little of the Weave's energy to do... something. "It looks like a piece is missing."

  Astor translated and the shaman smiled, saying, "Yes. Few can use it. Don't try it here, but learn the pattern."

  Dominic studied it, tracing his fingers along the plank's design and contemplating the little loops and radiant points. Like most spells it was meant to be maintained over time rather than set off like a crossbow. "What is it, then?"

  Astor only waved the scrap of paper at him again.

  "I... see." He stood. "I'll do all that I can to protect Torrin and the tribes as you say, if your people will help defeat the Holy State."

  Maybe Perrin was right that the State was a fragile thing, relying on fear of the Servants to keep everyone under a set of rules that few really wanted. All his time as a Servant, had he only been denying people the chance to live how they wanted?

  Or, was he being used as a weapon by the League of Mithrol to rip apart a society that mostly worked, leaving nothing its place but a new set of masters?

  * * *

  The griffin and Pine were talking outside when Dominic left. The squirrel-man had actually rested against the great beast's side for warmth, in the absence of a fire. "Leave At Dawn?" the griffin asked, and yawned.

  Dominic nodded.

  Pine asked, "Are we allies, then?"

  "I think so. Maybe you can tell your Forest Lord that."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  15. Upwelling

  Flying by griffin was surprisingly tiring even after the terror of it wore off. What he liked most about it was the chance to see the world from above, seeing all the lands that men claimed to rule but without being limited to one perspective, one patch of ground to look out from. More people should get to travel and see such things.

  In St. Wylan, he rested from the long trip. Not for long, though: Sir Marion and Earl had gotten his terse report and they now summoned him. "We're ready to move," Earl said. "Take your personal convert unit into the field to march on Seaflower."

  "I'm surprised we were held back this long."

  Earl said, "It was a sort of test by my father. Go and kill some..." Earl frowned. "Fight with valor."

  Marion smiled at the boy, then spoke to Dominic. "I'd like to think your deal with Torrin's dissidents and the tribes will work, but the army is now engaged with Torrin's local military. Until that's resolved, it's our army's main concern. Your force right now is just a feint at Seaflower unless we do especially well in the north."

  Dominic said, "Then why send my army there at all instead of reinforcing your main group?"

  Earl answered that one. "The Baccatans might trust you, and join you."

  "Then I'll try give them a good reason to." He suspected there was another reason for sending his group alone toward another target: if the people didn't rise up to help him, he was an expendable distraction.

  * * *

  He was east of the city now, with Jakob and the force of Baccatan converts. The cityfolk had seemed glad to see the foreigners go, but now they had practically no defenders but the civilians. He suspected they'd be enough for now. The wilderness air was warm and full of flowers.

  Perrin had insisted on coming along. He'd gotten the brand on his forehead magically healed so that it was hardly visible, he wore fine Mithraic noble clothes with a knife and a hatchet on his belt, and he rode a white horse. "They say it's a feint, but I'd be happy to see you turn this expedition into a crippling blow."

  "
I'll see what I can do," Dominic said, eyeing a broken mask that dangled from Perrin's saddle as a trophy.

  His scouts reported contact with the ducal forces; they were still skirmishing with the loyalist Baccatan troops to their north, neither side committing to a decisive battle yet. The loyalists seemed to be hoping for relief from Seaflower to their southeast, while Dominic's side was counting on the hidden deal to throw the Torrin region into chaos for them.

  Dominic thought of Servants being stabbed in their beds, and consoled himself by thinking, They were masters not honest enough to admit it, and their service is no longer wanted.

  The convert army moved past the charred ruin of Border Fort Two, where only birds and rabbits remained, and into Baccatan territory proper. This was Ben's home turf, and not far southeast of here was Dominic's own home village. The Bound here were either working on the early harvest, or had been pulled away for immediate battle.

  When Dominic reached a village, his scouts reported fields with only women in them; the men had all gone to war. His people feared him now. He wondered if his mother and father were still alive anywhere nearby.

  "We need to requisition some of the crops. From here on, we're in a war zone." He looked the troops over, seeing unease. "I know this area is home for some of us, including me. Because this area is going to be part of Mithrol, we'll pay for what we take from the next few towns."

  "And after that?" asked Perrin.

  "Then, we're by Seaflower and we'll see how things look. What's the number of the village ahead?" One of the scouts told him. "I remember they have a little lake; there's fish available. First squad, go and buy enough for everyone, and as much grain as they can spare. Second squad, go south and buy what you can. Everyone else, we're detouring a bit to get food at a third village." The one where it had all begun.

  "What if they won't sell?" asked one of his officers.

  "Then... Just take it."

  * * *

  Rose's gentle pony helped make her the least intimidating soldier in the bunch. "You keep looking around and slowing," she said. "Hometown?"

  Dominic nodded. "One of them."

  "I had what you'd call a Citizen running my home village, a minor nobleman. Human. Used to hit the bottle and the ladies, and there was more to it. Complaining about him was what first got me to leave home and go for help. My first little adventure."

  "He let you do that?"

  "They can't stop you from leaving. That's stupid Northman rules where peasants are bound to the land. Or Baccatan rules."

  "Northman?"

  "Our north, I mean. A problem for another day."

  He wondered about the many possible shades of feudalism, but then his scouts shouted and fell back to safety. Well out from the village itself, people were coming with spears in hand. Dozens of them, a Bound militia instead of a frightened population hiding in their huts! A single Citizen rode in front of his fighters.

  Dominic glanced back at his troops, whose weapons were already drawn without his orders. It would be easy to stab their way through this weakened Baccatan village force, but it would be better to avoid paying any toll in blood. He called out to the militia, "Hail to the village! We come in peace."

  Across the outskirts of familiar fields, Citizen Antoine shouted, "I've got iron bolts ready for you, invader!"

  "Hold!" said Dominic. "Antoine? What are you doing here? The last time we saw each other it was here, and we were killing the local Citizens."

  The distant crossbow wavered. "Wait. Who are you?"

  "Dominic. Formerly your Bound, then a Servant, and now --"

  "And now coming here under a banner of the sun, to plunder my fields. You've got some nerve."

  "Learned it from you, sir. I saw you trying to hold back from slaughtering people, when policy said to kill the 'rebels' and be done with it."

  "You planning to kill my men? Rape my women? Burn my fields?"

  "No."

  The crossbow finally lowered. "Then you'd better camp outside and have a beer with me."

  Dominic's army waited while he met with the Citizen. He took just two guards along, and left them outside the Citizen's house. The humble building had Antoine's old book collection. Antoine had only greyer hair and a new scar on his neck to show for their years apart. Dominic said, "My companion Rose is a better healer than me. If any of your Bound need help, send them to her."

  Antoine spoke to one of his own soldiers and they left him and Dominic alone at a table. "Generous of you. The children will certainly want to see her. Now, why are you here?"

  Dominic poured out the tale of the years they'd been apart, his growing doubt about the rightness of his country's cause, and his conversion. "We're going to carve out some of Baccata and have more of its people live under a better way of things."

  "Some?"

  "Possibly all."

  "You mentioned healing. It's a messy operation, to carve out flesh."

  "It has to be done, sir. You were one of the good Citizens. But even you were there to make sure we Bound kept in line, never learned magic, and never dreamed of anything else than service."

  Antoine drank, looking off to one side. "After you left, I was reassigned for a year to another town in the north. The raiders there are pressing in, little by little. The Servants wanted me to train up the men to resist them, but what they gave me were boys. And girls, even. The men... Some were already dead in that town and the ones next door, and the rest were broken in one way or another. Life isn't easy for us Citizens either. And you've heard the story of my navy days." He shuddered.

  "The towns were attacked by the Waldic tribes, you mean?"

  "Some, and some cousins of theirs. I don't much care about the distinction."

  "I've made a deal with them. If we can defeat the State in this area, there can be peace."

  "In return for what?"

  "Torrin. Or at least allowing that region more independence and tolerance for their old religion."

  Antoine whistled. "If that's how the people of Torrin want to live... I suppose it doesn't hurt me or my Bound. How many people will you have to kill to make that happen?"

  "Unfortunately, probably many before we're done. Like you and even Servant Jasper taught me, I'm focusing on defeating the leaders first. Servants -- maybe not Jasper's advice exactly! -- then Citizens, and only scything into the Bound if there's no other choice. The men with me are mainly Bound who joined my cause."

  "I have little love for Servants," Antoine admitted. "Enjoying their easy life in the capital and going sightseeing whenever they please."

  Dominic fixed a hard gaze on Antoine. "I watched a friend burn alive. The State fears the Servants. The education and luxury we -- they -- have is just a more pleasant means of control than what you have. And you could say the same about Citizens who're bought off with villages to run and keep them busy. The entire system has to come down in order for things to improve."

  "And on that happy day, there will be no more peasants and lords?"

  Dominic tried to imagine that world. It seemed to split for him into two visions. "I could see a future for the State in which the land is chopped up equally and things begin again, with every Bound a Citizen over himself. Or one in which there are still strong men and weak, rich and poor, but no one is hanged or beaten or otherwise abused because he wants to learn and grow."

  "What do you want from me?" said Antoine. "To rise up and kill your enemies?"

  Dominic hesitated, glancing at the book collection on Antoine's shelves. They were the Citizen's main expensive hoard. "I'd like you to read something. My notes on Mithraic scripture." He took out a battered, much-abused sheaf of pages.

  Antoine laughed at him. "Wisdom from on high! I've heard it already, along with tales of rat-people like your healer, and griffins, and living statues, and monsters born from nightmare. Sailors pick up news like diseases."

  "There's more to it than whatever rumors you know. I studied with their priests; I saw their spellcraft."r />
  "You're one well-armed traveling peddler." Antoine took the notes and leafed through them. "All right, I'll have a look. And then what?"

  "It's up to you, then. The westerners' belief in their King is what shines for me more brightly than their actual leadership, because it's about each of us alone instead of where we fit into the State. It's a set of ideals, not bonds to other people."

  Antoine thought, seeming to pay little attention to the written notes. "For now you may pass through my lands, and buy what supplies we can spare. I suppose we'll have more use for Mithraic coins soon." Antoine set down his empty cup and stared into it. "Good luck with your ideals, when you continue your invasion."

  A few men from this village quietly joined up, and their Citizen said nothing about them. A trickle of men and women came from each of the other villages Dominic's troops visited for food. There'd been fighting at only the lake village -- or so Dominic was told -- and that had ended quickly.

  Perrin looked delighted. "They melt away, the first chance they get!"

  "It's their first time away from home." He supposed that the desertions were a judgment on the Holy State, but they pained him to see. He used to think he was helping the villages he visited, not coming to instill fear and obedience.

  So what am I doing now, under this new banner?

  He muttered the Mithraists' prayer for justice in thought and deed. It was all he could do, for now.

  * * *

  "Flower Walls ahead, sir," said a Mithraic scout with a seagull familiar.

  Dominic could barely see the tall ridges on the horizon, but the scout had gotten a good indirect view and returned with dismay in his voice. "And the people know we're coming."

  Dominic pictured the high ramparts of earth and roots and ancient rubble. Not even magic or catapults would easily dislodge them. To pass between them would mean endless alleyway fights and ambushes. "Even the Dukes are afraid to throw men into this rabbit warren."

  "Then what?" said Rose.

  Perrin looked her over. "Aren't you afraid of committing an act of war, squirrel?"