‘What are children doing here?’
‘They were hostages originally, sir,’ she said, her tongue flickering, ‘now, we don’t know. Sometimes I think the authorities have forgotten all about them.’
‘Are there guards inside?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘All the children are locked up at night, the soldiers sleep in the barracks.’
Killop nodded.
He glanced at Dominic. ‘Kill them.’
‘No,’ said another woman. It was Bridget. She shoved her way to the front of the crowd, and stood between Dominic and the slaves.
‘Get out of the way, Bridget,’ said Dominic, drawing his sword.
‘No.’
She turned to Killop. ‘What the fuck, Chief?’
‘They’re Rahain, Bridget.’
‘They’re slaves,’ she replied. ‘Have you forgotten about Simiona?’
He looked down at the group of Rahain, huddled together on the ground. They were staring up at him and Bridget, their eyes shuttling between hope and despair.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Belay that, Dominic. Hold them here for now, unharmed. Let’s see how well they treated the children before we decide what to do with them.’
‘Children?’ Dominic said.
Killop nodded, and turned to face his warriors, most of whom were now gathered in the grey light of dawn before the front of the mansion.
‘Listen,’ he called out to them, ‘inside this mansion are Kellach Brigdomin children, captured during the war.’
He paused as emotions raced over the faces of those watching him.
He signalled to Dyam to approach.
‘I want one of your squads,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’
He leant down and picked up the old Rahain woman by her slave collar.
‘The keys?’
‘I can show you.’
‘All right, you’re coming along.’
‘This one’s with us,’ he said to Dyam. ‘Everyone else,’ he called to the Kellach warriors, ‘stay out here until I see what’s going on.’
He nodded to Bridget. ‘Come on.’
Killop turned and entered the mansion. Its old grandeur was faded, but he could see what an opulent home it had once been.
Dyam’s squad, Bridget, and the old woman followed him in.
‘She’s yours to mind, Bridget,’ he said.
‘Aye, Chief.’
The old woman led them to a large reception room, where she took a set of keys from a drawer, and handed them to Bridget.
‘The soldiers trusted you with the keys?’ she asked the old woman.
‘This place used to house hundreds of Kellach slaves, ma’am,’ she said, ‘mostly adults. Only one wing was ever children. The adults have all gone, just the children remain. The soldiers saw no threat from them, and left the running of the facility to us.’
They left the chamber, and walked down a long hall to the southern wing of the mansion. They reached a large iron gate, blocking the start of a passageway.
Bridget stepped forward, and examined the keys. She selected one, and unlocked the gate. They all looked down the corridor. On either side were several doors.
‘Should I call out to them?’ the Rahain woman said.
Bridget glanced at Killop.
He nodded.
The old woman entered the passageway.
‘Children,’ she said, ‘it’s morning, time to get up. Come and see our visitors.’
One by one, the doors down the corridor opened, and small faces peered out.
The corridor filled with thin, nervous, Kellach Brigdomin children. Several of the crossbow squad gasped.
Killop took a step forward, staring at them. Their ages ranged from toddler to teenager, and there were dozens of them.
‘I’m Killop,’ he said. ‘Don’t be afraid. You’re free.’
‘…a total of one hundred and seven altogether, Chief,’ Kalden said. ‘Oldest is fourteen, youngest we think is three. Malnutrition has affected a few dozen, but most are in fairly good health, considering.’
Killop nodded, as he sat behind the large study’s wooden desk facing his officers. Bridget was off to one side, her back to them, examining the shelves of books that lined the wall. The ones she had already selected sat in a heaped pile on the desk.
‘We could do with some wagons,’ Killop said. ‘There’s no way we’ll be able to march them all back to the camp.’
‘We’re in luck, Chief,’ Larissa said. ‘We found a few carts in one of the out-buildings, and there are more than enough gaien in the paddock out back.’
Killop nodded. ‘Where’s the old Rahain woman?’
‘She’s with the other slaves supervising breakfast in the hall, Chief,’ Kalden said. ‘Dyam’s crew are keeping an eye on them.’
‘Go fetch her.’
Kalden nodded to a runner, who saluted and left the room.
‘It’ll take a while to get everyone moving,’ Killop said, gazing out of the window at the deep blue sky of another sunny day. ‘We’ll be hard to miss if any flying lizards are about.’
‘Think it would be better to wait for night, Chief?’ Dominic said.
‘Maybe.’
The door opened and the old Rahain slave walked through, a nervous look on her face.
Killop glanced at her. ‘How often does this facility get visited?’
‘Supplies for the soldiers arrive every half-third, sir,’ she said, keeping her eyes lowered. ‘The next delivery is due in eight days. Other people sometimes turn up. For instance, a few days ago an officer arrived unannounced, to tell the soldiers posted here to be on their guard.’
‘Because of us?’
‘I assume so, sir,’ she replied. ‘There have been reports of raids in the area.’
‘And what have you heard about these raids?’
‘Just that they’ve been aimed at freeing Kellach slaves, sir,’ she said. ‘The soldiers here didn’t pay any attention to the message. I guess they thought this facility was low-risk, as why would rebel Kellach want to burden themselves with children too young to fight? Just more useless mouths to feed, they said.’
‘We didn’t know there were children here,’ Killop said, ‘but if we had, we would have rescued them anyway.’
‘Then I beg you, master,’ the old woman said, getting down onto her knees, ‘please take us Rahain slaves with you when you go. We love these children, have looked after them for over two years, and protected them when the soldiers got drunk or angry. I fear that the children will be frightened when you all depart. If you took us, master, we could help.’
Killop said nothing. He gazed down at the old woman, trying to summon up his hatred, but he couldn’t. He felt nothing, no hate, but no sympathy either.
‘Please, master,’ the old woman said, ‘what will you do with us?’
‘I’ll let the children decide if you live,’ Killop said. ‘I’ll ask them if what you said is true, that you loved and protected them.’
‘Thank you, master,’ the old woman said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘Get off your knees,’ he said, ‘and don’t call me master.’
The old woman got to her feet.
‘You can go,’ Killop said.
‘Wait, Chief,’ Bridget said in Rahain, walking towards the desk, a large scroll in her hands. ‘I have a question for her.’
Killop nodded, and the old woman turned to face Bridget, showing the small glimmer of hope that always appeared when she looked at the young Brig woman.
Bridget approached the desk and laid out the scroll, placing a book on each corner.
Killop glanced down. It was a map. He could see the contour lines of mountains and, in the far top corner, the capital city of the Republic.
‘We’re here, right?’ Bridget pointed to a location near the centre of the map.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the old woman replied.
‘All right,’ she said, ‘then tell me, what exactly is this?’
Bridget’s finge
r moved to the other corner of the map, diagonally opposite the capital. There was a series of dashes forming a rough semi-circle, with the straight edge a thick blur of contour lines.
‘It’s Agonite City, ma’am,’ she said, ‘destroyed millennia ago in the Collision.’
‘What’s there now?’ Bridget asked.
‘Ruins, ma’am,’ she said. She ran her finger down the straight edge of the semi-circle. ‘A great earthquake cleaved the city in two. No one has lived there since.’
‘I remember getting told about this in Laodoc’s academy,’ Killop said. ‘There were twenty-one Rahain cities, and now there’s only seven.’
‘That’s right, sir,’ the old woman said, almost smiling. ‘Most of the destroyed cities were lost to the ocean, but a few ruins remain here and there.’
‘How far is it?’
‘Maybe eight days by wagon, sir.’
Killop looked up at Bridget, and she nodded.
‘Kalden,’ he said, switching back to his own language, ‘I need two pairs of scouts organised. One to head back to camp, to tell Draewyn to move everybody down here as fast as possible.’
‘Aye, Chief,’ he said, ‘and the other pair?’
‘They’ll be going south-east,’ he said. ‘I think Bridget may have found our new home.’
Chapter 9
A Hard Day
Southern Frontier, Holdings-Occupied Plateau – 24th Day, Second Third Summer 505
A haze of dust rose from the rolling grasslands, shimmering in the morning heat.
‘They’re coming,’ Echtang cried.
‘Soon,’ said Agang, standing beside him in the front ranks.
Behind them, arrayed up the gentle slope of a hillside, were four full regiments of his finest warriors, sweating in the humid summer air.
‘They’re waiting for those clouds to pass,’ Agang went on, ‘then they’ll strike when the sun is in our eyes.’
Agang smiled as his nephew craned his neck up at the sky.
‘It won’t be long,’ he said. ‘You’ll have your first battle soon. I know how you chafed whenever your brother talked about his part in last summer’s campaigns. Now you’ll get your chance.’
‘Maybe,’ Echtang said, ‘though I’m still surprised you let Anganecht’s force take the lead in the battle today. The fighting may be over by the time we reach any Holdings.’
‘Echtang, my boy,’ Agang said, ‘Anganecht has two thousand warriors. Our scouts reported four thousand heavily armoured Holdings cavalry enter the eastern end of the valley this morning.’
He looked down at his nephew.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘we’ll see some fighting today.’
In contrast to the ordered discipline of the black-uniformed ranks behind them, four dozen paces ahead the lines of Anganecht’s warriors milled and jostled, smoked and drank, and sang rousing songs of violence.
The combined forces of Anganecht’s two thousand and Agang’s four thousand had been marching separately from the rest of the army ever since they had emerged from the river canyon onto the grassy hills of the Plateau five days previously. They had marched out in the open by day, while the rest had skulked and crept through the hours of darkness, always remaining a half-day’s march behind Agang’s advance force.
To the confusion of his officers and allies, Agang had insisted on this formation, relying on what Chane had told him about the power of Holdings’ mages. She had been adamant that the nearby border fort would have a decent vision mage, in order to ensure the Rahain didn’t mount a surprise attack. She said he needed to assume that any such mage would routinely scan the environs of the border.
She had been right.
Just as she had predicted, the border garrison had been seen approaching the day before, without a single scout being spotted anywhere in the vicinity. His plan relied on the Holdings taking the reports from their mages at face value, hoping their arrogance would blind them to the fifteen thousand other Sanang that hid in the undergrowth every sunrise, and who were now hurrying to their positions.
Echtang rolled his shoulders and scratched his neck, rubbed raw by the steel cuirass he was wearing.
‘Stop fidgeting,’ Agang said, as the clouds cleared and the sun shone through.
‘Sorry, uncle.’
The harsh note of a Sanang horn went up.
‘That’s the first signal,’ Agang called out to his captains. ‘Anganecht’s warriors have sighted the Holdings cavalry. Stand fast.’
He strained his ears, and heard it, the low rumble of thousands of hooves tearing through the grass ahead. His heart jumped, and he took a breath.
Out in the sunlight, with no forest around, he felt almost naked.
Doubts sprang into his mind. What was he thinking, attempting to stand up against Holdings cavalry on open ground? The valley sides rose steeply on either side, but there was still plenty of room for cavalry to manoeuvre. The slope where his own regiments were stationed offered some protection, but looked too gentle to stop a head-on charge.
The rumble grew louder, and he could feel the vibrations come up through his boots.
The warriors in Anganecht’s battalion began roaring their battle cries, intoxication rendering them oblivious to the danger of thousands of pounds of horseflesh thundering towards them.
From his slight elevation, Agang saw the ranks of cavalry come into view, their armour blinding in the morning sun. He shielded his eyes. The cavalry raced through the grass like a shining apparition, like an army sent from the gods, their polished breastplates and shields gleaming, their longswords pointing to the heavens.
‘Holy fuck,’ Echtang whispered. ‘Sorry, uncle.’
Agang ignored him, counting down the seconds.
‘Get ready!’ he called out.
There was a horrendous noise as thousands of horses, Holdings and Sanang collided. Screams cut through the air.
‘Now!’ Agang raised his sword, and took a pace back.
The herald next to him nodded, and blew a single long note on his horn.
The first three lines of his army reached down and picked up the eight-foot wooden stakes they had been equipped with, sharpened at both ends.
Each warrior pushed one end into the soft grassy hillside, and angled the other end out, forming a bristling wall of pikes. Each then locked their shields together into a long unbroken wall. Agang took up a stake in the second row, gripping it and bracing himself, his shield overlapping with those on either side. Below, the Holdings cavalry were carving their way through the ragged lines of his ally’s warriors, their swords flashing in the sun.
‘Anganecht’s forces will break soon,’ he called to Echtang, who was holding a shield and pike close behind him in the third row. ‘Hold firm.’
Within moments, warriors began running from Anganecht’s lines. Seeing the hostile forest of pikes blocking their retreat, they pulled up in shock.
They scattered left and right, trying to escape the cavalry onslaught before the entire line broke. Then it was too late, and Anganecht’s forces were driven back by the swords of the cavalry, who were cutting through them like a scythe through long grass.
Hundreds fell as the cavalry slashed through the Sanang lines. Some among Anganecht’s warriors were pleading with Agang’s soldiers to let them pass the shieldwall, but his men remained steady, and kept their lines solid and impenetrable.
The noise grew, from the cries of horses and the ringing of steel, to the death screams of Sanang warriors trodden under the momentum of the cavalry charge.
The first Holdings cavalry troopers reached the forest of Agang’s pikes. Their horses reared, and several were impaled, unable to halt due to the press from behind. Then the cavalry wheeled, dividing before Agang’s lines.
‘Centre!’ Agang called. ‘Pull back!’
His herald blew two short notes on his horn, and the ranks around where Agang stood began hefting their stakes up out of the ground.
Agang heaved, and pulled
his stake free. At once, survivors of Anganecht’s battalion began trying to force their way through, but Agang’s soldiers locked their shields against them, and began withdrawing. On the left and right, Agang could see his two outer regiments holding their lines, as ahead the Holdings re-formed for another charge, leaving the field littered with dead Sanang.
When they had retreated forty paces up the hillside Agang raised his hand, and the horn blew once.
As one, the ranks of soldiers held their shields to their front and pushed their stakes back into position. Agang gave his stake to a soldier from the fourth line, and stepped back.
Ahead, the Holdings cavalry troopers had exchanged their swords for lances, and were forming into ranks. A trumpet sounded clear and sharp.
They charged, the centre heading for Agang, and wings peeling off to assault the regiments on his outer flanks.
‘Archers!’ Agang called.
As far as he knew, the Holdings had never seen any Sanang warrior use a bow in warfare. His people viewed the weapon as useful for hunting only, and shameful in battle. Killing from a distance was deemed the mark of an utter coward, and he had needed to enlist criminals and outcasts to make up his new corps of archers. They knew how to use a bow, every Sanang male did. All Agang had needed to do was get them to shoot in the same direction at the same time. Training had not been easy.
The captain of his archers saluted him.
Agang nodded.
‘Draw!’ the officer called out to his men.
Two hundred bowmen readied their arrows. Agang turned, watching as the Holdings approached.
He waited until they had entered the funnel between his two outer regiments, then raised his hand.
‘Loose!’ cried the officer.
The air behind him moved as two hundred arrows sped overhead. The sunlight flickered for a second as they fell into the charging ranks of cavalry, felling dozens, and causing others to crash and career out of control.
‘Shoot until you run out of arrows,’ Agang said to the captain, who nodded, a wicked grin on his face.
A roar came from his left, and he saw that his regiment on that flank was being pressed hard, attacked from an angle by a detachment of cavalry. Its lines were shaken, but more men from the rear were moving up in support and it was holding steady.
The Magelands Box Set Page 56