B’Dang strode up the ramp, with several hundred warriors accompanying him, and Agang bundled into their midst.
The gates of the citadel were closed, and the helmets of soldiers poked out above the high palisade walls. Agang was dragged to the front of the rebels as they got to the edge of bowshot.
‘Open up,’ B’Dang cried. ‘Your king has surrendered. It’s over.’
The walls of the citadel stood silent.
B’Dang drew a long knife. He gestured to a pair of warriors who leaned over and hoisted Agang up, his arms over their shoulders, his feet dragging on the wet earth.
Agang opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred. He spat a gobbet of blood onto the ground. B’Dang stood before him, his knife tracing a line down Agang’s cheek, a trickle of fresh blood mingling with the rest.
‘Here is your king!’ B’Dang yelled. ‘If those gates don’t start opening in ten seconds, I will slowly slice his head off in front of you.’
‘Don’t do it…’ Agang cried, his voice broken and slurred.
‘Ten,’ B’Dang shouted. ‘Nine…’
The gates started to open.
B’Dang roared, and his warriors flooded up the ramp. They burst through the half-open gates, swords drawn, and into the citadel’s mustering yard. B’Dang waited a few minutes, until they had all passed under the gates, then followed, Agang dragged behind. They entered the citadel, stepping over the bodies of black-clad soldiers as B’Dang’s warriors tore through the remaining garrison. The staff of the imperial legate had been pulled out of the mission building, and were being hacked to pieces along with any other Holdings that had been found.
B’Dang surveyed the scene, nodding. A great cry came up from a group of warriors, as they discovered the treasury building. A line of blacksmiths were herded out from the nearby smithy, and beheaded in the yard, and Agang lowered his eyes, unable to watch any more.
‘We’ve secured the royal household, chief,’ a voice said.
‘Bring them out,’ B’Dang said.
He looked around the yard, then walked over to the smithy. His warriors gathered round him, a space cleared in the centre. As the prisoners from within the hall were led out, B’Dang called over to the guards.
‘Bring them here.’
The warriors parted, and allowed the small group into the clear space. B’Dang gestured to a stout wooden rack.
‘Tie him there,’ he said, and Agang was dragged over and strapped to the wooden frame by his wrists and ankles.
He heard gasps coming from the group of prisoners, and he cracked open his eyes. Hodang was there, standing tall, and his nephew Gadang, who was shaking. His young bride stood motionless next to him, a veil covering her face. Standing together were Legate Robban and Father Pieper, their faces grim but fearless. Giles looked terrified, his eyes darting over the assembled rebels who were watching.
B’Dang gazed at the prisoners, shaking his head.
‘Frankly,’ he said, ‘I’m fucking disappointed. I was hoping for a proper fight today, and all I get is you lot. I didn’t even get to kick the shit out of Agang. His own soldiers had already done the job by the time they handed him over to me. Frustrating. And only three Holdings.’
He turned to his warriors. ‘Tie them up next to Agang.’
Warriors piled into the group of prisoners. Giles shrieked, and was dragged away. Pieper dodged the hands that came to grab him, and lashed out with a knife, stabbing a warrior. He moved fast, but there were too many of B’Dang’s men surrounding him, and he was beaten to the ground. B’Dang lunged forward, and brought the heel of his boot down onto Pieper’s head. There was a crunch, and B’Dang stamped down again, cracking the Holdings man’s skull open. A third stamp, and his head split, emptying its contents onto the earth of the mustering yard.
B’Dang staggered backwards, his heel dripping.
Robban was led off after Giles to the smithy rack, as Hodang, Gadang, and the girl edged away from the corpse of Pieper lying sprawled on the ground, a circle of blood spreading out from his broken head.
B’Dang watched as the two remaining Holdings were strapped next to Agang.
‘You look important,’ he said to Robban.
The imperial legate spat at B’Dang.
The Sanang lord wiped the spittle from his cheek and laughed.
‘At least you’ve got some balls,’ he said, pulling a knife. ‘Though not for much longer.’
He stabbed the legate in the groin, his knife plunging in and out as Robban screamed. B’Dang’s arm moved in a frenzy, stabbing and stabbing until Robban’s cries died away and his head lolled.
B’Dang panted, then wiped the knife on the ground.
‘And who are you?’ he grinned at Giles. ‘No, wait, I can guess. A pretty boy like you? We all know what he’s been doing, eh lads?’
The rebel warriors let out a roaring laugh.
B’Dang wandered over to the interior of the smithy, and returned with a poker and a hammer.
He leapt up onto a crossbeam of the rack, about halfway up, and edged closer to Giles. He grasped the young man’s head in his hand, and rammed the poker down his throat. As Giles writhed and choked, B’Dang picked up the hammer and battered it down on the end of the poker, driving it a foot into Giles’ body.
The warriors cheered as Giles swung limp, and B’Dang basked for a moment, raising the hammer in his right hand.
‘Now that the foreigners have been dealt with,’ he said, jumping down into the yard, ‘things can get more personal.’
He strode towards the three Sanang in the centre of the cleared space.
‘Hodang and Prince Gadang,’ B’Dang crowed.
‘What do you want?’ Gadang said. ‘Whatever it is, we’ll do it.’
‘Your brother was right,’ B’Dang said. ‘You’re a fucking coward, a dirty little Holdings-lover.’ He spat at Gadang’s feet. ‘You make me ashamed to be Sanang.’
He turned to his warriors.
‘Grind him into the dirt.’
Gadang was pulled screaming into a tight crowd of warriors, and Agang lost sight of him amid the thrown punches and boots. Gadang’s cries went on for a moment, then ended, but the mob continued, stamping on his body until a cloud of dust covered them.
B’Dang turned to face Hodang, then glanced at the girl, as if seeing her for the first time.
‘Who’s she, then?’
‘She was Gadang’s bride,’ Hodang said, keeping his voice even.
‘He had her?’
Hodang nodded.
‘Then she’s no use to me,’ B’Dang said. ‘I’ll let the lads play with her.’
‘B’Dang, ya mad bastard,’ a loud voice yelled over the crowd.
The warriors parted, and a group of tall figures approached, flanked by others.
‘What the fuck’s been going on here?’ Keira cried, striding into the open space where Hodang and the girl stood. She gazed over at the smithy rack, then turned to B’Dang.
She laughed. ‘You’re one sick wee fuck.’
‘We spared the civilians,’ he said. ‘Even let all the servants in the hall go.’ He gestured at the bodies. ‘Just taking care of the traitors.’
‘We agreed not to kill Agang,’ said Kylon, his face grim.
‘And I haven’t,’ B’Dang said. ‘He’s still alive. Go check for yourself.’
Kylon nodded at the other Clackdomyn, a tall blonde woman in mail and leathers with a longbow over her shoulder. The woman approached Agang, lifting his chin up and checking his breathing.
She turned and nodded to Keira.
‘He’s yours then, Leah,’ the firewitch said. ‘You can look after him.’
The blonde Clackdomyn tutted, and began to unfasten the straps that bound Agang to the rack.
Keira walked up to Hodang and the girl.
‘And you are?’
‘My name is Hodang Tipoe, madam firewitch. Agang’s chief minister.’
‘We should keep him alive,’ Kylon said.
Keira nodded.
‘And you?’ she said to the girl.
The young princess said nothing, standing still.
‘Can she talk?’ Keira said. ‘Can you talk? What’s the matter with ye?’
‘She is a princess of Sanang,’ Hodang said.
Keira ripped off the veil, revealing the girl’s face. A look of anger and shame rippled across her young features, and the warriors quietened.
‘What’s your name?’ Kylon asked her.
The girl glared at them.
‘Flora!’ Keira called out, and the woman with the white face-paint emerged from the crowd of warriors, who gave her a wide berth, as if they were afraid of her. Behind her walked a Holdings soldier, and Agang blinked at the sight, then realised that the woman with face-paint was also Holdings.
‘We’re going to be looking after this pair,’ said Keira, pointing at Hodang and the girl.
Leah propped Agang up by the rack, and wiped some of the blood from his face.
‘He could do with a healer,’ she said.
Keira approached them, Kylon and B’Dang following.
‘Don’t give him one,’ B’Dang said. ‘Let him suffer.’
Keira stood over Agang.
‘The war is over,’ she said. ‘Who won?’
Agang gazed back at her, his vision cloudy.
‘Who won?’ she repeated, leaning closer, her eyes flickering, a smirk on the edge of her mouth.
‘You,’ he gasped.
‘That’s right. Me.’
She glanced at Leah.
‘Get him a fucking healer.’
Chapter 16
Sense of Self
Slateford, Rahain Republic – 27th Day, Second Third Autumn 506
Killop and Daphne sat by the fire, warming their hands as Karalyn lay asleep in the cot behind them. The cabin was shrouded in shadow, the shutters closed against the chill mountain air.
Daphne took a drink, then put down her mug.
‘There’s something I should tell you,’ she said, ‘before we go back down to the mansion.’
He nodded as she lit one of her cigarettes. A strange habit, one that he had seen the alliance soldiers in town take part in. Daphne had offered him a smoke once, but he had turned it down. He thought it stank, though he hadn’t mentioned this to her.
‘I know you were with Kallie before me,’ she went on, ‘so it’s only fair I tell you about Jorge.’
Killop said nothing, listening.
‘I met him at university,’ she said. ‘He was older than me, and seemed to know everything about Holdings City. I was new there, and he took me out to lots of exciting places. But after a year or so I outgrew him, and by the time I’d been posted to Sanang I’d lost a bit of interest. I didn’t see him for ages and then, when I was in prison, he came to visit me. He had sneaked past the guards by pretending to be my brother. But when he saw my arm…’
She frowned.
‘He sounds like an idiot,’ Killop said.
‘He was,’ she said. ‘Still hurt though.’
‘What happened then?’
‘I told him it was over,’ she said. ‘Haven’t seen him since.’
Killop nodded, sipping his ale. He knew he should say something about Larissa, he had rehearsed the words many times, but his tongue refused to obey. Their time together in the mountains had been as near perfect as he could have imagined. An old boyfriend was of no concern to him, but to tell Daphne that he had been sleeping with another woman while she was pregnant and giving birth to his daughter felt like a deep betrayal, one that would sour everything.
He would wait. He would tell her when they got back.
Killop sat on the low mattress, watching the door to the fort’s outhouse. His fingers drummed against his knee as he waited.
The door opened, and Kallie emerged, her breath misting in the winter air. Her feet crunched across the snow and ice, and she came into the squad’s sleeping quarters. Killop checked again that they were alone.
‘Well?’ he said.
‘You can relax, man-bear,’ she said. ‘It’s started.’
He let out a long sigh.
She sat on the bed next to him, and he noticed the frown on her face.
‘You all right?’ he said.
‘Aye.’
‘You don’t look it. Are you not relieved?’
‘Aye,’ she said. ‘I am. Just wasnae expecting you to be quite so happy about it.’
‘I do want to have children,’ he said, ‘just not right now. Once we’ve thrown the lizards out of Kell, then maybe we can think about it.’
‘But if we’re sleeping together,’ she said, ‘we have to be ready, just in case.’
‘You’ve been taking the fennel-wort though, aye?’
‘Of course I have,’ she said, ‘but it doesnae always work. My aunt was using it when she got pregnant.’
He put his big arm around her.
‘One day,’ he said, ‘we’ll have a family. I was thinking two sets of twins, maybe three.’
Kallie snorted. ‘Steady on, man-bear. You’re not the one who’ll have to carry them, then go through the birth.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be there, right by your side for every minute of it. I promise.’
Killop opened the door to his bedroom and crept in, trying not to wake his parents. He had seen his sister run in, but couldn’t make out where she was in the darkness. He closed the door behind him, and felt his way to the bed. With one hand on the mattress he took a step, then stumbled into something.
‘Ow!’ Keira cried. ‘Ya stupid fanny. Watch where yer putting yir huge feet.’
Killop climbed up onto his bed and lay on his front, his elbows propped up.
‘What happened to you, then?’ he said.
‘Nothing.’
Something in her voice sounded funny.
‘You been crying?’ he said.
‘Fuck off.’
Killop reached over to his table for the lamp. He arced his fingers together, and a spark leapt onto the wick, and the lamp caught. He turned up the flow of oil, and glanced at his sister.
He gasped.
‘Who did that to you?’
She looked away, trying to hide the cuts on her face, and the dark bruises.
‘Ye cannae tell anyone about this,’ she said.
‘Who did it?’
‘Keep yer fucking voice down,’ she hissed. ‘It was nobody from the village. About twenty bawbags from Milltown jumped me.’
‘You were on your own?’
‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Coming back from running a message for da. They must have been waiting for me. I managed to get a few of the bastards, but there was too many.’
‘They knew who you were?’
‘Of course they fucking knew who I was.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘What the fuck are you sorry about?’ she sneered.
‘If I’d been there,’ he said, ‘I could have given you a spark.’
She shrugged. ‘But you weren’t. So fucking what. It’s not like you should follow me about all day, just in case. Still, it would have been fun to roast those arseholes.’ She paused. ‘Hang on, are you offering to spark for me? I thought you said you’d never do it again.’
Killop stared at her beaten face, her eyes defiant. His heart broke to see his sister hurt, but he knew she was strong enough to get through it.
‘I wouldn’t have stood there and let them do that to you.’
‘Good to know,’ she said. ‘I’ll remember that for next time.’
Killop strode up the narrow glen, trampling through wet fern and moss, the air cold despite the sunshine peeking through the breaks in the clouds. The noise of the fast flowing burn drowned out all other sounds. He came to a gap in the hillside to his left, where a rockslide had gouged a chunk out of the cliff, and saw a waterfall, the cold stream sparkling in the sun as it tumbled down the rocks.
‘Is this a real place?’ said
Daphne. ‘It’s beautiful.’
He nodded. ‘In the hills above Goatcross. Used to come here a lot when I was young.’
She smiled. ‘Your memories are returning, Killop. For days I despaired, but your mind is slowly repairing itself.’
‘The little girl has helped me.’
‘What?’
‘I see her sometimes,’ he said. ‘She helps me heal.’
Daphne glanced away, a frown on her lips.
Killop said nothing, not understanding why she would object to the child’s presence.
Daphne forced a smile back onto her face.
‘You might be well enough to come back to us soon.’
‘Back where?’ he said.
‘Home.’
He paused. Wasn’t this his home?
‘We miss you,’ she said, kissing his forehead.
She disappeared, as she often did, and Killop continued his walk up the glen.
The child’s face lit up when she saw him. He smiled back, and got down on one knee so he wouldn’t scare her with his height. The little girl approached, and he looked into her green eyes, recognising them.
He blinked. Did he know this child? She looked like Daphne, a Holdings girl.
The child raised her hand, and a swathe of memories flooded him. More broken threads of his mind were reformed, and his sense of self returned.
He fell to the ground sobbing, and the little girl patted him on the head.
He stirred, and opened his eyes. He was lying in his bedroom on the top floor of the mansion, looking up at the ceiling. He turned his head, and saw Karalyn playing with a toy figure on the rug close by. Daphne was sitting by an opened window, smoking and gazing out over the valley.
Karalyn let out a cry and tottered to her feet. Daphne turned, and rushed over.
‘You’re awake,’ she said, wrapping her right arm round his shoulder. Karalyn approached the bed, and lifted her hands, laughing.
Killop lay still, feeling Daphne’s hair against his face.
She pulled back, picked up Karalyn, and sat on the bed.
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