Killop finished his meal. ‘I remember Laodoc telling me that there’s a separate entrance if you’re on foot with no wagon, and it’s much quicker to pass through into the tunnel.’
The militia said nothing.
‘You lot stay here,’ Killop went on. ‘I’ll take Karalyn and go on ahead.’
The squad leader pursed her lips. ‘Umm, Brynt told us not to leave your side, Chief.’
Killop shook his head. ‘Six members of the clan militia might get held up at the entrance, and there’s no time to get you looking like civilians. Me and the wee one will get through fine.’
‘But Brynt…’
‘I’m the chief, squad leader, not Brynt. If I tell you to stay here, then you stay here.’
He stood, and jumped off the side of the wagon. He reached over and picked up Karalyn and put her down on the ground, then grabbed their two large bags. The squad leader was frowning at him, her eyes narrowed.
‘But, Chief,’ she said, ‘do you want us to stay in the queue, or should we park up and wait for you to get back?’
‘Rest up for the day,’ he said. ‘If we haven’t returned by dawn tomorrow, report back to Bridget.’
He slung the bags over his broad shoulders, and took Karalyn’s hand. She raised her arms to get picked up.
‘You’ll have to walk a bit today, wee bear.’
He glanced up at the warriors, who were all staring back.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
He turned and strode off up the road, leading Karalyn by the hand as she tried to keep up. He felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning the half-squad, who would no doubt get a furious dressing down from Brynt and Bridget when they returned to the clan without him.
He frowned. Was his mind made up? Was he walking out on the clan, deserting them? He would decide when he found Daphne.
They walked past the lines of stationary carriages and wagons. The majority of folk in the queue were peasant Rahain, fleeing the turmoil with all the possessions they could load onto the back of a wagon. Many looked desperate, while others sat back with their eyes closed as they waited. Dotted among the queue were a mixture of merchants, New Free militia and a couple of parties of Kellach, who watched him as he walked by with the child.
As they were passing an open enclosure of gaien, Karalyn stopped, tugging on his hand.
‘Mama’s horse,’ she said.
Killop turned, and saw that a small corner of the enclosure had been fenced off, and contained a number of horses.
‘Mama’s horse,’ Karalyn repeated.
‘Let’s go see.’
They turned off the road, and approached a small shack at the far end of the enclosure. An old Rahain woman was standing outside, watching them.
‘Good morning,’ Killop said.
‘How can I help you?’ said the old woman, her eyes flitting between Killop and the dark-skinned little girl at his side.
‘That white horse,’ he said, pointing at the beast in the small field. ‘Did you see the Holdings woman who brought it here?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘And who is it that’s doing the asking?’
Killop gestured to the girl. ‘This is her daughter. We’re meeting her later, and she’ll need her horse.’
‘Mama’s horse,’ Karalyn said, smiling up at the old woman.
The Rahain chuckled. ‘Very well, though she never mentioned anything about someone else coming to collect her stallion.’
‘Plan’s changed.’
‘Did she tell you about the fee that is owed to me?’
Killop shook his head.
‘Six sovereigns.’
He frowned. ‘Seems a little steep.’
The old woman shrugged. ‘She arrived in the middle of the night. I had to get up and stable and feed him. Anyway, she agreed.’
Killop counted out the money and handed it over. The old woman smiled and went off to the horse enclosure. Killop pulled off the two large bags, and rubbed his shoulders. He watched as the old woman saddled the horse, and attached its harness. She held onto the reins and walked the beast out, shutting the fence gate behind her.
‘Here he is, sir. And might I say what a beautiful animal he is too.’
Killop’s mouth went dry as the beast drew near. Its eyes were almost level with his, its breath pluming from its wet nostrils. Its white coat glistened in the sunlight.
‘Here you go, sir,’ the old woman said, handing him the reins.
‘Up, up,’ said Karalyn.
‘You want to ride on the saddle, wee bear?’
‘Aye, aye!’
He glanced at the old woman. ‘Is that safe?’
She frowned at him. ‘Do you have much experience with these animals, sir?’
‘Not much,’ he said. ‘None.’
She shook her head. ‘Put her in the saddle, and I’ll strap her legs in. She’ll be fine up there. As for you, just remember not to approach from behind. It can make them nervous and he might kick you. Do you know what to feed him?’
Killop shook his head as he picked up Karalyn and sat her down on the saddle. The old woman attached straps to her legs, and looped the reins round her wrists. Killop lifted the two heavy cases, and secured them to the back of the horse.
The old woman went into her shack and emerged with a feeding bag. She tied it next to the cases on the stallion’s back.
‘Put this over his nose. You’ll get two or three feeds out of it. And make sure he gets plenty of water.’
Killop nodded. ‘Thanks.’
He held onto the reins and began leading the horse back to the main road, while Karalyn squealed with joy from the saddle. He smiled. The beast was keeping her amused, and he had to admit it was an improvement not having to carry the two huge cases around. They reached the road, and turned left towards the tunnel.
The town grew busier as they got closer to the large fortress built into the side of the cliff-face. Taverns and shops lined the main street, and traders selling refreshments wandered among the queuing traffic. The road passed through a pair of enormous arched gates, where New Free soldiers were carrying out searches and collecting toll payments from those attempting to enter. To the left of the line of wagons was a smaller entrance, where those on foot were waiting.
The New Free guards on duty glanced over at him as he led the horse to the back of the shorter queue. It was moving quickly, and within a few minutes they were at the front.
‘Destination and purpose?’ said one of the guards, while the others walked round the horse, poking at the luggage.
‘The imperial capital,’ he said. ‘I’m taking this child back to her home.’
‘And is this your horse?’
‘It is.’
‘Right. It’ll be two gold each for you and the kid, and four for the beast.’
Killop counted out the coins in silence and handed them over.
The guards pulled back from the gate and Killop passed through, leading the stallion under the arched opening and into a large courtyard. On either side were stone buildings, with a blacksmiths and barracks where a few dozen New Free militia lounged. Ahead was the entrance to the tunnel, a great, almost circular opening in the side of the cliff. The wagons coming through the gate to his right were moving up a shallow ramp and passing into the lamplight interior.
Killop joined the main road behind a large gaien-drawn carriage, and they entered the tunnel. He took a quick glance back to see the blue sky above, then turned to face forwards, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.
‘Where’s mama?’ he whispered to Karalyn.
The girl pointed ahead.
Killop nodded, and picked up his pace to overtake the carriage. ‘She’s got a head start of five or six hours on us, wee bear. We’ll need to hurry.’
Karalyn smiled down at him. ‘We find mama.’
There were mile markers engraved into the walls of the tunnel, and Killop counted them off as they hastened through the first underground stretch of
the great pass through the Grey Mountains. Every few miles he would ask Karalyn, and each time she would point ahead. They passed dozens of wagons, carriages and carts in the wide tunnel, their gaien labouring up the continuous incline while Killop and the white horse kept up a brisk pace.
At the eighteen-mile marker, there was a large sign proclaiming that they had reached the halfway stage of the first tunnel section. To the right, a huge space had been carved out of the rock, where dozens of wagons were parked in deep booths. In the rear, a row of taverns were serving the travellers food and drink. Four deep ventilation shafts pierced the ceiling, and a last glimpse of daylight was visible outside as the sun set.
Killop paused, scanning the booths lining the walls, each containing a resting wagon.
He nudged Karalyn, who was dozing in the saddle, her head resting against their luggage.
‘Mama?’ he said.
She opened her eyes and looked around the cavern. Her gaze fell upon a covered wagon in a nearby booth, where a Rahain man sat resting on the driver’s bench. Karalyn pointed at him.
‘Mama.’
Killop’s heart raced. His legs were tired from the long climb through the tunnel, but he loosened his sword in its scabbard, and tied up his leather cuirass. He led the horse over to a long water trough, and the stallion began to take noisy gulps, while he examined the covered wagon from the corner of his eye. There was movement in the rear of the wagon behind the man on the driver’s bench, but it was in the shadow of the deep booth, and he couldn’t tell how many others were back there.
He looped the reins over a post.
‘Stay here, wee bear,’ he said, as a carriage entered the cavern. He raced forwards, ducking behind the passing carriage as it approached the covered wagon. He rolled as the carriage pulled away, dodging the large wooden wheels. He ducked into the booth, and crouched beneath the covered wagon. He could hear the sounds of chatter coming from above his head, and he scrambled to the back, which had been parked close to the rear wall of the booth. He picked up a stone and lobbed it forwards, striking one of the four gaien harnessed to the front. It bellowed out a cry, and Killop drew his sword and leapt up into the back of the wagon.
Two Rahain peasants, a woman and a man, stared up at him.
‘Where is she?’ Killop said, lowering his sword at them.
The woman lunged for her crossbow, and Killop drove the sword through her neck. The man jumped back, and Killop went after him. He grabbed him by the throat, squeezed until his neck snapped, then threw him at the man on the driver’s bench, who was turning and reaching for his weapon. Killop lunged forward and pulled the other man in. He put his foot on his back and swung his sword down, severing the man’s head.
His eyes searched the interior of the wagon. There was no sign of Daphne.
He heard a thump, and looked down, scanning the floorboards. There was a louder thump, and he jumped down from the wagon. He ripped off the tarpaulin covering the rear, and saw a handle in the centre of a horizontal slat. He sheathed his sword, and wrenched open the slat, exposing a dark hidden space under the wagon’s floorboards. He peered inside, and saw movement.
‘Step away from the wagon,’ a voice cried.
Killop turned. By the rear of the booth a man was pointing a crossbow at his chest. A woman stood next to him. She looked different in peasant clothing, but Killop had no trouble recognising her.
‘You killed them all, you filthy savage,’ Douanna said, her eyes glancing over the interior of the blood-splattered wagon. ‘Have you any idea how expensive it will be to replace them?’
Killop moved his hand away from the hilt of his sword.
‘Back away,’ Douanna said, drawing a knife from her robes. ‘Jaioun, shoot him if he moves. I’ll make sure that Miss Holdfast remains safely tucked up.’
She approached the rear of the wagon, glancing down at the wooden slat that Killop had discarded. She lifted her head, her hand clutching the knife, her eyes level with the dark compartment.
‘Excitement’s over, Daphne.’
She paused, her eyes widening.
An arm lunged out from the darkness, and fingers gripped Douanna’s neck. Killop froze for a second as Daphne flung herself from the compartment, pulling Douanna down with her.
Jaioun’s eyes darted towards Douanna and Daphne writhing on the ground, and Killop sprang at him. He ripped the crossbow from the Rahain man’s grasp, and clubbed him with it, striking him on the side of his face and sending him sprawling to the dirt. He crouched down next to him, and broke the man’s neck with his free hand.
He spun round to see Daphne sitting slumped on the ground next to Douanna’s body. A knife was protruding from the Rahain woman’s chest.
Killop rushed to Daphne’s side.
She arched in pain as he embraced her, and he looked down at her right leg. Blood was seeping from a wound above the ankle, and two wooden splints had been tied along her shin.
‘Shit.’
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she squinted up at him. ‘Karalyn?’
‘She’s close by.’
‘I knew you were coming,’ she said. ‘I could feel her mind searching for me.’
‘You all right?’
‘I lost my vision,’ she said. ‘That’s how they got me.’
He glanced over at the body of Douanna.
‘It’s coming back,’ she went on. ‘Slowly. But I used up nearly all of it to get free.’
‘You did more than get free,’ he said. ‘You killed her. Douanna’s dead. Your promise to Laodoc has been kept.’
She nodded. ‘What now?’
Killop helped Daphne get to her feet, supporting her with his arm. He glanced back down the booth to where Karalyn remained, sitting on the stallion. She let out a yelp of joy as she saw her mother, and Daphne smiled.
Killop gazed down at her. She was exhausted, and in considerable pain, but the spark in her green eyes drew him in, and he knew he would always love her.
‘I was thinking,’ he said. ‘The Severed Clan won’t need a chief when they get to Domm, and Bridget will do a fine job leading them there.’
Her eyes widened.
‘If you want,’ he said, ‘we could go to Hold Fast, and see your folks.’
She threw her right arm around his neck and drew him close.
‘You sure?’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘It’s time I saw the Holdings.’
Chapter 37
Out of Luck
Plateau City, The Plateau – 21st Day, Second Third Winter 506
Shella awoke and opened her eyes. The light was dim, but she could make out a long jagged crack running across the ceiling a few feet above where she was lying.
She took a breath. She felt fine. No, better than fine. She felt alive. She reached for her powers and found them, her reserves full and ready.
Where was she?
She turned her head and saw Kalayne reclining in an armchair, snoring. A lamp on a table next to him was providing the small room’s only illumination. Thymo sat on another chair, playing with some toy figures of warriors.
He looked up, and smiled.
‘Auntie,’ he cried, and ran into her arms.
She laughed as the boy embraced her.
‘You’re fine?’ she said.
‘Me?’ he said. ‘I’m okay.’
‘Ah, you’re awake,’ Kalayne said, grimacing and rubbing his neck. ‘All better now?’
‘I feel great,’ she said. ‘What happened? How did I get out?’
‘How do you think?’ he said, frowning. ‘I got you.’
‘You got me?’ she said. ‘You mean you walked into the institute, amid fire and destruction, and carried me out?’
‘Something like that. I won’t bore you with the details, though suffice it to say it involved a great deal of sneaking around. I also read your memories. They were quite interesting.’
Shella shook her head. ‘It was terrifying. The Emperor…’
‘I
s no longer the Emperor.’
‘What?’
‘Everyone believes that the Creator bestowed great power upon the Emperor, but I saw what occurred, through your memories, and understood, even if you didn’t.’
‘Understood what?’
‘The Creator himself now resides within the body that once belonged to Emperor Guilliam.’
She frowned.
‘It wasn’t meant to happen,’ the old man went on. ‘The Creator miscalculated. He hadn’t taken into account the fact that I’d sabotaged Benel’s mind, and it tripped him up.’
Kalayne smirked.
‘Benel’s dead,’ she said.
Kalayne shrugged. ‘That was going to happen, with or without me. The night you were arrested I had only a moment, so as well as wiping Benel’s memories of me, I placed a few obstacles in his mind.’
Shella bowed her head.
‘Your survival,’ the old man went on, ‘was also my doing. That block I placed in your head, although it couldn’t prevent the Creator from entering your mind, it shielded you enough to keep you alive.’
He grinned at her, his eyes bulging.
Shella said nothing.
‘Thank you might be the appropriate response, one would have thought,’ Kalayne said.
‘I’m glad you saved her, grandpa,’ Thymo said. ‘I missed her.’
‘At least someone’s grateful,’ Kalayne said.
‘You risked your life to rescue me,’ she said. ‘I am grateful. I’m just trying to come to terms with everything. For a start, what happened to the fire mage?’
Kalayne frowned for a moment. ‘The Creator stopped her heart, and killed every Sanang warrior in her army.’
‘Fuck,’ Shella said, shaking her head. ‘Where are we?’
‘In a cellar under the Kellach quarter.’
‘We’re still in the city?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’m not a mule. I wasn’t going to carry you across the Plateau. I have made arrangements for a wagon, and now that you’re awake, we should be able to leave in the morning.’
‘Which morning? How long was I asleep?’
‘Well, let’s see,’ he said. ‘I found you a couple of hours before dawn, and it’s now the evening of that day. Sixteen hours maybe?’
The Magelands Box Set Page 142