Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  No one spoke as they waited. A soldier handed the king a stick of keenweed, and Agang took a long draw before passing it on. The rain had cleared, and there were a few breaks in the overcast afternoon sky. The smoke in the east grew nearer, until Agang could hear the crackle and roar of the forest burning, then the shouts and cries of thousands of voices.

  Agang squinted, looking into the forest, and saw them, rebels running towards the ford, swarming through the trees and along the muddy road. Some wore pieces of armour, but most held just a spear or sword. There was a low rumble of noise from the town, as those on the walls caught sight of the enemy approach, and spread the word back to their comrades.

  The rebels emerged from the forest, and halted on the banks of the ford, yelling and screaming at the town walls. They soon filled the riverside, spreading back and out, massing in their thousands. Agang heard the soldier next him let out a sob.

  Through the centre of the horde a path was cleared, and down it walked a group, several of whom stood more than a head higher than the others.

  ‘The firewitch,’ gasped a soldier.

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ the sergeant spat.

  A chant rose up from the rebels by the ford, gaining in volume.

  ‘Kill-kill, kill-kill, kill-kill,’ it went on, droning up to the soldiers on the gatehouse. Someone in the town screamed.

  The group reached the front of the mass of warriors, and stopped at the edge of the ford.

  Among them were three Clackdomyn, a man and two women. Next to them Agang recognised B’Dang, and felt anger take hold of him. He put a hand on the timber battlements, the urge to leap down and run at that bastard almost impossible to resist. He felt the other soldiers on the tower back off.

  ‘Agang Garo,’ B’Dang D’Bang cried, and the chanting stilled. ‘You fucking traitor. You arse-licking Holdings-lover. Did you suck the Emperor’s balls so you could wear that pretty little crown?’ He laughed, swaggering on the river bank. ‘Do you see who I’ve brought with me? Today it all ends for you, and by sunset I’ll be jerking off over your corpse.’

  ‘That’s enough of your shite, B’Dang,’ said the brown-haired Clackdomyn woman, striding forward. She squinted up at the gatehouse. ‘Agang Garo, you up there?’

  ‘I am,’ he called down.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Well, it’s fucking simple. Kylon here will explain it.’

  The Clackdomyn man stepped forward. He was dressed in a long black coat, his dark hair falling past his shoulders.

  ‘The empire is evil,’ he called out, ‘and will lead us all to death. We must fight it. You are a servant of the empire, and an obstacle in our way. Surrender, and we will spare the townsfolk. Those of fighting age will join our army of liberation. These are our terms. If you refuse, Keira will burn you.’

  The firewitch performed a mock bow, and the rebel warriors burst into laughter.

  ‘I will fight B’Dang D’Bang,’ Agang cried out. ‘I claim him. Warrior chief to warrior chief. The victor wins the crown.’

  B’Dang surged forwards, but the blonde Kellach woman put out an arm to block him, as warriors and soldiers on both sides watched.

  ‘Get a fucking grip,’ Keira cried. ‘Do you think I’m stupid? No deal.’

  ‘B’Dang is a coward,’ Agang yelled.

  Keira shook her head. ‘Last chance. You taking our terms?’

  ‘I will not bow to a savage.’

  Keira laughed.

  Agang watched as the firewitch turned, and walked back into the mass of rebels. She spoke to B’Dang on the way, the rebel chief looking unhappy with having been restrained.

  ‘Make sure every fire bucket’s ready,’ Agang heard the sergeant say, and a soldier ran down the steps.

  Nothing happened for a few minutes, and Agang had time for his anger to cool. The rebels stayed where they were, massed on the river bank. Smoke from a fire close by rose in intensity, and within seconds a vast stretch of forest was ablaze. The flames kept away from the rebel warriors, who turned to watch. Gouts of flame leapt up and formed a cloud of roiling fire, growing larger and larger as the firewitch fed it from the burning trees below .

  The great fire-cloud began to move, rolling towards Broadwater until it hung suspended over the town, casting a flickering shadow over the houses and streets. Fiery drops started to fall like rain, catching alight wherever they landed. Soldiers and civilians screamed and ran as the drops of fire hit them. Wooden roofs went up in flames, along with wagons and the canopies covering the market.

  After a few seconds it was over. The fire rain stopped, the flaming cloud remaining above them.

  Agang turned back to face the ford.

  The firewitch was standing there, her right arm pointed at the sky, where the fire cloud hovered. The man Kylon was next to her, and a shorter woman, with her face covered in white paint, was at Keira’s side, offering her a drink.

  ‘Do you wish to reconsider?’ Kylon cried up to Agang.

  The king staggered, his head reeling with the smoke and screams coming from the town behind him,

  ‘The townsfolk will be spared?’ he said, his heart despairing.

  ‘They will,’ Kylon said, ‘but all men will be coming with us.’

  ‘And the Holdings?’

  Kylon shook his head. ‘Our terms cover only the Sanang.’

  Agang glanced back at the town. Most of the fires had been put out, but a few were still burning. Above their heads, the fiery cloud bubbled and sparked.

  ‘My arm’s getting tired,’ Keira called out. ‘If you don’t make yer mind up soon I’m fucking dropping the lot on ye.’

  Agang turned to face the rebels. Every soldier and warrior stood in silence, all eyes on him.

  He nodded.

  ‘Say it,’ Kylon cried.

  Agang swallowed hard. ‘We surrender.’

  ‘Open the gates,’ called Kylon, amid a roar from the rebel warriors.

  Agang gestured to a soldier by his side. ‘Do it.’

  The soldier’s mouth opened, then he sprinted down the steps.

  By the riverbank, Keira swept her arm away. The cloud of fire was extinguished in a second, and small particles of ash fell onto the town, or were carried away by the wind.

  Agang bowed his head.

  He heard the heavy bolts of the gates below him slide free, and the wooden doors swung open. Rebel warriors were moving forward through the ford, their feet splashing in the shallow water. They were chanting again, and crowing in triumph. The soldiers in the gatehouse lowered their crossbows, and waited for Agang to speak.

  ‘We must return to the citadel at once, your Majesty,’ the sergeant said. ‘You must not be taken prisoner.’

  The other soldiers stared from the king to the sergeant, then one stepped forward and plunged his sword through the chest of the sergeant. Another joined in, and another, until the sergeant fell, bloody and torn.

  The soldiers turned to face Agang, their weapons trained on him.

  ‘Give me your sword,’ one shouted at Agang.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said another, his eyes wild.

  ‘We give them Agang,’ the first soldier said, ‘and we might live through this.’

  Agang’s hand rushed to the hilt of his sword, but a soldier clubbed him over the back of his head with the butt of a crossbow, and he crashed to the ground. He curled up, wrapping his arms over his head as the blows rained down on him. Punches, kicks, and the hard end of a crossbow struck him. He suppressed his instincts, and allowed his body to be battered, the need to keep his secrets greater than the fear of a beating.

  The soldiers dragged him to the top of the steep wooden stairs, and threw him down. He landed in a heap, the wind knocked out of him, his body screaming from a dozen injuries. The squad followed him down, and pulled him across the floor by the arms. He jerked his eyes open, writhing and struggling, and more punches came down, into his face and stomach, until his eyes were full of blood and he stopped resisting.

  He
passed out for a moment, wavering between consciousness and oblivion. He sensed daylight, and the gravel of the ground he was being dragged over. His arms were dropped, and he lay on the earth, breathing in ragged gulps, his blood seeping into the soil beneath him.

  Something warm and wet struck his face, and he gagged and spluttered, his hand reaching and rubbing his eyes.

  He heard laughter, and through the blood he saw B’Dang D’Bang standing over him, pulling up his pants. He spat onto Agang.

  ‘You belong to me now,’ B’Dang said. ‘I win.’

  He turned to the warriors by his side. ‘Carry him. We’re going up to the citadel. The civilians down here are off-limits, but up there?’ He pointed up the ramp to the walls of the citadel. ‘Up there, we can do what we like.’

  The rebel officers started shouting, and rough hands grabbed hold of Agang, and carried him towards the ramp. With the blood clearing from his eyes, he saw his soldiers being lined up in the street and disarmed, surrounded by groups of rebels.

  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.

&nbs
p; 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.’