Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  Arnault raised his hands.

  ‘Most Holy Creator, Lord and Holder of all. We are ready.’

  He made a choking noise and his body went rigid, his head angled upwards.

  Another rumble coursed through the building, and the ceiling shook. The ceiling lamps swayed, sending light back and forth across the chamber. The priests who had been paired with the five mages raised their arms. Rijon’s eyes clouded over, his face contorted and his body frozen. Pressure started to build behind Shella’s temples. This time, the attack on her mind was far more powerful than Rijon’s previous attempt, and the protective bubble around her held only for a few precious moments before being swept aside.

  The Creator entered her mind, and filled it. Shella felt her consciousness lose control of her body as the Creator took over her senses and looked out from her eyes. At once she knew his thoughts, and realised that he was in command of all five mages, through the priests, and through Arnault.

  He smiled.

  She felt her mage powers awaken as the Creator reached within her. She tried to resist, but his will was more powerful than she could encompass, and she was helpless to stop him drawing on her flow powers. He pulled on her strength, and she felt her body weaken as the Creator began transforming every ounce of her being into flow energy.

  She stared around the chamber as her life-force was drained away. Opposite her, the Emperor was watching transfixed as Shella and the other mages were emptied by the Creator. The Sanang man was writhing and howling, and the Rahain mage seemed to have passed out, his head slumped. Lilyann was screaming. Smoke was coming from her as if she were burning from an inner fire. She pulled and strained on the chains in her agony, but they held fast.

  Shella gasped for breath as her strength faded. She turned to her right. Benel’s head was still in the warden’s grip, pointing towards his linked priest. Blood was streaming from the mage’s eye sockets, and Shella could see that he was gone. She bowed her head for the end.

  Her body convulsed as the Creator ripped his presence from her, taking the flow power he had gathered. As his spirit passed back through Rijon, the priest shuddered. His eyes rolled up as his ears and nose started to bleed and he cried out in agony and collapsed to the floor. Around the chamber, the priests who had linked to the mages were falling, screaming, their hands clawing their bloody faces as the stolen power surged through them. Next to each hung the limp body of a mage.

  In the centre of the chamber, above where Arnault stood with his arms raised, a swirling weave of light was growing, made up of five different strands, combining and merging into one. It grew brighter and larger, expanding up to the ceiling and filling the upper half of the chamber. Shella shut her eyes, but could sense the light through her closed lids. The entire room was vibrating, and Shella felt as if she were about to be torn apart by the forces rippling and surging through the air.

  Waves of violent shuddering struck the room. The pillar behind Shella shook, and a crack split the column where her wrists were shackled. Shella was hauled down as the pillar fell and shattered into fragments. Shella was flung clear and landed on the floor, while huge blocks of masonry fell from the ceiling around her. Wardens screamed as the chamber juddered for a long moment, then grew still. Clouds of dust hung suspended in the air, illuminated by the glow from the swinging ceiling lamps.

  Shella gasped for breath, her body aching and weak as she lay on the floor, her wrists still shackled together. In front of her lay the twisted body of Rijon, his lifeless eyes staring at her. She tried to crawl, but was too exhausted to move. Amid the destruction of the chamber, the light was still hovering over the centre of the room where Arnault was kneeling, his head in his hands. The five strands had merged into a single ball of light, but it was shrinking and growing fainter with every second.

  Arnault lifted his head, the tears on his face bathed in the swirling light. ‘My Lord. It wasn’t my fault.’

  Behind him, Shella saw the Emperor get to his feet. He was staring open-mouth at the shimmering cloud of light hanging over Arnault’s head.

  The Lord Vicar turned, and pointed at Guilliam.

  ‘Him, my Lord, before it’s too late.’

  The light pulsed brighter for a second, then shot through the air towards the Emperor. It struck Guilliam’s eyes and entered him, disappearing in a flash. The Emperor stood motionless for a second, then toppled like a felled tree onto the floor of the chamber.

  Arnault got to his feet. He glanced up at the large cracks in the ceiling, and dusted his robes down. He gazed around at the wreckage. The wardens who had survived the earthquake were picking through the debris, keeping their distance from Arnault and the body of the fallen Emperor.

  Shella glanced up at Benel’s lifeless body hanging from the pillar. She shuddered, her eyes closing as the exhaustion and pain became too much to bear.

  A scream pierced the chamber, so loud it hurt Shella’s ears. She forced her eyes back open. In the centre of the room, the Emperor’s body was writhing. His limbs jerked and twisted and his skin pulsated as if his body were about to explode. His eyes bulged, and the cry of agony coming from his lips filled the chamber.

  The wardens cowered back in terror as the Emperor struggled upright, rising to his feet. The convulsions affecting his body slowed and halted. He had retained the form and appearance of the Emperor, but to Shella he seemed taller, stronger, and more beautiful than Guilliam had been.

  He opened his eyes .

  ‘My Lord,’ Arnault bowed, his hands shaking. ‘I am humbled in your presence.’

  ‘Twice now you have failed me,’ came a voice from the being, one that commanded attention. Shella stared as the last of her strength ebbed away.

  ‘I should be free, but instead I inhabit this mortal form,’ the being said. He looked down at his body, the royal robes hanging from him in tatters. He lifted a hand, gazed at it, and made a fist.

  ‘I am truly sorry, my Lord,’ Arnault said, getting down onto his knees as a rumble from far above shook the chamber. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  A look of rage passed over the being’s face.

  At the back of the chamber, the remaining wardens edged forwards. Some flung themselves to their knees, while others stared open-mouthed.

  The being inside the Emperor’s body smiled, and swept his hand across the room, killing every warden in an instant, their eyes bursting from their faces in a shower of blood as they fell to the floor. The being turned to Arnault.

  ‘Perhaps it would be better if only you and I know what happened here.’

  The Lord Vicar stared at the dead wardens lying sprawled amid the debris.

  ‘You will gather more mages,’ the being said, ‘for we must try again. But before that, I have the firewitch and her army to deal with.’

  The being strode towards the shattered doors of the chamber, the Lord Vicar hurrying to keep up, and Shella closed her eyes.

  Chapter 34

  Bereft

  T ahrana Valley, Imperial Rahain – 20 th Day, Second Third Winter 506

  Daphne slowed the stallion to a walk as the lights of the settlement grew closer. Two hours of hard riding had carried her to within a few miles of the entrance to the Great Tunnel through the Grey Mountains.

  She patted the animal’s steaming flank. She should think of a name, she thought, then tried to dismiss the idea, as she had no way of knowing how long the stallion would be with her. She should try not to get too attached, though she was starting to nurse a dream that involved riding all the way to Kellach Brigdomin.

  Karalyn would enjoy learning to ride him, she thought, then she remembered the look on Killop’s face as he had watched her leave, and her smile faded. A low dread was building within her, one that she had been feeling ever since they had decided to travel to the haven at Domm. She had tried to ignore it, but it was eating away at her nerves. She had allowed some of her anger to escape earlier that evening, when she had taken the horse and ridden away from the clan convoy,
but despite the joy at being back on the stallion, her anger remained.

  She didn’t want to go to Kellach Brigdomin. The idea of spending the rest of her life on a rain and wind-ravaged rock at the other end of the world from the Holdings fuelled the simmering dread in her guts. But she had promised, just as she had promised to hunt down Douanna.

  She pulled on the reins and brought the stallion to a halt on the road. It was around midnight, and the route through Tahrana Valley was quiet. The seven stars shone overhead through a break in the clouds, and Daphne gazed at the settlement spreading out before her. It looked unplanned, with streets and rows of houses built at odd angles on either side on the main road that went towards the tunnel. Along the side of the cliff, houses were piled up in tiers, then the settlement levelled out as it sprawled across the valley floor.

  A fort had been constructed around the tunnel entrance at the far end of the road, and lamps were strung along the length of the wide street, lighting the way.

  Daphne kicked her heels and the stallion set off at a slow trot.

  She pulled her hood over her head as they passed the first houses of the town. No one was on the street, though up ahead she could hear the sound of taverns and workshops. After passing a long row of houses, the land on the left of the street opened up and Daphne saw a large area of pasture, where dozens of gaien had been corralled. In the corner was a small paddock with a collection of horses.

  Daphne directed the stallion along the side of the fence that enclosed the gaien herd. Most were sleeping on their feet, while a couple grazed in the lamplight. As she approached a small hut, an old Rahain woman dressed in the black tunic of an ex-slave came out, carrying a lamp. Daphne dismounted, and walked the stallion to meet her.

  ‘Selling?’ asked the old woman.

  ‘No, just looking for somewhere to leave him for a few hours. I have some business I need to conduct.’

  The Rahain woman peered at Daphne in the lamplight. ‘What kind of business?’

  ‘Hunting Old Free.’

  The old woman nodded .

  ‘You can leave the beast here until dawn. After that, if he’s still there, it’s five sovereigns a day.’

  Daphne nodded. They led the stallion to the horse paddock, where Daphne and the old woman removed the saddle and harness, and hung them in a shed next to the gate. The horse looked at her with his big eyes and she fought the desire to remount, and ride back to Killop and Karalyn.

  She turned and walked out of the enclosure, leaving the old woman to attach the feeding bag. She lit a cigarette and tried to focus. She needed to find Douanna. She reached the main road and turned towards the fort marking the entrance to the tunnel. As she got closer, the sounds of the town’s nightlife grew louder. Rahain voices laughed and shouted into the dark sky. Ahead, Daphne could see a queue of wagons lined up before the gates of the fort. The soldiers at the entrance were examining each as they passed, though their searches appeared cursory.

  She pulled on a thread of battle-vision and scanned the dozen or so wagons in line. She blinked. None of them were the same as the one she had seen in the memories of the Rahain that Laodoc had brought to her. She stubbed out her cigarette and leaned back against the wall of a closed shop. The nearest high point was the turret at the front of the fort’s gatehouse, so she shot her vision up to it, and gazed down over the settlement for a few moments.

  It was big, much bigger than she had remembered. Assuming that Douanna had not already passed through the tunnel, it would take her hours to search, even with her vision powers. And if Douanna had changed wagons, then she could be looking for days.

  She spotted a tavern with outside tables on the left hand side of the main street, twenty yards ahead of her. From there she would be able to keep a watch on the wagons that joined the queue for the tunnel. She walked down the road to the tavern, and took a spare seat at a busy table, sitting with her back to the wall.

  The six Rahain at the table glanced over at her.

  ‘Do you mind if I rest here?’ she said .

  The Rahain shrugged, and resumed talking among themselves.

  A serving man caught her eye.

  ‘Ale, please.’

  ‘The Kellach stuff?’ the man asked.

  Daphne nodded, and the man took a note on his pad and moved on.

  ‘You been here before?’ said a woman sitting across from her.

  ‘Once. On the way here.’

  ‘You part of the alliance forces?’

  She shook her head. ‘Are these gates always busy? It’s past midnight, and there are a dozen wagons lined up to go through.’

  The woman nodded as she drank from a mug. ‘You should see it in the daytime. The queues are a mile long, stretching right out of town. That’s why some go through at night, it’s a lot quicker.’

  Daphne waited while the serving man put down a mug of ale on the table before her. She picked it up and took a sip as the man scribbled in his pad and walked off.

  ‘You can’t get many priests around here,’ she said.

  The woman opposite her frowned, and the others at the table turned to look.

  Daphne raised her mug. ‘You’re still allowed to drink, aren’t you?’

  ‘For now,’ said a man to her left.

  ‘Are you from the One True Path?’ asked the woman.

  Daphne laughed. ‘No.’

  The woman nodded. ‘Now don’t get me wrong, I worship the Creator like everyone else, it’s only that we needed a break from Tahrana City, and we knew you could still get a drink up here. Besides, we’ve all been called up. Again. Have to report in a couple of day’s time.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Governor Ghorley’s orders,’ the man said. ‘He said that the lands of the central highlands were now secure, and that the next objective was to put down an Old Free rebellion in Jade Falls.’

  ‘You’re going west? In the next few days?’

  The Rahain glanced at each other.

  ‘You’re a bit nosey, aren’t you?’ the man said .

  ‘Come on,’ said the woman. ‘No Holdings would work for the Old Free.’

  ‘Have you seen any?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘Any who?’

  ‘Old Free. I’m hunting one.’

  The woman raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Nope,’ said the Rahain man. ‘Not seen any Old Free. There’s always peasants passing through, them that can’t bear the thought that we’re free, and their equals. There’s never any trouble though, we’re happy to see them leave Rahain.’

  ‘Any this evening?’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t think so. None that stood out anyway.’

  ‘Is there a place in town where they gather?’

  ‘By the east well,’ the man said, ‘though I wouldn’t go out there. They’d cut your throat as soon as look at you.’

  She pointed across the street. ‘That way, I assume?’

  ‘Yes,’ the woman said. ‘Follow that road, then turn left at the market stalls. The east well is straight ahead.’

  Daphne finished her ale.

  ‘Thanks.’ She got to her feet and threw down a few coins. ‘Get yourselves one on me.’

  The Rahain at the table grinned, and turned to watch her go.

  Forty minutes later, Daphne lay upon the roof of a three-storey tenement block overlooking the east well. The circular stone-rimmed structure sat in the centre of a cluster of streets, with five separate ways leading off. The small square in the middle was filled with late-night taverns and bars, packed with brown-robed Rahain peasants. Daphne had seen a few fights break out among them, as frustrations boiled over. Wagons and carts lined the narrow streets, some closed up with shutters and locks, while others had Rahain sitting up on them, arguing politics and discussing their impending exile .

  Daphne had noted the locations of several other wagons, parked in the back yards or side alleys of the peasant quarter. Of these, she was focussing on one in a small courtyard down to her right. It ha
d been covered in a large canvas, but was the right shape. None of the others fitted the memory she had seen, and she was starting to believe she was too late, and Douanna had already fled through the tunnel.

  She needed to be sure, and so kept a watch on the courtyard. A group of drunken peasants were close by, staggering down the alley where the covered wagon was parked. They stopped to urinate against a wall, laughing and calling out to each other.

  A woman emerged from a nearby building.

  ‘Hey,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t piss on my fucking wagon.’

  A man turned, laughing, an arc of urine curving through the air.

  ‘I’ll piss on you,’ he cried, then fell over. His friends yelled as the spray hit them.

  ‘Go on, get out of here,’ the woman shouted, shooing them away. The man pulled up his tunic as his friends hauled him to his feet, and the group shambled off.

  Daphne caught a glimpse of the woman’s face as she turned back towards the building.

  It was one of the servants from Douanna’s group that she had seen in the vision.

  Daphne smiled. She wasn’t too late.

  She shifted her weight to compensate for the steep angle of the roof, and crawled to the edge of the building. She examined the windows of the tenement that the woman had re-entered. Most were shuttered or draped with heavy curtains, leaving no gap for her to penetrate the interior. She gazed down at the door and located the keyhole.

  She sent a trace of vision to the cobbled street, then directed it up at the door, passing straight through the narrow slit. Inside was a cramped entrance hall, piled high with luggage and crates of supplies. Against a wall, three Rahain sat at a table, talking in low voices. One of them was gazing in the direction of the door, so Daphne aimed her vision at his eyes and passed into his mind, where she remained silent .

  ‘Thanks for the help out there, guys,’ the woman was saying to the two men. ‘Next time a bunch of drunks come stumbling by, you can bloody well deal with them.’