Knightfall - Book 1 of The Chronicle of Benjamin Knight

by Robert Jackson-Lawrence

  Chapter 3

  I

  “That’s amazing!” Ben exclaimed, hardly believing his eyes.

  “Finest one I’ve ever seen on my travels, that’s for sure,” Carl replied with a smile.

  Matthew had suggested that Ben travel the last distance to Island City in the cab with Carl, and Ben was glad that he did. As they reached the crescent of the last hill of the journey, Ben got his first sight of Island City, and it was certainly a sight worth seeing. The change in weather had given Ben an excellent view. The road ended with the start of a huge red suspension bridge that seemed to stretch for a mile or more before it reached the city on the other side. Even from this distance, Ben had a good view of the city.

  As far as he could see, Island City lived up to its name. The bridge was the only way to access it from the mainland, with most of what he could see of the city surrounded by a wall of variable heights, built on the edges of the cliff face that served as the city's sea wall.

  As the Road Train crossed the hill, the people that lined the bridge on both sides began to cheer. Ben knew that they were two days later than intended, but the people didn’t seem to mind; they were just happy to see them at all. The Road Train picked up a little speed as it descended the hill, but some of the people still ran towards it, ignoring the risk to themselves. Luckily, no one was unfortunate enough to get caught under its wheels.

  Ben had no idea how many people lined the bridge as they passed them. As well as the cheering, Ben was almost deafened by the noise of each and every one of them banging as hard as they could on the door to the cab. Every generation was represented in the welcome party. Fathers stood with their children sitting on their shoulders, while the grandparents passed them drinks and snacks. Ben didn’t think they’d have received a better welcome if they had been royalty.

  “Is it always like this?” Ben asked in a momentary pause from the noise.

  “Pretty much,” Carl replied. “Though I must say, this is the worse I’ve seen it for a while.”

  It took nearly twenty minutes to cross the bridge. Carl had slowed down to protect the spectators, but he still needed to keep the Road Train moving. On the other side of the bridge, entry into the city was through a large wooden gate that had been kept open to allow them passage. Above the gate, armed guards patrolled, sporting a variety of rifles and handguns. Their eyes were everywhere at once, watching out for any trouble, though so far Ben had only seen people happy at the arrival of the Road Trains. He fought the urge to wave at the crowd through the window, but not for long and soon most of them were waving back at him.

  What Ben thought to be the main street of Island City was almost as wide as the bridge it started from. Here, as well as people lining the street, they were hanging out of the windows of the buildings that stretched along its length. Ben's first view of the inside of the city left him puzzled. The structures lining the main street reminded Ben partly of Victorian buildings, but also had a medieval quality to them, as though he could imagine the patrons emptying the bucket serving as a toilet out of the upper floor window each night. These buildings Ben could have understood, if not for the four large tower blocks in the distance where he assumed the centre of the town to be. They looked to be twelve or fourteen storeys high and were mostly still covered in mirrored glass that reflected the mid-morning sunshine down towards the streets. Ben was compelled to ask Carl about them.

  “They’re the Towers,” he said in a matter-of-fact way, as though Ben should have known already.

  “But they don’t really fit in with the rest of the buildings, though. Who built them?” Ben continued.

  “No idea,” Carl replied. “As far as I know, they’ve always been here, but then so has Island City for the most part. You’ll get a better view in a while.”

  The main road eventually ended in a large open, partly grass-covered area that Ben didn’t expect. Carl explained that it was the town meeting area and it also served as the town market, but the only market today would be the one the Road Trains brought with them.

  The meeting area was square, with the palace at the northern border. The Towers were built at the four corners of the palace, but its construction looked a lot older, hundreds of years in Ben’s opinion. The large dry stones of the palace reached around the third storey of the Towers, the top flat and lined with more armed guards watching the Road Trains’ approach.

  With some precision driving, the Road Trains were manoeuvred into a circle, just like the wagon trains in every cowboy film Ben had ever seen, usually just before the Indians attacked. This way, they could easily drive from the city when their business was done, without having to attempt anything as ridiculous as a three-point turn.

  When the Road Trains had stopped, Ben climbed from the cab with Carl, ready to do whatever was needed next. It wasn’t long before they were attacked from all sides from the crowds, shaking their hands and congratulating them on their arrival, demanding to know what finery they had brought with them this time. With a little assistance from Carl, Ben managed to make his way to the rear of the lead Road Train where Matthew was waiting for him.

  “Seems like you’re a popular fellow, Matthew?” Ben asked, struggling to make himself heard above the crowds.

  “Tell me about it,” Matthew replied. “Seems like they’ve gone overboard this time.”

  Matthew had positioned himself on the walkway between the two trailers and was stretching to reach the lower rung of a small rope ladder. “Hey, you guys, any chance of some assistance?” he asked.

  With a bunk up from Ben and Carl, Matthew was able to reach the rope ladder and climb onto the roof of his trailer. A minute or so later, the horn of every cab, apart from the one belonging to the lead Road Train, sounded as one. The crowd quickly silenced.

  Matthew addressed them, his arms held out wide in a gesture of friendship. “Thank you for another glorious welcome,” he announced. “It warms my heart to be back again within your walls.”

  This was met with more cheering, but this time Matthew was able to silence them with a gesture.

  “I’m glad to see you’re as happy as we are,” he continued. “And as usual, first market will be held tomorrow, but tonight is a time to celebrate!”

  Again, more cheering from the crowd, but Matthew had no intention of quieting them this time. With more grace than he employed to reach the top of his trailer, he quickly made his way to the ground where the happy crowd was trying to get the chance to shake his hand.

  Soon after the rear trailers on most of the Road Trains had been opened, and people had had the opportunity to see what would be for sale in the following day’s market, the crowd slowly began to disperse. Ben watched closely, but no one left the penultimate Road Train while he was watching it. He also noticed that the two guards had reappeared, failing to look inconspicuous in the dwindling crowd. His eyes fixed on the location of the secret cargo, Ben didn’t see the look exchanged between Carl and Matthew.

  “Come on, lad, quit your daydreaming,” Carl prompted. “There’s work to be done.” Carl had Ben by the shoulder and was turning him around to face him. “You’ve got to keep to your own business, don’t you think?” he continued, encouraging Ben to nod along with him.

  “Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?” Ben replied, fully understanding the implications of what Carl had said.

  “Help us set up the market,” Carl told him, “I think these people will be a little disappointed tomorrow if they turn up and we’d just been sitting on our backsides all afternoon. Why don't we start with all the goods you’ve been sorting out?”

  Carl half followed, half escorted Ben to the rear of the trailer where he had been working, looking for any working or fixable technology within the numerous boxes and crates. Most of what he had rummaged through had turned out to be what he would call junk. However, with the discovery of some batteries, he had managed to restore life to his torch, as well as a few other small electrical items, including an old cassette reco
rder that still had a tape in it. Matthew had insisted that he not use it and keep whatever power the batteries had left, it having the potential of making them a fortune.

  By the time Carl and Ben emerged from the trailer with the first few boxes, tables had already begun to be erected for the people to place their goods. While most of the men seemed to do the fetching and carrying, the women had the job of arranging the goods in ways that would best encourage sale. Ben hadn’t realised before how much variety of stock the Road Trains had been carrying, having spent most of his time searching through crates of broken electrical items.

  Some of the tables were covered with wools and textiles, whilst others were piled high with clothing and shoes, all for sale. Another table was adorned with weapons of all kinds, from swords and bows and arrows to hand guns and rifles. There were tables piled high with labelled and unlabelled tins and packets, making the contents of the boxes he was hoping to sell look worthless in comparison.

  “Just start stacking them up over there,” Carl said, pointing to one of the empty tables, “and help me bring another one.”

  II

  With all of the activity around the Road Trains, Matthew had found it easy to slip away to the Regent’s palace. An awaiting guard let him in through the large wooden gate and escorted him through the many beautifully decorated corridors to the Regent’s private chambers. Matthew bowed and dropped to one knee when he saw the Regent himself, dressed in his usual finery, gazing through one of the rooms many windows.

  “My Liege,” Matthew said as the guard closed the door behind him.

  “Matthew, please get up,” the Regent insisted. “We’ve known each other a long time, and there is really no need for all of these airs and graces when we are away from court.” The Regent moved to one of the two red leather chairs and directed Matthew to do the same.

  “Is she here, with you?” he asked as Matthew took his seat.

  “Yes, my Liege,” Matthew replied.

  “And safe and well?”

  “Of course. I would have protected her with my life if ever the need arose.”

  The Regent got to his feet again and started pacing, his face a mixture of thought and anguish. “Are we really doing the right thing here,” the Regent asked to the room at large. “I thought so when last we spoke, but my nights have been troubled of late.”

  “My conscience is clear, my Liege, as should yours be,” Matthew reassured him. “Surely you must agree that peace is always better than war.”

  “But at any cost, Matthew? And with so much deceit?”

  “The deceit is only necessary until the deed is done,” Matthew said. “Why not sit back down? It’s almost over.”

  The Regent returned to his seat, his face still troubled. “That it is,” he said, “and perhaps too late to change. Tell me, how many of your people know?”

  “Only those closest to me,” Matthew told him.

  “And you had no trouble this trip?” the Regent asked.

  “No, not this time,” Matthew said. “We picked up a stranger midway through the Wastelands, but I’m sure he’s got nothing to do with our plans.”

  The Regent sat forwards with his elbows resting on his knees, his face more troubled. “Tell me about him. Could he endanger the plan?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I think not,” Matthew insisted. “We found him near death and nursed him back to health. He was found snooping around her trailer, but I’m sure he’s got no idea of what's going on.”

  “How can you be so sure of that? Who is he?”

  “He claims to be a stranger to our lands, but his tale is odd. He’s odd, no doubt there, but I like him. If he is a spy or assassin, he’s not very good.” Matthew smiled.

  “Maybe he’s just biding his time?” the Regent suggested. “There are people on both sides who would see us fail.”

  “I know that all too well,” Matthew said. “But perhaps if you met him, you could decide for yourself. He has a . . . a toy of sorts. I’m sure you’d be interested, and as always, you have first refusal on any of my special merchandise. It’s a source of light powered by what he said was electricity, like the stories of old. Not quite so useful as a candle, but a source of wonder all the same.”

  Matthew wasn’t sure if the Regent knew of the tales of the ancient energy called electricity, but he wanted the Regent to think that he was getting a good deal.

  “Electricity, you say? Utter nonsense,” the Regent insisted. “But meet him I shall, tomorrow night, at dinner. You and your closest are invited as always, but I insist that he comes too. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer,’ as they say.”

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that, my Liege,” Matthew reassured him. “But I have my best man keeping an eye on him as we speak.”

  A knock at the door startled them both. “Enter,” the Regent said after furtive glances between the two men. The door was pushed open slowly as a tall, slim man entered, dressed in dark clothes with his face bathed in shadow.

  “I’m sorry, Regent, I didn’t realise that you had company,” he said, his voice deep and condescending. He had been listening at the door, as was his way, but the Regent didn't need to know that.

  “Your timing is as impeccable as always, Alexander,” the Regent said. “Matthew, do you know Alexander, my lead adviser?”

  Matthew stood as he spoke, reaching out a hand that was not accepted. “I believe we may have met on my previous visits,” he said. “But I don’t think we were ever formally introduced.”

  “Always a pleasure,” Alexander responded, but the tone of his voice suggested that it was nothing of the kind. “Regent, you are needed in the council chambers. It is time for the vote.”

  “Of course, of course,” the Regent responded. “I’m sorry, Matthew, but I must leave you. Dinner though, tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, my Liege,” Matthew replied, keeping his eyes on Alexander the whole time.

  Matthew left the Regent’s palace with as much caution as he had employed when he entered, but he found it difficult not to look over his shoulder at the shuffling figure of Alexander as he left.

  III

  Ben had carried the last box to the table and was helping Carl to sort out the best-looking goods to place at the front. “Don’t you worry about it all getting stolen during the night?” he asked, placing a lava lamp with the glass unbroken on a small wooden pedestal to draw attention to it.

  “Not really,” Carl said. “We’ll post a couple of guards, sure, but for as long as I’ve been travelling this route, we’ve never had any trouble when we got to market. I don’t think the people would risk us not returning.”

  “You’re a very trusting man, Carl,” Ben suggested.

  “I’ve never been given reason not to be,” Carl replied.

  Ben hadn’t noticed Matthew’s approach until he was almost directly behind him. “Keeping busy?” Matthew asked, causing Ben to snap around, startled.

  “Oh, hi, Matthew,” Ben said breathlessly. “I didn't realise you were there. Where have you been? I thought you’d be out here supervising?”

  “There’s more to organising the market than just laying out tables,” Matthew told him. “Administration, greasing palms. It all takes time and it seems I'm the only one able to do it.”

  “So nothing to do with Carl saying that you’re shy of hard work?” Ben replied, laughing.

  Carl gave Ben a friendly shove and Matthew smiled. “Why don’t you leave that for a moment, Ben,” Matthew interrupted. “I have some important news for you.”

  “Sure, I’ve been looking for an excuse to stop since we started,” Ben replied, barely managing to avoid the second, less friendly, shove.

  “I’ve been to see the Regent,” Matthew said, “and he’s already intrigued by you, Ben. I mentioned the tech that you built, the electric light? Seems like he might be interested.”

  Ben looked frustrated. “Matthew,” he said, exasperated. “I explained, it’s a lot more than t
hat. I know it’s only a dim light now, but with some parts and a little time, I could show you all sorts of things.”

  “I know that, you've told me already,” Matthew replied. “But why don’t you keep that kind of talk for the Regent? See if it will bump the price up a bit. Like I told you before, there’s a cut in it for you, so the more Deniras you can get, the better off you’ll be.”

  Ben shook his head, muttering under his breath about how unappreciated he was, but Matthew and Carl took no notice. Matthew was turning back towards his trailer when he seemed to remember something. He turned towards Carl, rubbing the stubble that was growing on his chin. “Carl,” he said, “I almost forgot to mention. I want you to show our young friend here a good time tonight, look after him, show him some of the sights.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Carl replied as he lifted another heavy box onto the table. “I’ll change his nappies too when he needs it.”

  Ben and Carl smiled, but Matthew turned away and headed back to his trailer, seeming not to have really heard Carl’s response. He was muttering to himself as he walked, but Ben couldn’t make anything out. Ben and Carl exchanged questioning glances, but thought nothing more of it and got back to their work.

  The stalls were all set up a little after nightfall, and Ben helped cover most of them with plastic sheets, even though Carl explained that rain was unlikely. The two men guarding the penultimate trailer hadn’t moved all day, and Ben felt compelled to point them out.

  “Are those our guards for the night?” he asked, indicating them as Carl turned to see what he was talking about.

  “Who, Joe and Mike over there?” Carl suggested. “They’ve been around all day. I guess someone will come and relieve them at some point.”

  Ben took the opportunity to ask another of his less than subtle questions. “Why always that trailer?” he said. “I mean, if they’re looking out for the Trains in general, why are they always hanging around that trailer?”

  “You know that’s none of your business,” Carl reminded him. “I thought Matthew had a talk with you?”

  “I know, Carl, it’s just that, well, it seems like everyone knows something I don’t, and it’s really getting to me.”

  “Well, it’s not everyone, that much I can tell you. All I can say is that you’ll find out soon enough, but for now just keep your nose out of it, if you know what I mean.”

  Ben didn’t need any further explanation. With the stock protected from the elements and the Road Trains well guarded, Carl explained that it was time for some fun. They had a couple of hours before dinner and he announced loudly to anyone that would listen that he could do with a drink.

  Ben and Carl followed the small crowd that had gathered around them, made up mostly of drivers and the younger men. They wound through cramped and busy streets towards what Ben imagined to be a local pub or tavern. The women and younger children stayed behind in the trailers, attending to the final preparations for the morning’s market, but Carl explained that the night before market was time to celebrate.

  The first tavern they reached was small and cramped, but each man managed to reach the bar and accept their drink, a large mug of ale the size of a pitcher. Ben found that he had to hold it with both hands, as did many of the younger men with the group. Ben was surprised to see many people his age or some even younger drinking in the bar, enjoying the smoky cramped atmosphere. He was also pleasantly surprised to find that any member of the Road Trains didn’t have to pay for anything they drank in any of the city’s bars or taverns.

  Midway through his first mug, Ben's head was already swimming, but from what he could tell of the rest of the group, they were all as sober as when they started. Ben had only just finished his first mug when Carl slapped him on the back and half dragged him through the door towards the next tavern on their route. The second tavern was smaller than the first, but again, every man was able to get his drink, which was supposed to be consumed in as short a time as possible. Inevitably, Ben came last.

  By the time they had reached the third tavern, Carl was almost carrying Ben through the door. This tavern was much larger than the first two, but also a lot busier. If not for the chairs around the reserved table, Ben would have probably spent most of the rest of the evening on the floor.

  The large table around which they all sat was filled with bread and cheese, as well as various types of meat and poultry, and of course, more ale. Before Ben had the opportunity to refuse, another mug was forced upon him, which he was compelled to drink. He forced pieces of bread down him between each swig, in a vain attempt to soak up as much of the alcohol as possible.

  Carl dragged one of the barmaids over towards him as she passed, demanding ale all round before slapping her behind and sending her on her way. From what Ben could see, everyone else in the tavern treated the bar staff in the same way. The sound of people shouting and laughing and generally enjoying themselves was getting to Ben and, combined with the alcohol, he did the only thing he could and tried to join in. The next barmaid that passed, he pulled her towards him and groped her behind, much in the way Carl had done moments before, only to find himself recoiling from a slap in the face and the raucous laughter from around the table.

  “That’s Kirsten, the landlord’s daughter,” Carl said, pushing the remainder of Ben’s ale towards him. “Don’t nobody be messing with her.” Ben just sat there, stunned, rubbing his reddening cheek. “Drink this,” Carl suggested. “It’ll help numb the pain.”

  Ben picked up the mug in both hands and downed the remainder of his ale, slamming the mug down to the table when he had finished. This was more to do with the fact that he was having difficulty holding it up than any defiant statement about his manliness, but the table cheered him on all the same. Before long, the barmaid had arrived with another round of drinks, though this time Ben was sensible enough to feign every second mouthful.

  The food and drink was as free flowing as Carl had said, and soon everyone was as drunk as Ben, slowing down their rate of drinking and telling rude jokes and outrageous stories, while all the time groping as many of the female patrons and barmaids as they could.

  “Hey, look over here, Joe, it’s that boy we ran into the other night,” Mike said, tapping Ben on the shoulder and nearly falling over him towards the table in his drunken haze. It seemed the two guards had been relieved and had decided to join the party.

  “So it is. Cleaned the mud off your ass yet?” Joe asked.

  This was met with more laughter from around the table. Ben tried to get to his feet, but found his legs had decided that they could no longer bear his weight and he slumped down into his chair again. Mike helped pull him up by the neck of his jacket.

  “So, gunning for a second round then, kid?” Mike asked, holding Ben with one hand and his ale in the other.

  Ben went to poke him in the chest, missed the first time, but connected with his shoulder the second. “Look. It’s Ben, not ‘kid,’” he said defiantly. “And if you want to try putting me down again you’re…”

  Mike let go and Ben found himself falling back towards his chair, half-missing it and slumping down under the table. Mike pulled him back to his seat. “I like you, Ben,” he told him. “You got some guts. Sorry about the other night; we were only messing. Why not let me buy you a drink?”

  “No, no more drink, thank you,” Ben pleaded. “Besides, you know it’s all free tonight, right?”

  “Yes, but it’s the spirit of the thing.” Mike laughed. “Come on, take a drink with me.”

  Ben accepted another full mug of ale from Mike and they banged the mugs together to the hearty sound of “Cheers.”

  Mike squeezed Ben’s shoulder before he returned to his chair, nearly breaking his collarbone. “Glad to have you aboard, Ben,” he said.

  There was a cold icy wind as the door to the tavern was pushed open and ten or more drunken men entered. They made their way directly towards the table Ben and the Road Trains crew were sitting at. The man who led them
looked out of it already, staggering from side to side as he walked, not caring who he pushed down or knocked over to get to the table. His long heavy coat was caked with mud, matching his face and hair, which looked unnecessarily filthy. The rest of the tavern’s patrons moved backwards, out of the way as the crowd of men moved to surround one side of the table.

  “Hey, look at this, boys,” he said. “Seems like there’s some skeevers at our table. Time they were heading back to their cribs, don't you think?”

  Carl turned his head to face the man, seemingly undisturbed by the idle threats. “Why don’t you just get lost, Straves,” he suggested. “We were having some fun until you and the sewage squad here turned up.”

  Straves' face contorted with rage as he turned around to face the men who had entered with him. “We going to let these southern skeevers talk to us like that?” he slurred. “Or do you want to teach ‘em a lesson? For our fathers’ sake!”

  Ben noticed that the tavern’s patrons had either left or were cowering near the door, ready to make a sharp exit when the need arose. Carl had managed to push himself to his feet, but he seemed as drunk as Ben and found it difficult to remain standing. Straves' first punch connected squarely with Carl’s nose, knocking him backwards over the table onto the laps of those sitting the other side.

  Within moments, chairs were flung backwards as the Road Trains crew got to their feet, a surge of adrenaline nullifying the effect of the alcohol. Straves managed to shout, “Look, these southern bastards can’t even hold their beer!” before a half empty mug of ale connected squarely with his face, splitting his lip and knocking him to the ground.

  Ben was on his feet as well, standing behind the growing crowd of brawling men and boys, but still trying to look like he was standing up for his team. One of the opposition broke through the crowd towards him, knocking Joe to the ground in the process with a well-aimed chair. Ben punched him in the face while holding onto the half-empty jug of ale, catching him unawares and forcing him back the way he had came. He took the opportunity to help Joe get up for a change.

  “What a waste of a good ale,” Joe said as he nearly pulled Ben to the ground as Ben was helping him up.

  “Seems like not everyone’s so pleased at the arrival of the Road Trains,” Ben replied, both men ducking as another chair flew over the crowd to strike the far wall, smashing two of the four picture frames that hung there.

  By the time the local militia arrived on the scene, most men had given as good as they got, and all were nursing cuts and bruises of one description or another. Each of the men was dragged to the street by two or three armed guards, with the sound of the landlord shouting after them, “Hooligans! Hooligans, the lot of you! Why me, why always my place! You’re not welcome any more, you hear me, not welcome!”

  The two fighting groups were split into their respective sides and lined up like a firing squad. The small militia had a selection of loaded weapons aimed at them. Sergeant Anderson walked the length of the line and then back again, looking each man in the face as he passed, as though it had been a playground scrap and not a bar fight the men had been dragged from.

  “Why is it always the same, huh?” he asked the two lines. “Last time you were here, I thought we’d reached an understanding. Straves, you don’t even live around here, and you want me to believe you weren’t out looking for trouble?”

  “But, we . . .” Straves started, but a look from the sergeant was enough to silence him

  “And you,” he continued, pointing at Joe, Mike, and Carl. “How long have you been coming this way? Fifteen years or more, I’d wager, back when Astor still led the Road Trains. I thought you were better than this?”

  “We usually are better,” Mike muttered under his breath. “Better at beating the likes of these guys, anyway.” Ben was almost sure that the sergeant had heard him.

  “Look, it’s late and we're all tired,” Sergeant Anderson announced, “and to tell you the truth, I really can’t be bothered dragging the lot of you down to the cells tonight. Straves, get your boys off home to bed where they can sleep all this off, and the rest of you, if I don’t find you all bunked down in those trailers of yours in the next thirty minutes, I’ll send the skeets out after you. Got that?”

  Everyone mumbled and nodded, too drunk or tired or in too much pain to put up any more of a fight. The armed militia stood and watched as the two groups of men skulked off in opposite directions.

  IV

  Joe came up behind Ben as they made their way back towards the Road Trains. “Well done back there,” Joe said. “You held your own and I was glad to have you with us.”

  “It was nothing, really,” Ben replied, pleased at the compliment nonetheless. “What was all that about, though? I got the impression that people were pleased when the Road Trains rolled into town.”

  “Most of them are,” Joe told him. “But there’s still some bad blood between us. There’s some who just don’t seem able to forget the past.”

  Like most of the crew, Ben was surprised at how sober he felt, but unlike the rest of them, he didn’t share their wish to find more ale. As they neared the town meeting area, Ben noticed Carl and Mike sneaking off along with two other men. He chased after them.

  “Hey, wait up you lot,” he said. “Where are you off to?”

  “We got ourselves some dates lad,” Carl replied, a smile on his lips. “You’re welcome to come along if you like.”

  “Maybe next time,” Ben suggested. “My head's already pounding and I don’t think the hangover's even started yet.”

  Ben left them to get on their way and returned to the main crowd, catching up with Joe, who was waiting for him. “What do you mean, bad blood?” he asked Joe as they walked together back towards the Road Trains.

  “There’s always been ill-feeling between us,” Joe began, “what with the south being so lucky with fertile land and technology, but there are those who just want to keep the hatred going. They just don’t seem to realise that the war finished over a hundred years ago.”

  Joe went on to tell Ben about the war between Island City and the combined nations of the Southern Baronies a hundred years past, and of how Island City was laid siege to for over three years before both sides accepted that they were at a stalemate and agreed upon a truce.

  “Of course, both sides claimed victory,” Joe finished, “but I think deep down everyone knew that it was just time to stop the killing. Both sides lost thousands in the fighting.

  “It was Matthew’s grandfather, bringing the first of the Road Trains north to trade that helped establish the rocky peace between us, but there are still those who aren’t too pleased at their arrival. There are still those who want to see us at war again, taking what they can’t afford.”

  Ben followed the remainder of the crew back to the trailers, where they all fell immediately to sleep. As his head hit the makeshift pillow, he was thinking that wars across nations were the same no matter which world he was in.

  V

  Carl returned to the trailer a little after sunrise, just as everyone else was getting up ready to work at the day's market.

  “Morning,” Ben shouted as Carl staggered past him, thinking that his mild hangover would be nothing next to Carl’s energetic lack of sleep.

  “So you say,” Carl replied, his sunken, dark rimmed eyes barely able to stay open against the glare of the rising sun. He didn't notice Matthew arrive until he was suddenly there, looming over him.

  “What was going on last night?” Matthew asked. “I’ve had half the militia through here already this morning, checking up on things, wanting to know where everyone was. You’re lucky I covered for you.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Carl said, “it just sort of happened. They were looking for a fight, and we really couldn’t back down now could we? You want them to start believing those stories they make up about us southerners?” The smile on Carl’s face was poorly chosen.

  Matthew's voiced quieted to a whisper as he continued. “
All well and good, Carl,” he said, “but you know the importance of this trip. I thought we agreed there’d be no trouble?”

  “I’m sorry,” Carl said apologetically. “What else do you want me to say. I mean, look, there’s no real harm done.”

  “Maybe,” Matthew replied, “but I think that’s more good luck than anything else, and I hope our luck holds.”

  Carl was about to say something when Matthew continued. “Now why don’t you get yourself cleaned up,” he said. “You look terrible. This place will be swamped in a minute.”

  By the time Carl had cleaned himself up, the town meeting area was full of eager bargain hunters, fighting from one market table to the next in search of the vital item that would make their lives complete. Ben was drawing a large crowd, the people hanging onto his every word as he explained what all of the broken technology they were selling could do, if only it worked. While Ben was giving his sales pitch about a light box that played pictures and sounds on the glass screen, Carl followed Matthew as he made his way from stall to stall, checking everything was all right.

  “Matthew, I’m sorry,” Carl began. “I know I was out of order. I give you my word, it won’t happen again.”

  “That’s all right, Carl,” Matthew replied. “I know I overreacted, and on any other trip it wouldn’t matter. Most times, I’d probably be in there with you, giving the skeets a good seeing to. It’s just that I’m a little edgy, you know.”

  As he finished the sentence, he looked over his shoulder towards the penultimate Road Train, where Joe and Mike had taken up their usual guarding position.

  “What’s the plan for tonight?” Carl asked. “Anything I should know about?”

  “Nothing special,” Matthew told him. “We’re due at dinner a little after sundown and the Regent will make his announcement then.”

  Matthew stopped and turned to look Carl in the eye. “There’s just, something,” he whispered, “I don’t know. I’ve known the Regent for most of my life, but I get the feeling that there’s something more going on. I need you to stay here tonight, Carl, just in case. And be ready.”

  They continued on their way, collecting a proportion of the takings and keeping an eye out for any thieves and troublemakers. Matthew was pleased to see that Straves and his friends had so far decided to stay at home.

  The market kept its frenzied pace for the rest of the day. The usual plan was for Road Trains to stay for a week or two, but if the money Matthew had taken so far was anything to go by, there wasn’t much left to sell.

  Pleased with his second count, he hid the lockable box in a compartment within the wooden base of the settee and dressed for dinner.

  VI

  Just after sunset, Matthew pulled Ben away from tidying and led him to his trailer. There was a clean blue shirt lying over the arm of the settee that Matthew handed to him as they entered.

  “It should fit you,” Matthew suggested. “We can’t have you meeting the Regent in your work clothes.”

  Ben accepted the shirt and stepped behind the curtain to get changed. “There’s warm water in the sink too,” Matthew called after him. “I think you could use it.”

  When Ben stepped back from behind the curtain, Matthew had poured them both a drink, and was sitting on the settee with his feet up. His face, though, looked to be a million miles away. Ben waved his hand close in front of Matthew’s face and was startled when his wrist was grabbed and twisted backwards painfully.

  “Hey, watch it!” Ben shouted, pulling his hand away and rubbing in tenderly.

  “Sorry, Ben, but you really shouldn’t do things like that around me,” Matthew replied, though he appeared to be looking through Ben as he spoke.

  “Matthew, what’s up?” Ben asked. “You looked a million miles away.”

  “Ben, please, sit down,” Matthew replied. “Take a drink with me. I could certainly do with one.”

  “Sure, if you’re not worried about me embarrassing myself later at dinner.” Ben laughed.

  Matthew smiled, though Ben was sure that it didn’t reach his eyes. “The Regent’s expecting us soon,” Matthew said, “but I thought we needed some time together first. Before we get to dinner, there’s a few things you need to know.”

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the mysterious trailer, would it?” Ben asked.

  “I’m sorry about all the secrecy,” Matthew said, “but when you hear me out, I’m sure you’ll understand why it was all necessary.”

  “I’m all ears,” Ben said.

  “We’ve had a special passenger with us on this trip, Ben,” Matthew told him. “Someone who we didn’t want to be seen by anyone who didn’t have to. She’s, well, she's important.”

  “Who is she?” Ben asked.

  “I'll get to that in time,” Matthew reassured him. “But first, I need to tell you something of our history, what with you being a stranger here.” Matthew took a large swig of his drink before continuing.

  “I’m not sure exactly how much you know already,” Matthew said, “so I’ll start from the beginning. Things between the Southern Baronies and the people of Island City have never been good, as I’m sure you noticed last night.”

  “Yes, Joe told me about the war and the siege,” Ben interrupted.

  “It goes back long before that Ben,” Matthew continued, “We in the south have always had everything. Resources, fertile land. Our great cities were built on the ruins of those that were already there, we’ve never really had to do anything for ourselves. The north here wasn’t so lucky. You’ve seen the Wastelands, and that’s what this area used to be like.

  “Tribes from the Wastelands moved north and settled in the remains of the city across the bridge, but their life was difficult from day one. From what I’ve been told, the farmland around the bay took years to develop, the people living on scraps and wild animals until they were able to grow their own crops and raise livestock. We’ve never known that sort of hardship, not really.

  “The first meeting between north and south, almost a thousand years ago now, was through conflict. With our plentiful weapons, we were always able to beat them back, but they kept coming. This continued for nearly two hundred years until so many had died on each side that they just had to sit down and find a way to stop the fighting.

  “Of course, the peace didn’t last for very long. More people from the Wastelands moved north to Island City over the years, taking whatever weapons they had with them, and eventually creating a new army to march south and attack us. We beat them back again, but it was much more difficult than the first time. People were so enraged that their centuries of peace had been shattered that for the first and last time, the Baronies marched north as one, forcing the invaders back within the walls of Island City, and attempted to hold them there for nearly three years. Still, though, they couldn’t be beaten. Thousands of people died on both sides during the fighting, and who knows how many more during the siege, but still there were more of them, coming right back at us.

  “Eventually, the peacemakers were allowed to meet, and the Treaty of Aldonis was signed, decreeing that peace between the nations would be upheld above all things, and free trade should be initiated between our two great nations.

  “When my grandfather built his first Road Train and turned it north, laden with whatever technology and merchandise he could find to sell, people called him mad. No one really believed he would return from the ‘savages’ in the north, but return he did, bringing with him a variety of new ales, cloths, and spices that really made the people sit up and take notice. It seemed like the treaty could work after all, and for the last fifty years, there’s not been so much as a crossed word between our nations.

  “Of course, since then, the Baronies have all but broken apart, each led by their own Baron with his or her own selfish desires, and the fellowship between them is all but gone. We can’t rely on each other anymore, and if the truth be told, I can’t see it being long before war breaks out between them. It’s time f
or a change, Ben, and I think it’s too long in coming. Draxis needs to ally itself with a new, formidable power if we’ve got any chance bringing some order to the Southern Baronies and stopping them tearing each other apart. There was nowhere left to look to the south, so we did the only thing we could and looked north.

  “I’ve known the present Regent since we were both children, Ben, and he’s a closer friend to me than the people of Markay, or Phalathlan, or any of the other Baronies.

  “I’m telling you all this because I’ve got a terrible feeling that something is wrong, that there's something going on that I don’t know about, and I didn’t want to get you involved without you knowing the whole truth. Everyone else at the palace tonight knows about our passenger and what is about to happen, so now is the time to back out if you want to. I can make excuses for you with the Regent.”

  Matthew’s face had gone grey and Ben looked down to notice that he hadn’t touched his own drink.

  “Who’s the woman in the trailer, Matthew?” Ben asked when his voice returned.

  “And you’re sure you want to know?” Matthew asked. Ben nodded his head, allowing Matthew to continue.

  “Her name’s Safran, daughter of Stephen III, forty-eighth Baron of Draxis,” Matthew said grandly. “She is fifteen summers and is due to be presented to the Regent tonight, such that on her sixteenth summer they may be wed.”

  Ben looked shocked, though from the tale Matthew had told, he wasn’t really surprised.

  “I’m sorry about all the secrecy, Ben,” Matthew continued, “but if anyone were to find out what we were up to, it could trigger a war. By sundown tomorrow, though, the deed will be done and the alliance will be made. There’s not an army in the south that could stand against our combined forces, but hopefully it’ll never come to that.”

  Ben emptied his glass in one long gulp. “It certainly sounds like a dangerous game you’re playing,” he reflected. “Do you really think it’ll work?”

  “It has to,” Matthew finished, emptying his glass and pouring himself another.

  VII

  An hour or so after sunset, the dinner guests made their way across the large open area towards the palace. For all of the moaning Arian and Catrina had done, they both looked stunning in their choice of outfits for the evening. Matthew and Edward, Catrina’s husband, walked a few paces behind the chatting women, taking in the view. Daniel continued to talk constantly to his father, asking questions about the Regent and the palace, while Adam slept soundly in his father’s arms. Against Matthew’s and Catrina's better judgement, the Regent had sent word that both children come along to the party.

  “What about…” Ben whispered to Matthew as they approached the large wooden doors that marked the entrance to the Regent’s palace.

  “She went to the Regent this afternoon,” Matthew whispered back. “It was quite easy to sneak her out, surrounded by the crowd.”

  Ben looked over his shoulder at the penultimate trailer, realising that Joe and Mike were nowhere to be seen. “I should have realised really,” Ben chuckled, “what with Pinky and Perky not hanging around anymore.”

  “Who?” Matthew asked, but before Ben had time to answer, they were being greeted by three guards standing at the door.

  The inside of the palace was as beautiful as Ben imagined. Paintings and tapestries depicting scenes from the city’s history, as well as images of the previous Regents, decorated every wall, subtly lit by carefully placed candles and the occasional free-standing torch. The marble floor echoed with every step they took.

  The guards escorted the small group to a large reception area, where they were announced by one of the Regent’s servants, even though there were only servers waiting to hear him.

  The reception area was as exquisitely decorated as the hallway, with heavy oak wooden doors and a wall crammed full of every type of book imaginable. Ben had learned that original books, books that had been discovered alongside technology and not manufactured by the people of Island City or the Southern Baronies, were highly sought after. On closer inspection, Ben found some great works of literature, including a complete works of Shakespeare. Ben asked Matthew what he thought of the Bard’s work, but Matthew had never read any of them, and neither had the Regent by all accounts. Most books were in such a poor state when discovered that they were often sealed away and never read. To have them out on display was almost unheard of.

  The drink in the reception area was free flowing, and the group took full advantage of it. There was even a selection of fruit juices laid on for the children, which Ben stuck to after the previous night’s activities. He stuck closely to Matthew and Arian, not wanting to do anything wrong or offend any local customs in the presence of the Regent.

  “What’s the deal with me this evening, Mat?” Ben asked, in between sips from his glass of juice.

  “What do you mean?” Matthew replied.

  “I mean,” Ben continued, “why did the Regent insist on me coming to dinner? I know you said that he wanted to see the electric light bulb I got to work, but we could have done that at any time. As it is, he’s still going to have to walk down to your trailer to see it.”

  “Like I told you,” Matthew said, “after I told the Regent all about you, he just insisted on meeting you at dinner. I just did as I was told. As you can probably guess, he’s not the sort of man you want to offend.” Matthew’s glass was empty, so he accosted a passing servant and requested another.

  “I thought you went back a long way?” Ben asked after the servant had moved out of earshot.

  “We do,” Matthew replied, “but he’s still the Regent and I’m a trader, and that’s all there is to it. Like I said, I do as I’m told.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a loud fanfare outside the smaller of the two doors leading into the reception area, the door through which Ben and his friends had entered. This was followed by the announcer stepping just inside the doorway.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present,” the announcer said, pausing for dramatic effect, “General Boshtok, commander of the Regent’s armies, and his wife, Lady Daria.” Ben wasn’t sure whether to applaud or not, but nobody else in the room did, so he wasn’t about to start a trend.

  The general was dressed in what looked to be full military uniform, dark blue, almost black in colour with a strip of highly polished medals pinned to his chest. Lady Daria was lacking the delicate curves of the younger women in the room, but still she wore a similarly tightly fitting dress, decorated with sequins of every colour, reflecting the candlelight. Ben watched her wobble and jiggle in all the wrong places as she barged her way into the room.

  The general and his wife were pleasant enough, shaking hands and making polite small talk while they waited for the rest of the guests to arrive. Before long, Ben was introduced to three of the Regent’s chief ministers and their families, including a young girl who spoke more than Daniel did, asking him why his accent was so funny and where his odd-looking shoes had come from. Ben embellished the truth, telling her that he was from far away to the east, much to her wonder and amazement. Apparently, that was where the Bethusala came from, a ferocious beast of legend, so why hadn’t Ben ever seen it? Ben smiled and told her that he wasn’t from quite that far east, and made a sharp retreat back to Matthew's side.

  With another fanfare, Alexander, the Regent’s chief aide, was admitted to the reception room, though he spoke to no one but General Boshtok and shied off every offer of a drink with an annoyed stare.

  After an hour or so of polite conversation, Ben started to wonder if the Regent would ever make his entrance. From what he could see, most people in the room were just as anxious, staring at each other blankly as they searched their minds for the faintest scrap of gossip or banter to pass the time. They all expressed a sigh of relief as the last and loudest fanfare sounded.

  This time, both of the smaller doors were opened as two armed guards entered the room, standing either side of the doorway with their rif
les held across their chests. Again, the announcer stepped just within the doorway. Ben followed everyone else as they lined up along both sides of the room before he spoke.

  “My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, if I may have you attention please,” the announcer said. Everyone fell silent as they waited for the Regent to enter.

  “It is with the greatest pleasure,” he continued, “that I present his most gracious Majesty, Regent Cotran II, prime ruler of Island City, and his bride to be, Lady Safran, daughter of Stephen III, forty-eighth Baron of Draxis.”

  This time there was applause and many confused stares as the couple entered, arm in arm, shaking the hands of the people they passed, smiling as the guests commented on how wonderful they looked together and asking how they had managed to keep their impending pairing a secret.

  The Regent was dressed in his usual finery, the best fabrics made into the most stylish and elegant clothes, but Ben hardly noticed. His attention was captivated by the graceful movements of Safran as she moved along the line of guests with the Regent, Ben’s heart skipping a beat as she returned false smiles to the guests whose hands she shook.

  By the time the couple had reached him, Ben had lost the ability to engage in conversation, and could only offer his hand as everyone else in the room had done. Ben’s gaze continued to linger on her long after they had passed him by.

  “You know,” Matthew whispered, “there used to be a time when you could be executed for something like that.”

  “What?” Ben replied

  “Mentally undressing royalty as they pass you by,” Matthew said with a grin.

  “But, I, she’s . . .” Ben stammered, face blushing. Matthew ignored his explanation.

  “Come on,” Matthew said. “It looks like we’re supposed to be following them through there for dinner.”

  The first course at dinner was a variety of fish from the waters north of Island City, very rare and an obvious delicacy. Ben found it difficult to enjoy, served as it was, almost raw with its head still attached. He said nothing and ate as much as he could stomach.

  The younger children had been led to another room, where they would eat together under the supervision of the palace nursemaid, leaving the adults and older children alone to engage in polite conversation. If it wasn’t for the distraction at the head of the table, Ben knew where he would have rather been. He tried to involve himself with the conversation around him, but on more than one occasion, he found himself asking people to repeat themselves as he cast more than the occasional glance towards Safran. It took the Regent himself to draw Ben from his trance.

  “Mr. Knight,” the Regent said as the rest of the table quieted, “how are you finding the food? My friend Matthew here tells me you’re a stranger to our lands?” The Regent scrutinised Ben, looking him up and down as he spoke.

  Every eye at the table turned towards him, staring, waiting for a response. “Please, Regent, call me Ben,” Ben told him. “And the food, well, it’s delicious. It's just, it’s a bit richer than what I’m used to.”

  The comment brought a glare from Matthew, but the Regent only smiled back towards Ben. “I’m glad to see we’re exposing you to some of our greater wonders,” he said. “It must be better than what you’ve been eating recently with the Road Trains, yes? And I do hope we don't end the evening with a brawl like last night?”

  The Regent laughed out loud and Lady Daria tittered in a girlish way, though the rest of the table found that they could only manage a smile. For all of their fine clothes that evening, Catrina and Arian were far removed from the usual upper class ladies. When push came to shove, they could be counted upon to work at least as hard as the men, if not harder.

  With a moment’s reprieve from the interrogation, Ben took the opportunity to finish his drink and was immediately offered another. He gladly accepted it, drinking down half the glass before returning it to the table.

  The Regent still viewed Ben with distrust, even following Matthew’s reference. Though he would announce his marriage the following day and cement the alliance between the north and south, he was still wary of a stranger at his table.

  “Now then, Ben,” the Regent continued, “where exactly are you from? You really have us all intrigued, you know.”

  The Regent’s voice was obviously sarcastic as he spoke, but Ben decided to play along so as not to offend him more than he had already done so. His voice was as equally passive and dismissive as he spoke.

  “I’m from England originally,” Ben said, looking the Regent directly in the eye as he spoke. Their conversation was quickly escalating into a contest.

  Finishing his last mouthful of food and gesturing with his fork as he spoke, the Regent continued. “England?” he said. “Not sure I’ve heard of that one. How about you, General?”

  “No, sir, can’t say that I have,” General Boshtok added, almost snapping his body to attention as he spoke.

  “Well, I’d gladly show you,” Ben continued, “but I doubt you’d find it on any map around here.”

  “That’s a very odd thing to say, don’t you think?” the Regent suggested.

  “Well I have to confess that a very ‘odd’ thing has happened to me,” Ben said, imitating the Regent as he spoke.

  Matthew looked frantically between the two of them, begging them to stop.

  “Oh, do tell us, Ben, I’m sure we’re all dying to know,” the Regent insisted.

  “Yes, that’s certainly a story I’d like to hear,” Alexander said mockingly, the only words he had spoken all dinner.

  Ben gave them the ultra-compacted version. “Well,” he began, taking another sip of his drink. “I went to the laboratory as usual in the morning, and there was an incident, and I woke up near Garstang. There’s not much more to it.”

  Alexander twitched slightly at the mention of the word laboratory, but fortunately for him, everyone else's attention was firmly fixed on Ben and the Regent. Ben's gaze never left the Regent as he spoke.

  “Hmm, a strange predicament, I’ll grant you,” the Regent suggested. “I've only heard its like before in children's stories. Maybe we should allow the children back in; they might be able to shed more light on the matter!” The corners of the Regent’s mouth curled upwards as he finished the sentence, begging the rest of the table to laugh at his quip, but they only watched each of them in turn, waiting for one of them to falter.

  The servants moved in to collect the plates from the first course and deliver the second. While Ben and the Regent sipped at their drinks, staring intermittently at each other, Matthew took the opportunity to attempt to manoeuvre the conversation.

  “My Liege,” he said quickly, “I must say that the food really is exquisite, wouldn't you agree General? A new chef?”

  “Yes, now you come to mention it,” the Regent replied, taking great delight in recounting how his agents had poached the finest chef from the court in Phalathlan. There were perfectly timed laughs and groans from the guests as the tale was told and soon the conversation had moved onto other matters of gossip.

  For the remainder of the meal, Ben was almost silent, only nodding and agreeing with the comments from those around him. Matthew engaged the Regent in any conversation that came to mind, intent on not letting Ben and the Regent continue from where they left off. For the most part, his plan worked, but there was still the occasional look exchanged between the two men.

  Midway through the second course, Safran excused herself from the table, explaining that she was exhausted from the journey and needed to rest. There were murmurings of disappointment, but the guests rose as she stood, Ben watching after her longingly as she left.

  An hour before midnight, the evening wound to an end; the conversation and the wine beginning to run dry. The Regent offered to open another bottle, but following the stressful day at the market, Matthew declined for all of them and suggested that it might be a good time to get some sleep.

  “A good point, Matthew,” the Regent said. “I have a most important
day ahead of me too. Please, do stay in the rooms that have been prepared for you and your company. After so many weeks on the road, a soft bed must be something you long for?”

  Matthew bowed and thanked the Regent for his hospitality, accepting the honour on behalf of his companions. Ben made to step towards the door, but a gentle tug from Matthew held him back. It was customary for the Regent to retire first, allowing his guests to bid him a good night, and Ben had caused enough trouble already that evening.

  No one had noticed that Alexander had already made a hasty retreat from the room.

  After the Regent had left, two of his personal guards entered the room to escort the guests out. Matthew and his company wished the remainder of the guests a good night, before they were escorted to rooms on the far side of the palace, where they would spend the night. Catrina was reunited with Daniel and Adam along the way, Daniel hugging his mother tightly before telling her how wonderful his evening was and what amazing food he had been given to eat. Catrina listened intently to every word, ruffling his hair as he talked.

  Matthew pulled Ben back from the rest of the small group. “What did you think you were doing in there, Ben?” he asked. “Do I need to remind you who it was that you were arguing with back there?”

  “Matthew, I’m sorry,” Ben replied. “We just got started and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t mean to offend him, really, he just...well.”

  “And staring all night at his wife-to-be?” Matthew added.

  “I couldn't help it,” Ben insisted. “I mean, I didn't mean to, I mean, she's half his age!”

  “He's royalty,” Matthew reminded him, “and so is she. Age doesn't really come into it. It was only on her father’s insistence that she be sixteen summers before the marriage takes place, or we could have had the wedding tomorrow. You've brought me a lot of trouble, Ben, a lot of trouble.”

  Ben dropped his gaze to the marble floor. “I get the impression he doesn’t like me too much,” Ben said.

  “Well, Ben, he's the Regent. He doesn't have to like you,” Matthew reminded him.

  Before Ben had time to apologise or explain himself any further, Matthew walked off to rejoin Arian, pulling her tightly to his side as he reached her. Ben followed behind at the rear of the group, his head held low.

  VIII

  A little after midnight, with the Regent soundly asleep in bed, Alexander called his two most trusted servants to him, officers from the Regent’s own personal guard. It was no coincidence that they were the officers who had earlier escorted Matthew and his friends to their rooms. They met in a small corner of the larger wine cellar, hidden by crates and the scents of centuries-old alcohol.

  “You understand what must be done this night?” he asked them in hushed tones.

  “Yes, my Lord,” they answered together, their voices confident and never wavering.

  “Come tomorrow we will mourn our loss, but tonight we must act for the good of the people,” Alexander said.

  “For the good of the people,” they replied together.

  “And remember,” Alexander finished, “the death stroke must be mine.”

  The two men nodded and drew their daggers. Alexander removed an ornately carved ceremonial dagger from his belt, a dagger another of his most trusted allies had purchased from the Road Trains market that very morning.

  IX

  The door to Ben’s room was forced open a little before sunrise, shattering the lock and casting it across the room. He moved groggily from the bed, as four of the Regent’s personal guards entered, weapons drawn.

  “Hey, what’s going…” Ben started to ask as the butt of a rifle struck him squarely in the face, bloodying his nose. Ben moved his hands to his face, trying in vain to slow the flow of blood.

  “Go on, give me an excuse you…” the guard who had just struck Ben said, turning his weapon around to point the barrel directly at Ben’s skull.

  “Leave it,” his colleague said. “They told us to keep this one alive.”

  The guard reluctantly raised his weapon before returning it to his shoulder. While two of the guards kept their weapons trained on Ben, the other guards gripped him painfully under the shoulders and dragged him along the carpet to the hall, throwing him forcibly to the ground. Catrina was already there, sobbing as she clung tightly to Edward, pressing hard on a bloodstained area of his shirt. Through Ben’s tear filled eyes, he couldn’t tell if Edward was only unconscious or already dead.

  In the hallway, more guards kept their weapons trained on the small group of people. As Ben watched, Matthew was dragged from the room adjacent to Ben’s, resisting as much as possible, constantly turning his head to make sure Arian was safe. One of the guards struck him hard in the back of his head, his face hitting the marble floor with a thud.

  Ben managed to mumble, “Please tell the Regent I'm sorry,” as they were forcibly escorted down a set of winding stairs to the dungeons below the palace.

  X

  Carl was awoken by the sound of automatic gunfire somewhere outside the trailer. His back was aching from the awkward position he had slept in, sitting at the desk in the penultimate trailer, but the second burst was enough to get even his old bones moving. He had only intended to sit for a minute, go over the cargo manifest, keep himself busy. Matthew had told him to be ready, but he hadn’t really expected anything to happen and he didn’t like being proven wrong when it came to matters like these.

  He picked up the pistol that he had placed on the table in front of him and checked it was loaded. Moving more stealthily than you might expect for a man of his age and bulk, he slid onto the floor and opened the closer of the two hatches that had been cut into the floor. His decision to spend the night away from his normal sleeping trailer was proving to be the correct one. He only hoped that choosing to let his friends sleep while he stayed awake hadn't put them at any more risk.

  Squeezing his greater than average bulk through the hatch was no easy exercise, but with a lot of puffing and panting, and holding his waist in, he was able to get to the grassy floor beneath the trailer.

  Crawling along the ground beneath the trailer, Carl had a good view of what was happening, with the luxury of not being seen. The sun was just rising above the horizon, covering the meeting area in shadows and hiding Carl in the relative darkness beneath the trailer.

  As he watched, he saw maybe a hundred of the militia and the Regent’s personal guard dragging people from the trailers, indiscriminately beating or shooting them if they put up the slightest resistance. Women were holding their children close to them as husbands were viciously punched and kicked for trying to protect their families. As he watched, a fleeing mother and daughter were gunned down as they ran, their blood-splattered bodies flailing as they were propelled to the floor.

  His first instincts were to attack the soldiers, but his rational mind knew it would be useless; he’d be dead before he made the slightest difference.

  Turning his attention to the other side of the trailer, he could see only one guard, looking through the gap between the trailers, towards the slaughter in the centre of meeting area. Sliding stealthily from beneath the trailer, he crept up on the soldier from behind, drawing the knife from his belt and driving it deeply between the ribs on his left side until he had reached the heart, minimising the amount to which he could scream. The body slipped from his hands to the floor, dying eyes staring at Carl as he fled to the relative safety of Island City's streets and alleyways.