Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1)

by Harry Leighton

  He wasn’t a veteran politician, but Marlen felt comfortable in concluding this situation was escaping the control of imperial authorities, unless they did something soon. Given the previous standards they’d set, this would probably result in them being thrown out of the city or something equally stupid.

  He laughed as he began walking. The Governor hadn’t seen this coming, had woken one day wondering what minor inconvenience he’d be dealing with that day, and discovered his nephew was dragging the whole edifice around him. Power with responsibility, and how people with the former hated when the latter popped up to annoy everyone.

  So, what to do now. He wasn’t afraid, but he did have to consider the possibility of riots approaching him, where people acted like they’d never do otherwise because of the power of the mass, and when bystanders could get chewed up like chaff.

  Collect his things and leave the city? Maybe. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other accommodation in the area.

  But a riot did mean injured people, and they would need treating.

  And then be grateful for the repair.

  *****

  Larly had come out of the bank when it had emptied of customers, feeling any true bank manager would get out onto the streets and discover what exactly was happening. That he had two of the larger members of the backroom staff with him and had ordered the building be locked, just in case, was completely beside the point.

  The trio walked down their street, one of the largest in the city, and saw lots of concerned faces and people leaving the buildings.

  “Our area is emptying with alacrity,” Larly noted.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Everyone is buggering off quickly.”

  “Yeah, they are.”

  They walked towards the crossroads, where their road of great value connected to the main street which ran through the city, and as they were able to look along the length … well, they weren’t able to look along the length.

  Something was blocking their view. Something made from tables and doors, wood of all description, even stone flagstones had been ripped up and used to create it.

  “Am I seeing a blockade?” Larly asked.

  “It’s a wall.”

  “True, but a blockade, the sort of thing they speak about in histories, during great rebellions, the city builds blockades.”

  “Boss, you read books. If that’s called a blockade, the wall is a blockade. Stopping people getting to the bank.”

  That was true, and a cause for concern… No, no Larly, get a grip man, start thinking properly.

  “Guards,” a bodyguard barked, holding a large finger out.

  He was right, and this caused the banker some surprise. He’d expected to see rebels swarming over their barricade, but judging from the way the guards and their shining armour were arranged, they were hiding behind this one.

  “Come with me, we’ll see if we can talk to them.”

  “S’long as we don’t get press ganged.”

  They walked wearily down the normally grand street, until Larly was able to call out “Excuse me.”

  “We’re busy.”

  “I’m from the bank, should we be worried?”

  Three guards stopped, turned round and looked perplexed. “Didn’t anyone send you any messages?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh. We should probably do that.”

  “I take it there’s a problem?”

  “We’re trying to stop the violence spreading. Building this to stop any rioters getting past.”

  “There’s been a riot?” Larly felt something inside himself come to life.

  “You get any news in that bank?”

  “Cattle prices. So, the city is being, er, fought over?”

  “Let’s not go that far,” a guard cautioned. This one looked to Larly like a sergeant. “But we’re making sure.”

  “We best get back and close the bank, send everyone home.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  The three turned and walked away, and Larly could hear the beating of his own heart.

  A city rioting.

  Barricades going up.

  Rebels fighting imperials.

  Was this a rebellion?

  *****

  “All I’m saying is, if we’re staying in any places that offer toast we’re probably paying too much and should be heading to somewhere better suited to our incomes.”

  Trimas scratched his beard and pretended to think about what Daeholf had said, before adding, “I like your worry about our finances…”

  “Which are usually terrible,” Zedek added.

  “But I can’t help but think your objection to toast comes from a class hate.”

  “A class hate?”

  “Yes. Aimed at people like me.”

  “I don’t know anything about class, I know poor bastard soldiers like me had to scrape some mouldy chunks of bread and fat together in this siege while the commanders kept a larder better defended than the walls.”

  “And this has left you with a lifelong antipathy to toast?”

  “I’m sure I’ll get over it if we don’t get killed before we have any money.”

  “I think we’re all be killed before then,” Zedek added once more.

  Trimas made a mental note about how the siege’s effects were still embedded into Daeholf, and to ponder how he could help.

  “Excuse me,” Alia said from their left, “Jonas and I chose that inn.”

  “I just mean when we’re on our own again. Obviously we appreciate you paying for toast.”

  “We’re pa– oh right.”

  “I hate to break this discussion up,” Jonas half sighed, “but would anyone like to consider what’s on the road ahead of us.”

  “I’ve been watching,” Daeholf explained, “and there are more people coming towards us than you’d expect, and they all seem to be rushing away from something.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I can argue and spy, it’s essential in the army.”

  “Well let’s go and talk to one.”

  The five of them nudged their horses into speed, and they closed on the first of the traffic, a man with a donkey covered with bags, the occasional item falling off and being left on the road.

  “Please don’t hurt me!”

  “We’re not imperial,” Jonas tried.

  “Oh thank God.”

  “What’s happening, are you running away from something?”

  “You don’t k– of course not. The riot, I’m running from the riot.”

  “There’s been a riot? Where? In the city?”

  “Yes! Yes an attack on the gate, hordes of peasants coming towards us, I grabbed everything I could and ran. Which is why you’re in my way.”

  They watched him flee and looked up the road.

  “Normally I’d be sceptical of the first man who ran away, but that’s a lot of people coming towards us.” Jonas didn’t look happy at the thought. “Maybe there has been a riot.”

  “I think we can conclude the guard have royally fucked this up.” Trimas had a hand on his chin. “Go find the mad physician we said. Find super warriors who won’t die. Instead they poked every bear they could reach and started a bloody riot. Makes me wish I was in charge.”

  “Oh this should be good.”

  “What? Daeholf, what?”

  “I suppose you’d have solved this by now.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Alright, I get you there.”

  “Ey?” Alia said.

  “Well, the regional government screwed this up. But a riot in your capital and upset peasants aren’t uncommon. Fairly easy to quell, what you do depends on your willingness to break heads.” Trimas was looking off into the past.

  “Oh yes, and how would you break heads?”

  Daeholf took over. “What he means is, you can put down an upset with force if you want, but you have to do it totally. You don’t send a few men out, you go in with all you have and you cut out t
he violent ones and make sure they know you hold the power. You do that, or you do it the cunning way, spirit off the ringleaders and distribute bribes, concessions and pardons to draw most of the supporters away. You hit the head and you hit the legs. What you never do is half-arse it and send amateur guards to rile people.”

  “Indeed,” Trimas continued. “So much of violence is morale. If your morale goes because you don’t think you’re winning, or because you’ve been paid off, the rebellion fails. But if you think you can win because you keep getting minor victories against disorganised and quite frankly inept opposition, the riot keeps going.”

  Alia nodded. “So which would you do?”

  Trimas smiled at her. “Oh, I wouldn’t be putting this down, I’d be rioting. This is a perfect storm for those peasants.”

  Behind them, Jonas’ face turned sour, but he kept quiet.

  “What do you mean?” Alia asked.

  “This Governor is an idiot, or his nephew is, or they all are. People are being harassed and hurt. I’ve no sympathy with the imperials on this and all with the peasants.”

  “That’s … not what I expected.”

  “Our tame noble does throw a few surprises in.”

  “Thanks Daeholf.”

  “I thought you were both soldiers?” Jonas asked finally.

  “Betrayed soldiers,” Daeholf said without looking round.

  That, Jonas had to admit, was a very good point. He wanted to explain how uncomfortable he felt with the sentiment that the peasants were right, but he’d pushed his luck with these three already and yes, he needed them.

  “Can you see that?” Daeholf asked.

  They looked ahead, before Alia saw it too. “Cloud of smoke rising.”

  “Probably from our riot. Any guesses as to severity?”

  “Well it’s not the whole city on fire, but something large is.”

  “Alright,” Jonas said, spurring his horse, “we’re going to close and see what’s going on.”

  They were able to make good speed before the crest of a hill, and when they rose over that they saw the road blocked by fleeing citizens and buildings around one gate on fire.

  “Still want to riot?” Alia asked.

  “Yes, they haven’t set an inn on fire.”

  “We are not riding in and joining in,” Jonas said with more force than he meant, drawing bemused looks from everyone else. “Er, not that anyone suggested that…”

  Alia laughed. “We should ride in and present a five-point plan to the Governor.”

  “I think he needs it.”

  “Dare I say it,” Zedek began speaking after a period of silence, “but are we on our own in the search for Marlen again?”

  “I do wonder what Marlen is doing during all of this…” Jonas sounded more worried than they’d ever heard.

  “Don’t worry, some peasants might lynch him.”

  “Some peasants might end up with all their fat removed and two hearts.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Are we going in?”

  “Now that, Alia, is something we need to consider…”

  “Perhaps we should get our stuff and clear out,” Daeholf suggested as he began to taste the smell of burning on his tongue.

  *****

  “What is this?”

  At the sound of his superior’s voice, the aide de camp raised his head from the roll of parchment and looked over. The self-styled General Arek moved his bulk through the door at speed, waving one of the documents he’d only just been given.

  “It’s a report, sir,” the aide replied calmly, not yet used to the military designation he’d just been given.

  “No, no it is not. Look at it, look. This is a piece of parchment covered in scribble.”

  “Scribble?”

  “A baby writes like this. How am I supposed to know what it says?”

  “I think it eloquently explains the chaos and desperation of the writer, sir.”

  “The what?”

  “They were under pressure.”

  “It’s not good enough. Find who wrote this and demote them a rank. You can’t be a commander in my army if you can’t write. Communication is everything.”

  “Your, er, army, sir?”

  “Guard then, my guard. Can you tell what it says?”

  “It’s a call for more bodies to help.”

  “Where to?”

  “To be perfectly frank, sir, it doesn’t matter. Everywhere is writing calling for more troops.”

  “Hmm. I have a job for you. Take a message.”

  “Of course.”

  “If I remember correctly, we pay for a home for old and infirm guards?”

  “Indeed sir.”

  “Recall them, equip them, and send them out.”

  “Some are…”

  “I don’t care if they have to be carried to a defensive point. Now, we have guards working in some of the churches, don’t we?”

  “Honorary positions, promoted priests. Happens where they wouldn’t let us in.”

  “Good. Recall them, equip them, and send them out.”

  “But the temples will be…”

  “The people seem to like the churches, it’s us they’re upset with.”

  Well why don’t we ally the people with the temples then, the aide thought of saying but kept his mouth shut.

  Then he thought of something that might help. “Your honour guard, sir, they are assembled in the courtyard.”

  “If we use them who will protect me?”

  “Oh, of course, sir.”

  “We could send some of us? The General’s staff has expanded in recent days.”

  Mostly because you appointed your lackeys and wealthy sons, he also didn’t say.

  “A general must have his staff, as an aide you will learn this.”

  I buy and organise our supplies you pompous ass, you promoted me because I can organise, not because I have any desire to play soldier, the aide thought.

  Wait, he can’t tell I thought that, can he?

  “When you say everyone is calling for reinforcements, this is another of your literary exaggerations, yes?”

  “No, sir. I have read every report. Literally everyone is hard pressed.”

  Arek turned and looked at the window, straightened his spine, and decided it was time to make a decision.

  “Call for all Guard and affiliates to report. Call all of them. Anyone even remotely connected to us. All! Everyone! Anyone! Get them here. Get them weapons. Get them on the streets and get this halted!”

  *****

  “They’re ready for you now, sir.”

  The Governor looked out of the window. Another tiresome meeting. “In a minute.”

  “I say ready, I mean demanding your presence, sir.”

  The Governor sighed. “I’ll be right there.” Demanding? That wasn’t good. He walked slowly towards the conference room. This was also bad. It was much easier to meet people one on one and deal with them that way. As a group they could gang up on him and that made him feel a little out of his depth at times, though he didn’t like to admit it. He opened the door to a group of angry looking faces. Local merchants and dignitaries all. He took a moment to compose himself then sat at the head of the table.

  “What are you doing about this, Erland?”

  The Governor looked at the speaker sharply. A troublesome merchant he’d been dealing with for some years.

  “Erland?” the Governor said.

  “We went to first name terms when you made a mess of the situation,” the merchant said.

  “A mess of the situation?” the Governor, Erland, said.

  “There is a riot?” another said.

  “A small one,” Erland admitted.

  “We’re losing business.”

  “It’s costing us money.”

  There was a general murmur of agreement.

  “What are you doing about it?” the troublesome one said.

  “The city guard have it under control, Andolin,”
Erland said. Two could play that game.

  “Your nephew has it under control?” Andolin said.

  “The city guard have it under control,” Erland said again.

  “It was your idiot relative that caused it in the first place,” someone said from the back. There was another general murmur of assent.

  “Careful,” Erland said sternly.

  “Tell us what happened then,” Andolin said.

  “Some disgruntled farmers arrived at the city to protest and started a fight when they weren’t allowed immediate access to officials.”

  “A fight? I’ve seen it from a distance. It looks a lot more than that,” came another voice.

  Erland looked for the speaker. “Makern, is it?”

  “Yes,” Makern said. “It is a riot?”

  “It descended into a riot, yes.”

  “Why weren’t they allowed access?”

  “They would have been if they had approached reasonably. As you know I’m happy to meet people and hear their concerns.”

  Andolin scoffed. Erland stared at him.

  “Do you know why they were protesting?” came a voice from the back.

  “A gripe with the local watch.”

  “A gripe?” Andolin said.

  “They weren’t happy when someone was arrested for murder.”

  “Murder?”

  “Local watchman was beaten to death in the street. The perpetrator was found and due to be hanged but the locals sprung him from the prison for some reason.”

  “For some reason? Maybe they got the wrong man?”

  “The evidence was good,” Erland said.

  “So they came here to protest?” Andolin said.

  “That’s what I understand, yes.”

  “Are people from the city involved?” someone from the back said.

  “Yes,” Erland admitted.

  “If it was just a local matter, why?” the voice said.

  “We’re not sure,” Erland confessed.

  “So it’s getting out of control then?” Andolin said.

  “No, steps are being taken.”

  “What steps?”

  “The city guard has been mobilised and auxiliaries called.”