‘Go on then,’ said Dyam.
Agang leaned forwards, stretching out his arm until his fingers touched the body of the rodent. He closed his eyes, and felt for the creature’s heart through a tangle of broken bones and bruised tissue. He sent a powerful wave of healing to repair its flesh, then jolted its heart.
The rat wheezed, opened its eyes, swayed, then scurried off through a gap in the floorboards.
‘Great,’ Bridget yelled, ‘now we’ve got a fucking rat in the house. Good thinking, Dyam.’
‘That was amazing,’ Dyam said, glancing at Agang. ‘I believe you now.’
‘I remember,’ said Bedig.
They all turned.
‘There was a little town that Shella used to talk about,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been there myself, but it was a secret, in other words even her sister the queen knew nothing about it. Shella said that she had gone against orders and let a small group of refugees settle, and set up a town.’
‘And where is this town?’ Laodoc said.
‘Not sure, exactly,’ Bedig said, ‘but Shella told us it was at the first river they came to after crossing the Basalt Desert into Rahain.’
‘And do you know its name?’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Silverstream.’
Chapter 8
Bloodless
H oldings City, Realm of the Holdings – 3 rd Day, Last Third Summer 507
‘Men are arseholes,’ Chane said. ‘Most are too shy to talk to me, and the good-looking, confident ones are already taken. Or it turns out they like guys.’
‘You’ve just been unlucky,’ said Daphne, passing her a weedstick as they leaned back against a wall. ‘You’ll find someone. Which one of them likes guys, by the way?’
Chane took a draw. ‘Don’t laugh,’ she said. ‘Agang.’
Daphne raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Why would I laugh?’
‘Because I spent so much time chasing him, even after I found out. It’s embarrassing.’
‘It happens, Chane. Don’t worry about it, at least you got away in time.’
‘Yeah, thank fuck.’
‘Did you sleep with him?’
‘We shared a bed,’ she said. ‘Most nights, in fact. But he just lay there like he was my brother.’
Daphne grimaced. ‘Awkward.’
‘That doesn’t even begin to describe it. ’
A young man in a pale green uniform approached.
‘Ma’am,’ he said to Daphne. ‘The company is in position.’
Daphne nodded. ‘Tell them to wait for my signal, then move in.’
The man ran back up the alleyway.
Daphne scanned the rooftops. The day’s light was darkening into dusk over the city, and a long shadow was being cast by the outcrop of rock where the Upper City sat. She glanced at Chane, pulled on her battle-vision, and set off.
The streets were deserted, and there was no noise except for the low roar of fighting elsewhere in the city, fuelled by the numerous diversionary units sent in to attack the old capital’s key points. Daphne sprinted down a lane, with Chane close behind, until they reached a high wall. They halted, and Daphne pushed a line of vision up to the roof of the building opposite.
‘Clear,’ she said, and Chane braced herself against the wall, the fingers of her hands interlocking. Daphne stepped back a few paces, surged her battle-vision, and ran at Chane. She leapt into the air, her foot landing in Chane’s grip, and hurled herself up onto the top of the wall, and over to the other side. She glanced around, but the barracks of the cavalry garrison were quiet and empty.
She stayed under the shadow of the wall and ran to where a postern gate was positioned. There were no guards on duty at the gate, the widespread disturbances having ensured that the entire garrison had been called out.
Daphne swung the bar from the gate and pushed it open. She signalled to the militia of the Hold Fast Company who were waiting in the shadows of a side street, and they began to file towards the gate.
Chane entered first.
She grinned at Daphne, her eyes dancing, as the troopers followed through after her.
‘This way,’ Daphne said, and ran by the wall towards the compound’s corner tower, a square block that rose above the height of the exterior walls. She paused to allow the troopers to catch up, and they lined up against the wall behind her. She steadied herself and scanned the top of the tower with line-vision. Up on the battlements a squad of troopers were gazing out over the city, watching the lights from several fires that were burning. None were looking back within the compound.
She ran on, and reached the doors of the tower.
‘Crossbows,’ she said to the troopers nearest her, and they passed the word down the line.
She nodded to Chane, and kicked the door in. They burst into the tower, the Hold Fast troopers spreading through the building as fast as they could enter. Daphne led a detachment up the stone stairs, and emerged onto the open rooftop.
‘Put down your weapons,’ she cried to the squad of imperial soldiers, who turned to stare at Daphne and the crossbow-wielding troopers on either side of her. ‘This is the Hold Fast Company, and you are now our prisoners. Who’s in charge?’
A woman stepped forwards, her arms raised. ‘I’m the sergeant here.’
‘Order your squad to disarm.’
The woman scanned the group of green-uniformed troopers, many of whom were fresh-faced.
‘You heard her,’ she said. ‘Drop your bows.’
Daphne turned to one of her officers as the imperial soldiers threw down their arms. ‘Collect their weapons and take the prisoners downstairs. Put a guard on them, and leave a squad up here to watch the compound.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Daphne returned to the ground floor, where the rest of the company was waiting. Chane was standing by an enormous winch, around which was coiled a thick chain.
‘Open up the bridge,’ Daphne ordered, and a squad of troopers took hold of the winch’s long handles, and began to turn. The chain tensed, then started winding round the iron mechanism, foot by foot as the troopers grunted with the effort.
Daphne nodded to Chane. ‘Send the signal.’
‘Yes, ma’am. ’
Chane ran up the stairs and out of sight.
‘This is treachery,’ shouted one of the imperial soldiers as they were being led off to a side room.
Daphne smiled.
‘The signal’s up,’ said Chane, as she bounded back down the steps.
‘Open the gate,’ Daphne cried, and troopers removed the long bar from the wide doors that led out onto the street. They pushed them open, and Daphne strode outside. The sound of the river mixed with the cries of hundreds of approaching troopers, the force her father had gathered.
The tower gates led to the widest bridge over the great river of the Holdings, one of three crossings from the sprawling Lower City to the sheer cliffs of the Upper City. The other bridges were narrow, and led to steep flights of steps hewn from the cliff-face, but the crossing that led from the city garrison could accommodate a pair of carriages side by side. The portcullis that blocked the way was hanging high, raised above the road as it led onto the bridge.
Chane stood at her side as the Holdings rebels grew nearer.
‘Excellent job, Miss Holdfast,’ cried an older man, who stopped as he drew near to the tower, out of breath.
‘Thank you, Lord Holdsmith,’ Daphne said.
The man spat and coughed, and lit a cigarette. ‘Feels like I’ve ran through half the damn city.’
Chane nudged her, and she turned to see a trooper leading a pair of horses towards them.
‘Ma’am,’ the trooper saluted, ‘as you requested.’
‘Thank you,’ Daphne said. She glanced at Lord Holdsmith. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’
She leapt up onto the saddle, and took the reins, while Chane mounted the other horse. They kicked their heels, and their mounts took off, galloping through the gates and onto the bridge, while th
e troopers cleared a path for them.
On the other side of the bridge was the wide royal ramp, which went up a gradual slope to the buildings clustered on the summit of the Upper City. They overtook the leading troopers of the rebel force, and the clatter of their horse’s hooves against the bridge changed as they started up the ramp. The cobbles beneath them sparked as they cantered up the slope, leaving the force behind.
Daphne slowed as they approached the top, her vision-assisted eyesight taking in every detail of the buildings crowded together upon the summit. To the left, rising above low stables was the Old Tower, its roof gone, and its walls crumbling and blackened with fire damage. Ahead was the road leading to Holders Square, where the palace lay. Daphne gazed up at the great edifice, squeezed into the tight space of the Upper City. Added to and modified over centuries, it wore many differing styles and architectural fashions. As a young woman she had always pictured it as the grandest building she had ever seen, but now knew it was tiny in comparison to the great buildings of state she had seen in Rahain, and much smaller even than the palace in Plateau City that Keira had destroyed.
‘What now?’ said Chane. ‘Should we wait for the others?’
Daphne gazed at the empty road leading to the palace.
‘No,’ she said, kicking her horse into movement, ‘let’s take a look.’
They spurred their mounts to a trot, and made their way down the wide street. The buildings to either side looked deserted, and many had been neglected, their windows broken and their roofs leaking.
‘The entire government fucked off years ago,’ Chane said as she gazed at the dilapidated structures. ‘I’m surprised the Lord Regent stays up here. It’s like a ghost town.’
‘The Prophet’s up here too,’ she said.
‘That miserable old fart? Is he still alive?’
‘I think so, skulking somewhere deep within the citadel.’
‘He probably smokes dreamweed all day,’ Chane said, ‘and wallows in nostalgia about how he used to be important, but now everybody’s forgotten he even exists.’
‘Let’s focus on the Lord Regent first,’ Daphne said. She slowed as they entered Holders Square. Lamps had been lit, illuminating the façade of the palace. Pillars and arched windows ran in rows along the front of the building, with a stately entrance in the centre. There was a low platform abutting the grand stone steps that led down from the palace, and Daphne gazed at the spot where she had nearly been executed three and a half years before.
They trotted over to the steps, and climbed down next to a low railing. After securing their horses they ascended the stairs towards the open doors of the palace.
Four soldiers were on duty, guarding the entrance. Their lowered their crossbows at Daphne and Chane as they approached.
‘I am Daphne Holdfast,’ she said. ‘I’m here to see the Lord Regent.’
The soldiers stared at her.
‘What do you know about the fighting in the city?’ said one. ‘What’s going on?’
‘There’s an uprising in progress,’ Daphne said. ‘That’s why I need to speak to the Lord Regent urgently.’
‘You’ll have to leave your weapons at the door.’
‘Of course.’
The lead soldier nodded, and Daphne and Chane passed into the great entrance hall of the palace. It was poorly lit, with a handful of lamps burning against the walls. Daphne unbuckled her sword belt and handed it to a soldier. Chane frowned, and did the same.
The two women turned, and strode across the marble floor of the hall towards an arched opening opposite.
‘I hope you know what the fuck we’re doing,’ Chane said. ‘Cause I haven’t a clue.’
‘Maybe this can end without bloodshed,’ Daphne said. ‘Let’s see if the Lord Regent is a reasonable man.’
At the entrance to the adjoining hall a courtier was standing. She bowed as they approached, but her eyes were lit with suspicion.
‘We’re here to see the Lord Regent,’ Daphne said.
‘And do you have an appointment?’
‘No. But there’s a force of several thousand rebel Holdings troopers currently running up the royal ramp towards the palace. I imagine the Lord Regent would want to know. ’
The courtier’s mouth opened. She glanced at their beltless waists.
‘Follow me,’ she said, and turned for a grand set of stairs.
They climbed to the first floor, and the courtier led them to a massive reception room, equal in beauty and grandeur to any Daphne had seen on her travels. At the far end was a podium, upon which sat a great throne, flanked by lesser thrones. All three were empty, and the room was quiet and still. The courtier led them on to a door in the far wall, and they went through to a small chamber. Guards lined the walls around a large table, at which four people sat.
‘Lord Regent,’ the courtier said as they entered.
A man looked up. Next to him was a uniformed woman, and across the table sat Faden Holdwick and Queen Mirren Blackhold.
‘What is it?’ the man muttered.
‘Visitors, Lord Regent,’ the courtier said, gesturing to Daphne and Chane.
The man squinted at them. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone.’
Daphne stepped forwards. ‘Your regime is at an end, Lord Regent. I’m here to see if you wish that end to be bloody or peaceful.’
The man’s face twisted in contempt. ‘How dare you…?’
‘A force of three thousand troopers, from eleven different noble Holds, is on its way up the royal ramp. They will be in Holders Square any moment, and then they are coming here for you, Lord Regent. If you surrender now, we can prevent the loss of any lives.’
The guards lining the walls of the room tensed, their hands going to the hilts of their swords.
‘You walk in here, unarmed, and make demands of me?’ the Lord Regent cried. ‘I was appointed by the Emperor to rule the old realm, and only the Emperor can remove me.’
He stood.
‘Do you surrender?’ Daphne said.
‘Of course I don’t, you silly little girl,’ he sneered.
She visioned into his mind and took control of it, forcing his body to freeze.
I am in your head, Lord Regent. Listen very carefully to what I have to say. Do you feel my power on your memories, your thoughts? Do you see how fragile they are, how easily I could tear and shred them? Do you know I could scour your mind clean, or wreck it so that you weep and scream every day for the rest of your life? I could make you forget who you are, or fill your mind with endless torment. Nod if you understand me.
The Lord Regent nodded, while the guards stood frozen, waiting for his command.
Good. Now, you will do exactly as I say.
Daphne relinquished control of the Lord Regent’s body, but kept a part of herself hidden in his mind.
‘I will ask you again,’ she said. ‘Do you surrender?’
Fear swept across his face. On the other side of the table, Mirren and Faden were watching.
The woman in uniform got to her feet, and drew her sword. ‘Lord Regent,’ she said, ‘should I place them under arrest?’
Tell her to put the sword down.
‘Stand down, Major,’ the Lord Regent cried. He bowed his head. ‘I surrender.’
The woman’s mouth opened in shock, and she glanced from the Regent to Daphne.
‘Get on your knees,’ Daphne said.
The Regent stood still for a moment, then did as she ordered.
‘What is happening?’ the major said. ‘Lord Regent?’
‘Put your sword away,’ he said, his eyes welling with tears.
Daphne nodded at him. ‘Good. Now swear allegiance to the new Chancellor of the Holdings, Lord Faden Holdwick.’
The man stared up at Faden. ‘You? You betrayed me?’
‘It is you who have betrayed the Holdings,’ Faden said. ‘Now we can take back control of our own land.’
‘But the empire…?’
‘The empire has stripp
ed the Holdings bare, you fool,’ Faden said. ‘The Emperor’s insane quest for mages is the cause of children starving in the River Holdings, and the endless toll of war dead. Thousands have already fallen in the marshes of Arakhanah City, prey to disease and pestilence. No more. No more.’
The Lord Regent bowed his head.
‘I swear allegiance.’
Daphne glanced at the uniformed woman.
‘Major, please take the former Lord Regent into custody.’
The woman frowned. ‘Under whose authority?’
‘Mine,’ said Faden. ‘As chancellor I command it.’
The major remained expressionless. She glanced from person to person.
Mirren stood and bowed her head to Faden. ‘I acknowledge you as chancellor, Lord Holdwick. May you rule the Realm of the Holdings wisely.’
The major frowned, then nodded at the guards. ‘Take him to the cells.’
Four soldiers approached, and escorted the Lord Regent from the room. The major got down onto one knee.
‘I swear allegiance to you, Lord Holdwick.’
‘Excellent,’ said Daphne. She gestured to the queen and the new chancellor. ‘Shall we?’
They left the small chamber, and went back into the enormous reception hall. Faden mounted the platform, and sat in the great throne, and the queen took the smaller throne to his right. Daphne and Chane took up position one step down from the podium, and the remaining guards were ordered by the major to secure the hall.
‘What the fuck, Daphne?’ Chane whispered. ‘What did you do to him back there?’
‘Just showed him the true meaning of fear.’
‘You are one scary bitch, Daphne Holdfast, even without a sword.’
The front doors of the hall burst open, and squads of militia began running in. Their uniforms ranged from pale green to brown and dark blue, detachments from all eleven rebel Hold forces present as they filled the hall. She saw Lord Holdsmith walk to the front, panting.
Daphne raised her right arm .
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