Sacrifice

by Christopher Mitchell

  They bowed, and left the roof, departing by the stairs to the lower floors. Annifrid joined Chane and Daphne by the battlements, and they watched the slow advance of the Rahain. Chane passed round cigarettes, and they smoked in the morning sunshine.

  Annifrid fidgeted. ‘May I say something, my lady?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘I’ve said this to you already, my lady, but I implore you to leave the front line and join those evacuating the city. This is not the place for a Holder of the Realm to be standing.’

  ‘If the Realm is threatened,’ Daphne said, ‘then it’s exactly the right place to be.’

  ‘Excuse me, my lady, but I must disagree. If you were to die, then the line of Hold Fasts would be extinguished. By being here you are risking the future of the Hold.’

  Daphne shook her head. ‘If I die, then Celine Holdfast can look after Karalyn Holdfast until she is old enough to be named Lady Holder.’

  ‘Forgive me, my lady, but the people do not see Celine as a true scion of the Hold, as she was adopted. And your daughter…’

  ‘What about her?’ Daphne frowned.

  Annifrid looked away. ‘She was born out of wedlock, my lady, and has a foreign father. I don’t know if she’d be acceptable to the people as a Holder.’

  Daphne glared at her commander.

  ‘It’s a Republic now,’ said Chane, leaning over the battlements. ‘You both said Realm.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Daphne said, smiling. ‘My apologies, Captain.’

  Chane winked at her.

  Annifrid sighed, and left the rooftop.

  ‘She’s still hurting,’ Chane said, ‘but you should sack her anyway, once we’re clear of the city. She can’t say things like that about Karalyn.’

  ‘She’s probably just echoing what others are thinking,’ Daphne said, watching the front ranks of the Rahain army spread out to the left and right of the south road. They formed their door-sized shields into a long line, covering the entire southern side of the city. In their midst, a great bonfire was being piled up, with carts and beams thrown on. Beside it sat the figure of the Emperor on his horse, his face looking up at the walls. She felt a presence searching for her, and tried to block her mind.

  I know you’re up there somewhere, Daphne Holdfast , the Creator said, using your little tricks to hide from me.

  He scanned the battlements, stopping when he reached the south tower.

  Ah, there you are.

  He raised his hand, and Daphne dived to the wooden floor, dragging Chane with her, as a pulse of power swept over their heads.

  ‘Come on,’ Daphne yelled, crawling for the stairs. ‘He’s seen us.’

  They leapt down the steps. A scout saluted them at the bottom.

  Daphne dusted down her uniform.

  ‘Tell the catapult squadrons that they may commence their bombardment,’ she said to the wide-eyed scout.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ he said, and ran off.

  ‘Did the Emperor know it was you?’ Chane said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Daphne said. ‘I tried to block him out, but he still saw me.’

  She lit a cigarette. The Prophet had been right. If everyone knew that it was the Creator who was before the walls, rather than merely the Emperor, they would run away in panic. She controlled her breathing.

  They left the south tower, coming out onto the main street leading from the great gates. Barricades had been heaped up behind the enormous iron-rimmed doors, and many of the side streets had been blocked. Fifty yards up the road was a blockade, behind which crouched a full squadron of soldiers, each armed with a crossbow. Daphne and Chane strode up the street. They came to an alleyway that had been left open, where another squadron had lined up. Daphne joined them, and turned to watch the gate .

  ‘My lady,’ said the lieutenant in command.

  Daphne nodded in reply.

  The air over their heads whooshed, and Daphne glanced up to see half a dozen giant boulders fly above the streets. They passed the walls, and Daphne heard the crashes as they impacted. She stole a glance at the Upper City. No flag.

  They waited.

  Chane smoked another cigarette, as more boulders were flung over the wall at the imperial army.

  Daphne resisted the temptation to use her line-vision to see what the enemy was doing. The Creator, she sensed, would be able to see her if she revealed her powers. She readied her battle-vision, her eyes scanning the empty battlements.

  There was a deafening roar and a blinding flash, and Daphne was flung off her feet along with the others in the alleyway as a powerful shockwave surged past. With her ears ringing, she opened her eyes. A cloud of dust filled the air. She coughed, covered in small fragments of rubble. Next to her Chane groaned, and struggled to her feet. She stared towards the gates, her mouth hanging open.

  Daphne stood, putting her right hand onto the wall of the alley for support. She stared.

  The gates were gone.

  In their place was a great gap, a breach in the city’s walls as wide as a dozen carts. Broken masonry lay scattered down the street, and the houses closest to the gates were smoking ruins, their roofs caved in. The air felt hot, and the back of Daphne’s throat was as dry as sand.

  She turned to the squadron in the alleyway.

  ‘Get up. Check your kit. Any second the Rahain are going to burst through. Lieutenant, send a squad into the shop in front of us, I want crossbows on the upper floor. Now.’

  The lieutenant staggered to his feet, his uniform and dark skin covered in a film of grey dust.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ he gasped. He pointed at a sergeant. ‘You heard the Holder. Get your squad inside and upstairs. ’

  The sergeant kicked in the side door of the shop and a dozen soldiers followed her in. Daphne drew her sword. She checked the Upper City. No flag.

  There was a roar of voices, and the first Rahain appeared in the breach, their large shields held up. They bunched together as they avoided the piles of debris, leaving their sides exposed.

  ‘Crossbow squads, form up,’ Daphne yelled. ‘Shoot at will.’

  As the Holdings troopers ran forwards with their weapons, a hail of bolts came from the blockade up the main street twenty yards to their right. Most struck shields, but a few hit Rahain flesh, and the first cries of dying echoed through the air. More bolts were shot down from the shop, and from the squads kneeling by the alleyway. Hundreds of Rahain were pouring through the gap, and the number falling grew, until the ground was carpeted in the dead and injured.

  There were screams from within the shop. Daphne found the nearest sergeant.

  ‘Get in there and help them,’ she yelled.

  The sergeant grunted, and pulled his soldiers through the side door. Ahead, the Rahain were advancing along the main street, their numbers increasing as more crammed through the gap in the wall.

  ‘Where is that fucking flag?’ cried Chane, huddling behind the corner of the alleyway, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

  The front ranks of the advancing Rahain were now level with the alleyway. Daphne glanced at the remaining soldiers behind her. Two squads of swords.

  ‘Get ready,’ she muttered to Chane, then she turned to the others, her sword in the air. ‘Follow me!’

  She surged her battle-vision and sprang from the alleyway. She kept to the left of where the row of kneeling crossbow squads were shooting, and charged into the enemy’s flank. Her sword flashed, slicing through light leather armour and Rahain flesh, severing limbs and cleaving torsos. On either side, the sword squads formed a wedge, with her at its head and Chane a yard behind her.

  Daphne forgot everything else as she satisfied an urge to kill. She moved faster than anyone around her could keep up with, her blade a crimson blur. Not one death made the slightest difference to her pain, but she felt freer than she had since learning the fate of her family. Every Rahain she struck down she imagined was the Creator, and no matter how many versions of him she killed, she never tired of it, her battle-visio
n thrumming its rhythm through her.

  She felt hands grip her shoulders and pull her back. She spun, ready to kill again.

  ‘Steady!’ Chane yelled. She pointed up. ‘The flag!’

  Daphne glanced at the Upper City. Flying from the ruins of the Old Tower was a great green standard.

  Chane grabbed her arm and started running, dodging the dozens of dead Rahain that lay bloody on the ground. Daphne followed, sheathing her sword and keeping her head down, while around her the other Holdings soldiers were also fleeing, scattering down the maze of side streets and alleyways away from the southern gate. The Rahain pursued, but the narrowness of the roads, and the prepared roadblocks slowed them down.

  Daphne turned a corner and stopped. They had reached a large, marble fountain marking the edge of Nethertown, where a great barricade had been erected. It lay in silence. She turned, and gazed back they way they had come, as dozens of Holdings soldiers ran into the square.

  ‘Looks clear,’ Chane said. ‘We’ve lost them, for a few moments at least.’

  She pulled a hipflask from her armour, and took a swig.

  Daphne called over the officers present: two lieutenants and a handful of sergeants.

  ‘Get everyone through the barricade,’ she said. ‘Split up into squads and run for the garrison bridge. Horses will be there for you. Good luck.’

  ‘Are you not leaving with us, my lady?’ said a young lieutenant.

  ‘I’ll wait until we’re all through, but I’ll be right on your heels.’

  The officers and sergeants nodded. They began to lead their squads into a house flanking the main barricade, where a path had been kept open through to the other side.

  Chane offered Daphne a cigarette.

  She took it and leaned against a wall, watching as the remaining Holdings soldiers lined up by the fountain, queuing to enter the house.

  ‘All going to plan, then,’ said Chane.

  Daphne laughed.

  ‘How you feeling?’ Chane said.

  ‘I’m going to kill him, just not today.’

  ‘And I’ll be by your side when you do it.’

  ‘Thanks, Chane. You know, I’m sorry about everything that happened between us. We shouldn’t have left you in Sanang. It was a mistake.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it was a long time ago,’ she said. ‘I hated you for it. I mean, you took that arsehole Mink along with you.’

  ‘Did you know he testified against me at my appeal?’

  ‘No, but it doesn’t surprise me. He probably got a cushy job, somewhere safely behind the lines. It’s always the same. The competent get punished, and the idiots get rewarded.’

  The last of the soldiers entered the house and Daphne stubbed out her cigarette. Down the street towards the southern gate she could hear the noise of the approaching Rahain.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. They sprinted across the square and entered the house. At the end of a dining-room, a large hole had been knocked through the wall, and a half-squad stood on the other side.

  ‘My lady,’ said the sergeant, ‘are you the last?’

  She nodded, and they passed through the hole and into the back room of a shop.

  The sergeant raised his arm, and the other members of the squad kicked away a series of wooden supports that were braced against the wall. There was a loud crash as the ceiling fell, blocking the way. They emerged from the house into an empty street, the enormous barricade behind them. Empty houses and shops flanked either side of the road, and a light breeze was blowing rubbish across the deserted cobbles. The city felt cold, despite the warm autumn sunshine.

  ‘To the cavalry garrison, everyone,’ Daphne yelled, and they set off.

  After twenty minutes of hard running, Daphne, Chane and the squad neared the long walls encircling the garrison. The gate to the river was lying open, and they sped through.

  ‘Holder Fast!’ an officer cried out. She approached. ‘You’re safe, thank the Creator. Come this way, your horse is ready. The rest of the company has already departed, except for us, who were awaiting your return.’

  There were a few dozen soldiers and horses clustered by the gate, preparing to depart.

  ‘Did Chancellor Holdwick and Queen Mirren get away in good time?’ Daphne said.

  ‘Yes, my lady. They requested that I pass on their thanks for standing fast at the southern gate while the rest of the city could finish evacuating. They also said that they hope to see you soon at the Red Hills assembly point.’

  Daphne nodded. ‘And the Prophet?’

  The officer stopped. ‘He refused to leave the citadel, my lady.’

  ‘Damn,’ Daphne muttered. She gazed at the Upper City. ‘He’s up there on his own?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  A soldier led out Daphne’s white stallion, saddled and ready to go. Daphne rubbed his flank with her right hand, then mounted. Around her, the last members of the Hold Fast Company still in the city climbed into their saddles. They formed up with Daphne in the centre. Chane manoeuvred her mare to Daphne’s right. The officer whistled, and they began to troop out of the gate. They turned right, and trotted onto the bridge leading to the royal ramp. At the other end, a new gate had been punched through the city wall, and a road had been laid to connect it to the ramp. On the far side of the gap stretched the endless Holdings savannah, and in the distance Daphne could see thin trails of dust made by those who had evacuated before them.

  As the officer spurred her mount towards the new roadway, Daphne paused.

  ‘Wait,’ she said.

  She turned back in the saddle, and gazed up the ramp to the Upper City.

  Damn Prophet.

  ‘My lady?’ said the officer.

  Daphne frowned.

  I know what you’re thinking , said a voice in her head. Please don’t.

  But I can’t leave you up there to die.

  I’m staying in the Upper City so that you can all get away , the Prophet said. Don’t ruin my plan by trying to rush to my rescue.

  Daphne bowed her head, a tear coming from her eye.

  Don’t weep for me, Daphne dear. I don’t deserve it. I am responsible for much of the pain in your life, but please let me do this so I can pay back some of what I owe you.

  But the Creator will kill you.

  I know, but by staying here he will have to deal with me, instead of pursuing you. He will have to fight me. He will win, but I intend to make the price of his victory high. Now, go. Be on your way. And when you see your daughter, give her a kiss for me. And maybe, when she’s older and you mention me, I hope you will tell her about this day, and not about the times I let you down. Farewell, Daphne.

  She wiped her cheek. The other soldiers were gazing at her, their horses stationary.

  ‘Are you alright?’ asked Chane.

  Daphne nodded. She wheeled the stallion around, taking a good look back over the city, the capital of her nation, now under occupation.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re really leaving,’ Chane said.

  ‘We’ll be back.’

  Daphne kicked her heels, and the stallion cantered forward. They raced down the new road, through the gap in the city wall and out into the plains. Low grass covered the land ahead all the way to the horizon. The hooves of their horses thundered over the hard ground, sending a cloud of brown dust into the air behind them. After a few miles, Daphne slowed. She brought the stallion to a halt, and turned, Chane and the others joining her.

  Chane pointed. ‘Look!’

  Tiny black specks were circling the Upper City in the distance, like files buzzing round a dungheap. Some swooped in, trying to land, but every time they got close, their winged gaien would wheel away, as if in terror.

  ‘The old bastard’s holding them off,’ Chane said.

  The cycle repeated, but no matter how many carriages were brought near to the citadel, their flying mounts would turn back at the last moment, as if they were encountering an invisible barrier. After a few minutes all of the winged gaie
n flew away, except for one, which took up position hovering above the palace.

  ‘The Emperor,’ muttered Chane.

  The Holdings stared at the Upper City from their horses, but for a long moment nothing happened, then the buildings crowding the surface of the tall promontory began to melt as if they were made of butter left out in the midday sun; their stone walls collapsing and toppling. Great chunks of masonry fell into the river below, as the palace and the cathedral disintegrated into rubble. A grey cloud of dust rose from the ruins, and the grinding noise of tortured stonework reached their ears across the plains.

  Chane pulled her hipflask from her armour.

  ‘To the Prophet,’ she said, taking a swig and passing it to Daphne.

  Holder Fast gazed up at the ruined palace and citadel, and lifted the alcohol to her lips. She passed it back to Chane, then turned her stallion.

  She raised her right arm, the reins wound through the crippled fingers of her left hand.

  ‘To the Red Hills,’ she cried. ‘Follow me.’

  Chapter 17

  A Dozen Days in Kell

  N orthern Kell, Kellach Brigdomin – 23 rd Day, Second Third Autumn 507

  ‘Fucking weather,’ moaned Flora, as a gale threatened to send her off the narrow path and down a ravine.

  Keira cackled, the sound of her laughter lost in the howling wind. The rain was driving hard, and the path slippery. Flora looked up at her and pointed at an old abandoned goat shed, halfway down the hillside.

  ‘We’ve got miles to go yet,’ Kallie said.

  ‘I need to get out of this rain,’ cried Flora, ‘just for a couple of minutes.’

  Keira shrugged, and Flora ran down the slope and into the goat shed.

  ‘I like her,’ said Kallie, as they followed the Holdings woman, ‘but she’s slowing us down.’

  ‘Tough shit, Kallie-Wallie, she’s coming.’

  They stepped into the rough stone building, and out of the wind and rain. Flora had already taken her pack off, and was drying her face with a towel. She was shivering.

  ‘Light the storm lamp,’ Keira said to her, then gazed around the interior of the shed. Old, rotting heaps of straw covered most of the floor, and a wooden workbench sat in a corner. She pulled her pack off and released the handaxe from its straps. She hacked the workbench to pieces, then turned to see Flora lighting the lamp she carried everywhere. Keira threw the wood into a pile and shot a flame out from the lamp, igniting it.