Sacrifice

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘Keep that knife on him,’ she said to Kallie, and walked by the row of pallets, to where baggage had been heaped. Her eyes looked over the packs and trunks, and a thick pile of blankets.

  Her mouth opened.

  In among the blankets a young girl was lying asleep, her dark-skinned face almost hidden under the covers. Keira lifted the blankets. The girl was dressed in a simple tunic, her arms and legs stick-thin, her face gaunt.

  ‘What the fuck?’ she muttered, gazing at the girl. She looked more unconscious than sleeping. ‘Flora, get over here.’

  The Holdings woman approached. ‘What is it? Oh. Oh shit.’

  ‘Is she alright, do you think?’ Keira said.

  ‘I’m not a physician,’ Flora said, ‘but no, she looks far from fucking alright.’

  Keira felt anger grip her. She clenched her teeth and stood, turning to face the Rahain man. She strode across to him and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him clear of the chair.

  ‘What the fuck have ye done to her, ya piece of shit? I’ll fucking rip yer head off.’

  The Rahain man choked, his hands trying to pull her grip away. She squeezed tighter.

  ‘Yer going to kill him,’ said Kallie. ‘Not that I mind, but he probably knows where Kylon is.’

  Keira threw the Rahain man against the wall, his body cracking off the side of the cavern and collapsing onto a bed pallet. He rolled off and hit the floor.

  Kallie stared. ‘Ya radge cow. Ye’ve fucking killed him.’

  Keira said nothing, her eyes on the twisted shape Baoryn’s body was making on the ground.

  The curtain parted and the woman walked in, her minder lurking nearby.

  ‘What the fuck did I say?’ she said, glancing at the Rahain man. ‘This is my fucking town, ye cannae just come in here and tread all over my rules. These bastards paid me…’

  ‘Look what they’ve done to my niece,’ Keira said. ‘Sorry for breaking the rules, but this one’s personal.’

  The woman went to where Flora was crouched, and gazed down at the girl.

  ‘Holy shit,’ she muttered .

  ‘They abducted her,’ Keira said. ‘The bastards stole her from my brother.’

  The woman straightened, and turned to Keira.

  ‘The girl’s Holdings.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Then how the fuck can she be yer niece?’

  ‘Her fucking mother’s Holdings,’ Keira said. ‘Look, I don’t give a shit what ye think, I’m taking that girl out of here with me. There’s no way I’m leaving her with the fucker that stole her.’

  ‘Well, ye’ve already killed that one,’ the woman said, pointing at where Baoryn lay.

  ‘Aye, and I admit it, I’m probably going to kill the Kellach guy as well.’

  The woman folded her arms. ‘It’ll cost ye.’

  Keira bared her teeth. ‘Ye want me to pay to take my own fucking niece?’

  ‘I’ve only your word for that,’ the woman said.

  ‘Flora,’ Keira said, ‘pick up the girl.’

  The Holdings woman gathered the sleeping child in her arms. ‘I won’t be able to carry her and my pack out of here,’ she said, grunting.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ said Kallie, edging across the room.

  The woman stared at them.

  The child squirmed in Flora’s arms, then threw up down her leathers. She began to shiver, her body convulsing.

  ‘This isn’t good,’ Flora said. ‘We can’t put her on a wagon in this condition.’

  Keira frowned.

  ‘If I blow this whistle,’ the woman said, pulling a chain from round her neck, ‘these caverns will be full of guards within a minute. Put the child down, and step away.’

  ‘Don’t fucking try to stop us,’ Keira said.

  The woman’s minder put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  The curtain parted, and Kylon walked in.

  Keira stared at him. His black hair fell about his shoulders, framing his permanently down-turned expression. His long coat trailed along the ground behind him, and he had a sack over one shoulder. His eyes widened as he saw her.

  ‘You know these folk?’ the woman said.

  ‘Aye,’ he replied, his eyes never leaving Keira’s face.

  ‘This woman claims that the girl is her niece,’ the woman went on.

  ‘She is,’ Kylon said.

  The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘Seems I owe you an apology.’

  Keira shrugged. ‘Ask him if he stole her.’

  The woman glanced at Kylon. ‘No,’ she said. ‘This is family business, and I’m not getting involved in that. Your wagon though, will ye still be needing it?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Keira, ‘but not today.’

  ‘It’s three gold a day to keep it stored and ready to go at short notice. And it’ll be more if yer thinking of staying on in yer apartment until the girl’s better.’

  Keira reached into her pouch of gold. ‘Here’s fifty for now. Come and see me if we’re still in the city when it runs out.’

  The woman nodded. ‘Been a pleasure doing business with you.’ She gestured to her minder. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘So I can kick this guy’s arse?’ Keira said.

  ‘If he kidnapped yer niece,’ she said as she was leaving, ‘feel free to do worse than that.’

  The minder pulled the curtain for her, and they left.

  Keira leapt forward before anyone else could move and swung her fist at Kylon’s face, striking his nose. Blood gushed, and he staggered. Kallie drove her heel into the back of his knee and he toppled over. He reached down to pull his sword from its scabbard, but Keira stood over him and punched him again, unleashing all her strength and rage. Her fist dislocated his jaw and he went down, his head striking the side of a bed pallet on the way to the ground.

  ‘Tie him,’ she said, rubbing her bleeding hand. ‘Got a few questions for the fucker.’

  Keira paced the wooden floor of their apartment, cursing her strength. Kylon was still unconscious, and hadn’t stirred once while they had transported him, Karalyn and all of their belongings back to their rented place in the Kellach quarter. More coins had been spent on arranging the disposal of Baoryn’s body, and the entire operation had taken over three hours.

  Flora was through in their bedroom, watching over Karalyn. Keira could hear the girl’s groans and soft cries, and wondered why she hadn’t just killed Kylon. Kallie handed her an ale and a lit weedstick.

  She nodded, gazing into Kylon’s broken face. She may have scarred his nose for life. It looked swollen and bent to the right, the blood trailing down over the deep bruises under his eyes.

  ‘He’s not so pretty now,’ Kallie said.

  Keira said nothing.

  Kallie walked round the chair where they had propped up Kylon, and checked that the ropes were tight. She glanced up at Keira.

  ‘Are ye ever going to wake him?’ she said. ‘Ye cannae just stand there staring at him all afternoon.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, are ye ever actually going to wake him up?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said, frowning. ‘Alright.’

  She threw her mug of ale over him.

  Kylon spluttered, the ale mixing with the blood on his face. His eyes opened a crack and he gazed around the room.

  ‘Where’s the child?’

  ‘Safe,’ said Keira.

  ‘Baoryn?’

  ‘Dead.’

  He closed his eyes, and sobbed.

  ‘This is happening all wrong,’ he said.

  ‘Ye’ve got that fucking right.’

  ‘You being here,’ he said, his words slurring, ‘is better than I could ever have imagined. It’s fate. Kalayne told me to trust that you’d be here, all I had to do was get the child to Plateau City, and you and Shella would find us. You’re here, and Shella is surely on her way, just as he foretold.’

  He gazed up at her.

  ‘It’s all coming true, just like he said.’ More tears spilled down his fa
ce. ‘That’s why I left you, during the battle before the walls of this city. Kalayne told me I had to protect the child, and bring her here when the time was right.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Keira said.

  Kylon paused, and swallowed.

  Keira leaned over him, her face inches away. ‘What have you done to her?’

  Kylon closed his eyes. ‘Dullweed.’

  Keira and Kallie stared at him.

  ‘You fucking…’

  ‘…prick.’

  ‘Flora!’ Keira cried. ‘Get yer arse through here.’

  The Holdings woman came through to the living room and Keira glanced over at her.

  ‘We’re dealing with dullweed withdrawals,’ she said.

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘How long?’ Keira asked Kylon.

  ‘Fifteen days,’ he whispered.

  Flora’s face fell. ‘She might not make it, Keira. She’s dehydrated, and malnourished, and the withdrawal symptoms will only make things worse. Right now, a fever’s burning her up, and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Get a doctor,’ Keira said. ‘Use whatever gold we have.’ She threw the coin pouch to the Holdings woman.

  ‘On it,’ she said, clutching the pouch and rushing to the door.

  Keira pulled a chair close to Kylon, and sat.

  ‘Why?’

  Kylon opened his eyes and gazed at her.

  ‘I’m sorry. ’

  ‘Fuck yer apology, ya lowlife piece of crap,’ Keira spat. ‘Why the fuck would ye drug a wee girl?’

  ‘So her mother couldn’t find her.’

  ‘Ya sick bastard.’

  ‘I did what had to be done,’ he said. ‘It pained me, but I had to do it.’

  ‘Fuck you. It’s always the same. Ye only do bad shit because it’s for the greater good, or so ye fucking believe. Ye’ve gone too far this time, but. You fucked with my family. There’s no coming back from that.’

  ‘Are you going to kill me?’

  Keira sat back. ‘I don’t know.’

  Kallie glanced at her. ‘Not feeling sorry for this arsehole, are ye?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘but maybe we should keep him for Daphne and Killop. I’m sure they’d want a quick word with him.’

  ‘Aye,’ Kallie smiled. ‘I’m sure they would.’

  Chapter 30

  Chase

  H old Stringer, Imperial Holdings – 7 th Day, Second Third Winter 507

  Killop had never been on a boat upon the Inner Sea, but being in the middle of the Holdings plains, with nothing but an ocean of flatlands surrounding them, made him feel like he could imagine it. He sat at the entrance of the little tent, watching the sun rise in the east. At that moment in Kell, snow would be covering every glen and hillside, but in the Holdings, another warm and cloudless dawn beckoned.

  The rays of the sun warmed everything they touched, removing the chill from the air in just a few minutes as the night slipped away, and the new day arrived.

  He picked up a leather pouch. It was almost empty, but he took a pinch of tealeaves, and sprinkled them into the bottom of two mugs. He placed them by the fire, where a pot of water was starting to boil.

  He lifted his own mug of cold water.

  ‘Happy birthday, wee bear.’

  He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the silence, sending his love to wherever his daughter was.

  The tent rustled behind him, and he moved out of the way to let Chane pass. The Holdings woman crawled outside and slumped down next to him.

  ‘Morning,’ he said.

  She grunted, and lit a cigarette.

  Killop took the pot of water from the low fire and filled the two mugs.

  ‘Tea?’

  Chane took a mug, and rubbed her head, her long hair tangled and falling over her face.

  He turned and opened the tent.

  ‘Daphne, tea?’

  ‘Coming,’ groaned a voice.

  She emerged from the tent, her face tired, but her green eyes burning. She kissed him, and sat next to the fire, picking up her mug. Chane offered her a cigarette.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Well,’ said Chane, stretching, ‘another fucking day.’

  ‘Not just any day,’ Daphne said.

  ‘Shit,’ said Chane. ‘You’re right, I almost forgot. It’s Karalyn’s birthday.’

  ‘I can’t believe she’s two already,’ Daphne said, shaking her head. ‘This time last year, we were preparing to leave Slateford.’

  ‘Aye,’ Killop said, ‘and we had that wee party for her.’

  Daphne smiled.

  ‘You can hold the biggest party ever when we find her,’ Chane said.

  Killop threw some roots into the pot, and put it back onto the fire.

  Daphne glanced away, her stomach rumbling. Chane pulled a notepad and pencil from a bag and began scribbling.

  ‘Seventeen miles yesterday,’ she said. ‘That makes two hundred and eleven altogether, since we left Celine and the others.’

  ‘We’re slipping,’ Daphne said. ‘We need to do over twenty today to catch up.’

  ‘I don’t have any maps of this region,’ Chane said, ‘but I think we’re close to the border between Holds Nestor and Stringer. Shit, I’ve been down this road before, but it was ages ago. I remember passing a large settlement in Hold Stringer, where there were dozens of big tobacco warehouses, and cigarette factories.’

  ‘Wonder if any of it’s still standing,’ Killop said.

  Chane shrugged. ‘Hold Stringer wasn’t part of the rebellion, so it might have been spared.’

  ‘I don’t think the Emperor cares,’ Daphne said. ‘Every Hold he passed through has been devastated, whether they were with the rebels or not.’ She sighed. ‘And we should stop calling him the Emperor. It’s the Creator, not Guilliam.’

  ‘I know,’ said Chane, ‘but it’s hard to get my head around. I mean, why the fuck would god come down to earth?’

  Daphne shrugged. ‘Maybe he didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Would explain why he’s so pissed off.’

  The women stubbed out their cigarettes.

  ‘Ready?’ Killop said, and they nodded.

  They packed the tent and belongings up, and Killop slung the large pack over his shoulder. He stamped out the fire, and tucked the boiled roots into his belt. They walked to the road and faced south.

  ‘Will we run for an hour?’ Daphne said.

  They nodded, and set off.

  Killop let his mind wander as they travelled, keeping his eyes on the straight road as it cut across the vast plains. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the day warmed up. They passed empty fields of low stubble for most of the morning, while they alternated between running and walking. At noon, they went under a monumental stone archway across the road.

  ‘Hold Stringer,’ said Daphne, as Killop gazed at the enormous blocks of marble.

  The crops by the side of the road changed from barley to tobacco, but the fields were as empty as before, the cut stalks of the tobacco plants marking row after row into the distance.

  ‘At least they got the harvest in,’ Chane said as they strode down the road.

  They slowed as they saw a cluster of cottages and out-buildings ahead. As they approached they could see the fire damage. The roofs of the houses had gone, and the walls were blackened and scorched. The decomposing bodies of several dogs lay out by the front of the cottages, flies buzzing around them.

  They walked on, and rounded the far side of a large burnt-out barn. They stopped. Against the wall of the barn lay over a dozen corpses, lined up in a row, their heads missing.

  ‘Fuck the Creator,’ said Chane. ‘Why did he create us, if he hates us?’

  ‘He wants to terrorise us,’ Daphne said, ‘make us too afraid to disobey him again.’

  A wind caught up, blowing ash from the barn into their faces. They turned, and continued down the road.

  They passed more small settlements, each treated in the same way, wi
th no survivors. As the afternoon wore on, and the sun descended the western sky, they saw a town in the distance. To its left ran a long line of large, low warehouses that took up an area far larger than the town itself.

  ‘Stringerton,’ Chane said. ‘That’s where half the tobacco in the Holdings is stored. Somewhere on the other side of town are the factories.’

  Killop squinted. ‘Nothing looks damaged from here.’

  They walked on, approaching the town. They passed the first buildings, a pair of abandoned cottages, their windows smashed, and front doors wide open. Trails of clothes and household items were scattered across the ground.

  The sun dipped to the horizon, and it grew darker.

  Around them the town loomed, the empty, silent streets branching from the main road, with dark houses and stone tenement blocks. The seven stars appeared over the eastern horizon, and Killop used their faint light to keep to the road.

  ‘I can’t see a fucking thing,’ said Chane. ‘There’s no one here.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Killop. ‘What was that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Daphne said. ‘It sounded like a door closing. Come on.’

  They went down a side street bordered by high houses, and a low glow of illumination appeared. They turned a corner, and saw a tavern by the side of the road, light escaping from under its front door.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ said a man’s voice.

  A lamp was un-hooded, and they blinked in its bright light.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ the man said.

  ‘We’re travelling south,’ Daphne said. ‘Looking for my daughter.’

  ‘You got any food?’ said Chane. ‘We’ve got money.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘You’ll have to leave your weapons at the door.’

  ‘Alright.’

  The lamp was hooded again, and the tavern door opened. A woman and a man, both with crossbows, came out onto the street. The man glanced around, peering down the dark roads.

  ‘Were you followed?’

  ‘No,’ said Daphne.

  The man nodded. ‘Inside.’

  They went through the entrance, the woman ushering them in. The man came in last, and closed the door, sliding a long bolt home. He stared through a slit opening.

  ‘Stack your weapons by the wall,’ the woman said.