The Magelands Epic: Soulwitch Rises (Book 7)

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ said Carrie. ‘I know the “no questions” rule, but, you know, the cargo the Rakanese merchants are transporting, I, um… Is it, eh… legal?’

  The wagon-master’s daughter raised an eyebrow. ‘We are not amateurs,’ she said, then turned her eyes to the front. ‘Alright,’ she whispered, ‘listen. The export taxes on their cargo have to be paid before leaving the Plateau; that’s the part that the merchants may have neglected to complete. Once they’re in Kellach, they only have to pay the import duty, which is a pittance in comparison to what the empire charges.’ She smiled. ‘And since the Kellach never ask to see the export licenses, the merchants’ business here is entirely legal.’

  They reached a huge open expanse of ground on their right, and followed the lead wagon as it turned into it. Lines of wagons were parked against the high fences that ringed the open square, and low stone warehouses bordered two of the sides.

  Behind them, the large carriage turned away from the rest of the caravan, its horses pulling them to a separate section of the large park. The wagon-master’s daughter waved back at the driver.

  ‘That’s farewell to our passengers,’ she said to Lennox and Carrie. ‘They have no cargo, well, that we know of, so they don’t have to declare anything other than themselves.’

  ‘Do you know why they’re here?’ said Lennox.

  ‘No, and if I did I still wouldn’t tell you, just as I would never tell them anything about you. My father and I charge a premium for our discretion, and we have a reputation to keep. Your ability to keep secrets is essential if you decide to come and work for us.’

  ‘But we have time to make our minds up?’ said Carrie.

  ‘Yes. I intend to relax for about a third before I start recruiting guards and drivers for the journey back. Even then, I tell you now, if you were to turn up just before we due to depart, then I would find space for you. You have my word.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Carrie.

  Workers were guiding the wagons of the caravan into their parking berths, and Frieda led their horses into position alongside her father’s wagon. She wrapped the reins round a post and jumped to the ground, Lennox and Carrie following her. Cain and Leisha walked over from the other wagon as Frieda joined her father.

  Cain rubbed his hands together. ‘We fucking did it. We’re here.’

  ‘This is pretty civilised,’ said Leisha, gazing around. Her expression was fixed, but Lennox could see she was upset.

  ‘Did you see the school?’ said Carrie.

  ‘Aye,’ she said, her eyes lowered.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Leisha said. ‘What were we supposed to do, head back into Rahain on our own? My bairns will have a new mother now; they won’t even remember me.’

  ‘They’ll always remember their real mother.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Come on,’ said Lennox, ‘we’ve got plenty of time to talk about that. We need to remember what we’re doing now; and that means staying quiet until we’re past this customs business.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Cain, ‘we can get drunk and morbid later.’

  They watched as officials approached Johan and his daughter. The two Rakanese merchants passed the wagons, nodding to Lennox and the others as they joined the officials, who were beginning to write notes in their ledgers. The merchants handed over purses of gold to the officials who counted it in front of them, then passed out receipts engraved on thin slate.

  An official nodded over to the four guards, and the wagon-master retrieved a rolled up document from his cloak. The officials inspected it, then wrote in their books. Carrie glanced at Lennox.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he muttered, ‘just look like, I don’t know, guards.’

  After a few more minutes wide smiles broke out on the faces of the wagon-master and the officials, and hands were shaken.

  ‘All done,’ said Frieda, striding towards them.

  ‘What were they saying about us?’ said Carrie.

  ‘They just wanted to make sure we weren’t paying you below the minimum, and on the subject of pay, let’s head to Branegan’s so my father can buy us all drinks.’

  ‘I promised you a party,’ said the wagon-master, raising his mug, ‘and I never break my promises. Here’s to you all; another successful journey completed.’

  The group round the table lifted their mugs together then drank. Around them, serving boys and girls were loading the table with plates and bowls filled with steaming piles of roasted vegetables and meat.

  ‘But we cannot forget,’ Johan went on, ‘that three brave guards lost their lives on the journey, betrayed by those cowardly bandits, whom I should never have employed.’ He glanced at Lennox and the others. ‘You could have joined them but you remained true. Thank you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said one of the Rakanese merchants, ‘we owe you guys.’

  His partner threw a bag of gold onto the table. ‘This is for you. A little bonus from us.’

  Lennox opened the bag.

  ‘Gold and weed,’ said the merchant. ‘If you can’t spend it, smoke it.’

  Lennox smiled and placed the bag next to the gold they had received from the wagon-master.

  ‘We’re fucking loaded,’ said Cain. ‘How much is a bottle of whisky in here?’

  ‘If you take my advice,’ said Johan, ‘you should count out enough to guarantee yourselves a good time tonight, then deposit the rest in the manager’s strongbox. He’ll give you a ticket for it and keep it safe.’

  Leisha stood. ‘I’ll do it now, before we get too drunk and blow the lot.’ She picked up the bags, then dropped the one they had received from the Rakanese back onto the table. ‘Be seeing you soon.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Cain, ‘make sure you don’t run off with it.’

  Leisha smirked and walked off through the small dining room towards the door.

  ‘That’s the last we’ll see of her,’ said Cain, pouring himself another ale.

  ‘You’re going to have to tell us,’ said a voice from the neighbouring table.

  Lennox and the others glanced over. A dozen Kellach were seated a few yards away, finishing off lunch.

  ‘Me and my friends here,’ said the man who had spoken, ‘we were wondering about yer accents. Not one of us can place them, so you’re just going to have to tell us.’

  ‘This is a private dinner,’ said Johan, ‘and these folk are my guests.’

  ‘Aye?’ said the man. ‘We know you, we’ve seen you here before. They work for you, do they?’

  ‘They did, but no longer as of today, since we have just arrived after a long and tiring journey. Too tiring for questions. We would appreciate some time to relax and chat among ourselves, if you don’t mind.’

  The man grunted. ‘Fair enough.’ He turned back to his colleagues, but Lennox could see more than one of them cast suspicious glances their way.

  The wagon-master leaned in. ‘You’re going to get a lot of that.’

  ‘We know,’ said Carrie. ‘Your daughter warned us.’

  ‘Well, I hope you have a good story.’

  Leisha walked back in. She sat down at the table and picked up her mug.

  ‘Well?’ said Cain.

  ‘Well, what?’

  ‘Is the gold… safe?’

  ‘Aye. It’s all in the strongbox. Manager took my name and room number, and gave me a wee ticket.’

  ‘What name did you give?’ said Carrie, her voice low.

  ‘Like we agreed. Leisha ae Lisa ae Lach.’

  There was a laugh from a woman sitting at the other table. ‘I knew it!’ she cried. ‘Pay up, it was me that said they were turnip-eaters.’

  Lennox frowned.

  ‘They don’t sound like Lach to me,’ said the man who had spoken earlier. ‘They’re not from any part of donkey-shagger-land that I know of.’

  ‘Doesnae matter,’ said the woman, putting her hand out. ‘The lassie just said she was Lach. Pay up.’

  ‘But
what about the rest of them?’ said another. ‘How do we know they’re Lach?’

  Lennox glanced over at them. ‘I am.’

  The woman grinned. ‘See?’

  ‘But those two are Kell,’ he went on, nodding towards Cain and Carrie.

  ‘No way,’ said the man.

  ‘Come on,’ said the woman, ‘who’d admit to being Kell if they weren’t?’

  ‘Aye, right enough.’

  ‘What the fuck are you saying’s wrong with being Kell?’ cried Cain.

  The wagon-master stood and banged his mug on the table. The room quietened to look at him.

  ‘So we have two Lach and two Kell, now we know. Excellent. However, I beg you to remember that there are two Rakanese and two Holdings here also; so if you could keep your clan quarrels for later, I’d be much obliged. I’ve seen many such arguments over the years, and have learned well how they generally end. In other words,’ he went on, raising his mug, ‘please let me get drunk before you start hitting each other.’

  The folk at the other table laughed, and cheered on the wagon-master as he drained his mug.

  The drinks flowed swiftly after that, and the party ate lunch accompanied by endless mugs of ale. With empty plates being cleared away by the serving boys and girls, the manager walked in and placed a bottle of whisky on the table.

  ‘Branegan, my man,’ cried the wagon-master.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ boomed the manager, his long red hair tied in braids over his shoulders and reaching his waist. ‘Welcome back to my tavern; this is on the house.’

  He sat down to chat to Johan and Frieda as the whisky was opened and poured out among the group. Lennox accepted the offered glass and took a sip.

  ‘So, you’re Lach then. Fine,’ said the woman from the other table.

  He glanced over and saw that she had moved her seat closer to them.

  ‘But that doesn’t explain where yer accents are from,’ she said.

  Lennox looked at his companions. Leisha and Cain were chatting to the Rakanese, but Carrie caught his eye and nodded.

  ‘We were born and brought up in the mountains of Rahain,’ he said.

  ‘No shit? Fuck. Yer parents were hauled off as slaves, aye?’

  ‘Aye, though none of us remember them. We were raised in a camp for orphans by Rahain slaves. I guess we talk a bit like them.’

  ‘Yer not Creator fanatics, are ye?’

  ‘No, though we believed when we were kids. We ran away as soon as we could, and hid in the borderlands, fending for ourselves, until we were driven out by soldiers. Then we went down to the Plateau, but with the war on, folk were suspicious, and we moved on.’

  ‘So yer saying that yer not spies?’

  ‘We didn’t even know folk lived down here. The Rahain told us it was empty; a desert.’

  The woman looked from him to Carrie, her eyes narrow.

  ‘We only want to settle,’ said Carrie, ‘and live in peace.’

  The man at the other table who had spoken before glanced over. ‘What’s their story, hen?’

  ‘They’re from Rahain,’ the woman said.

  The man stared. ‘Fucking Army of Pyre?’

  The room stilled in an instant as everyone turned.

  ‘Is that true?’ someone shouted. ‘Are they Army of Pyre?’

  ‘No,’ said Lennox, ‘we’re not.’

  ‘You do look like soldiers,’ the woman said, ‘and yer saying that ye ran away from Rahain.’

  Branegan stood. ‘We’ll have no Army of Pyre scum staying under this roof.’ He turned to the wagon-master. ‘What kind of folk have ye brought me?’

  The Holdings man squirmed in his chair. ‘He just said he wasn’t one of them.’

  ‘Aye,’ Branegan said, his face red, ‘but do you believe them?’

  ‘I believe them,’ said Frieda as the atmosphere grew colder. ‘They were loyal and faithful the whole journey. I vouch for them.’

  Johan shrugged. ‘If they’re good enough for my daughter…’

  Branegan rubbed his large chin and stared at the four companions. ‘I know war, and I know soldiers when I see them. The only Kellach Brigdomin soldiers from Rahain are Army of Pyre. You made a big mistake coming here.’ He nodded to a serving boy. ‘Fetch the militia.’

  The boy stared wide-eyed for a moment, then ran off.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ said the wagon-master.

  Lennox stood. ‘You don’t want us here, we’ll leave.’

  Leisha, Carrie and Cain lined up by his shoulder. The Kellach at the other table also got to their feet, and glared across the room at them. They numbered over a dozen, and Lennox noted several who looked like they would be handy in a fight.

  ‘Just give us our gold,’ he said, ‘and we’ll be on our way.’

  Branegan laughed. ‘Your gold? Tell you what; I’ll keep your gold, and I’ll let you walk out of here before the militia arrive.’

  ‘You can’t let them leave,’ someone cried. ‘Not if they’re Army of Pyre. Everyone knows what those bastards have done.’

  ‘Calm yourself,’ Branegan said. ‘There’s only four of them, but I’ve heard how they fight.’

  ‘Fucking right,’ said Cain. ‘We’d shit over the lot of you.’

  Someone from the other table leaped forward, aiming a fist at Lennox, but he swerved out of the way and punched the man on the nose. The table was upended with a roar as the other group charged at them, while the Rakanese merchants ducked under their own table for shelter.

  Lennox barrelled his way towards the door as fists and boots landed from every direction. He kept his arms up, wrestling through the clutches of the group. A punch struck the side of his head, and he flinched but kept going, shoving folk from his path. He reached Branegan in time to see Leisha smash a bottle down onto the manager’s head, blood spilling as the man toppled over the table. Lennox reached the doorway, and glanced back, pulling Carrie by the arm. Seeing his friends bunched next to him, he turned and ran along the passageway and through a quiet bar area, before bursting out onto the street.

  He kept going, Leisha, Carrie and Cain a pace behind him. They reached a crossroads and turned left, dodging startled passers-by as they sprinted along the pavement.

  ‘Wait!’ came a cry behind them.

  Lennox glanced over his shoulder. It was the wagon-master’s daughter.

  ‘Wait,’ she called again, running after them.

  Lennox slowed a little to allow her to catch up, then turned into a narrow alley. His three companions and Frieda followed him down the lane, and they halted, Leisha keeping a watch on the road as the wagon-master’s daughter gasped, putting her hands on her knees as she panted for breath. Lennox wiped the blood from his face as he waited for her to recover.

  ‘You must leave the town,’ she said, her voice rasping. ‘The militia will be looking for you after that.’ She glanced at them and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no choice.’ She reached into her cloak and handed Lennox a bag. ‘This is the gold the Rakanese gave you; it was all I could grab in the confusion. Use it to travel west. Go down into the Domm lowlands, where fewer people will care about your past. Either that, or get a better story.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, stowing the bag into a pouch on his belt.

  ‘I’d better go back,’ she said. She smiled. ‘Good luck.’

  The four companions watched as she made her way back to the main road and disappeared from sight.

  Cain spat on the ground. ‘Kicked out of Threeways after only a few hours. Are you still sure we did the right thing coming here?’

  Lennox glanced at his friends, each of whom bore injuries from the fight in Branegan’s.

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘We’re still alive, aren’t we?’

  Chapter 13

  Refuelling

  Southern Plateau – 16th Day, Last Third Autumn 525

  A hand shook Keir’s shoulder.

  ‘Time to get up, sir.’

  He groaned and opened
his eyes to utter darkness.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I’m awake, dammit,’ he muttered.

  The tent flap rustled and Keir felt the cold in his bones. All he wanted to do was gather the blankets, roll over and go back to sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. He sat up, his hair brushing the top of the tent and making it wet from the condensation. He hated tents. Uncomfortable, cold and cramped. A dull flicker of a lamp shone through the canvas, giving him enough light to pull his boots back on. He had slept in his clothes again, refusing to strip down in the low temperatures of the southern plains of the Plateau, where the last of the autumn winds were gusting down from the hills to the east.

  His hand rubbed his face, and he felt the stubble under his fingertips. He hadn’t seen a mirror for many days, but knew he looked a mess. He pulled the blankets aside and crawled through the tent entrance. With the exception of a few half-shuttered lanterns, the camp was in darkness; a necessity brought about by the proximity of the Rahain forces that he had spotted with his vision powers a few days before.

  He stumbled to his feet, and an orderly handed him a mug of lukewarm tea and a lit cigarette. He grunted in thanks and took a slurp.

  ‘Morning, sir,’ said a lieutenant close by.

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘It’s four hours after midnight, sir, as requested.’

  Keir glanced around. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he began to pick out clusters of troopers and officers standing in groups, their cigarettes ends dancing like fireflies.

  ‘Shall I take you to Lady Thorn and the commanders, sir?’

  He nodded, and followed the lieutenant as he strode between the tents littering the ground, their boots cracking through the thin layer of frost into the mud beneath. They reached a guarded area, and the only tent tall enough to stand upright in. Troopers saluted as they entered the front half of the tent, the rear being reserved for Thorn’s private sleeping quarters. The area was filled with cavalry officers, chatting, smoking and drinking their mugs of tea; and was lit by a few hanging lanterns.

  An orderly noticed his arrival and nudged the senior officer, who glanced up.