Malack prepared one of the vessels for launch. Heaving with all his might he was able to drag the vessel to the water’s edge. He raced back to the second vessel and lifted one of the barrels of Blackpowder. Carefully he carried it down to his vessel and stowed it aboard. Repeating this process several times, Malack transported all of the valuable Blackpowder to his boat. But as he hoisted the final barrel to take it to his launch, he paused.
Malack carried the barrel to the second boat and wedged the barrel under the rearmost seat near the tiller. Opening a pouch at his belt Malack drew out a spool of fuse. He worked swiftly to prepare the charge and run out the fuse as he walked backwards to his boat. When the spool reached his vessel Malack severed the fuse and prepared it for lighting.
Double-checking his vessel, Malack ensured he had everything he might need, including a set of oars. Satisfied that he was as prepared as possible, Malack struck a flint and lit the fuse. With a mighty shove Malack set his own vessel adrift, then splashed into the inlet after the boat and clambered aboard. In spite of his fatigue Malack reached for the oars and began to row for all he was worth. He had not seen the Blackpowder in action and was unsure just how large an explosion the small barrel would yield.
As Malack left the inlet the flame sizzled along the fuse and disappeared into the barrel. The resulting explosion was deafening as it tore through the afternoon air. Shards of shattered timber from the small boat rained down across the inlet as oily black smoke rose into the air.
“By the gods!” Malack exclaimed loudly as he witnessed the devastation. He shook off his surprise and began rowing with all his might. There was no way his erstwhile companions could still be resting. His very survival depended on his ability to reach Vitaem before the soldiers could catch up. They would be hard pressed without a boat, but Malack was not one to leave anything to chance.
Satisfied that there was no threat of immediate pursuit, Malack resumed his journey towards Vitaem. As he heaved against the oars he gave thanks for the morning’s rest. Alone with his thoughts, Malack reflected on the events that had led him to his present course.
Malack regretted the duplicity but it was unavoidable. Andara was dying—there was little doubt. The new Empress was proving spirited and resourceful but a declaration of war against Vitaem when Andara could scarcely feed its own people was foolish and naive.
Malack had lived on the streets all his young life, and fighting tooth and nail just to survive had become second nature. While the Empire had paid for his services it was also responsible for the desperate and desolate circumstances he had been born into. I don’t owe that woman anything, Malack told himself as he heaved against the river current. And now after years of eating the scraps that fall from her table I can have . . . so much more.
Beltain would reward him handsomely, both for foiling the plot and for the provisioning of the Dwarven Blackpowder. Dwarves were stubborn traders at the best of times. To secure so large a quantity in such desperate times would prove invaluable to Vitaem and her interests.
Chapter 7
Vitaem, residence of the Chancellor
The messenger trotted hastily into the Chancellor’s chambers. “Chancellor Beltain, you are wanted in the East ‘arbor.”
Looking up from his desk Beltain asked, “Why? What’s the matter? It’s almost evening—can it not wait until the morning?”
“I’m ‘fraid not, Chancellor. A boat ‘as shown up in the ‘arbor. The guards’ve arrested ‘im on account of the contraband in ‘is possession. They suspect ‘e had something to do with th’explosion earlier.”
“What explosion? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”
“About two hours ago there’s a big blast on the river. The smoke—we could see it from the walls. We doubled the guard and sent a patrol and then this fella showed up. The guards were already suspicious and searched ‘is vessel. Stowed aboard they found a big load of Blackpowder. It’s valu’ble but dangerous, and this fella is rowin’ about with enough to blow a hole in a castle wall. The guards were going to throw ‘im in the cells but ‘e started callin’ for you. Thought I’d let you know, in case you wanted to speak with ‘im.”
Beltain set his quill down and stood. “I suppose I’d better. I haven’t the slightest clue why such a person would wish to speak with me, but for the safety of our city I had better speak with him.” Beltain lifted a heavy woolen cloak from a hook on the wall and fastened it about his shoulders. It was barely spring outside and the evenings could still be quite chilly. Gesturing to the door Beltain commanded, “Lead on.”
Beltain’s office and residence were a part of the Council Chambers, a large edifice constructed in the island’s center. The Council Chambers were the heart of Vitaem, and from their vaulted halls they conducted the affairs of the nation. Free of monarchs or tyrants the people of Vitaem had regulated their own affairs by the voice of the people. All who served in the Council were nominated on their merits and expected to serve as advocates for the people in the Council’s discussions. The Chancellor served to mediate those discussions, in the event of an impasse the Chancellor’s vote would break ties or if need be propose a new course of action.
Leaving the august structure Beltain followed the messenger into the city. Even at this late hour the streets were thronged with people. Well-known and beloved by the citizens, the Chancellor was given a wide berth, and the two men made quick progress through the cobblestone streets.
The city of Vitaem was an engineering marvel—hemmed in by rivals on every front, the small nation had little choice but to build upwards. Every street was lined with large multi-purpose structures. While the ground level was frequently occupied by mercantile endeavors the subsequent levels were broken down into hundreds, sometimes thousands of living quarters. A home with land was a commodity unknown on Vitaem, space being a luxury that its people could ill afford to waste.
The result of these structures was a veritable maze of city blocks stretching up into the sky. As the sun sank, city workers began to make their way along the cobblestone streets filling and lighting lanterns to ensure there was still light for those navigating the shadowy streets at night. Following the messenger through the busy streets Beltain eventually found himself at the East Harbor.
The guard on duty immediately recognized the Chancellor and waved them through. Making their way along the dock the messenger led the Chancellor to a guardhouse, a structure sunk into the harbor’s immense wall and another example of the ingenuity of the city’s engineers.
Chancellor Beltain was waved through the doorway and led down a corridor, at the end of which was a shaft sunk into the floor with a ladder protruding from it. Beltain protested. “Come now, I’m an old man. Surely you can’t expect me to scale that rickety death trap at this hour. Whoever this fellow is, fetch him up here and bring me a seat.”
One of the guards descended into the shaft while a second ran to fetch the desired chairs. Turning to the messenger Beltain spoke next. “You may go, and my thanks for your services.” The messenger bowed curtly and disappeared back the way he had come.
After a few minutes the guard reappeared. As he emerged from the pit he turned and hollered down into the hole. “Up you come now and be quick about it. The Chancellor is waiting.” Drawing his sword the guard continued: “Any funny business and I’ll run you through.”
There was a grunt of acknowledgment from the pit and a moment later a familiar face appeared at the ladder’s head.
Sighing, Beltain spoke first. “Malack, what the hell are you doing back here? I thought I made myself quite clear.”
The scraggly figure still shackled at the wrists spoke quickly. “Indeed you did, Chancellor, and I relayed your message. Her Imperial Majesty heard it in full as you requested.”
Beltain glanced around the chamber at the guards. Making a shooing motion he addressed them. “You may go—shackled as he is, he is little threat, even to an old man such as myself.”
“B-but Chancellor
, it’s-it’s not wise—” the guard stammered.
“Go now,” the Chancellor responded, cutting the guard off mid-sentence. “I wish to speak with this man alone.”
The guards exchanged nervous glances and disappeared down the corridor leading back towards the harbor. When the guards had disappeared Beltain fixed Malack with a stern gaze. “What are you playing at Malack? You are meant to be in Andara stalling the Empress. We needed every day you could buy us. Now, instead of doing as we asked, you turn up here in our harbor, slinking about.”
“I wasn’t slinking about, Beltain,” Malack protested. “I rowed here looking for you.”
“And why would you do that?” The Chancellor’s impatience at the turncoat’s disobedience was growing by the second.
“Because the bloody Empress wasn’t content to sit about and starve to death, Beltain. The spoiled little brat has a spine after all.”
“To what end?” asked Beltain.
“War, Beltain—the prissy little Princess-turned-Empress is willing to go to war over the Elkhan.”
“Let her,” the Chancellor laughed. “Her men would starve to death outside our walls while her people riot. Without her soldiers present, they’ll cut her down as they did her parents.”
“Not that sort of war, Beltain. I’m sure your soldiers told you of the explosion that shook the river a few hours ago.”
“Indeed, I’m told it was visible from the walls.”
“Well, that was Yaneera’s plan—have a bunch of her soldiers row up the Elkhan after dark and blow your precious causeway to kingdom come. The explosion your men saw was a single barrel of Dwarven Blackpowder. There are another eleven stashed in the vessel I rowed into the East Harbor. I stole it while the others were resting and made my way here so that their plan would fail.”
“Hmm . . . an ambitious gambit indeed on her part—more than I would have expected from her,” mused the Chancellor. “What a shame she trusted you with it.”
“I’ve worked for her father for years,” Malack replied. “When she discovered many of her own soldiers were involved in her parents’ death she had few choices. She chose wrong. I’d rather work for you than starve to death, Beltain.”
“I do like a practical man, Malack. Seems you’ll be useful after all.”
“—glad you’re starting to see a return on your investment. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting me out of these shackles, it’s been a very long day.”
“Hold your horses, Malack.”
“No, you listen to me, Beltain, I’ve rowed all night for the last few nights straight. This afternoon I had to kill a boy in cold blood to steal that powder, only to have to row it single-handed up the river to you. After all the blood, sweat and tears I’ve poured out for you today I still find myself sitting in a Vitaem prison cell in bloody shackles.” Malack shook the shackles in exasperated fury, his voice raising as his frustration mounted.
At the commotion the guards stormed in, swords drawn, fearful that the Chancellor’s life was in peril. But Beltain raised a hand to stop them before they could strike. “Easy, boys—it’s alright. Malack’s just a little over-tired is all—he bears us no ill will. Corporal, if you’d be so kind as to unshackle him it would be greatly appreciated.”
The confused corporal looked at Malack, then back to the Chancellor. “But sir . . .”
“No buts, Corporal. Malack is a guest of ours—it’s just a simple case of mistaken identity. He’s also brought us a gift. Is this any way to treat a guest?”
Stunned, the corporal simply shook his head and proceeded to sheath his sword. He walked over to the prisoner and lifted a set of heavy iron keys from his belt, then proceeded to undo the shackles binding Malack.
As the bonds were loosed Malack wrung his wrists. “That’s a bit of Vitaem cruelty right there.”
“What do you mean, Malack?” Beltain asked.
Malack laughed. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to climb a ladder with those things on?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the experience,” Beltain chuckled. “Now that you’re free let’s take a look at those gifts you brought with you.”
“Of course. But first, my knife,” Malack said, looking to the corporal, who cast a glance for Beltain’s nod before restoring the weapon to the prisoner. “And now,” Malack continued, “Where is my vessel?”
“It’s out on the dock, where you came in. I set a guard—it won’t have been touched.”
Beltain and Malack followed the guards out of the guardhouse and onto the docks. There, still tied at the end of the pier, was Malack’s boat. Malack stepped down into the vessel, and the small boat rocked with his weight until he got his balance. Malack reached beneath the seat and drew out a barrel. Placing it on the dock, he drew his knife and prized open the lid.
“Dwarven Blackpowder, Beltain, and there are almost a dozen barrels of it, less the one I used for that display earlier.”
“You have done well, Malack. I’ll see you are rewarded for your efforts today. Guards, see that those barrels go to my chambers.”
“Handle it with care, lads,” Malack cautioned. “There’s enough powder there to blow you all into next week.”
The corporal eyed the barrel with skepticism and then addressed his men. “You heard the Chancellor—get that ship unloaded and the cargo to his quarters.” The corporal thought for a moment before adding, “And be careful about it.”
As the soldiers set to work Malack continued: “Beltain, there is still the matter of a dozen Andaran soldiers camped on the bank of the river. I left them without means of transportation and I’d prefer they didn’t make it back to Andara.”
“Getting cold feet, are we, Malack?” Beltain jabbed.
“Not at all, Chancellor. I’d simply rather the Empress believed we failed in an earnest attempt, rather than know I betrayed her. Only a fool courts enemies in this world, Beltain.”
“Wise counsel, indeed,” Beltain replied. “There is already a patrol heading downriver. We’ll dispatch the cavalry to cut them off before they reach Andaran territory.”
“I appreciate your efforts, Chancellor. Would it be stretching the friendship to find a bathhouse? I could sorely use one.”
“We have plenty of those in Vitaem, Malack. Follow me—I’ll see that you are taken care of.” Beltain put his arm around Malack and ushered the Andaran turncoat into the city.
Chapter 8
Amendar, capital city of Andara
Mavolo made his way through the streets. It had been weeks since he had been out of the Palace, reticent to leave the Empress’s side after the attack, lest someone harm his charge. He had watched over the Empress since she was a child, loving her like a daughter since he had no children of his own.
As Mavolo marched the people fell back in respect. The people well knew that as a young man he had claimed victory in the Champion’s Court, a tournament hosted by the Emperor each year. People from all walks of life were welcome to participate, but Mavolo was especially low-born, the son of an Andaran wheat farmer who labored to wrest a living from the land. Mavolo had been a large youth and working the land at his father’s side had allowed him to develop his considerable physique.
Mavolo’s victory at the Champion’s Court attracted the Emperor’s attention. It was unprecedented for a peasant to pass through the preliminary rounds, let alone triumph in the finals. At his victory he was awarded a commission in the Palace Guard, the wage and station bringing welcome security to his family—and it would have been folly to refuse the Emperor. It was the first of five consecutive victories for the mighty Mavolo.
At the fifth victory the Emperor promoted the eager warrior to personal protector of his daughter Yaneera, heir to the Empire of Andara. From that day forth Mavolo was never far from the child’s side, and he had served her faithfully ever since. It had been many years since the Champion’s Court, but the people were slow to forget their champion. From lowly farmhand to five-time Champion of the Court, Mavolo was a hero
of the people.
Following the Empress’s directions as best he could, Mavolo eventually located the home and knocked three times at the door. From within Mavolo could hear the sound of footsteps and then the door swung open. In the doorway stood a woman, her sleeping child clutched to her shoulder. He recognized her immediately from Yaneera’s vivid description.
The woman looked up at the giant occupying her entryway and backed away in fear. From her wide-eyed expression Mavolo supposed only her child’s presence kept her from shouting in surprise. Mavolo raised one hand reassuringly. “Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm. I am here on behalf of Her Imperial Majesty Empress Yaneera.”
“I-I don’t understand,” the woman stammered. “What does the Empress want from me?”
“Nothing at all, madam.”
“Then why are you here?” the woman asked in confusion.
“The Empress wished for me to deliver these personally.” As Mavolo spoke he swung a heavy burlap sack off his shoulder and the woman stepped back to let him through the door. Mavolo set the sack down on a table just inside the door and proceeded to open the sack. From within Mavolo drew out two large loaves of bread, a large slab of cured meat and an array of vegetables. “These should last you some time. When they run out you are to come to the Palace stores and they will be replenished.”
“I don’t understand. How . . . ?” The woman’s voice dissolved into tears.
“The Empress saw you and your child in the streets,” Mavolo explained. “She will not suffer her people to starve—this food comes from her own table.”
The woman sobbed openly as Mavolo folded the empty sack. As he turned to leave he felt the woman’s hand on his arm. She looked up at him, her red eyes still glistening with tears of gratitude, and spoke softly. “Tell her, thank you.”
When The Gods War_Book 2_Chronicles of Meldinar Page 6