Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  Even on his knees, the giant Syklan swung his hammer one-handed and caved the second man’s skull in. The first, who had scored a hit, was stunned from a gauntlet punch. The second Syklan was at his side in an instant, and her glowing blade cut the soldier down.

  “This way be demons,” Jonah quoted the verse of an old poem telling the story of a prince descending into hell to save his love. Well, his love was already dead, killed by his very hands, but he might still be able to do something good with what was left of his life.

  Branson handed Fin his big blade and pinged two arrows off the two Syklans’ armour, making them take a step back.

  “Looks like we’re back to the old ways then,” Fin said, drawing his big sword. “It was an honour knowing you, gentlemen.”

  “Sometimes older is better,” Branson growled pinging another shot into the two monstrous warriors. This time his arrow stuck in a gap on the giant’s elbow. “Ha! Take that, you damned ogre!”

  Metal-clad feet marched down the street, and enemy foot soldiers with spears and shields ran to form up around their two commanders.

  Jonah’s hand reached his back beside him and found the white knife of his Empire. He popped the bow onto the clip on Branson's back and found the button on the knife’s hilt.

  A white metal shaft shot out from the handle turning the knife into a spear and Jonah felt the familiar tingle of the memories of his ancestors reignite within him.

  Jonah made his peace with this world. If he were to die this day, he would finally die fighting for the right reasons. “Branson, cover me. Fin, protect Branson, and both of you stay behind me.”

  He lunged forward and became the wind and the desert snake, he became the monk and the soldier. If any being could become one with the battle itself, it was he. His spear slapped aside the enemy footsoldiers’ spears as if they were children playing at soldiers. He ducked beneath a spear thrust as the thousands upon thousands of hours and experience of the great warriors who held this spear before him flowed through him. He saw attacks before they came, noting a shift of a foot, a twitch of the shoulder, and moved out of the way, or deflected those he could not avoid entirely. All of this he understood and executed within the few split seconds it took him to cover the distance to the first shield in the shield wall.

  His foot found purchase on the shield as easily as climbing a stair.

  Space cleared around the roaring giant as Jonah launched up into the air, twisting and somersaulting over the line of shields.

  The spear spun in his hand catching the light as he flicked the blade down through the visor of the giant Syklan, and he knew any who saw it would know it instantly as the legendary White Spear, The Spear of the Empire.

  The giant roared in agony as Jonah landed, thrusting the long unbreakable shaft between the man’s legs as he dived beneath the sideways counter-swing of the huge hammer. Jonah levered the spear against the other metal-clad knee, rocketing the big man’s back leg out from under him. He yanked the spear free spun it through the air and stabbed down through the giant’s neck.

  Twin glowing hot blades flashed forward in a blur, and he fell back under the onslaught. Dancing back, then leaping into a wide looping kick followed up with a wide slicing arc of his spear, he knocked the enemy footsoldiers’ spears backwards to create space.

  Branson’s arrows took two footsoldiers down, and several more arrows clanged off shields as Branson tried to push the enemy soldiers off Jonah.

  The faster Syklan advanced again, the globes on her armour pulsed and the heat of her swords dwindled only to be replaced with crackling energy.

  His White Spear shot forward, feinting this way and that, yet his enemy was good, very good. She dodged expertly testing his attack for weakness and waiting for an opening.

  There.

  She struck, unleashing the electric charge meant to stun him, yet the White Spear drank in the released energy as if it were water.

  When Jonah did not convulse in shock, it surprised his enemy and left him the gap he needed.

  He found the gap in her armour at the hip. The white blade cut through the chainmail. He switch-kicked off his back leg, propelling her backwards. Her injured hip made her leg buckle, and she went down.

  He slammed the spear down hard, and the white blade at the end of his spear only needed a slight purchase and Jonah had used it to shear through steel before. The blade punched through the breastplate and into the Syklan’s heart.

  The enemy foot soldiers stood stunned as they watched him pull the White Spear free.

  “I AM GRAND DUKE JA’ AL ONA HASHI! THE EMPIRE IS TAKING THIS CITY. SURRENDER AND LIVE!” Jonah yelled at the top of his lungs. “Fin translate!”

  He needed the people here to understand the language spoken in Kenz, the language Fin had learned so quickly.

  Yet the enemy soldiers held as they heard the yells of reinforcements behind them.

  “Move!” Sheba roared behind them.

  Jonah, Fin and Branson turned and then dived out of the way as Bamu, untethered from the steam wagon, thundered towards the line of soldiers. The yamuuk had its head down, and the enemy spears skittered off the wide horns which covered nearly all of the beast’s head. Bamu smashed into the front row and then swung his head side to side. The hooked horns sweeping out from the giant head threw men from their feet and broke the line of soldiers like an angry tornado throwing children’s toys from its path.

  The enemy soldiers broke and ran back down the street from where they had come, and the tide had turned. Suddenly Kutsal soldiers were forming up around them coming in through the hole in the wall behind them.

  More boats had landed and were starting to unload.

  “Sir! Reinforcements should continue to fall in. A sapper team got onto the bridge and took down those catapults,” a Kutsal captain reported after snapping a salute at Jonah, all the while staring at the spear in Jonah’s hand.

  Sure enough, a steady stream of soldiers was barrelling through the breach in the wall as well as a few other steam-wagon teams and even a platoon of sappers who went to quick work tossing smaller grenados down the street which the enemy had retreated.

  A dozen screams followed the detonations, and Jonah waved them forward to take advantage of the chaos in front of them. Hundreds surged up the street and archers began to climb the houses and buildings all around them to get a high position around the shields.

  Jonah got to the forward position beside the captain who had reported to him. Branson came up beside him.

  “Here, put this on. They need to see you. I’ve had this damn thing in my pack ever since we set sail, about time you started lugging it around instead,” Branson growled as he put a golden yellow cloak, embroidered with the bright red symbol of House Hashi, over Jonah’s shoulders.

  Part of Jonah had missed its familiar weight.

  “Good to have you back, sir. Rumour was that you had disappeared somewhere, I guess now we know where. You probably don’t remember, but I served under you at Beo Lima outpost. I was just a footsoldier back then.” The captain nodded in appreciation of the cloak.

  Jonah’s fingers found the leaf-embroidered clasp of the cloak and his jaw tightened but only for a second. The clasp had been a present from Ilene, from the woman he had loved, the woman he had murdered after she had murdered their child. That part of his soul would never be whole, would never truly heal, but he had finally come to terms with his pain and the sins of his past. He had to believe there was still time to do some good before he left this world, still time to lead his people to a better future living in this land. That started here by securing this city with as few losses on both sides as possible.

  “Thank you, captain. You’re with me, then, for the rest of this siege. I will command the ground troops as they come in. Make it known I want civilian casualties avoided at all costs. I want houses and buildings cleared before the sappers’ strike, and any enemy combatants will be given medical treatment once they surrender. We want this cit
y in as good a shape as possible once we take it. The objective is to capture that bridge, get those catapults off our boats and push into the other side of the city. I need you to signal to the Eternal Hand who are waiting to strike, use this.” Jonah handed the man a blue flare, the signal of the grand duke. “They’ll know what it means.”

  The captain gave the order, and a man ran back to the breach and lit the flare.

  “Once the Hand get here, we’re going hunting, captain. I need to bring down as many of those metal-clad demons as I can. I want the sappers to clear a path to the bridge and if any more Syklans come to stop us, circle back and let the Hand and I deal with them.”

  The captain began bellowing orders and shortly after, there was another detonation from up the street and the sound of Kutsal soldiers cheering as they rushed towards the soaring bridge.

  “You two, stay safe. I will need you once we have the city. Our work starts today.” Jonah looked at Fin and then at Branson.

  “We will.” Fin nodded to him as a dozen of the Eternal Hand came running up through the breach in the wall. Each member of the Eternal Hand had given blood to the White Spear and had been blessed with a portion of the ancestors’ knowledge. They were the Empire’s best and together would fight as if they shared one mind.

  “ Jonah?” Branson said, grasping Jonah’s shoulder firmly.

  Jonah turned back, his cloak caught a faint breeze and his red sigil upon its golden background billowed about them both in the wind.

  “Don’t die. We need you.” Branson bent and touched his head to Jonah’s, and they mouthed a prayer together.

  Jonah nodded. “You just make sure we have our people in place once we have the city.”

  “We will,” Fin said again and laid back against a wall as a field surgeon began to pull thread across the gash in his face.

  With that, Jonah turned and hefted the White Spear. The Eternal Hand fell in behind their grand duke as if he had never left. Jonah ground his teeth in frustration about the killing he would have to do to try and end this war his Empire had started, but he felt the strength of his ancestors once more as he held the spear and began to run up the street.

  ***

  Four gruelling hours later the Kutsals finally held the famous soaring bridge of The Narrows along with the island portion of the city. From their heightened position, the Empire turned the catapults onto the land-based part of the city. Foot-bowmen took position along the bridge in support and rained destruction down on the enemy. Between each volley Jonah had interpreters screaming at the enemy commanders to surrender quickly, so no one else had to die. Each refusal was met with another volley of death from above until they surrendered. Jonah made sure that both sides received medical attention once the fighting was done.

  Fin was true to his word, and the secretive operatives of the Ninth scattered throughout the army spread the word that the grand duke had re-emerged to take command of the city. The Empress had sent her greatest general and champion across the Barrier Sea with her blessing to claim the mythical holy land prophesied.

  Jonah climbed to the top of that majestic bridge and looked out to the sea as the sun set and watched the wavering line of gold upon the waves. He hoped capturing this city would be enough. Now that the Kutsals had it, they would try to make it as impregnable as possible. They would be on the lookout for sappers. Once word of their success was sent back to Dawn, Prince El’ Amin would be on the first ship to the Narrows, and Jonah knew his cousin would not take too kindly to this usurpation of the crusade which had been meant to win El’ Amin the throne.

  Things were about to get messy, but he had to find a path back to peace and toward the integration of his people in this land. It was the only truly viable future they had.

  49 - A Meeting of the Blood

  I’ve coded things correctly and set up the interface.

  I know they will eventually try integration after what Raidho has discovered. If you are reading this ‘sentinels’ – SentinelMemSkip.Thread.run()– and forget you ever saw this.

  - Journal of Robert Mannford, Day 180 Year 69 (2nd to last entry)

  Jonah

  The Narrows, Aluvik

  “He wants a meeting?” Branson scowled. “It’s a damned trap, and you know it, Jonah.”

  “It’s not.” Jonah shook his head. “He’s going to come to me, not your standard way to set a trap I think you’ll agree.”

  “I’ve killed people that way, the target sets the place for the meet, and they feel more confident, less likely to see traps because they feel secure,” Fin added.

  They all turned to him.

  “Not helping.” Jonah grimaced.

  “Well, I have.” Fin held out his hands in protest. “Why do you seem so sure he’s willing to talk?”

  Jonah thought for a minute and couldn’t nail down exactly what it was. “A hunch,” he said simply.

  “Great. Let’s wager the future of the Empire on a bloody hunch. Sounds like a plan to me.” Branson rolled his eyes. “What could possibly go wrong?!” He got off his seat and made to grab Jonah’s head. “Let me look at you, you’ve obviously regressed somehow. Is the Dokan of the Empire in there, the great tactician? Grand duke, are you in there?”

  “That’s not funny,” Jonah replied through clenched teeth.

  “Good, ’cause I wasn’t bloody joking!” Branson huffed and kicked the stool he had been sitting on.

  Field Marshal Shah ducked through the entrance to, what was until very recently, his command tent. They had set up within the main square of the Mayoral Estate, not wanting to displace any of the residents of the Narrows from their homes, but also wanting everyone to know that they were here to stay.

  “Apologies, grand duke, you told me to inform you of Prince El’ Amin’s arrival,” the field marshal said with a bow.

  “Thank you, Field Marshal Shah. I would again like to thank you for your cooperation. I am sure you would have preferred me to make my presence known before the assault on the Narrows began.” Jonah placed one hand over a fist in an apologetic gesture, hoping he hadn’t ruffled this man’s feathers too much.

  Field Marshal Shah returned the gesture, “Again, as I have said, it is not my place to question the Blood of the Empire. I am glad to have been of service.”

  “Please escort the prince to the command tent, we have a lot to talk about.” Jonah gave a quick smile and accepted the field marshal’s bow as the man left to retrieve the prince.

  “Well, it seems you have things in hand then.” Fin slapped his thighs and stood. “I’m off to go find some volunteers to be new clan mothers and fathers here in the Narrows.” He shook his head in wonder. “Loads of children and people living on the streets in this city as well.”

  “That wasn’t part of the act?” Branson asked, squinting at Fin as he tried to discern any hint of a lie from the long-time spy and assassin.

  “That part was always real,” Fin answered with a sad smile. “Probably the most real thing about me. That rumour I started about killing a clan-father who had been a paedophile was true. I nearly lost my commission in the Ninth over that.”

  “So, what do you mean volunteers?” Branson asked.

  “The children on the streets are classified as ‘orphans’ with no family or parents, which to us Kutsals doesn’t make much sense as someone had to give birth to them. Over here, there is nowhere near enough support for mothers, and many find they cannot raise or support the children they have found themselves with. It is so far removed from what we know, but it is a real problem within this new land.

  “I’ve been talking to many within the army who are willing to give up soldiering to become clan mothers or fathers. It is a little-known fact, as the positions are always coveted by Kutsals and there is rarely a vacancy, but in Imperial Law, the role of clan mother or father takes precedence over military obligations. All that’s needed is the right bit of paperwork, and voilà, a new clan is created which is comprised of the ‘clanless’ children,
along with any other ‘clanless’ citizen of the Empire who chooses to swear allegiance to that clan. Positions for clan mother and clan father are then required, along with their supporting staff.”

  Fin smiled then, genuinely proud of what he had accomplished, it was the most unguarded expression Jonah had ever seen on the spy’s face. “It proved very popular back in Dawn.”

  Branson looked at Fin as if he had only now seen him for the first time. “And how many new clans does the Empire now have?” Branson asked incredulously.

  “At last count when we left Dawn, the tally had risen to twenty-three new clans, most of which were in Dawn, but several of the newest clans were started in the small towns and cities surrounding Kenz’s capital,” Fin said standing straighter than he had a moment ago.

  “And these new clans are mostly made up of people who live in Kenz?” Jonah asked.

  “Yes, once the locals knew we weren’t going to inflict any new religion on them and saw there was a set of codified laws which even their rulers had to obey – which apparently was not the case before we arrived, and were given written contracts for wages to be received for expected levels of productivity, many welcomed the idea of clan life,” Fin explained.

  Branson and Jonah looked at each other in shock, not sure what to say.

  “I’ll be off then, Sheba is waiting for me.” Fin hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the tent flap. “Besides, it’s probably best for future relations if a man of my particular skillset is not present for this meeting. Explaining the need for a spy and assassin may prove somewhat impossible.”

  “Sheba’s in on this?” Branson asked.

  Fin just laughed, “She’s one of the people applying to be a clan mother. She wants to raise and breed yamuuk and start a clan of her own on the plains of southern Kenz. Empress save me, Branson, don’t you ever talk to people?”

  Fin ducked out of the tent, leaving Branson to gawk at his back as he left.

  ***