Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  They stopped at the crest and looked down on to a rocky, semi-circular bowl at the bottom of the slope. A perfect campsite. They could hear voices now, indistinct, quiet, and to Owen’s ears, foreign.

  ‘Hassan,’ he said, beckoning the lad to him. ‘Is that Erebeshi?’

  Hassan bobbed his head. Beside him Killen nodded. ‘I can understand a word or two.’

  ‘They are talking about food. How they need to go back to the river to fish tomorrow,’ said Hassan.

  Owen smiled.

  ‘Best we introduce ourselves, then. Hassan, you do the honours.’

  The scout stood up and cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting out something in the fast-paced language of his home. It was followed by a period of silence.

  ‘If I were them I’d be shitting myself right now,’ whispered Killen. Owen raised an eyebrow but couldn’t disagree.

  Hassan called out another sentence.

  ‘Something about friends and … fish?’ said Killen, looking at Hassan.

  ‘I said that we had a stash already caught.’

  ‘Ah, right, appeal to their bellies.’

  And then something was shouted back.

  ‘They want proof,’ Hassan translated.

  Owen grinned. Proof was it?

  ‘If we wanted you dead, you would be. The dwarves who were chasing you already are,’ Owen shot back.

  ‘You’re welcome!’ added Killen.

  Another period of silence followed.

  ‘Come then. Be warned, we are armed!’ came the reply in the imperial tongue. A woman’s.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Owen stood and the others followed. He raised his hands high as he worked his way slowly down the slope.

  Ahead of him a group of people huddled together, dirty-faced and wearing ragged mismatched garments of wool, cloth and animal skins. He counted thirteen. All of them wielding some kind of weapon, a knife, a crude spear, even a rock, no doubt quickly snatched from the ground.

  Making it to the bottom Owen lowered his hands and made a point of looking at each survivor in the eyes. There was nothing he hadn’t seen before: fear, mistrust, desperation, hunger. Yet he also saw defiance and determination. Especially in the eyes of the woman standing in the centre of the group. She looked of a similar age to Killen, perhaps almost forty, it was difficult to tell. They all had hard, thin faces, earned through hardship and rough living. There were none older than the woman and no children either. The question was, where had they come from?

  ‘Do you all understand Imperial?’ Owen asked.

  The woman nodded.

  ‘Some better, some not so.’

  ‘You recognise who I am with?’

  ‘Yes, though I do not believe my eyes.’

  ‘My name is Owen Derle. This–’

  ‘Major Killen Roche, at your service, madam,’ said Killen, with a bow.

  ‘And I am Hassan bin Hamad, of the Second Erebeshi Scouts,’ added Hassan, proudly. ‘We have come to take you home.’

  Owen smiled. Nicely done, Hassan. With that the tension evaporated. In the group shoulders sagged, weapons fell and there were gasps of relief, laughter and in the eyes of the woman, tears of joy. She said something in Erebeshi and two figures emerged from behind rocks, both carrying loaded crossbows.

  ‘My name is Lila bin Galan. And you are welcome to our camp.’

  Two hours later a new camp was established closer to the river. A fire was built, and the smell of cooking fish wafted through the air, combining with the fresher scent of mint as tea was brewed. Owen knew they risked giving away their position to any enemies who might be abroad but these folk needed some normality back in their lives. Right now they were scattered among the scouts, conversing in their own language, enjoying the hospitality and companionship that the Erebeshi excelled at. This was more important than hiding. This was about living.

  Lila sat opposite him across the fire, a teapot suspended over the flames. A plate with the remnants of a fish supper lay on the ground next to her and she cradled a cup of tea. As traditional, Owen and Killen had cooked and served her the meal, exchanging only light talk and pleasantries. Owen had found it a little awkward, given the circumstances, but Killen had conducted himself with a confidence and gentle touch borne of long experience.

  ‘Lila,’ asked Killen, ‘would you be willing to tell us your story?’

  She took a sip and sighed, making a point of squaring her shoulders and sitting back. There was something quite regal about her, a certain poise.

  ‘Yes. I will tell you all I know. But I am unsure. Who is in charge here?’ She looked at Owen. ‘I have heard the soldiers call you general. But you do not look like one.’

  ‘Ah, in all matters, we defer to Owen,’ said Killen, grinning. ‘I am but a simple Imperial officer of scouts. This one is our leader.’

  Lila nodded her understanding.

  ‘Yes, sometimes leadership is found in the strangest places. It reminds me of the one who brought about our escape from the dwarves. She was the last person you might expect to take charge.’

  Owen leaned forward.

  ‘And where is she now?’

  Lila shrugged.

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘You became separated?’

  ‘No. We chose to travel south, wintered up in the hills north of here. The others? Everyone made different decisions. Some headed north to the Plains. Some, those of Celtebaria, travelled with us for a time. But many stayed with Cade, heading west, last we saw.’

  Killen held a hand up, he had a confused expression.

  ‘Lila, just how many of you were there?’

  ‘After the river? Many thousands, I think. But there were more on the eastern side, those that didn’t make it, slaughtered by the dwarves.’

  ‘Thousands?’ asked Killen, quietly.

  ‘Thousands,’ repeated Owen. What was this? He thought Lila and her band were just another isolated group. She was making no sense.

  Lila put a hand to her forehead. ‘I am sorry, I have not been clear, have I?’

  Owen reached for the tea. ‘Lila, start at the beginning. Tell us everything.’

  CHAPTER 2 – CADE

  Cade yawned, threw her arms wide and stretched her legs, pointing her toes out and tensing her whole body. She released with a contented sigh and enjoyed a few moments of the warm late-spring sunshine playing across her skin. Eyes still closed she rolled on to her side, better to face the balcony doors. She had taken to keeping them open at night; it was that warm, even at this time of year. Why had she not known about just how damn pleasant this region was? If she had she would have upped sticks from Aberpool a long time ago. Why be cold and miserable when you can be warm and miserable?

  As the fog of deep sleep began to lift, her mind started to focus on the day ahead. What did she have to do again? Ah, yes, meetings. Wonderful. Just like yesterday, then. And the day before. And what would be on the agenda of said meetings? Hmmm: food, housing, security, law, order. And complaining. Lots of that. The best thing that could be said of meetings was that one could sit down. And, in her case, get up and go to the drinks tray when she had a mind to.

  Cade opened her eyes. And shut them again. Damn, that was bright. She should have drawn the lace curtains, at least. She rolled over on to her other side and scootched across the over-sized mattress, dropping a questing leg over the side. Gaining purchase, she pushed off and hauled herself out of bed. She reached down and collected a green silk robe and wrestled herself into it, at the same time walking towards the balcony. She stepped out and was greeted with a now familiar vista of a gently rolling hillside making its way towards a thin stretch of beach and the sparkling waters of the Brevis Sea beyond.

  Squinting against the rising sun, she spied a couple of small fishing boats bobbing sedately and could just make out the figures manning them. In the foreground a couple of folks were wandering up the slope between the rows of vines that ran in parallel lines up towards her villa. Thank the Gods Below, the s
courging of the Empire had robbed it of most of its people and treasures, but not its agriculture.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Cade? You up?’

  ‘What does it sound like?’

  ‘You want breakfast?’

  ‘Have you bought it on a tray for me?’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

  ‘Right.’

  With no more conversation coming, Cade shook her head. You just couldn’t get the staff these days. No respect. She crossed to the table and the water-filled stone basin set against the wall and splashed her face with the cool water. She reached for a goblet by the basin and inspected its insides, stained red by its previous contents.

  Empty.

  This was no way to break her fast. She dressed quickly, shedding her robe and replacing it with simple brown trousers, cinched with a rope belt, a grey tunic and a darker-shaded brown leather waistcoat. She patted the left side of the waistcoat to check the blade was still in the inside pocket. Happy all was well, she grabbed her boots and made for the door which opened on to a short corridor which in turn led to the landing overlooking the entrance hall to the villa. She could hear voices from below and traipsed down the smooth marble stairs, heading for the open door to the kitchen, a large, bright room that took up most of the rear of the villa. In front of her was a long table occupied by Rula and Issar. Anyon stood by the central oven, inspecting whatever was inside. She shook her head – Anyon, an actual, trained cook. Who knew? Beyond him Evan appeared from the pantry, carrying a bottle.

  ‘That wine?’ she asked, as she grabbed a seat at the head of the table.

  ‘It’s oil,’ replied Anyon, before Evan could respond.

  ‘What’s the point of putting oil in a bottle,’ Cade muttered as she looked over the food laid out before her. Fresh bread, fruit, some cheeses and chunks of salted pork.

  ‘It’s good stuff, from the south,’ said Anyon.

  Ah. That reminded her. ‘Got any coffee?’

  ‘Here,’ Rula passed her a metal pot.

  Cade nodded her thanks and opened its lid, taking in the rich aroma.

  ‘Damn but I’ve taken a liking to this stuff. Erebesh is a place of marvels.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Issar.

  ‘I didn’t say all of it was marvellous.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ said Issar, with a snort.

  ‘And you never said your lot grew this stuff.’

  ‘Not something I thought needed saying. I never expected to drink any again.’

  Cade grabbed a clay beaker, poured herself a healthy portion and took a sip. Hot, bitter and sweet all at the same time. ‘And how come we never heard of it in Aberpool?’

  ‘Because your city was on the edge of nowhere. It might have been a port but the traffic was always into the Empire, not out. It was always the last place to get anything new,’ said Issar. She couldn’t argue with him there. ‘Besides, the Empire was only just waking up to what we already knew. It was all the rage in the Riverlands. Vyberg had coffee houses springing up on every street corner.’

  ‘D’you reckon we could grow this stuff up here?’ Cade asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think the climate is right.’

  ‘What do you mean, it’s lovely and warm!’

  ‘Warm yes, but some crops need real heat, proper Erebesh heat.’

  Cade huffed. ‘I’m too delicate for that.’ She reached out and crammed some pork into her mouth. ‘Hmm, Evumm?’ she mumbled as she chewed.

  ‘Yes, Cade?’ said the lad, taking a spot at the table.

  ‘How many sacks of coffee we got left?’

  ‘Er. Two I think. At the rate we’re drinking it, we’ve only got a few weeks supply left.’

  ‘That’s a problem. Anyone else got any that we know of?’

  ‘You’d have to talk to Sent. He runs the market,’ said Anyon.

  ‘Great, no special favours then. You’d think a man like him would be all about making deals.’

  ‘Only when you’ve got something to trade with,’ said Issar.

  Hmm. They had something, they had vines. And that was what mattered. ‘How’s the crop looking?’

  ‘Carlha swung by and said if the weather continues to play fair, there’s no reason we can’t produce a nice drop this year. She’s got quite a vineyard herself on her island,’ Issar replied.

  It was Cade’s turn to snort. Smart lady. ‘Amen to that.’

  Cade sighed and leaned back on her chair. Life was … not too bad. Who’d have thought they would have ended up here? The godsdamned motherlode. A series of islands, large and small, connected by raised stone bridges and causeways, the primary purpose of which was to facilitate the industry of wine-growing. When they had arrived, they had discovered the place empty of life and the small settlements left to fall into disrepair. Yet many structures were still sound, and in the cellars of the vineyards and in the cave systems that dotted the coastlines of some of the islands, were stores of grain, salts, spices and mercifully, barrels of wine. Just enough supplies to get them off the ground as folk got established and started fishing, farming and hunting.

  Cade took another sip of coffee and then reached out and tore off a chunk of bread. ‘What’s on the agenda today, people? Personally, I intend to take the day off and spend it watching grapes grow.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ muttered Issar.

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘You have a meeting at midday over on the Big Island.’

  ‘You’re shitting me!’

  ‘Look at my face.’

  ‘That doesn’t help me at all.’ But now that she thought about it, someone had mentioned something. Seemed to her like they were having meetings every bloody day. And why did they always expect her to be there? Couldn’t they reach a bloody decision without her? Devlin’s scarred and hairy face swam into view, admonishing her that if she didn’t some other asshole would. Fucking Devlin. He had a point. There was no one else she could trust. She fixed Issar with a glare. ‘Well, what time is it now?’

  ‘Breakfast time?’ suggested Evan.

  Cade closed her eyes and took breath.

  ‘We’ll need to leave in an hour,’ said Issar.

  Good. She nodded and opened her eyes.

  ‘I’m going down to the wine cellar. Come fetch me when the wagon is ready to roll.’

  Anyon took the reins and Cade climbed up next to him, Issar and Rula taking spots in the back, squeezed next to a half-dozen barrels. The axles groaned as they made their sedate way along the one track on the island taking them north. Other than the villa, most of the rest of the land on their small island was given over to grape cultivation, except for a cluster of white stone buildings gathered at the causeway. Most of her crew stayed in the villa while a few folks who wanted to work on the crops or fish the waters stayed by the causeway. There was no one about as they rolled past the estate workers’ dwellings and on to the stone roadway. She always took a moment to be impressed by the construct beneath her. Built hundreds of years ago, huge stones were piled one on to another, in the manner of a harbour mole, and a packed, cobbled surface laid on top. The inland Brevis Sea was largely benign, except for storm season, and the causeways had endured with little maintenance. Cade gazed left and right taking in the view of a dozen islands scattered near and far in the shallow coastal waters of the sea, each of them linked to at least one other and in turn all of them connecting to the Big Island. Cleverly named for being the largest island in the chain as well as being almost the nearest to the mainland. These islands were still some distance from the city of Brevis itself but had made that city rich through the wine they exported.

  ‘Hey Issar, tell me again why we are giving away our wine?’

  ‘Because we have it and someone else would like it.’

  ‘And what do we get out of it?’

  ‘Um. Food?’

  ‘Huh. Whatever.’


  ‘And supplies,’ added Rula. ‘I need herbs, roots, medicines and bandages if I’m to do my job.’

  Cade sniffed. She still didn’t understand why Rula didn’t just set up shop on the Big Island. Being one of a handful of healers meant she could have made a mint. She suspected Devlin had asked the woman to hang with them. Not a bad call she supposed, the midwife had proven herself and Cade almost respected her no-shit attitude.

  The wagon rolled on to the next island, slightly larger than Cade’s and home to several ‘family’ groups who had banded together to work the land. A half mile later and they were crossing another causeway on to the Big Island itself, once a home with a different name to a thriving mercantile community, there had been little common land not taken for habitation or commerce. It still shocked her to see it so whole, so normal. The town had been emptied during the war, and yet the place had been left largely intact, like the invader had not bothered to swing by, like it wasn’t worth their effort. It meant there was plenty of real estate to go around and there were still plenty of buildings to fill. They reached the end of the causeway where wharves spread left and right, and a fledgling fishing fleet was out at sea making big catches. As they rolled on, other businesses announced themselves with crude signage: smiths, butchers, carpenters and the like. And of course, an inn or two. Cade was impressed how quickly everyone had fallen into their old habits and looked to forge niches for themselves in this new world. She was no different, but it was nice to be doing something a little more legit than she was used to.

  The street took them to the centre of the island, and with it a large square that had once been the administrative hub. A wide, squat building, the old merchants’ hall, sat on the west side facing a now empty and broken fountain. The facade of the building had once held several statues that had been torn down and smashed, but a central frieze of fruiting vines over the doorway still proudly depicted the island’s wine-growing heritage. Gathered around the square were a dozen market stalls and a bunch of folk bustling among them.

  ‘Here we are!’ announced Anyon, utterly unnecessarily.