Resurgence

by Alex Janaway

  CHAPTER 5 – CADE

  Cade stood by the porch and watched as Carlha’s wagon trundled its way through the field towards her. A few workers waved as it drove by, disloyal buggers. It rolled to a stop directly in front of her and the driver pulled the brake.

  ‘Morning, Krste. How’s the leg?’

  ‘Still missing,’ replied Krste, with a grin. ‘I blame her for not finding it,’ he said, looking at Carlha.

  ‘Remind me again why I saved your life,’ Carlha retorted, swinging off the bench and climbing to the ground. She smoothed her long skirt and inspected Cade.

  ‘Cade.’

  ‘Carlha.’

  ‘You sound like sisters,’ said Krste.

  ‘Shut up, Krste,’ they said, in unison.

  ‘Yep. Sisters alright. I’ll be out the back,’ he added quickly, as Cade shot him a hard look.

  ‘Glad you could make it,’ she said to Carlha.

  The woman shrugged. ‘It’s no bother. I was interested to see how your crops were going anyway.’

  Cade quirked an eyebrow. Really? ‘Come on inside.’

  She led Carlha through to the kitchen, indicated a chair and went to fetch two glasses and a bottle. She placed them on the table, filled the glasses and took a seat opposite. She raised her glass in a toast and took a long drink. Carlha took a different tack, taking a long sniff before taking a small sip and letting it play around her mouth. She swallowed and gave a small ‘hmm’ of appreciation.

  ‘What’s that for? Same grapes grow on your island as mine,’ Cade said.

  ‘Not true. I’ve got three different varieties on three different plots. We get the same sun, but that’s just the start of it. Still, you’ve not got a bad drop, considering.’

  ‘Considering what?’

  ‘That you drink it all before it’s even ready.’

  Cade closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember there was a really good reason to not punch Carlha in the face. She opened them again. Carlha was smiling.

  ‘Sorry, couldn’t miss that opportunity. Forgive me. I know you’ve got a decent operation going on here.’

  Despite my thirst, huh? ‘Listen. About that. I’ve got a proposition for you.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Carlha, taking another sip.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about the future. You know, when things start getting back to normal, when proper business folk start running things. It would be good to be ahead of it all. And I was also thinking, better to be a big fish than a small one if–’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, what?’

  Carlha clasped her hands and placed them on the table.

  ‘I’ll take on the business for you. Get things running better. Adding your crop to mine we own a passable share of the overall market. But I reckon one or two of the smaller islands will go in with us, if we offer the right incentive.’

  ‘How did you–?’

  ‘Come on Cade, it was pretty obvious. You’ve been sweet-talking the taverns, trying to get them to get into bed with you. How’s that working out?’

  ‘Just fine, as it goes.’ This wasn’t the way Cade had thought this would play out. Carlha raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Well?’ She scratched her chin. ‘Cline said he was interested.’

  Carlha made a satisfied sound. ‘Cade, you wield a lot of influence here, you are the saviour and all that. Nobody is going to outright say no to you. But last thing folk want to fall back into is the old habits of intimidation and racketeering.’

  Why not? It worked just fine for Cade. ‘It’s going to happen anyway. It’s what people do.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. But only if there is an angle worth exploiting. If you take that away, then the bad shit doesn’t happen.’

  ‘Look, can we just get back to the point I was trying to make?’

  ‘I’ve already said yes, Cade. I’ll run your business. Make it legitimate. No strong-arm stuff. We make good wine, sell it at a fair price – when money comes back – get a good reputation and offer the barkeeps a good deal.’

  ‘All sounds a bit, I don’t know … safe, to me,’ Cade grumped. Where was the profit?

  ‘That’s business, Cade. We do this right and we get customer loyalty. We already have a good selling point. You.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Hero of Tissan. Use the goodwill you still have among the people. Give them a reason to toast your name.’

  An image played in Cade’s mind. Of crowds of folk sitting in bars across the islands, all shouting her name before downing plenty of her wine. Damn, if that didn’t sound like a sweet gig. They could cheer as much as they liked for all she cared. As long as they paid her for the privilege.

  ‘Alright. Sounds like we are on the same page. You run the business, I’m the figurehead.’

  ‘Best that way,’ nodded Carlha. ‘But I do have some stipulations. What with me doing all the hard work.’

  Cade scowled. ‘Figured there would be. How much do you want? Twenty percent?’

  ‘I was thinking more like fifty.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘It’s only fair, Cade. I’m bringing my vineyards to the party and my expertise.’

  ‘Well I got the muscle and a mean right fist saying you can shove it.’

  ‘What you’ve got is a workforce and one island of vines. The muscle doesn’t come into it. Besides, you’re a politician now. You have to play by the rules.’

  ‘But I’m the one bloody making them up!’

  ‘You still have to live by them.’

  ‘Whatever,’ huffed Cade. Since when did this become a bloody negotiation anyway?

  ‘Cade. As I said, I run the business, you get the profit and … I don’t know, drink it all if you want. But there was a reason for you calling me here. You know this is a good play.’

  Cade waved a hand in the air. ‘Fine, fine, but its 60:40, final offer.’

  Carlha sighed theatrically and nodded, looking like she has just given up an arm.

  Cade knew that play. ‘I suppose you want it all done legal and everything?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t worry, Issar and I are drawing up the papers.’

  Oh, great. Bloody Issar. She should have known he was part of this. It was like a damn conspiracy.

  ‘Wonderful. Great to have you on board,’ Cade muttered, making a grab for the wine bottle.

  ‘Cade,’ Carlha said softly.

  Cade stopped and eyed her suspiciously. Carlha was looking at her with a mix of sympathy and concern.

  ‘You can let your friends worry about the little stuff. Like it or not, you are playing a bigger game, you are ruling now. That’s another thing all together.’

  ‘Who said I was ruling?’

  ‘You see anyone else in charge?’

  ‘I can name one or two who want to be.’

  ‘Exactly my point. You just need to make sure that whoever it is makes the right decisions. For all of us.’

  Cade shook her head. ‘Carlha. How old are you?’

  ‘Same as age as you I guess, give or take a couple of years.’ ‘And where did you learn all this shit from? Who are you?’ Carlha smiled sweetly and raised her glass. ‘Someone who was brought up to know the difference between good wine and cat’s piss.’

  Cade took post by the porch once more and watched the wagon’s backside disappear over the horizon. She felt a little off balance, like she’d been outmanoeuvred. No, nothing like about it. She had been totally outmanoeuvred. She’d expected to come away as the head of a fledgling business empire and felt like she was nothing more than a silent partner. What was it with everyone? Why were they constantly trying to keep her on the straight and narrow? Didn’t they realise that’s not how she operated? She liked to stay on her toes, keep moving, keep the plates spinning. At least she used to. Wasn’t the whole point of this bloody enterprise so that she could kick back and get drunk. Her reward for a job well done. And what do they all do but keep badgering her to do shit. It was not right. She was the boss, not t
hem.

  She sighed. She wanted a lie down. Her eyes narrowed. What was that drumming sound? There appeared to be a ruckus up ahead, a small cloud of dust. Cade felt a familiar sinking seeking. A rider crested the rise, coming towards the villa at full pelt. Behind them followed at least another half dozen.

  She folded her arms and waited.

  They pulled up, horse caked in muck, breathing hard. The rider, a sword strapped to his back, took post before her.

  ‘Devlin. You look like shit.’

  ‘Cade.’ Devlin’s beard was full of detritus; his eyes were rimmed with dark circles. Something told her he had been riding all night.

  ‘You want a drink?’

  ‘You have no idea how much. But we have to talk.’

  ‘Figured. Come on.’ She stepped aside to let him in and then inspected his comrades. They looked no better. ‘You lot, round the back. Sort your rides out and hit the kitchen, I’ll let them know you are coming.’ She turned to follow Devlin inside. ‘Anyon! Get your arse down here. We got folk need feeding and watering. Don’t stint.’

  She led Devlin through the villa.

  ‘You want to pop upstairs to your room and get a change of clothing’ she asked.

  ‘No time. Besides, the lads and lasses don’t get that luxury.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  They went back into the kitchen and Devlin near fell into Carlha’s vacant seat. Cade poured more of the wine into a used glass and Devlin downed it in one.

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  ‘We have a problem.’

  ‘Big one?’

  ‘I need you to come and see.’

  ‘Do I need to bring my crossbow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Cade shook her head and took a draw from the bottle.

  For fuck’s sake.

  CHAPTER 6 – ELLEN

  Ellen drew her cloak tight, an involuntary action for it was not cold, though dusk was approaching. And neither was there much in the way of wind, this far into the Empire. It was not that at all. It was the path they were on, or rather, overlooked. The imperial road stretched out before them heading due east. Their camp was on a small rise just to the south of it. But what unsettled her was the crossroads just below their position, a second road made its way north. Less impressive, and less travelled. A stone marker pronounced the destination: Nostrum. Her home for many years, where as a novitiate she had been brought into the Imperial Church and taught the disciplines to nurture and hone her abilities.

  Had they been happy years?

  With the benefit of hindsight, they had not. The life had been comfortable, if hard. They had food, water, clothes and lodgings. Those who dwelled there had long hours; if not using their Gifts, they were studying, if they were not studying, they trained. If she’d been there a little longer she would have been learning to fight, to defend the Emperor. And if they were not doing all of that, they were worshipping him. Endless hours of prayer in the chapel, on their knees reciting the histories of godhood. Sleep? That came bottom of the list.

  She knew what it was all for, understood that the monastic way of life was meant to inculcate her. To make her devotion to the Emperor absolute. To die for him if needs be. And in a way, that had happened. The Gifted had been all but wiped from the face of the world. There were so few of them left now. And not one of them held any love for their living god any more. That had been bled out of them. Cardinal Yarn had been the first one to act, but she was not the first one to question her place. Try as they might to make Ellen a believer, her teachers had never been able to make her forget. Perhaps she had started too old, her opinions too formed. They all said what an honour it was, the highest calling, to be chosen. Ellen just went along with it and, even if she never said it, Yarn knew it too, and did nothing. Ellen wondered, if the war had not come and the Empire had not fallen, would Yarn have ever made a move? Would it have been possible? Even though it was unlikely she’d ever have a chance, she would have liked to ask Yarn that very question.

  She watched as three figures appeared on the Nostrum road, walking purposefully back to the camp. In the middle was Rosen, one of two Watchers attached to the party. He was flanked on either side by his marine guard, Beautiful and Wendell, but like Ellen, he had no chains on his hands, no collar on his neck. Ellen marvelled at what Michael had done, even if he had not realised it himself. He had brought goodwill and ensured the other Gifted would work for him. He had, in his own way, rebelled. The most devout, most dangerous of the Emperor’s followers, and yet he had compassion. Ellen had seen it in him, the first night they had met. Life had made him a warrior, a savage. But there was more to the man than that. She felt that Michael was realising that too, that every day he understood his own nature just a little better.

  The party climbed the rise and Beautiful nodded to Ellen as her and Wendell strode past, the marine making a comment about his empty stomach. Rosen chose to stay with her. No guards needed. Where would they go? And how would they outrun a score of bloodthirsty vargr?

  ‘All is well?’ asked Ellen.

  ‘As far as it can be,’ replied Rosen. ‘We did not go far. My memory of this place is still good. There is a brook up that way, the road passes over it, I can see it now,’ he said, tapping his tattoo. An affectation many of the Watchers had.

  Ellen looked at him and smiled. Rosen was an older man, in his fifties and grey-haired, a wild beard covered his face where once he had gone clean-shaven. He was perhaps the best of the Watchers, though world-weary and tired. Yarn’s rebellion and their imprisonment had gone hard on him. Ellen knew many of the Gifted had gone along with Yarn grudgingly at best, convinced that a change was needed, if not the method of that change. At least this relative freedom had bought a little life back into his eyes.

  ‘Can you still see it?’ she asked.

  ‘What, Nostrum?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Rosen was silent for a moment, his eyes closed. ‘I can. At least a little of it, the gates and the walls. I spent so long there the image comes to me with little difficulty. When I was of a mind to, I could even reach it from New Tissan.’ He shrugged. ‘Hard to let go.’

  ‘That is amazing,’ said Ellen. That was a truly powerful Gift.

  ‘For what it is worth.’ Rosen smiled. ‘Besides, the Nostrum I remember is not the place that exists now. It is an empty shell. So much is lost.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ he reached out and gently touched her shoulder. ‘I am thoughtless. You do not need to be reminded of that.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ She couldn’t forget it. The screaming of the dying, the bestial cries of the ogres, the heat of the fires washing over her. It had been a living nightmare. And somehow she had survived it.

  ‘At least Yarn got that right, saving you youngsters, getting you away.’ He reached up and rubbed his neck. It was still red from the chaffing. ‘Pity it led to chains.’

  ‘It might not always be that way.’

  Rosen snorted. ‘Ellen, I envy you your faith. I have lost mine. And any loyalties I had to either Church or Emperor is long gone.’ His voice dropped. ‘You’ve heard how he speaks about us now. The words he uses. He calls us aberrations, mistakes.’

  ‘He has been betrayed–’

  ‘No, that’s not it. Ellen.’ He grabbed her arm and held it tightly. She thought to pull away, but Rosen’s face looked desperate. ‘How many of us are there left do you think? And how many are born? The population of New Tissan is small. Those with any Gifts will be rare. I believe the Emperor will never again allow Gifted in his councils or walking the streets of his cities. Humanity is on the brink of extinction, even if it survives, the Gifted will not. We will be bred out of existence.’

  Ellen sighed. He wasn’t wrong. In fact, it was obvious. The Emperor’s mind would not be turned.

  ‘We have always been slaves, no matter how you dress it up,’ he continued, releasing his hold. He sighed. ‘Once again, I’m sorry, Ellen. Perhaps for y
ou it will be different. You have friends in low places.’ He dipped his head to her then continued his way back to camp.

  Friends in low places? What did that mean? Ellen shook her head, trying to figure it out. Ah. Of course. Michael, the marines, even Nutaaq and his brothers. They were the closest thing to family she had now, they had travelled the world together. And none of them ever judged her. None had ever tried to use her. If you excluded Fenner trying to get her to help him cheat at cards. She grinned despite herself.

  She did believe in a future. But it looked nothing like the past or the present. She’d thought to tell Rosen about it, to share with him the revelation she had had. But perhaps he was not ready. Perhaps none of them were. She turned to wander back to the camp, heading for her wagon and the fire tended by Gantak. She could see him now hunched forwards, and as she drew closer, she could hear the rhythms of his chants. And as she looked at the fire, she could see how the flames bent and twisted, flickering tendrils reaching into the night sky, weaving in and out of themselves. Like the fire had a mind of its own. But it was, in truth, Gantak’s will that controlled the flame. The powers of the Nidhal shamans, to shape the elements of nature, still amazed her. They had all witnessed it on their journey home, had seen how the wind had been suborned to their will. If only the Nidhal had not grown so distant in their relationship to the sea, why, they could have returned centuries ago! As it was, the Nidhal had been as surprised as the Tissans, at the application of the shamans’ magical powers. Day after day, Ellen had sat next to Gantak, had listened to his words, his phrases, the cadence and the pacing. And she had wondered if the power was purely in the incantation or if it came from within. She was still not sure. But later, much later, when all but the sentries were asleep, she would return to the fire, as she had been doing for the last six nights. She would speak the same words and phrases, and she would will the flames to dance for her.

  CHAPTER 7 – OWEN

  Lila reached out and pulled Owen into an embrace. She had another for Killen and an especially energetic one for Hassan, who tried in vain to hide his embarrassment.