Col Buchanan - Stands a Shadow

He was first aware of trouble when he heard the distinct sound of shouting up towards the quarterdeck. He turned instinctively towards Sasheen’s quarters, saw that the Matriarch’s door was lying open, her honour guard nowhere to be seen.

Che swore under his breath, then bounded for the steps and the open doorway. He passed the two twins, Guan and Swan, standing at the top of the stairway with their expressions wholly neutral.

Inside, the guards were struggling with a group of priests who were trying desperately to protect General Romano. The man raved beyond reason, his spit flying towards the Holy Matriarch, who sat in a chair flanked by her two personal bodyguards, watching his fury with a self-satisfied smile. Che’s eyes widened as he saw a flash of a blade in the young general’s hand. A priest shouted and tried to grasp it. Beyond them, bizarrely, the severed head of Lucian sat balanced on a table, watching it all with an expression of manic glee.

Footsteps sounded behind him as Archgeneral Sparus marched into the room. He took in Che and the rest of the scene in a single unhurried glance from his eye.

‘I’ll kill you for this,’ Romano was screaming. ‘I said nothing I wouldn’t say to your face! Your son was a coward – and you, you are the-’ one of his fellow priests hissed and clamped a hand over his mouth. Romano heaved to be free of it while another priest did the same, two hands over his mouth.

Che stepped aside as the guards forced the struggling group backwards out of the room. Archgeneral Sparus stared at Romano without expression as he was dragged outside, then closed the door behind them.

Clumps and curses on the steps outside. Silence settling.

‘He does not mean what he says,’ pleaded an elderly priest on his knees before the Matriarch. ‘He is intoxicated, and distraught at his loss. He’s lost his mind for a while, that’s all.’

Sasheen flashed her eyes at caretaker Heelas.

‘Out,’ Heelas said to the kneeling priest, and lifted him with a tug of his robe to shove him outside after his master.

A wet snort came from the severed head on the table. Lucian was trying to laugh.

‘And you,’ Heelas snapped as he crossed the room. ‘Back in your jar, little man.’ Heelas lifted the head in both hands and let it settle back amongst the Royal Milk.

Moments passed without anyone saying a word. They looked to Sasheen, who no longer smiled, but instead glared at the door through which Romano had just departed. Her eyes flickered to Che. She nodded, gracefully; looked to the rest of the priests still gathered in the cabin. ‘I have reason enough, as witnessed by all here, to execute him now and be justified in doing so.’

‘Matriarch,’ Sool said, bending close to her. ‘He will soon calm himself and see his position. That will be the end of it, if you let it end here. He will understand the message given to him. He will submit.’

‘It’s civil war otherwise,’ added Archgeneral Sparus. ‘In Q’os, once his family found out, and here, in the fleet, if his men caught wind of it. A third of the Expeditionary Force could turn against us.’

Sasheen’s fingernails scratched along the ends of the armrests.

‘I will not forget those words,’ she said harshly. ‘I will never forget what he said to me, about my own son, to my face.’

In the absolute blackness the rats fussed around him. Ash ignored the creatures, his ears keen for any sounds above. Every set of footsteps overhead was a story untold to him.

It was his twenty-first day in this reeking bilge, at least by his own rough reckoning. Hours previously, he’d heard the thunderous racket of the anchor being dropped and felt the shudder of it through the timbers of the hull. At once, he’d experienced a sudden urge to climb out of his hole and make his way through the ship to the uppermost deck, so that he could see where it was the fleet had anchored; see too if he could leave the ship for good.

He’d mastered the desire though. He knew he should wait until the silence of the crew heralded nightfall before he stole outside and chanced a proper look.

In the deep hours of the night, when all was indeed silent above him, Ash decided it was finally safe enough to make his move. Fully clothed and with his sword in his hand, he left the bilge as quietly as he could, and carefully made his way up through the bowels of the ship.

The weatherdeck was the most dangerous place for him to be, and Ash crouched low as he finally made his way onto it, checking the positions of the sailors on night-duty to fore and aft. He sucked down a lungful of air and almost groaned aloud from the freshness of it. Clouds blocked most of the stars overhead, but a dim light glimmered off the masts and the furled sails.

He looked about him, blinking at the lights of a cityport that shone through the masts of the fleet. When he turned to seaward, his eyes widened to take in the awesome arch that stood with feet on either side of the harbour opening, and the clouds of barely visible mist at play beneath it.

The Oreos, Ash instantly recognized, and knew they were in Chir, in Lagos, island of the dead.

It was Khos, then. There was no other reason for the invasion fleet to be this far west, not unless they planned to wage a reckless war against the Alhazii and risk losing their supplies of blackpow-der. No, they were stopping here for supplies or men, before continuing onwards to Nico’s homeland; the boy’s mother and his people.

Ash hung his head, and for a long time he didn’t move.

The Old Country

The ship was pitching through heavy weather again.

Bilge water swamped his legs as it washed from one side to the other, causing the rats to scurry over him as the hull creaked and banged in distress.

Ash lay in the darkness beyond time and place. In his mind, words formed as though they were being spoken aloud.

He was having a conversation with his dead apprentice.

I don’t understand, Nico insisted. You told me once how the R shun don’t believe in personal revenge. That it goes against their code.

Yes Nico. I did.

Yet here you are.

Yet here I am.

So you are no longer R shun then?

He shied away from answering. He hardly wished to dwell on it just then.

You can’t bring me back, you know, said Nico. Even if you kill her, I’ll still be gone.

‘I know that, boy,’ Ash replied aloud to the black echoing space, scattering the rats from him.

Nico fell silent for a time. Ash rocked with the violent motions of the ship, bracing himself with his hands and feet, trying to calm himself.

Tell me, master Ash, came Nico’s voice again. What was it that you did before you became R shun?

What I did?

Yes.

I was a soldier. A revolutionary.

You never wanted to follow a different path? A farmer, perhaps? A drunken owner of a country inn?

Of course, Ash replied.

Which one?

I am tired, Nico. You ask many too questions.

Only because I know so little about you.

A sudden sharp tilt of the ship pressed Ash against the hull, though he barely noticed it. He spat brine, wiped his face dry, glared back into the darkness.

Before I was a soldier I raised hunting dogs for a time. We lived in our cot tage, my wife and son. I tried to be a good husband, a good father, that is all.

And were you?

Ash snorted. Hardly. I made a better soldier than I ever did a husband and father. I was good at killing. And getting others killed .’

You’re too hard on yourself. I knew you to be much more than a killer. Your heart is kind.

‘You do not know me, boy,’ snapped Ash. ‘You cannot say such things to me, not now, not ever.’

The freezing water washed over his head once again, shocking him into the present. Ash floundered for a moment, puffing his cheeks in and out as he fought for a breath. He clutched the ledge he lay upon and heard the rats squealing in terror. Moments passed as he lay there panting.