Kingdom's Fall

Chapter 20, Part 1

The dam was the most impressive thing that Cuan had ever seen. Part earthworks, part stone, it filled the mouth of a valley that ran between the mountains, towering over the heads of the people who had settled in its shadow. It was at least twice the highest spire of the royal palace in Alyn - perhaps even higher - and what it lacked in finesse it more than made up for in scale. Even Gray had let slip an awestruck curse when he first saw it, as the Engineers had escorted them up the mountain path that meandered round steep rocks to emerge parallel to the dried-up remains of the river bed. As they reached the foot of the dam and the settlement, the evidence of the battle between the Engineer camp and the Carelians was impossible to miss.

           

The dam wasn't just there to clear the marshes. It was a prison.

           

They called themselves Engineers, but it was clear the word was more a curse than something they held pride in. All Carelians, they spat the word out when they said it, a bitter jibe at the life they had been condemned to.

           

Gray had seemed wary of handing over Holder and his escort to the group that had pursued them, but even Cuan could see there was little choice to be had in the matter. The twenty-strong group of work-gang convicts were thin and hungry-looking, their clothes so worn-out they were rotting off of their backs, but they radiated determination. As Gray stepped away from Holder, Cuan had been sure they were going to kill the man where he lay. Instead, they bound his hands, pulled him back onto his feet, and started marching him and his men back up the path. The Engineers, in turn, had been wary of Gray's desire to follow along behind. Guessing that there was little love held for the Carelians, Gray had shared his mission to stall the invasion. A fierce denunciation from Holder, cursing Gray and all those that would aid him,  followed, and while a spitting, furious rant about the fate of all spies and traitors might have been heartfelt for the Carelian officer, it only seemed to improve his captor's opinion of Gray and Cuan. That the man was so angry was something of a novelty to them, and that alone was enough for them to extend what little hospitality they had to offer.

           

They walked in silence most of the way. The closer they got, the more Cuan wanted to ask; the sight of the dam had set him brimming with questions. He asked a few, but got little by way of reply. The Engineers were uncomfortable sharing in the presence of their captive, and as they walked into the shadow of the dam, Cuan discovered why. Their settlement - their work camps - had been turned into a battlefield. The bodies of Carelian soldiers were piled up, three or four on top of each other, at the edges of the camp. The few people that Cuan could see were hard at work, chipping graves out of what passed for soft ground. The distant clink of metal on stone told him they weren't the only people working. From the bodies, the fight looked to have been a one-sided affair. It struck Cuan that there weren't many people who would take the time to carve graves out of a mountainside for their enemies. The Engineers were looking after their own.

           

In the shadow of the dam, the air was cool and still. The echoes of the digging crews felt muted, trapped by the mountain walls and the giant, man-made edifice that closed off the valley. The scent of gunpowder lingered, lying heavy on the mood of the Engineers and their prisoners.

           

The work camp was a mess. All tents and lean-tos, it was composed of the most basic living spaces clustered together, tucked in tight for warmth and safety. Half the tents looked trampled or torn, and everywhere Cuan looked he could see blood stains, testament to the violence that they had seen. Near the centre, one larger tent stood tall above the rest. From its pristine sides it was easy to see it had been set up after the battle, a monument to a new beginning. As their group approached, the tent mouth rippled suddenly and a woman stepped out into the open air. She was short and broad-hipped, dressed in a shapeless lump of a brown robe and a Carelian army jacket that was far too big for her. She had rolled up its sleeves, and showed a formidable pair of forearms turned nut-brown by the sun. Under her salt-and-pepper thatch of hair, her expression was hard set. She watched the group approaching as if there was nothing left in the world that could possibly surprise her.