Empire of Ashes

Chapter L - Anarchy

Minutes, maybe even seconds, before one of the children from hill three saw the smoke. And minutes more before they got word to the northerners below, and then it was anyone's guess how long it took to spark a rebellion.

I had bought all the time I needed because it was too late for the governor to stop them. And as I laughed, for the first time in our conversation, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. He hid it, of course, but not before I had seen it and noted my advantage.

"Otherwise," he went on, "your death will span weeks, and I will execute every man, woman and child you spoke to."

I smiled at him sweetly.

"I'll tell you everything," I said. "Everything. But I don't want a quick death. I want a slow one."

And now he looked taken aback, his eyebrows slipping upwards unbidden. "Very well."

"My name is Lyra," I began, picking at a loose thread on my breeches. "My village was burned and my family was murdered, but I was lucky enough to end up in a slave column. And from there, I was sent to serve a northern warlord."

Those sharp eyes stared. I could see the thoughts racing behind them to assess whether I was lying — and I had no doubt he would be able to tell if I was — and to read between the lines, to guess at everything that I was not saying.

"Ragnyrsbane," Lord Freedrik supposed.

"Yes, Ragnyrsbane." There was a new flavour to my smile now. Hatred. For the governor, for all of Anglia. I enjoyed spiting them. "He turned out to be a rebel, long story short, and I have been rebelling alongside him ever since."

"Is that so," he said, emphasising every single word. It was not a question. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. There weren't many things besides rebellion that could end with a slave murdering one of her masters.

"I was at the Pass," I went on. "I helped burn countless men alive and kill the survivors like so many penned chickens. And then I trekked across mountains to come here and do the same to your soldiers."

There was only one possible ending to this story, and Lord Freedrik had seen it coming. There was alarm on his face now, plain and simple, and it was growing with every passing second. He thought he was hiding it. He thought that keeping his face expressionless would somehow stop the emotions bleeding out of his eyes.

"Ah. Rebellion." His fingers twitched on the arm of the chair. "How did you get out of the tunnel?"

"Easily," I said softly. "You were right. I killed that man, and in that way I'm as much a murderer as you are."

"In that way?"

"I had a reason — a good reason. He died so thousands more could live."

The accusation was unspoken but unmistakable.

"You think we are using these slaves for profit," he murmured. "You must think we are making these weapons to crush your tiny little country. Ignorance truly will be the death of us all..."

I almost believed him. And worse, I wanted to. The prospect that there might be some genuine reason for all of this suffering — that my family had died for something ... it was nearly too tempting to resist.

"I would like my death now," I asserted quietly.

He raised an eyebrow in a wonky, curious sort of way, and then he laughed, "I'm not finished with you yet, girl."

"No," I agreed. "But I'm finished with you."

Because the death I wanted, the death I had bargained for, was not my own. I wasn't chained. He had sent his guards away. Because why would a man like him fear a terrified, broken creature like me? So when I rose from the floor, he didn't look worried. Every lord had served on military campaigns. Every lord had been trained to fight and kill men since they could walk.