Sorcha's Revolt
CHAPTER TEN - DAWN OF BATTLE

By dawn, the suburbs of Silveneir were merrily ablaze, forcing the police and the army to redeploy to assist in fighting the fires. The police blamed a comprehensive act of arson on the part of a demented Kellion terrorist; the Kellion

revolutionaries cheerfully accepted group responsibility without enquiring who precisely had done the dreadful deed.

Over breakfast, DeKellia explained the midnight disturbance to his fellow revolutionaries and delivered the intelligence he had gained. DeSilva attended the discussion as a man among Kellion men; Sorcha followed and listened out of dread curiosity for what atrocity DeKellia had planned.

"The Darians will attack either tonight or tomorrow, most likely at dawn," DeKellia was saying. "The long and the short of it is that we have to join the battle against them."

"I beg your pardon?" Veen took the part of the majority in boggling at DeKellia's suggestion. "Take arms with the enemies of our blood... DeKellia, the enemy of my enemy is my friend; we should side with the Darians if we join the fight at all." "You're suggesting we just sit tight?" One of the revolutionaries asked. "Where will that get us? Whoever wins will only besiege us; we have to pick a side."

"Yes, Silveneir," DeKellia said, firmly. "We side with the city that's sheltered and accepted us for decades before this happened; the complexities of the rivalry between Kellia and Silveneir can be put aside to deal with the new threat. Darians tend to think we're inferior on every level; if they extend their dominion over Silveneir, our harems will be theirs and most of us, gentlemen, will be consigned to feudal serfdom."

Indentured farming was still commonly practised in rural Kellia; the disenfranchised nobles and freemen gathered around the table shuddered in contemplation.

"Very well," Veen said. "But we will need one excellent plan, DeKellia, and a good few clever ploys supporting it along the way; naturally you will last be seen wading through the thick of the fighting, and when the battle's done you'll be gone like the wind, but that was always the way with you."

"If I help win the fight, what more can you ask?" DeKellia replied. "I expect you've already got your getaway planned, Veen."

"Not this time." Veen stood up and rolled up his sleeves, beckoned one of his men to hand him a gunbelt and a rifle. A Wayknife hung at his belt; one of his concubines had pledged herself his wife during the night. A bright cutlass and four fine pistols completed Veen's armament; he loaded his rifle deftly while the other revolutionaries checked their weapons likewise.

Sorcha withdrew to the edge of the room and watched the final preparations. She was not the only woman in the room; many of the men took a moment with lovers and female relatives alongside readying their weapons.

Kam Daishen spoke to no one and made no preparations; the red knight had all he needed in his sword and armour. But others came to him. The Daishen was an institution in Kellia, the legendary First Knight, paragon of knighthood. More than half of the revolutionaries who went out to face the battle for Silveneir paused to receive the benediction of the Daishen, a silent blessing of one upraised hand.

Sorcha clung to DeSilva in the packed room, fighting down her anxiety as the moment of departure approached. There was nothing to be said, no pleading or last hopes; Sorcha offered DeSilva her lips and he kissed her, both of them ignoring Sabra nearby in the crowd, and she pretending not to notice.

"I love you, Monte," Sorcha said. "Come back alive and never do this to me again."

"I love you too," he said, and held her to him while the last moments ticked away.

DeKellia checked his volleygun and pistols, loosened his sword in the scabbard and stood at the door until they were all ready to advance.

"We go to the barricades," he said. "And if there's no fight to be had there, we seek the battle at the western gate or wherever we find it. If the Darians should overcome, we fall back here and fight to the last man." "Can we expect any help from your friends on the Darian side?"

"Lorac didn't seem to think so, unless someone contrives to kill their Princess, but that wouldn't stop the battle; more likely the Darians would go berserk. Besides which, she'll be right next to the Warmaster."

"I can take Naider." DeSilva said, at last moving away from Sorcha to join the rest of the men. DeKellia chuckled at his son's confidence. DeSilva put out his hand and a wash of heat melted every candle in the room; an invisible force buffeted DeKellia back against the doorframe.

"Alright." His voice was hoarse, his forehead bathed in sweat. "Go try that on the Warmaster. Sorcha, all the women will be staying here; you know how to fight, whether or not you want to. It might come to it, and the same goes for Vashta." "I understand."

"Well I don't." Sabra had automatically checked her gear along with the other revolutionaries; she glared at DeKellia now. "I'm not staying here. I'll see this through to the end; I mean to fight."

"Well, I knew that." DeKellia cocked an eyebrow at his son. The look cut DeSilva like a knife; he silently joined the ranks of revolutionaries waiting to depart.

Filing out into the street, they met the greater body of the revolutionary force; the inn was too small to hold them all and their numbers had overflowed to occupy the surrounding buildings. They filled the street now, grim-faced men with swords and rifles, many afraid but all determined.

A handful of horses waited; DeKellia and Kam Daishen mounted up, DeSilva and the leaders of the revolution with them. Veen remained on foot, his cutlass drawn and the enforcers of his organisation around him, Timoth Kale among them. Kale nodded to DeSilva, but there were no words now; in a loose phalanx the Kellions advanced upon the barricade, opened it, and went to confront the police cordon waiting beyond.

Sorcha joined the other women in following the men as far as the barricade and was in time to see the meeting of DeKellia and the police.

Commissioner Sax Naylansis herself met them at the picket line and greeted DeKellia with a nod.

"I assume you're not come to turn in your guns?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Messerach Veen. "We offer our guns to the city's defence."

"That's very decent of you. Just leave them in a neat pile over there and take yourselves off to jail; we're a bit busy at the moment."

"We are quite serious," DeKellia said, at which Sax relented enough to give a sober response.

"Alright, if you're seriously resolved to die then we'll escort you to the city walls where we'll all pitch in together. But I warn you, Messerach Veen, that before this day is done, I will seek your life upon the field." "Understood."

Sax whistled up her troops and they formed two lines on either side of the Kellion force, a strange battalion of black clad men with swords and rifles flanked by grey-uniformed policewomen. The Commissioner of Police rode beside and a little apart from the leaders of the Kellion Revolution, and soon took them out of sight of the barricade, toward the Western Gates of Silveneir in time for the first moments of the battle.