The City (34 page)

The emperor looked around the great room. ‘From now on the
City will be your father, boy,’ he announced, ‘and you will be a good son.’

His given name was Arish, but for many years the people of the Red Palace called him Cub, until long after the reason for it was forgotten.

He told his comrades he had met the emperor, and called him sire, and most of them sneered, for it seemed that most of the boys had met the emperor at some time, and those who had not would not admit it. He watched the faces of the tall, bearded armed men he saw each day and occasionally he saw his friend Shuskara or the man called Flavius. Shuskara never spoke, but he winked at him once, and the little boy treasured that moment as he endured the hard physical training, the gruelling endless hours of sword practice, and the lessons which he found difficult when his belly was often empty and his body cold. All the boys soon learned to steal food from the palace kitchens and Arish, always watchful and cautious, was surprised to discover that their tutors and trainers and even the kitchen staff turned a blind eye. If the thieves were caught red-handed, though, they were severely punished, beaten only short of permanent injury.

He was smaller and younger than the other boys in his dormitory, and his first lesson, hard-learned, was to keep his head low and not be noticed. He made friends, necessary allies, with two other boys, brothers called Sander and Tomi. They banded together to defend themselves from the casual assaults of the older boys. But one morning he awoke in the dormitory to find the brothers no longer there, their beds empty. He plucked up the courage to ask one of the sword-masters where they had gone.

The man was old and brown-skinned, a veteran of many battles, with a shaven scalp that bore the deep cleft of an old scar. He glared at the boy and Arish flinched, fearing the man would knock him down, as he had done before.

But the swordmaster sighed suddenly, as if he was very tired, and said, ‘They have gone home, Arish. They have gone back home.’

Encouraged by the man’s reply, Arish asked in a small voice, ‘When will I go home, sir?’

The swordmaster squatted down beside him and put his hand on his shoulder. ‘If you work hard at your lessons,’ he told the boy, ‘and practise hard in the field, the emperor will let you go home one day.’

For a long time that promise kept the boy strong. He did as he was
told, worked long hours at his books, and was dauntless in practice, running faster than other boys, climbing higher, fearless in the ring, and unbeatable with sword and knife. And he taught himself to take his mind to another place when the older boys bullied him, and beat him and abused him. And after a long time the hope in his heart slowly disappeared, and was replaced with a stony endurance.

And the years went by, and he did not go home, and at last
he
was an older boy. He was about thirteen, a watchful, solitary boy, when the day of his manhood arrived.

It was a welcome diversion in their training when, two or three times a year, a group of boys was taken to the forests beyond the southern edge of the City, and abandoned there to make their way on their own back to a given point – a watchtower, a hilltop, an outcrop – in a set number of days. These were called ‘wildings’, perhaps because the boys had an unaccustomed chance to run wild, away from the hard stone walls and harder discipline. They were often given more than enough time to find their way to their destination, and the wildings were considered something of a holiday, although not for the smaller, younger boys who anticipated them only with fear.

But Arish was no longer smaller or younger. He was not the oldest of the group of eight, but he was no longer threatened by any boy, and the others, even those who were now young men, walked around him carefully.

They had ridden from the barracks at daybreak, and by mid-afternoon were deep in the forests of sweet oak and grey alder. Arish knew he had never been in this place before, for the trees were more open than he had seen on previous wildings, the undergrowth less entangling. They passed a high deadfall of trees, toppled by storms or quakes, which were unfamiliar. He knew there was no point trying to remember the backtrail, for they had been brought by a meandering route. Following the two silent soldiers guiding them, they had left the main forest track some time before and their mounts were picking their way along a deer path. It was autumn and the nights were chill and the leaves had fallen. The sun was starting on its way downwards towards the horizon when the soldiers broke their silence to bid them dismount, and collected the horses, then departed the way they had come, leaving eight boys standing in a wide glade knee-deep in rustling leaves.

The two oldest, a stout bully called Ranul and a dark-faced quiet boy called Sami, chose the way to go and Arish could not disagree with their decision. Ranul declared they should travel as far north as possible before dark, and the boys set off. But almost immediately they came to a deep ravine, clothed in dry scrub and dead trees, across their way. Ranul decided, sensibly, that they could not risk the climb down with darkness nearly upon them, so they camped for the night.

They lit a fire and Ranul and others entertained themselves by teasing and threatening the two smallest boys. But it was early days, there was plenty of time, and they were tired after the long ride. So, leaving the youngsters with the promise of horrors to come, they settled down to sleep. Arish watched it all but said nothing. Ranul was two years older than him, but Arish had seen him bullied himself when young, and he understood the need to take revenge, even on the innocent. He did not despise Ranul for his weakness, only for his willingness to show it. He slept well that night, awaking once to hear distant howling.

At dawn the next day they set off again. Ranul had chosen to find a way round the ravine, for they had plenty of time, and he led them eastwards. Arish would have gone west, for the rivers flowed to the west in these parts, but he went along, saying nothing. The older boys were in high spirits, for this freedom from the grind of training and lessons was intoxicating and the air was like wine. They ran through the sunlit woods, kicking the piles of fallen leaves, shouting and baying, and rolling on the red and gold ground like pups. The two youngest trudged along miserably, trying to make themselves look smaller, and Arish brought up the rear, as always.

One of the older boys, a thin whey-faced lad called Jan who had been bullied ruthlessly when younger, at last turned his attention to the youngsters. Over-excited by the fun they were having, but suddenly bored by it, he stood up and brushed leaves off himself, then looked around for the two little boys who were trying to make themselves invisible against a tree.

Jan shouted to them, ‘You two, come here!’

The two watched him with frightened eyes as he slowly strolled towards them. Then, predicting their fate, they both turned and set off into the woods as fast as their short legs could take them. Jan laughed and ran after them. He caught one of them easily and the other disappeared into the trees.

‘He’ll have to come back sometime,’ Jan grinned to Ranul, returning with the skinny fair-haired child struggling in his grip.

Ranul looked down at the youngster. ‘What are you going to do with him?’ he asked, the light of anticipation in his eye.

‘They’ve been standing there watching us like a couple of straw dummies,’ Jan said, ‘so we can make dummies of them.’

Ranul grinned, and between them they stripped the little boy’s clothes off as the others cheered and jeered. The child was cast aside, and the two set about stuffing his clothes with fallen leaves, making a fat dummy which they leaned against a tree.

‘Set fire to it!’ one of the others cried.

Arish looked at the naked child, his face pinched and white. He knew the boy feared not just the inevitable spiral of violence, but ultimately being forced to return to the barracks without his clothes. He would be punished harshly for that. As one of the boys brought out phosphorus sticks to set the fire, Arish considered intervening. He had no doubt he could beat any of these boys, but any fistfight would rapidly escalate to knives and swords, and it was likely at least one would die. They would all be punished if they returned to the barracks one short. He kicked at the leaves at his feet. They were bone dry, for it had not rained for weeks. Any blaze would quickly spread.

He was about to speak when there was an anguished cry from the woods, in the direction the other child had run, and the sound of frenzied barking. The cries rose to screams which made Arish’s blood run cold, and they all hesitated a moment, glancing at each other for courage, before setting off towards the sound.

They breasted a small rise in the wooded land and came to a sudden halt. A pack of twenty or more dogs was savaging the body of the little boy. He was dead by now, and his carcass was being easily dismembered by the growling, snapping pack. One of the dogs, a huge black, compact beast with heavy jaws dripping blood and gobs of meat, turned and glared at them, his small eyes ferocious, a low threatening growl rising from deep in his massive chest.

The boys backed away from the hideous sight. One of them vomited helplessly, and he was left standing as the group turned and ran. The boys pelted back to the glade, where the fair-haired child had dismantled the dummy and was nervously pulling his clothes back on.

‘What happened?’ he asked Arish, terror in his eyes.

‘He’s dead,’ Arish replied shortly, and he grabbed the child’s arm and ran with him after the other fleeing boys.

They ran and ran, devouring the leagues through the open country, kicking up leaves around them as they chased through sunlit trees. There was silence behind them for a time; then, with stomach-clenching terror, they heard the baying of the chasing pack.

His initial panic under control, Arish had been thinking as he loped along. The pack was following, but the dogs were no longer hungry and were not running very hard, for they could have outpaced their prey long before now. The boys could not run in darkness, so they must find sanctuary before sunset. The trees around them were all thin and spindly and could not be climbed. The only thing the dogs would respect was fire. As he ran he watched out for somewhere they could defend.

The trees had thinned out and now they were running in harsher, more uneven land, down a wide shallow trail which was funnelling them between rocky hillsides. When he spotted a likely place Fell called out to Ranul, who hesitated, a look of anger on his reddening face. Fell pointed to a shallow depression on an outcropping of rock.

‘We can defend that!’

Ranul slowed, panting, glancing behind them in a picture of indecision.

‘The sun is going down! Do you want them to catch us in the dark?’ Fell shouted.

Ranul looked up at the hillside, then again at the trail behind them. He nodded, and they both diverted off the track and up to the area of open ground in front of the cave-like depression. The other boys turned and followed them. At Ranul’s orders they started collecting twigs and brush and dry branches. Soon they had a big pile and Sami set light to it, his hands trembling. The blaze caught instantly, and they all stood back as the flames roared up above their heads. Then they ran about, collecting piles of wood, as much as they could find.

It was getting dark before the dogs trotted into view below them. There were fifteen of them, Fell counted. Most were big and grey and wolflike, but the black beast seemed to be their leader.

‘They are hardly panting,’ said one of the boys, who was still struggling to get his wind.

‘They are wolves,’ Sami told them authoritatively. ‘They could run for days.’

‘We will need a lot of wood to last the night,’ Arish said, looking around them. ‘Here.’ He took up a burning leafy branch and handed one each to Ranul and Sami. Then he charged the dogs with the blazing brand and they scattered. Encouraged, the two followed him and drove the pack away so the other boys could gather more wood. By the time night fell they had a ring of three fires in front of the rockface and a huge pile of wood with which to feed them. They settled down against the wood pile, watching the darkness beyond the fires. They could not see or hear the beasts, but they knew they were out there.

When dawn broke the pack was not to be seen, and some of the boys starting chattering with nervous relief, convincing themselves the dogs had gone for good. Arish knew they were wrong, and that they needed a new plan for them all to survive the day.

‘They will be hungry again today,’ he said quietly to Ranul and Sami as they broke their fast with a little of the remaining water and some cornbread. ‘And they will catch us and kill us, one or two of us, if they get the chance.’ He nodded his head at the little fair-haired boy who sat frozen and silent, staring out at the woods, hardly blinking, not eating.

‘Leave him for them,’ Ranul said callously. ‘That could give us another day. We can get to safety in that time.’

Fell looked at him, wondering if he meant it.

‘We cannot stay here and we cannot outrun them,’ he went on, as if nothing had been said. ‘We have little water and less food. We need to find a sturdy tree for us all to climb.’

‘The trees we’ve seen are too small,’ said Sami, ‘otherwise we would be having this conversation in one of them.’

‘Over there,’ Fell pointed to the north, ‘those high woods look thicker, and older. We might find a tree which will support us all, above the dogs.’

From the corner of his eye Fell had been watching Jan, the thin, pale bully, who had walked away from the safety of the fires to piss. Though there was no sign of the pack, there was an unnatural silence which Fell found threatening.

Then, in the moment he saw a blur of movement and opened his mouth to yell, two dogs, running with amazing speed, attacked the
boy. As if in a planned manoeuvre, one hit him in the legs, latching on to one ankle, while the other leaped from the other side, grabbing the boy at the neck. Jan gave one hysterical shriek before his throat was ripped out. He was dead by the time his body hit the earth. The rest of the pack arrived within moments, the big black dog among them, and they set about tearing pieces of meat off the carcass.