Episode 49

The system of power turns like wheel

You can rise to the top through money or steel

You could lift up others or leave them in muck

But it’s the poor who will suffer when the wheel becomes stuck

If the problems aren’t met with any solution

The wheel must turn in bloody revolution

The vermin will rise as the predator sinks

Let’s see then if the fox can outsmart the lynx

Lilian was still spellbound by the gift she had just been given. Her noble friend Genevive Katz, had appeared as if from nowhere via the strange little door at the back of Mr Attorcop’s basement residence. She had a bag with her, the contents of which were currently laid out on the table in front of the little group of revolutionaries. Lilian could not take her eyes off the silver helm, expertly beaten into the shape of a glowering feinhound. She shook herself out this stupified state, set the helmet down and hugged Genevive with all her might.

“It’s so beautiful, thank you thank you.” Genevive laughed.

“Well, I thought that if you are going to fight the Empress, you might as well look the part.”

Mr Attorcop picked up the breast plate and examined it from a few different angles.

“Well done on getting the metal so thin, I think that should work nicely.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lilian, letting Genevive go.

“Ah well, you see here,” Genevive began, “Mr Cromwell asked that I make the plates as thin as possible, something to do with you turning invisible. Which, by the way, I would love to see. Or not see! But yes, the plates are thin so be careful eh? They will help against grazes and most weapons but one big direct hit with a heavy sword and they will puncture, so please watch out for that.” Mr Attorcop nodded sagely,

“My thinking was that if the set was too heavy and thick, you would not be able to use gloaming so easily. This, of course, will have to be tested.” Lilian felt guilt in the pit of her stomach. She had not yet told Mr Attorcop that she had used the last of the Lunar Essence to make tattoo ink for a tattoo that didn’t exist. But this was a happy occasion, and that sad news could wait.

“Well, aren’t you going to try it on?” William spoke up from the back of the group. He must have been just as keen as Lilian to see how it would look. Lilian turned to look expectantly at Genevive. She smiled and nodded and before she could say anything Lilian was already grabbing a wrist brace and strapping it to her left arm. The whole suit took about ten minutes to put on, most of that time was spent adjusting the straps to the correct lengths. Genevive had to puncture a few new holes here and there but after a short time the suit was on and Lilian was ready. Mr Attorcop brought a large mirror over and Lilian stood in front of it and admired herself. She had not been overly impressed with the way she had looked attending the Empress’s Summer ball, but looking at her reflection now not only impressed her but it made her feel something more. She turned and watched the armour catch the dim light, the feinhound helmet was intimidating and the suit fit so perfectly that it did not appear clunky like some suits of armour, but sleek and moveable. Lilian looked at her reflection and felt as though she was looking at a version of herself that she aspired to be. A fighter certainly, a legend perhaps. She was so overcome with emotion that she nearly felt like ripping the whole thing off, not believing herself worthy of its greatness.

“I look… good,” she laughed, and the others laughed too. It reminded her of the armour worn by Solveig and the other members of The Hundred. Had she put it on before her time in Zandt she would have felt like a fraud, but now, maybe she was ready.

“Do you think you would be able to try gloaming?” asked Mr Attorcop. Lilian looked at her wrists and legs, she moved about a bit and considered how comfortable it would be to sit down while wearing the suit.

“I think so… Fritha, come here,” the feinhound padded over and the pair sat down on the floor. The armour bent surprisingly well to most movements. Lilian rested her hand on Fritha’s coat and took a deep breath.

Within a few seconds she had found the right rhythm. The world around her began to shift into focus. Fritha’s heartbeat grew louder, followed quickly by the sounds of her friends breathing. She’d never done this with anyone other than Mr Attorcop watching her and it felt a little strange to have an audience. She flipped her focus on herself and found the golden light emitted by her heart. Slowly but surely she began to persuade it to enter into one of Fritha’s hairs. She would only need a little seeing as it was still attached to Fritha and so would still be full of life and energy.

But then, something strange began to happen. Lilian felt a very sudden and powerful force hit her body, as if something inside her was pushing her bones outwards and attacking her organs. Her breath faltered and her heart began to skip beats and palpitate. It was a shock and extremely unpleasant. She snapped her hand away from Fritha and opened her eyes. She found herself back in the basement sweating and gasping for breath. Mr Attorcop, sensing something was wrong, rushed forwards.

“Lilian? What happened, are you alright?” she looked up at him, worried.

“I… I think so. Something strange... I could focus but when I tried gloaming it… I don’t know, I couldn’t.”

“That’s alright, Lilian. It’s been a long time, you’re probably just out of practise.” Lilian got up shakily, putting her weight slowly back on her legs. She did not feel weakened, just unsteady. She nodded her head, hoping he was right. She looked back at William, Genevive and the two Sturgeon’s and felt a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, I… I haven’t done that in a while,” she was worried they might laugh at her, but their faces showed more concern than anything else. Genevive stepped forward.

“Is it the armour?” she asked, “should I make it lighter?” Lilian shook her head.

“No, no, the armour is perfect. Really, it is. I just, I’m tired maybe.” A creeping sense of dread slipped into her mind. What had just happened? Why had she been unable to use gloaming, something she’d practised and done before a hundred times? Her worries were interrupted by the sound of knocking. The group turned to look at the small door again.

“Don’t worry,” Mr Attorcop assured them, noticing how the sound had set everyone on edge, “that will just be Michael.”

The door opened and a young boy, probably about nine years old, poked his head round the door. His cheeks were read, like he’d just been running in the cold. He was about to speak when his eyes fell on Lilian and Fritha and he went silent, his eyes widening in shock.

“Yes, Michael, what is it?” The lad found his voice and looked at Mr Attorcop,

“Lots of people sir, word got round well I think,” this news seemed to make Mr Attorcop happy. He walked over to the door and handed the boy a few copper heads.

“Thank you Michael, we’ll see you there.” The young boy shot Lilian one last look and closed the door. Mr Attorcop turned around and read the confusion on everyone’s faces.

“Now, I have covertly organised a little get together in Chekad Square. We do not need to attend, but I really think it would help our cause if we did.” He looked over at Lilian who was still recovering from the shock of what had happened during her attempt at gloaming. “Lilian, do you think you’re up for going out like that?” He gestured to her suit of armour, “I don’t want you overexerting yourself before tonight.” Lilian glanced at William who looked just as confused as she felt. Looking back at Mr Attorcop, she said,

“I’m not sure. Maybe… What’s tonight?” Mr Attorcop approached her slowly, knelt down so that he was just below her eye level and spoke softly and confidently.

“Tonight, we attack the palace.”

Minutes later, they were popping their heads out of the hidden hatch at the end of the corridor. Lilian was still getting used to moving in her new suit of armour. The shirt and trousers she wore underneath it were bunching a little and she hoped to be able to change them before attacking the palace. As they walked through the mostly empty streets of Freedos, she began to feel a little silly. Anyone looking at their group would see her sticking out like a sore thumb. William, Katrina and Peter did their best to surround her as they went, but it did little good to hide her from any onlookers. The chestplate was bright silver and she was willing to bet that she was the only person for miles around wearing a helmet shaped like a Feinhound’s head. Lilian looked down at Fritha and wished that she could be invisible. Fritha looked up at her and gave a little gong, the fear sound. Lilian nodded. She had no idea what to expect and she was beginning to grow nervous. Fritha licked her fingers as they walked, and Lilian smiled at her. Mr Attorcop was leading the way. He spoke over his shoulder as they went.

“If there are a lot of people then I think you should say a few words.” Lilian’s stomach twisted.

“What?” she felt her forehead grow cold, “what should I say?”

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Mr Attorcop had sensed the tremor in her voice, “just introduce yourself and let them know you’re back in the city and that things will change soon.” Lilian felt fingers interlocking with hers and she looked up to see Katrina, smiling at her.

“Only if you’re comfortable my dear. They’re here to see you, they don’t want to hurt you. Anything you say will be fine, Cromwell has done most of the work already,” she leaned in closer and gave a conspiratorial wink, “the gift is wrapped, you just need to tie the bow.” Lilian nodded.

“Ok,” she said, with what she hoped was more confidence than she felt. Funny, she had been less nervous fighting those two soldiers last night. Talking in front of a few people wouldn’t be so bad, would it? It was barely eighth bell anyway, most folks probably weren’t even awake yet.

But as they neared Checkad square, Lilian began to hear signs of the crowd up ahead. It began as a low hum, the occasional child or group of teenagers raced past, some even pointed at Lilian as they went. The strap under Lilian’s chin seemed to grow tighter. Once they turned the corner and the square came into view, the crowd was revealed. It stretched back, loud and long. Lilian quickly counted a hundred heads but lost count at around two-hundred and fifty. All eyes were on her and her little group. She looked up at Katrina, she was smiling at the crowd and Lilian tried to copy her. She smiled weakly at a woman nearby who was wearing a large bonnet. Her face had a grey streak of dirt on one cheek and it lit up as soon as she saw Lilian’s grin. She waved emphatically and Lilian waved back causing the woman to quickly turn to her friends and gossip excitedly. The crowd parted as they went and the animated chatter dropped to a low hum. By the time they reached the plinth that held the statue of Amala Checkad, the crowd were silent. Lilian turned around to look at everyone. Faces of all ages and social backgrounds stared back at her. Their eyes were tired but their expressions were hopeful. Here and there, she would see a pair of crossed arms and a scowl, a few understandably wary citizens peppering the throng. Lilian was beyond nervous, she instinctively reached out for Fritha and found her there, faithful and by her side. The feel of her fur calmed her. She looked up at Mr Attorcop who nodded, his face a stoic mask. Sensing her trepidation, he stepped forwards, and spoke.

“Friends!” his voice boomed out across the square, “thank you for joining us. You have all been so patient and today, that patience is rewarded.” There was a small smattering of applause and a ‘whoop’ from somewhere distant. Mr Attorcop continued, “This very moment, plans are in motion. The city is ready for change, you can all feel it, I feel it too. But if any change is going to happen, we will all need to play our part. With me today, is a young lady. You may have heard of her many exploits against the Weardian, against the Empress herself. I say, if anyone is going to bring about change, it will be her and us together!” the crowd applauded louder now. Mr Attorcop was setting them up beautifully, Lilian only hoped she would live up to expectations. “I do not wish to speak for her,” he continued, “but I know that she is ready to do what must be done to make the city and all of the western country, a better place. So without further words, please join me in welcoming her back to Freedos.” The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Lilian was taken aback, her time had come to take the stage. She stepped forward and took a deep breath.

An expectant silence fell upon the crowd. Lilian quickly scanned a hundred different faces, a hundred pairs of eyes looking at her with a thousand different emotions. A bead of cold sweat ran down from her hairline beneath her helmet. She wanted to speak… but she couldn’t. Thoughts jumbled and language eluded her. She saw the woman she had waved at before, she was three rows behind the children who had pushed their way to the front. She had a worried expression. As Lilian locked eyes with her, her face seemed to will her to speak. With words, still not coming, Lilian grew even more nervous. And so the woman spoke, not too loudly, but loud enough to be heard.

“What’s your name?” Lilian pondered the question.

“My name?” she repeated and suddenly the words were back, “my name… shouldn’t matter. I could be any one of you. So say my name is fear. I’m scared for myself and for my friends and family, just as you are all scared for yours. My name could be frustration and fury. Anger at how those who are supposed to govern and look after us but who are instead neglecting and persecuting us.” A few heads in the crowd began to nod in agreement. “My name is resistance then, not through fighting necessarily, Liebling knows I’m no soldier, but through small acts of defiance that collectively declare that we’ve had enough!” A murmur spread through the square. Then, from the corner of her eye, Lilian saw three soldiers turn a corner and step into the square. They had looks of trepidation and their hands hovered above their sword hilts. “My name is understanding, for I know that we all do what we think is right to protect the ones we love.” She aimed this statement at the soldiers, in the hope that compassion might stay their wrath. When they looked up at her to listen, Lilian continued, finding the words coming easily now. “We all know someone who worked as Weardian just as we have sons, daughters and friends in the army. But these people must now make a choice, just as we all must as well. For my name is revolution. I’m in the air and in the hearts of everyone around me. I come from discontent and mistreatment and my time is right now, today. When it comes to the Empress, my name is vengeance and by the end of tonight, she will look me in the eye and she will know me.”

A cheer roared up from the crowd. Lilian’s chest swelled with pride at the site. A few people stepped forward and took her hand to shake it. Lilian did so but remembered something she’d wanted to say and after bidding hello to the smiling strangers she raised her arms once more to signal for quiet.

“Please, just one more thing. I do not wish anyone to come to harm, just being here today is sign enough to all that you’re willing for things to be different. Do not engage the army, do not storm the palace, leave all of that to us.” This caused some confused and even worried expressions. One man with a red beard barked a reply,

“And if you fail?” he said, “what then? Are we to keep on living as we are? We’re ready to fight.” This caused a round of nods and agreements from the crowd surrounding him. Lilian shook her head and smiled her most reassuring smile.

“Resist in your own way. Leave the fight to us and I promise you, we will not fail.”

Four hours later they were in the Rare Flower Market. Peter had been keen to get back and relieve himself of his bags and Mr Attorcop had thought it unwise to return to the same location. Whilst Peter and Katrina busied themselves in the back room unpacking and bickering about how much Peter had spent in Zandt; Lilian, William, Genevive and Mr Attorcop sat on wicker chairs amongst the tall shelves while Fritha lay on the floor by Lilian’s side. Lilian glanced around at the many jars about her. She noticed that many were looking worryingly empty. It must be tough to get the materials with the army watching everything that was coming in and out of the city.

“I thought it was an excellent speech,” Mr Attorcop was saying, “a touch emotional for my tastes, but it certainly did the trick.” Lilian shot him a smile. She had been proud of herself back then and knew that Mr Attorcop could not resist teasing her.

“So what now? Wait until nightfall and then storm the palace?” William asked. Mr Attorcop considered the question.

“Not quite. Although there is something to be said for a direct approach. Our best bet is to infiltrate the walls covertly. Either go over them undercover of darkness or through a gate unseen.” As he said this last word his gaze fell on Lilian. Lilian twisted uncomfortably in her seat, looking everywhere other than Mr Attorcop’s eyes. She knew he would not blame her, but all the same, Lilian was having difficulty admitting she was not comfortable with trying gloaming again soon. A flash of the sharp, burning pain ran through her mind and she shuddered. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.

“Even if I did manage to sneak past the soldiers on guard, how would you all get through?” It was Genevive who answered this.

“In one of the gardens, at the back of the palace, there is a small but sturdy iron door. It is bolted from the inside and probably has not been opened in thirty years. It’s mostly covered in vines, but I’ve seen it there and I know it leads out into the cemetery at the top of Fyremont.” Lilian became excited.

“Well, why don’t we just knock the door down or something? That would avoid having to sneak past any guards all together.” Genevive looked solem and shook her head.

“The bolt is big my love, bigger than my arm and it’s buried deep in the wall. We could be ten men with a battering ram and it would still take us several hours.” Lilian’s heart sank. So it would be up to her after all. Would the pain come back, she wondered. Perhaps if she started now and gave herself a long time…

“I… I just…” she started speaking and Mr Attorcop interrupted.

“Lilian. It’s alright. We’ll find another way.” she smiled but still felt like she was letting everyone down. If this had been a few weeks ago then she would be bounding up there right now, unseen and unheard. But something had changed inside her, and she did not have the time to find out what or why. William broke the tension.

“So we can’t go over the wall, that’s too high. We can't go under it as we have no time, and we can’t get past the soldiers on guard at the gates…” His face contorted in thought, “that is a tricky one.”

Just then, Peter sauntered in from the back room, a look of triumph plastered across his cheeky face. He brandished a jar, roughly the size of a melon, high above his head that seemed to be filled with black dust.

“Or we go through it!” he exclaimed. His entrance and proclamation were met with silence and blank stares. Peter tried again, “Or we go through it!”

“What are you talking about?” said Lilian after wondering briefly if Peter had gone mad.

“You say we’d need a battering ram and ten people,” he said looking at Genevive, “but this jar could do all that and more. Trust me, if we need to get through something big or heavy, this is what we need.” The group leaned in to study the jar. Lilian recognised the scent of rotten eggs coming from it. The jar must contain some of that powder he’d bought in the Zandt marketplace. Mr Attorcop seemed to recognise the smell as well,

“Is that…?”

“Yup!” decried Peter, “got the charcoal from the fireplace in the kitchen and mixed the rest of it just now. I didn’t think I’d be using it this quickly but there’s still some left if we need it again.” Mr Attorcop smiled.

“Very well then. Yes I think this should do nicely, well done Peter. It will cause a rather loud noise so we’ll have to be ready for soldiers coming to investigate. But… yes. I think we might be ready.” he stared at the small group in front of him, a look of devilish mischief in his eyes. “What started as a hunt for answers has become something bigger than all of us. We’ve all been inconvenienced at best and terrified for our lives at worst by the way things in Freedos are run. It took poor Fritha here getting horribly injured to make us realise that The Empress and her ilk have been treating the people of this city as inferior for too long. We are not machines built to funnel money up the mount and into the palace coffers. We are fed up and tonight we change things, forever. Get some rest, sleep if you can, for when darkness falls we shall climb the hill.”

Not long after, Lilian was lying on some soft sacks filled with hay at the back of the shop, trying to rest. It was mid-afternoon and she was too nervous and excited to sleep. Fritha was beside her on the sacks and she had managed to drift off without any trouble. Lilian listened to her gentle snoring and watched her coat cycle through blues, blacks and browns. Lilian shut her eyes and placed her left hand on Fritha’s back. She slowed her breathing and slipped into focus. Being so close to the feinhound meant that Fritha’s heartbeat suddenly boomed like a drum in Lilian’s extra sensitive ears. As she had done so many times before, she flipped her focus inwards and found the golden light coming from her own heart. She coaxed some of it easily to the tips of her fingers and said a little prayer that everything would be okay. But as soon as the first few drops of golden lights left her hand then that searing, burning pain swept through her body at lightning speed. It was like touching a hot stove or pan, but instead of the pain coming from just one place, it was all over her, all at once. It seemed to be worst in her right arm, but Lilian didn’t stay in that state for long enough to explore why. She shut her thoughts off from gloaming and snatched her hand away from Fritha’s back. Fritha, sensing the sudden movement, woke up and twisted her big head back to look at Lilian. Lilian’s heart was pounding, she was worried sick and scared to the pit of her stomach. Fritha sensed this and focused her large, cat-like eyes on Lilian’s sweat-stained face. They were hard to read, but Lilian thought she could detect concern on her furry friend’s face. Fritha stretched and twisted further and extended her long purple tongue to lick Lilian’s cheek softly. She breathed out a long sigh through her black, wet nose. Lilian touched her head and scratched behind her ears.

“Oh lady,” she whispered, “what have I done?”

As night fell across the city the group rose from the depths of the rare flower market and stepped into the pale moonlight. It was cold, but Lilian didn’t mind. The cold was familiar to her and she greeted it as an old friend. The atmosphere in Freedos was one of anticipation. Candles burned in windows and fingers twitched at curtain edges, the folk inside, desperate for a glimpse of the few brave people who were stealing into the dark to take back their city. Katrina and Genevive had stayed behind and so it was William, Peter, Mr Attorcop, Fritha and Lilian who stalked the cobbled streets in silence, listening intently for any signs of soldiers. Lilian looked up and saw flame lit faces peering down at them from the tall apartment windows. She saw children, friends, families and older citizens beaming and egging them on. Lilian smiled up at them all and repeated a silent promise that she would not let them down. She felt nervous but had to admit that there was excitement there as well. Fritha seemed happy to be out and about, but even the fabled feinhound walked with an extra sense of purpose in her padded steps. Mr Attorcop led the way and the group marched on in quiet determination.

Just as the muscles in their legs began to burn from climbing, the old volcano levelled out and they had reached Fyremont. The buildings became more ornate and the colours more vibrant as they made their way into the richest part of the city that wasn’t directly within the palace walls. They took a left down a small street, barely wide enough for two horses to pass each other, and came out of the other end in plain view of the cemetery. It was an old place, officially called Elska’s Place of Rest. Elska was the woman from the stories who cared for those that died or for those that lost someone close to them. The cemetery was enclosed by a small fence and so they passed through a wooden lychgate decorated with flowers to access the main cemetery. Just beyond the entrance was a marble statue of Elska herself, her hands stretched out in front of her as if welcoming you and offering assistance. The group pressed on, entering the labyrinth of tombs and mausoleums. Mr Attorcop knew the way and Lilian tried not to get distracted by the size and opulence of the crypts. Each one was carved more beautifully than the last, with stone animals frozen in play, serene marble faces carved in pearly white and the family names lovingly chiselled into stone. These were the final resting places of the old and wealthy Freedos families. Even in death, thought Lilian, they live better than the poor.

Mr Attorcop’s dark starry cloak pulled dry and crackling leaves along with him as he strode ahead. After a few minutes of twisting and turning through tomb lined pathways he stopped suddenly in his tracks. Lilian caught up to him and saw what had caused the halt. A few yards ahead of them was a large wall, dark, flat, imposing and twenty feet high. Beyond its top Lilian could just about make out the palace spires and above them, the silver moon. At the base of the wall was a large iron door, shrouded in vines and menacing in the moonlight. Around the door however was a very strange site. There was a group of soldiers, at least twenty, all strewn across the floor in various levels of incapacitation. A few of them were tied up and gagged with rags, several seemed to be knocked out completely, face down on the flagstones like forgotten toys. It seems they had been posted there to intercept anyone trying to enter the door, but they had been bested. And recently. Lilian noticed movement from the corner of her eye and she and Mr Attorcop went quickly into defensive stances. Three men emerged from behind a mausoleum. Lilian narrowed her eyes and studied them in the dim light. One of them seemed familiar to her. As they approached however, Lilian began to feel worried. Each of them was wiping a strange, purple ichor out from around their eyes. The man in the middle approached them and raised his hand in greeting.

“Good evening,” he said and Lilian instantly recognised his voice.

“Genero?” she exclaimed.

“The very same!” he stumbled a little as they approached. Clearly he was in the middle of recovering from the fight. “Couldn’t let you lot have all the fun now could we? May it never be said that The Sons of Taymar did not show when the need arose.” Lilian scowled.

“You didn’t show! You were supposed to stop that awful man from selling Nightshade and instead you bought some and disappeared!” it was all she could do to not stamp her foot.

“Ah, you, remember that do you? Ahem… Well I’m a changed man Lilian and I hope that my actions,” he gestured to the bruised and battered soldiers all around him, “will speak for themselves.” Lilian continued to scowl and mumbled something inaudible under her breath.

“I think what my friend is trying to say is ‘thank you’, Mr…” said Mr Attorcop.

“Genaro, Alexi Genaro, founder and leader of The Sons of…”

“Taymar, yes so I gather. This lot cause you much trouble?” he gestured to Peter and they proceeded to step over the soldiers where they lay and headed for the iron door. Genaro turned and led the way.

“A few scratches here and there but nothing we can’t handle. They were surprised to see us though. I think they were expecting to have to fight an old man and a little girl.” Lilian felt like challenging him just so that she could show him what this ‘little girl’ was capable of, but she held her tongue. Genaro and his friends had done them a great service, but it would take more than a few unconscious soldiers to earn her forgiveness, especially if he continued to refer to her as just a little girl.

“I’m sure you gave them quite the shock. Peter, would you be so kind and arrange the, hrm, package?”

“Gladly sir,” said Peter as he bounded towards the door and began reaching into his bag for various materials.

“We’ve had a go at it already,” said Genaro, swaying a little from side to side as he spoke, “damn thing is near impenetrable. We thought you might try to get in this way so we came here on the off chance. Seems like our friends had the same idea.” Mr Attorcop turned around and began to usher them all back.

“Well it’s a good job you came when you did. Now if you will all kindly head back to that row over there we should be able to have it open soon enough.” Genaro looked as though he was about to protest but Mr Attorcop already had his hand in the small of his back and was shoving him gently away from the door. The group went back a fair distance and took cover behind a crypt. Lilian strained her eyes and peered into the darkness. In the distance she saw a fizzing flicker of light. Seconds later, Peter was running at full speed towards them. He managed to find cover behind a large tomb nearby and just as he hit the floor, he put his fingers in his ears. Lilian did the same and was glad that she did, because a moment later a deafening bang echoed out from the wall and rolled through the cemetery and down the mountain. Lilian unplugged her ears and nearly laughed at the shock. She glanced over at Mr Attorcop who had his eyes trained on the rising smoke.

“We’re in.”