Chapter Thirteen

Dain opened his eyes. There were wooden roof slats above him, and dust was circulating, highlighted by the sunlight coming in through the window. He started to sit up, gasping in pain as he did so, and collapsing back down. He was surprised. He hadn’t expected the afterlife to be so painful. The idea that he was alive honestly seemed to be the more unlikely option, and yet, looking around, he appeared to be in his own house, in his own bed. He lifted his shirt to examine his side. There were fresh bandages around the wound where he remembered the knife going in.  It seemed that he had been found, and his wound treated. He also seemed to be thinner, making him wonder how long he had been asleep for. Most importantly though, he had survived. Miraculously, and unexpectedly, he had survived.

“Gelen?” called Dain loudly, hoping for final proof.

He heard footsteps, and broke into a grin as his wife and two children came running into the room.

“Dad!” they exclaimed, running towards him as he forced himself to sit up to greet them.

He grunted as the younger of the two collided with him for a hug, sending pain shooting through him. Dain hugged them both, ruffling their hair as he looked up to Gelen.

“You’re awake,” she said, smiling for what seemed like the first time in a very long time.

“I am,” he smiled, releasing his children from the embrace, still finding it hard to believe.

“How do you feel? Do you need anything?” she asked, putting a hand to his forehead to check his temperature.

“Yes please, I would love some food and water,” said Dain, only just realising how hungry he was.

“Of course,” said his wife agreeably, leaving to fetch it. She came back with a bowl of porridge and a cup of water, the latter of which Dain drank in one go.

“How long was I out for?” he asked, tucking into the food.

“About four days,” said Gelen. “You lost a lot of blood. You woke up at one point in a pretty fevered state and opened up your wound so I gave you a drink that put you back to sleep. I’ve been feeding you honeyed water and some soups to keep you going.”

“Thank you,” said Dain, touched at the care she had given him. It had been hard trying to connect with her since Heymon’s death but perhaps his near-death experience had changed her perspective.

“How did I get here? I was at the miner’s camp. A man attacked me.”

And then Dain had killed him, he suddenly remembered. The attacker had made him a killer. Admittedly it had been self-defence, but it angered and saddened him that he had been forced to do it.

“One of the miners found you unconscious,” she explained. “They fetched someone to treat your wounds temporarily, and then Merek and Parry brought you here when the wound was well enough for you to travel.”

“Merek’s back?” asked Dain, surprised. He had been with miners at the last open brimstone mine. “I should be over there.”

“You almost died!” protested Gelen. “You’re not healthy enough to go running off again, and besides, it made you a target, they tried to kill you!”

“Kids, why don’t you let your mother and I talk in private for a bit,” said Dain lightly.

“Can’t they manage without you?” asked his wife. “Just leave them to it.”

With poetic timing, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” called Dain.

They heard the door open, and moments later Merek appeared, breaking into a relieved smile when he saw Dain.

“It’s good to see you awake,” he said. “How are you?”

“He’s injured,” said Gelen, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

Merek looked to Dain, a slightly desperate look on his face.

“We need you back with the men,” he said. “Things are getting out of hand. Redskin is making speeches and stirring people up, saying all sorts of things about the greed of the aristocracy and how we need to take what’s ours. It looks like he wants to lead the miners, and with you gone, I’m worried about what might happen.”

“But what are you doing here?” asked Dain, glancing at Gelen, who was standing silent as she listened. “What happened at the mine you were visiting?”

Merek sighed.

“When we arrived, there were men armed with clubs and shields protecting the workers, forcing us away to let them in. The workers didn’t want to join us, so we set up nearby, trying to make our voices heard without turning them against us. Anyway, Redskin turned up one afternoon, apparently to see how things were going, and telling us that you had been stabbed. That night, there was a massive mine collapse, and the workers couldn’t get to the brimstone. The mine owner didn’t have the money to pay them the same to excavate it with nothing to sell, and nobody from Rivergate was there to promise them money. So Redskin stepped up and gave a speech, convincing them all that the only way they would get anything was by joining the strike. You should have heard him, I mean you can say what you like about him but he knows how to speak to people,” Merek shook his head, as if he didn’t believe what he was saying. “Anyway, we get back, with new miners to join our camp and Redskin’s a bloody hero. Apparently he promised the group at camp that he would bring the last miners to our side.”

Dain leaned forwards, rubbing his face with his hands to wake him up as he took in the news. The timing of the mine collapse meant it had to have been deliberately organized by Redskin. It was an idea he had considered, but ruled out. For one, it pointed directly to his group and secondly, while he may disagree with the miners choosing to work, it wasn’t right for him to sabotage their place of work in an attempt to win them over.

“There’s one other thing,” said Merek, the look on his face not boding well. “Redskin used your stabbing as a justification to encourage everyone to arm themselves as a show of strength to the King. Most of the men now have some kind of weapon on them.”

“Oh by Anim, this gets worse and worse,” said Dain, trying not to panic. “Has there been any response from the King about this?”

Merek shook his head.

“None yet, but I don’t imagine he’ll let this pass without comment,” said the miner. “We need you down there.”

This wasn’t good. Taking up arms could cause them to be labelled as rebels and to some may be seen as an act of war. It could help their cause, depending on how powerful they were relative to the King’s army. If they were only seen as a nuisance then the King may have justification to wipe them out. If they were viewed as a real threat then it might make the King more eager to negotiate, but it was playing with fire and risked the whole situation spiralling out of control. Redskin seemed to be a loose cannon and it looked like if Dain didn’t do anything about it then he would be the one negotiating with the King, and that could not be allowed to happen. Dain looked at Gelen, who had a resigned look on her face.

“Do you have to?”

“I do,” Dain nodded.

Gelen left the room, and returned with a staff for him.

“I know you want to see this thing through, but please, if you don’t think it’s winnable, then accept it and come home. There’s no use in dying just for the sake of it,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek. “Just come home.”

“I will,” said Dain with a small smile. It was the most affection Gelen had shown him since Heymon’s death. He forced himself to his feet, swaying as the light-headedness hit him. Merek put an arm around him to steady him.

“I’ve got you mate, don’t worry, we’ll get there.”

It was a hard walk. There was very little wind, and the warm sun was making him sweat. His wound still pained him, and he was worried that it might start bleeding again. Merek supported him though, explaining a few of the other things which had been going on in the past few days.

“One of the men recognised the body of the man you killed,” said Merek. “Apparently he was a miner at one of Slynn’s mines, short of money. Maybe he didn’t like you getting the rest of his mine to strike and losing him his job, or maybe he was offered a deal. Nobody can say now.”

If his assassination had been ordered by the King, then that was very bad news indeed. That would suggest an inclination towards resolving the strike violently rather than through negotiation. He had hoped that the King would be against such underhand measures. Perhaps that was foolish of him. It was a scary thought, to realise that people wanted you dead. Dain had never intended for there to be any violence. Of course, it may have just been one man with a grudge. He wouldn’t be getting paid if his mine was closed, so perhaps he desperately needed the money.

“He would have been fed though wouldn’t he?” asked Dain. “We are able to feed everyone still, I take it?”

“Yes, Parry and I collected the money from our mysterious benefactor in your place, and on top of that the families are helping by trying to collect donations in the markets,” explained Merek. “We have enough for the miners, but people are starting to turn up to join our group, and we can’t support them all, as we’ve told them. Redskin seems perfectly happy to promise them a place with his lot though.”

“Of course he is,” grunted Dain bitterly, breathing heavily with the exertion of walking. “Now the real question is how he’ll react when I arrive at the camp.”

Merek continued to support him as they struggled onwards along the path, eventually reaching the miner’s camp. The first thing Dain noticed was their greater numbers. As Merek had said, the last of the brimstone mines had joined them, and others had begun to turn up as well. He also noticed the weapons all the men were carrying in their hands or at their belts. They were generally adapted work tools like sickles, hammers and pickaxes, often with an extended wooden handle for greater reach. Some men had made themselves wooden shields as well. Many turned to look as the pair approached, surprised and pleased at their return.

“It’s Dain! Dain’s back!”

“Dain’s alive!”

A crowd gathered around them, patting him on the back and saying how glad they were that he was up again. Dain thanked them, appreciating his friends’ concern and the support of men he barely knew.

“It’s good to see you again,” said Parry, appearing and embracing him, and putting an arm around him for support. Dain noticed that he had adapted a pickaxe into a kind of war hammer by flattening one end and sharpening the other into a short point. He wore it around his waist.

“You too, friend, you too,” he said. It was then that he saw the tops of two wooden posts stood not far from the river passing by the camp.

“What are they?” asked Dain, trying to get a clearer view over the people and the tents.

“They are where we put the spies,” said Parry, sounding disgusted. “Nobody knew what to do with them so Redskin suggested tying them each to a post and leaving them there for a while.”

Well at least they hadn’t killed them.

“How do we know they are spies?” asked Dain.

“Some of the miners thought they were acting a little oddly, and Elgar saw them sending off a message. They claim to be miners and yet none of the miners from any of the mines recognise them. All in all, it sounds a little suspect,” said Parry. “Besides, one of them admitted it eventually.”

“Cracked?” asked Dain. “Let me see them.”

“As you wish,” sighed his friend. “It’s not pretty though.

He made his way over, leaning on Parry a little for support, forcing smiles as more miners he hadn’t seen yet recognised him. When he saw the spies, the only positive thing he could think was that at least they hadn’t killed them. The men had been beaten to a pulp. They had been stripped down to their undergarments and there was still hardly an unbloodied or unbruised patch of skin on them. One of them had an undoubtedly broken nose; the other had a head wound that appeared to have bled all over the place. Both had black eyes and purple splotches all over. He couldn’t tell if there were any broken ribs but he wouldn’t be surprised.

Dain gritted his teeth angrily, and without saying anything, went over to the nearest of the men tied up. The man flinched away at his approach, something which only infuriated him more. With some difficulty he tried to untie the ropes.

“What are you doing?” asked Parry, disgruntled.

“What does it fucking look like?” he replied. “I’m trying to set these men free. A little help would be appreciated.”

Merek wordlessly handed him a knife to cut their bonds, but Parry stood his ground.

“You’re just deciding that yourself are you?”

Dain cut the bonds of the first man, and stood up.

“Yes, I am. These men are just hired eyes, doing a job. They don’t deserve this. Besides, unless you were planning on killing them then what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, but I think we need to send a strong message to stop them sending more men,” argued Parry. “Someone tried to kill you, and for all you know these men were going to try to finish the job.”

“Well, unless you’re going to stop me, then they are being released,” said Dain, hobbling over to the second man and cutting the ropes tying him. The two of them looked uncertain of what to do, and weren’t in a very fit state to run anywhere. Parry didn’t move, but his expression was stony. The other men gathered around seemed uncomfortable in the situation, and Dain wondered whether they disagreed with what he was doing.

“Redskin won’t be pleased about this,” Parry said.

“My ears are red, do I hear my name being mentioned?” asked the man, stepping out from behind the crowd of people, his long scythe in hand, and his big thug by his side.  He touched a hand to one of his ears. “No, sorry, I forgot, they’re just always that colour.”

“Go,” said Dain to the men. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop this. Tell the King that I do not wish him any ill will, and that nothing has changed; this is all over when our demands are met and Slynn’s cuts are reversed.”

“Dain, I am glad to see you well,” said Redskin, with a humourless smile. “I see you’ve decided to let our friends go. Of course I swore to follow your lead, so I won’t protest, though I am afraid you may have forgotten some of my people’s demands. We did agree to work together after all, and that means both our needs should be met. Otherwise why are we here?”

“A fair question,” replied Dain, staring the man down.

Merek came over to him, whispering in his ear.

“Remember what we decided before? The people support us more readily when we see that our strike is about more than just miners. It’s supposed to be about the working classes standing up to the aristocracy. If we abandon our supposed allies for our own gain then we will lose support. Also, you did shake on it.”

Dain closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose, frustrated at the sense Merek was talking. Redskin may have a violent streak in him, but they had made a deal. He shouldn’t be unfair on Redskin’s men just because their leader was an arrogant prick. The man was smirking knowingly as Dain looked back at him.

“Alright, give me the terms for your labourers,” he muttered.

“Gladly,” the man replied, outlining what he wanted. In essence it involved better pay, fewer hours of work, and no forced temple labour days, which wasn’t unreasonable. As well as that he wanted no punishment for any previous violence before the strike. After that Dain sent them away, after having a staff fetched for each of them to help them walk. Redskin left. Parry left after that as well, apparently not prepared to talk to him after his actions.

“Isn’t it nice to be back?” asked Merek ironically. Dain chuckled bitterly.

“Indeed.”

Next Chapter: Chapter Fourteen