Fantasy Bound by the Light (Completed)

[ArcticFox]

With or without the Agency, Margaret had to pick a gear to disassemble.

A great portion of the operation was dependent upon the health of the foot soldiers. Perhaps she could use her medical expertise to introduce some contaminant into the water or food stores, causing a long-term illness sufficient to sap the strength of those who were to fight.

Or perhaps she could weaken morale without causing physical illness, by planting doubts in the minds of the foot soldiers. If enough of them stole away, believing the Rising to be lost before it begun, their fear will become reality.

Or there was the need to store the explosives necessary for the Rising in different parts of the city. The destruction or discovery of one of the stockpiles might well attract the attention of the authorities. Perhaps she could use her knowledge of arms and armaments to set something off early, as if accidentally.

The final weak link in Callahan's chain was his desire to coordinate with other cities. Unwilling to trust the post or telegraph, even with ciphers, he was sending verbal messages to his allies via couriers on horseback. Perhaps she could get herself employed as a courier and subtly misdirect or alter some of the crucial messages.

What do you do?

- Poison food and water.
- Set off the explosives early.
- Volunteer for courier duty.
- Use your storytelling to make them believe the cause is already lost.

 

[Ezri]

As logical a conclusion as it may be, Margaret found the thought of poisoning the soldiers a little too dismissive of human life, even for her. Blowing things up was Townshend’s area of expertise, and while it could be a devastating setback, it would only be a setback. The way to stop this not only now, but also for the longer term, was to dismantle the actual organization as much as she could.

But not here. Maybe there were people she could actively dissuade, in fact there were probably more of them than she thought, but those who were loyal to Callahan’s scheme would not make it easy for her. Working too close to home was a risky move, and this level of fanaticism would be hard to avoid, let alone talk people out of.

But anyone who made political dealings, who would make alliances for what they believed to be their own best interest — these were the people mostly likely to be influenced by her. They might not question her misdirection, and if they did that might not necessarily be a bad thing. People in any position of power, even in an idealogical organization like this, have to be at least a little paranoid to begin with. The smallest suspicion that they’re being taken advantage of, or that the mission’s been compromised, could drive them to call the whole thing off to protect themselves. Without the help of the other cities there would only be so much Callahan could hope to accomplish. If she could get the job as a messenger it could still be traced back to her, but the damage would be irreparable. That seemed like her best shot.

 

[ArcticFox]

Only a born horseman would think of this strategy and only a man in peak condition would have the ability to execute it.

Margaret hadn't ridden horses regularly in many years and she found the courier route grueling. She rode from Kingsford to Stratmouth to Turndale to Kingsford, and by the end of the first circuit, every bone in her body ached badly enough to bring tears to her eyes.

But she pushed through. She had to.

She had to start slow. One day she gave the leader of the Turndale Resistance only half of Callahan's message. If her omission got back to Callahan, she could claim to have forgotten – it wouldn't be an obvious betrayal – but to her relief, there were no repercussions whatsoever.

Soon it was time to try something more daring.

She delivered Callahan's message verbatim, but she always added a little something of her own. When the leader of the Resistance in Stratmouth asked whether Kingsford would be ready to Rise on the first of autumn, she hesitated. Without telling an actual falsehood, she managed to convey that the Kingsford branch was disorganized and demoralized and even its own foot soldiers thought the Rising unlikely to succeed.

The following week, she did the same thing in Turndale.

Before long, the leaders of the outlying cities were charging Margaret with increasingly lukewarm messages to Callahan. It seemed likely that they will withdraw their support.

When rumors to this effect spread among his people, the hit to morale was devastating. Without coordinated Risings in other cities, it would be much harder for Callahan's people to hold Kingsford once they took it and Callahan's people begun to wonder if they could possibly win after all. Distracted and doubting, they made mistakes, left messages unanswered, abandoned errands uncompleted. A sense of incompetence spread like rot through Callahan's organization.

--

"We are losing strength every day." Callahan said in a meeting of his senior staff. To the larger group, he was never anything but optimistic and inspiring, only with the few trusted subordinates did he allow the mask to slip. "We cannot wait until the first of autumn. We must start the Rising now, while we can still command the force necessary to do it."

"Or we lie low and wait for a more fortuitous occasion." Someone suggested. But there were growls of negation from all over the room. Everyone has put too much into this to bear the thought of delay.

"It is decided." Callahan said. "We strike next Saturday."

Margaret had succeeded in making the Rising start too soon. Now she could only hope that was enough.

That night, she stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Thinking of...

- Taggart.
- Alexander.
- Finch.
- Woodsworth.
- Callahan.

 

[Ezri]

Margaret had not anticipated how hard the courier work would be — for a while she felt like it was a miracle she could move at all after those journeys — but the mission as a whole was taking its toll on her as well. Her plan had worked, even better than she could have hoped for, and the Rising would now break out rushed and off kilter. It felt like too much to ask, but with luck it would simply fizzle out and end with a whimper rather than a bang.

Almost more than her predicted success, she was looking forward to just going home. If she’d have a home to go back to, anyway. How long had it been since she’d seen Taggart? Would he be happy to see her? It felt almost childish to think about, knowing how ahead of herself she was getting by entertaining the idea, but sleep refused to come and mind insisted on wandering. Even if it was idealistic, or hypocritical, the hope that she could return to someone who was truly important to her was too appealing of a thought to ignore.

 

[ArcticFox]

With everything that could go wrong, Margaret had to at least warn one person about it. Taggart had to know what was coming.

As he heard her story he nodded, looking pale. "Thank you." He hesitated for a moment. "Come home. Stay here."

But they both knew that wasn't yet possible.

He sighed and half-smiled. "I know. I won't tell you to be careful, either. But I'll be praying for your safety." He covered her lips with his own briefly. It would have to suffice for now.

--

In the foggy grey Saturday pre-dawn, the Resistance rose up and took Kingsford.

At least, some of it did. Many of Callahan's soldiers, convinced of imminent failure, did not appear for duty.

The original plan called for simultaneous explosions to blow up Parliament, the yard where Merrill's miniaturised mechanical soldiers were stored, the main Army barracks, and most of the railway stations.

But Margaret had caused enough attrition to Callahan's forces that he had to abandon the Parliament mission.

And anonymous warnings delivered to Merrill's yard and the Army barracks - by Alexander, she was fairly certain - made it impossible to smuggle the explosives inside either building.

The damage to the railway stations was admittedly quite severe.

As the sun rose, companies of surprisingly well-armed and well-drilled men attempted to take the old city watchtower and the main armoury. But there were simply not enough of them. Too many have crept away home. They were repulsed from the armoury. They did occupy the watchtower for several tense hours, but Margaret's decision to disrupt communications proved to be the right one. When the expected reinforcements did not arrive from other cities, the Resistance proved unable to hold what they have taken.

In the end, the Rising that was supposed to crash over Kingsford like a tidal wave and sweep across the Empire… did nothing of the kind.

Most of the damage done was to property. Some people caught up in the madness were injured a few were killed.

Among the last group were two men eventually identified by the authorities as Sean Callahan and John Kendall. Both were killed by a single gunshot wound and left with no clue as to who their assailant might have been - not that the police looked all that hard.

--

The news was brought to Margaret and Alexander at headquarters, where she had temporarily retreated along with some others of Callahan's diminished army.

Pauline put her hand to her mouth and started to cry. "It's over."

"Only for today." Alexander said, taking centre stage exactly as the leader of the Resistance should. "Everybody get out of here. Scatter. Keep your heads down and wait for my signal. We live to fight another day, following the principles Sean Callahan taught us."

When the warehouse was empty, he added to her. "Not the ones he lived by. Just the ones he taught us. Well, Margaret Blackwood, you've saved the Empire from the Vlaskesari and the Resistance from itself. How does it feel?"

- Answer.

 

[Ezri]

The Rising was a tense affair, even if Margaret felt confident in her disruptions; there were never any guarantees, and while laying low she could only hear about what was going on from others. But as the day went on her muscles relaxed, her expression lightened. At the final report of Callahan’s death she nearly jumped up andcheered in triumph, although considering she was still hiding with the Free Mercia members she knew that wouldn’t go over well.

What would happen to Free Mercia now, anyway? Would Alexander take over leading the resistance? It seemed like a natural fit, but it couldn’t be good for his ego... there was a price to pay for freedom, she supposed.

“How does it feel? What, are you a newspaper reporter now?” She scoffed, with a wry smile. She was tired, but more than that she was relieved. The weight of the world had left her shoulders. “Good, of course, I get to go home! No more of this miserable nonsense, I’m never riding a horse again. It’s almost hard to believe it’s over. I just hope it’s all uphill from here.”

 

[ArcticFox]

His answering grin lit up his face. "It feels good from here too. And now we can get on with the real work." He let out a sigh. "Tomorrow. We'll start tomorrow. You should go home, Margaret. Tell your Aurifer the new head of Free Mercia… sends his regards. And he and I should talk sometime." He looked around the room. "Later. After we clean up a bit. There's so much to do…"

--

Margaret walked through the rubble and mess and frightened people that characterised a city the day after a riot, reaching the temple gate just as Taggart and a gaggle of healers emerged. Innocent people were hurt yesterday, so the temple folk were leaving their safe refuge to offer healing to the wounded, wary city.

Of course they were.

When Taggart saw her, his eyes closed for a moment. All he said to her was, "Welcome home," but he squeezed your shoulder as she went by, as though to reassure himself she came through the Rising unscathed.

--

With the Rising in Kingsford fizzled like wet gunpowder and the ones in outlying cities not even attempted, the threat of a Vlaski invasion dissipated like smoke. Most of the Empire never knew it was even a possibility.

In the wake of the fizzled Rising everyday life gradually returned to normal.

The Labour Bill was proposed as usual. It did not pass.

A bill was proposed that would make it illegal for Sun Temples to have charge of orphaned children. This one didn't pass either, thank the Sun, though the vote was so close it turned some of Taggart's hair grey. Sun worshippers were particularly unpopular at that time – they were vipers in the nest, after all, part of that untrustworthy rabble who almost succeeded in fermenting a Rising.

Of course they were.

"If you're in this for fame and the adoration from the populace, you've picked the wrong profession." Taggart said to Margaret, gently. "Sometimes it has to be enough to have won, even if no one knows. Perhaps one day the story can be told. Perhaps one day you can tell it. Until then, it has to be enough that we know who saved our city. Your hands, Margaret. You did this." He took her hand and squeezed it tight. "And there's no time for moping, in any case! Elaine was looking for you – something about stocking supplies for the clinic…"

It was the year 1891 and Margaret is now a senior acolyte, shortly to become a healer, of the Temple of the Sun. It was a long and twisting road that started at the Goraskan battlefield and wound up here - ten years of decisions, large and small, that moved her to this place at this moment in time.

There's so much work to be done, it almost made her head swim. There's always plenty for a healer to do, making the world better one blanket and hot meal and legal reform at a time. And now that she had saved her country from the Vlaskesari, she had time to work on the rest of it.

To what better use could her hands be put, after all?

The End!​