The Eye of Zoltar

I looked again. Now she mentioned it, the two encampments to the east and west did appear to have cranes and piles of building materials, coal, even a locomotive or two, and behind each fortified area was a railway, snaking out behind and soon lost to view in the endless green folds of the countryside. The area of churned soil and shattered earth was confined, I noticed, solely to the area around Llangurig.

As we watched, a salvo of artillery was fired from the railway company to the east, and a few moments later several shellbursts appeared close by their enemies in the west, who returned fire and felled an ancient oak that looked as though it had survived several near-misses in the past. While the artillery barrage continued, I noticed that engineers and armoured fighting vehicles on the western side were attempting to lay some railway track in the direction of Llangurig. This was soon noticed by those in the east, who sent forward some skirmishers to stop the engineers, which they managed to do – only three sleepers were laid, for a body count, as far as I could see, of five.

While this was going on the engineers in the east used a steam crane to deliver a completed section of track about thirty feet in length, which was met with a fusillade of small-arms fire from the west. As we watched, welders in heavy body armour ran out to fix the new section of track, and even though they welded with incredible bravery, the section of track was condemned by the Inspector of Works, who was dressed in a stripy umpire’s outfit.

‘Not enough ballast under the track,’ said Wilson expertly. ‘It would never have taken the weight of a locomotive, let alone fully loaded coal wagons.’

It all seemed very strange indeed, even by Cambrian Empire standards, which were admittedly quite broad. The two factions seemed to be fighting over the mile of empty ground between the two railheads.

‘Okay,’ I said slowly, ‘and they are fighting because …?’

‘I’ll tell you as we walk down,’ said Addie, glancing at the sun to gauge the time. ‘We want to get to town in time for the 12.07 ceasefire.’

‘That seems very precise.’

‘Railway militia are notorious sticklers for punctuality. They are sometimes late, but always apologise and let you know why, and if the ceasefire is really late, you can apply for a refund.’

‘A refund of what?’

She shrugged.

‘No one really knows.’

As we climbed down, the story unfolded itself courtesy of Addie’s spirited storytelling. The conflict began with Tharv’s grandfather, who was keen that the Cambrian Empire make full use of the then new railway technology to bring modernity and riches to the Empire. A flurry of railway companies sprang up to bid on the lucrative railway contracts but, owing to a misunderstanding, two railway companies were mistakenly awarded the potentially lucrative line from Cambrianopolis to the deep-water anchorages at Aberystwyth.

‘After some wrangling,’ concluded Addie, ‘the Emperor decreed that whoever got to Llangurig first would control the line, so a flurry of building ensued. The Cambrian Railway Company built from the east, and the Trans-Wales Rails Corporation from the west. The companies met either side of Llangurig, and one thing led to another – angry words, a bloody nose, someone shot someone, and before you know it there was a war, which has lasted over a century. There are goods stacked high at the docks and in Cambrianopolis waiting to be transported by rail. If your great-grandfather ordered a Cambrian piano, it’ll be in a warehouse somewhere, still waiting to be shipped.’

We stopped within sight of the town walls as the warring companies exchanged another artillery salvo and several brave railway militiamen were cut down by a scythe of machine-gun fire.

‘How many people have died over this mile of railway track during that century and a half?’ asked Perkins.

‘Eight thousand,’ said Addie, ‘give or take.’

‘Working for the railways is quite dangerous out here,’ said Wilson.

‘True,’ said Addie, ‘and each of those soldiers is fighting not for glory, but a share of the profits. If the company you fight for builds the track to Llangurig and you survive, you’ll be rich beyond your wildest dreams.’

‘What if you’re killed?’

‘You get a cardboard box to be buried in, and a fifty-pound Argos gift token goes to the widow.’

‘Do they have any trouble recruiting?’ asked Wilson.

‘They’re queuing up.’

‘Someone should put a stop to this,’ growled Perkins.

‘The battle has been going on for so long and the profits to be made from the line are so huge that whoever wins bankrupts the other,’ said Addie, ‘so it really is a matter of corporate life and death. It’s not profit running this war any more, but the dire financial consequences to the loser.’

‘What if it’s a tie?’ I asked out of interest, ‘Couldn’t they share the line?’

‘They would have to drive in the final two spikes at precisely the same time,’ she said, ‘and that’s not likely to happen.’