Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

‘There are many details I wish to mull over,’ Brynd continued, ‘but you should know that yes, I am interested — and I can assure you that money’s not a problem.’

Brynd placed his cup on the floor and stood up. ‘Hopefully then you’ll be able to buy better wine for your guests.’

He offered a smile and extended a hand to Jeza. She looked up at him with amazement, as if she had not expected him to take them seriously at all.

‘Write to me again, but next time I want to see something finished and ready to test.’

She shook his hand. ‘Sure, we’ll have something in a day or so. You won’t regret it.’

As Brynd left with the Dragoon archers, he realized that this was one of the few times in his life when he’d met a group of people who did not appear startled by his skin colour.

A day later, Brynd rode south on his mare, with Randur Estevu alongside him on a skittish grey colt, which he did not seem able to keep under control.

Late afternoon sunshine was sliding from the sky, leaving an oily residue across the clouds.

The road out of the city was lined with wiry horses and oxen. Bored-looking beasts trudged along the mud-tracks hauling felled trees to the lumber yards or huge chunks of stone for the masons. At this hour, there were dozens of them making their way to the city before the sun set.

‘These are encouraging signs, young Randur,’ Brynd called out, gesturing at the line of traffic. ‘These are the building blocks of the new age. The city will be rebuilt. Life will be restored to what it was. This gives me hope.’

‘Well, not to be annoying about it,’ Randur replied, ‘but anything’s better than the pile of shite that Villiren was a while ago, let’s be honest.’

‘Your mood is still sour, I see.’ Brynd pulled his horse to slow down to a more casual pace, so that he could sip some water and contemplate the gentle flow of people. ‘Any chance it will improve, since we’ve a way to go yet? I would have thought this country air would’ve done a rural fellow like you some good.’

‘Bugger has it done me any good. It’s cold out here, and I’m hungry, if you must know.’

Brynd chuckled and said nothing.

‘What’re you laughing at?’ Randur asked. ‘Do I amuse you somehow? Look, chap, not all of us have had our senses slapped into some new state where we can’t feel anything any more.’

‘A little. You remind me of an old comrade,’ Brynd said. ‘He was a good friend, actually, and he was just as pessimistic as you.’

‘I wasn’t always this bad, you know. Doesn’t seem that long ago that I was chipper and looking around for little but a decent plate of meat or a lady’s sigh. So, what happened to him, your comrade?’

‘He died.’

‘Oh,’ Randur replied. ‘Sorry to hear that. Was he killed in Villiren?’

‘No, he died just before as it happens — we were on our way here, to Villiren,’ Brynd replied. ‘It was our first encounter with the Okun, just an outrider group — a couple of hundred of the Empire’s finest. Got himself fatally injured but that didn’t stop him in his dying moments dragging a pile of relics to collapse the ice long enough for us to get out. He saved the Night Guard and a good few soldiers, and allowed us all to get back to the city so that the defence could be maintained. If it wasn’t for him, I suspect, Villiren would have fallen. He was a good one, ultimately. Bitter and jaded, just like you, and would have gone to great lengths to avoid doing any work. Just like you.’

‘Hey, I’ve done my fair share,’ Randur grunted. ‘I’ve saved Eir from execution, as well as your charming Empress Rika. Took them from right under Urtica’s eye, and I brought them all the way out here. I think I’ve earned a rest, don’t you? Especially from that woman Rika. You can deal with her sourness now.’

‘Tell me,’ Brynd began, ‘did anything happen to Rika before you brought her to Villiren? She seems rather different these days. You went through quite a journey, so it seems. That’s enough to change someone’s outlook. .’

‘You’re ferreting out why she’s such a miserable sow all of a sudden, aren’t you? Truth be told, I don’t know. She was always boring, right from when I met her, but at least there was something gentle to her then. Now, she’s. . Well, there’s a glint in her eye that wasn’t there before. You could call it a darkness in her heart — she’s no longer a docile girl, no longer some meek former priestess. She wasn’t the same after she met Artemisia. I take it you were told about us being on her ship?’

‘Yeah, Rika and Eir told me about that. A ship in the sky — quite remarkable.’

‘Ridiculous if you ask me, though the flying monkey things were fun. Anyway, things changed then, on that ship. I wouldn’t like to say that it was Artemisia’s doing, but Rika felt like that warrior woman was her god. She was in awe of her right from the off, and didn’t seem to want to question her like we did, me and Eir. Then — and here’s the really weird part — they took the same chambers at night. Heard groaning, but didn’t know if they were, you know. .’ He raised his eyebrows at Brynd. ‘Getting their end away.’

‘I understood you from your expression, thank you,’ Brynd said. ‘You don’t know for certain? This could change things.’

‘The old pervert in me likes to think they were — just to loosen Rika up a bit, you know? But truth be told, I’m not sure. The groans could have been from pleasure or pain.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘Well, next thing you know, Rika suddenly toughened up a little. At the time I was just grateful she stopped being so useless and passive — things would happen with a little more certainty.’ Randur let out a sigh. ‘I’ve no doubt we’re all doing the right thing by Artemisia, having witnessed what I have, and having been protected by her blades. But Rika’s a different person by a long way. And I just hope. .’

Brynd remained silent, hoping Randur might continue. The wind stirred, sliding across this bleak landscape.

Randur pushed back a lock of his long black hair, and flashed him a grin. ‘I bet after saving the city you didn’t anticipate handing over the reins of the Empire to such a bitch.’

Brynd grunted. ‘You should have more respect for the woman who leads so many people into this new era.’

‘Thing is,’ Randur replied, ‘how much respect does the woman have for her people?’

They rode on for the better part of an hour until the road petered out, becoming nothing more than a muddy trail. The lights of the city faded from view, and the darkness and silence of the countryside became something more complete. Stars were brighter and the temperature plummeted. It wasn’t long before all they could hear were the sounds of the horses’ hooves and the animals’ breathing.

They navigated east around the edge of the Wych Forest, and up a long, gentle slope that seemed to go on forever. Even at this hour, one of the moons cast enough light to suggest that nothing had been moving around here for days, not even any animals. The horses walked slower wherever the snow deepened; Brynd was careful not to injure them on this terrain. The further inland they travelled, clouds suddenly began to mass, obscuring the stars, and Brynd could smell the smoke from campfires some way off.

They’re here at least . .

Brynd halted his mare, dismounted, and tied her to a broken tree stump.

Randur followed suit, and then stepped alongside him. ‘Is this it?’ he asked. ‘Where are they meant to be? There’s nothing but snow and the odd dead tree.’

‘We’re not quite at the top of the hill,’ Brynd replied. ‘I want to walk there cautiously because I can hear them over the other side.’