Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

‘And they would be. .?’

‘Cultist-designed heroes. I was in charge of them, as it happens. There were only three of them and they were each given special powers to help fight crime. A little like the Night Guard but more specialized. Only one survives now, and her name is Lan. At the same time the underground movement had swelled to a point where tensions were simply too much. I’ve heard talk that there was an attempt on the Emperor’s life and that he was assassinated, but that all became overshadowed by the presence of the sky-city.’

‘Indeed. .’ the commander said. ‘Do you know where it came from?’

‘I don’t know,’ Fulcrom continued. ‘One moment there was nothing but the usual grey skies, the next it was just there — dropping creatures into the city and massacring people.’

‘You seem to have handled it well,’ the commander observed. ‘Getting everyone out here like this, getting them all moving — that kind of thing isn’t simple.’

Fulcrom grimaced. ‘It just. . happened, really. No one knew what to do. I’ve not even mentioned Frater Mercury yet.’

‘Frater who?’

The man who invented the rules — you’ll see.

That’s what the rumel investigator had said — the man who invented the rules, and the man who could probably save them — if he chose to do so. This, then, would be the person Artemisia mentioned back at the Citadel, the one so important to their world.

Brynd walked with the affable investigator up the slope, a little exhausted now despite the fact that the battle had been relatively simple compared with Villiren. His mind was thoroughly engaged in processing the mess that the Jamur Empire had become. Although a staggering number of people had died, more deaths had been avoided, and he couldn’t help but feel satisfied that the battle had proven successful. The Okun had been comprehensively defeated, thanks to combining forces with Artemisia’s people — an important gesture. Also, his new armour was everything he had hoped for.

When they crested the hill, Brynd stared in awe at the scene below. Enormous, strange vessels were drifting out to sea, the crude, flat outlines more akin to floating islands than ships, and how they were moving without sails was anyone’s guess.

‘That is what Frater Mercury does,’ Fulcrom said enthusiastically next to him. The relief was clear on the rumel’s face. ‘He changes all the rules.’

‘What are they?’ Brynd asked.

‘They were land-vehicles,’ Fulcrom said.

‘We had reports of such things, but what are they?’

‘So far as I can tell, exactly that — they’re moving vehicles crafted from the fabric of the earth itself — quite literally. Frater Mercury — the man, being, thing I mentioned — possesses some qualities that we can’t fathom.’

Fulcrom then explained the emergence of this being as the result of a priest coming to Villjamur, brought through worlds by means of some arcane ritual.

‘What happened to the priest?’

Fulcrom shrugged. ‘Gone. Presumably killed during the events in Villjamur.’ Fulcrom hesitated before continuing. ‘The priest said some strange things, about our history not being as we believe it to be.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Brynd replied, looking around cautiously. ‘We have figures from the other realm who can confirm this was the case.’

‘These figures,’ Fulcrom said, ‘will they be looking for Frater Mercury?’

‘Yes, I’d say that’s very likely. That will need to happen before the next phase.’

‘What’s that going to be?’ Fulcrom asked. ‘The next phase.’

Brynd turned back to face the sky-city, which was defined only by the absence of starlight. ‘We’ll need to take that thing down and wipe out anything it’s brought to ground and that does not wish to exist peacefully. There are no gentle solutions, and very little room for negotiations. At the same time, we have to accept that we are going to have to share our world with other species. There is plenty of land, many islands that are sparsely populated, but I can’t imagine it’s going to be a smooth journey.’

‘How do you plan to take down the sky-city?’ Fulcrom asked. ‘It’s already obliterated Villjamur.’

‘First, we’re going to complete the evacuation, get ourselves to safety and, once we have time to build up enough of an opposition, then we can begin to consider our real options.’

‘In the meantime,’ Fulcrom said, ‘we lose the island of Jokull?’

‘The Empire may have collapsed, but we still have the people,’ Brynd said diplomatically. As he looked to the future, he had already lost his emotional attachments to the concept of the old Empire. ‘Life as we know it has changed and a new world will form — for better or worse. We need people to shape these events, however — people like you.’

Fulcrom turned to watch the ships again. ‘I’ve never really contemplated what I’d do next. Getting off the island was all I could think about for every waking hour. How could I help?’

‘There will need to be a force similar to the Inquisition — even for a transitional period. Not just in Villiren, where we’re currently based, but the new plans would need defining for further afield. And I tend not to trust many people from Villiren.’

‘I’ve heard it’s a pretty fast and loose city.’

Brynd laughed. ‘Yes, you could say that. And that was before the war, so imagine how problematic things are now. No, now I’ll need good investigators, and a different form of street policing. We’re carving our own future at the moment — but you should be a part of that, given your achievements and leadership skills.’

A figure bounded towards them, descending from above; Brynd tensed and moved for his sabre.

‘It’s all right,’ Fulcrom said. ‘It’s Lan, one of the Villjamur Knights — the group I told you about. She’s the last remaining one.’

Brynd examined the newcomer: she was lithe and athletic, with a strong, overgrown dark fringe and an outfit as black as night. There was a strange symbol on the front, now muddied: a white cross set within a circle. ‘A Villjamur Knight,’ Brynd muttered, and nodded. ‘Fulcrom here has been telling me about what happened in Villjamur. So you fought crime on behalf of Urtica?’

‘Something like that,’ she said with a half smile, and he knew by her sarcasm that she wasn’t some pre-programmed Urtican puppet. Lan gave them a report on what was happening with the civilian movements. ‘There are now twenty craft transporting roughly two or three thousand people.’

‘How are they travelling?’ Fulcrom asked. ‘What’s taken the place of the horses?’

‘Nothing,’ Lan said and then laughed gently. ‘The horses are walking on the surface of the sea — it was incredible to witness. They seemed tentative at first but whatever Frater Mercury did to them — or the sea, or both — they’re now happily treading on the surface as if it was sand. We’ve had to space the vehicles wide enough apart so that the waves created don’t soak the people. There’re enough freezing to death already.’

Brynd nodded and gestured to the horizon. ‘I’ve seen to it that every seaworthy vessel is sailing to this island to help with the evacuation,’ he replied. ‘Garudas are helping with their navigation — we didn’t quite know where the exit point would be — but we should have a few thousand fishing boats, longships, trade ships, whatever we can get our hands on, all landing ashore over the next day or two.’

‘Will that be quick enough?’ Fulcrom enquired.

Brynd frowned. ‘I just don’t know. The dragons are transporting another few thousand soldiers so we’ll have more troops ashore before sunrise. We can form several lines of defence, to ensure the safety of the civilian population. We’re doing what we can.’