Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

‘Colourfully put,’ Brynd muttered and considered the matter for a while longer. Was there any reason not to believe Randur? They had both witnessed Rika’s deterioration, and Randur had personally seen her safe passage across the Archipelago. He harboured no grudges that Brynd knew of, either, and now his demeanour seemed genuine. Brynd knew the look of panic in someone, and Randur was displaying it here genuinely. Despite his sceptical nature, Brynd was inclined to believe that there was something in what Randur said that was probably the truth.

Which was a deeply distressing realization.

‘What do you think you’ll do about her?’ Randur asked.

‘I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest, but I believe you saw what you say you saw.’

‘Huh, which means you could think I had the eyes of a madman.’

‘It’s a very thin line between a sane person and a mad one. Some suggest that the only difference between perceptions of sanity and madness is the status of the person in question.’

Randur grunted a laugh. ‘I’ve seen some weird shit in my time, I can tell you, enough to last me a lifetime. I saw what I saw. This was an extraordinary sight.’

‘I’ve no doubt you felt it was.’

‘Do you think it’s related to Artemisia?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, Rika does seem rather keen on the woman — emotionally attached. It’s a bit like love gone wrong, their relationship.’

Brynd regarded the flames of the fire as they began to die down. He reached forward to throw another log on, and gazed as the flames licked at the wood. ‘She enquired about Artemisia earlier — it was the first and only thing she asked of me. Not how the battle went, not how many casualties there were, nothing about the refugees.’

‘Look,’ Randur said, ‘I’m no politician, but is she really the kind of lass you want to be putting in front of folk? Do you really want people to put their support behind someone who’s not all there?’

‘She is the Jamur heir,’ Brynd replied. ‘It is as simple as that.’

‘Madness took her father, didn’t it?’

‘It did. I was there when he fell to his death.’

‘Oh,’ Randur said.

‘This isn’t the same kind of madness. It was paranoia that affected her father, and was an affliction that accumulated slowly over the years.’

After a pause, Randur said, ‘I only hope Eir keeps her wits.’

‘She’ll have to with you as her partner.’ Brynd smiled.

Randur’s own smile faded. ‘Look, chief, to be perfectly frank, I’m a bit worried — she was outside my window. You know what I’m saying? She knows that I saw her. She knows that I’m a threat — and is no doubt worried I’ll tell you about her secret.’

‘Well, she’d be right,’ Brynd pointed out.

‘Oh very funny.’ Randur stood up and pointed at Brynd. ‘If I end up as some midnight feast, with all my youthful limbs bearing her teeth marks, I will personally come back as a spirit to haunt you. And I’ll be twice as annoying when I’m dead.’

Brynd chuckled and waved him down. ‘Don’t worry, Randur. Firstly, you’re with Eir each night, right? Rika would not bother her sister, I wouldn’t have thought. She’s had hundreds of opportunities to kill her — or indeed anyone at the Citadel. No, I’d say if she’s hunting in the streets, she doesn’t want to be seen — perhaps she’s aware of her own urges, and is therefore trying to avoid being caught in the act.’

‘I don’t know — I think we can safely assume she’s not right in the head,’ Randur said, and began to saunter around the room. ‘Anything could happen.’

Brynd turned in his chair to follow Randur’s steps. ‘OK, I’ll have two soldiers stationed outside your door and we can make sure your window gets boarded up — we can claim it’s broken.’

‘I’d appreciate it.’ Randur picked up one of Brynd’s swords from the rack against the wall. ‘Decent blade, this.’ He began to work through some moves that seemed a little genteel at first, then Brynd could see some real flair there.

‘We’ve not had the pleasure of sparring yet, have we?’ Brynd asked. ‘Perhaps we can see what you’re made of soon.’

Randur finished a series of moves with a flourish. ‘I’d like that,’ he replied. ‘I was without doubt the best swordsman on my island. I fought my way across the archipelago to keep the Jamur flame burning. I’d say I’d hold my own.’

‘That is if you’re not eaten in the night.’

‘I don’t especially like your jokes,’ Randur said. ‘They’re not actually funny.’

‘Who was making a joke?’ Brynd replied coolly.

Randur grunted his reply. ‘So, what will you do regarding Rika’s position?’

‘I need to sleep on it first,’ Brynd replied. ‘The mission has drained me somewhat, and I think it needs the clarity of a good night’s rest before I actually engage with the situation.’

‘Fair enough,’ Randur replied, and moved towards the door. ‘But it might be worth having her followed, in case you’re not sure whether or not to really trust me.’ He flipped back the bolts and opened the door cautiously to see if anyone was outside. He waited a good minute before he was confident and then he glanced back into the room. ‘Thanks for taking the time to listen.’

Brynd gestured wearily. ‘I appreciate you telling me — honestly, I do.’

As Randur closed the door, Brynd sighed and approached the window. He moved his hand to draw back the curtain — paused, bearing in mind what Randur had said about Rika — then with a swift flick of his arm he pulled them open.

There was nothing there, no creature scaling the walls, no mad former Empress. Only the cityscape of Villiren presented itself and Brynd stared down on the glistening beacons and lanterns around the harbour. He had only just arrived back from fighting and wondered if the situation could get any worse. If what Randur said was true, and rumours broke out across the city, Brynd knew just what that would do to his plans to get the remains of the Empire moving forward.

Will there be any end to this? How bad will things have to get?

Jeza decided it was time to return to the location where the Mourning Wasp had been discovered. Though she had taken small samples to assess its potential, she alone could not have conducted the complex experiments to take it back to the factory.

She brought Coren and Diggsy with her this time, and they helped her with their sophisticated equipment. The boys cursed the rain that lashed against their faces on the journey there, and cursed the ascent on their skittish horses. But, eventually, in the sanctuary of the cave, they saw what Jeza had found and were astounded — as she had been herself.

As she stared at the remnants of the original Mourning Wasp once again she realized that the find managed to fulfil that need in her life, the thirst for knowledge.

It seemed to fill the void of answers in her own existence.

Like some of the others at the factory, Jeza had grown up without knowing her parents. She told herself she didn’t care about this. She had been lucky, though, and had somehow managed to scrape a decent existence alongside cultists, who had taught her to read, had instilled in her a sense of curiosity.

Jeza felt a strange kinship with these forgotten creatures of the past; and she was determined not to be forgotten. So she wanted to make her mark.

And she would do that through palaeomancy.

Coren laughed a little, pushed a few strands of black hair from his eyes. He walked around, folding his arms around his stocky midriff. ‘I’ll give you this. It’s the best find you’ve made.’