Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

‘Is everything well, commander?’ Fulcrom enquired.

‘As well as can be expected here, yes, but I came to start you up with a few tasks, if you’re willing.’

‘Of course, yes. Is this for the Villiren Inquisition?’

‘If you want to call it that, yes. At the moment the city is under military law, and I would like to work on a transition to something more stable, local and meaningful. That is, if you are both happy to get started immediately?’

Fulcrom looked to Lan, who nodded back.

‘The Inquisition is just the two of you at the moment.’ Brynd reached into his pocket and pulled out two small leather cases. He handed one to Fulcrom and one to Lan.

Fulcrom opened his and found an Inquisition medallion inside, much like the one he wore in Villjamur, with the same triangular crucible stamped upon it. The ribbon was black. Fulcrom put it on over his head; it felt good to have one there again, after having discarded his old one in disgust at his superiors in Villjamur. Lan followed suit, smiling then staring down at the medallion. ‘Our deepest thanks, commander,’ Fulcrom said.

‘As for what I’d like you to do,’ Brynd continued, ‘well. . we’ve heard reports this morning of a creature being found in the middle of a large new iren. A creature that has apparently killed a child. It’s causing a bit of a stir and the iren has been closed for a while. It seems the whole city is talking about it, and we’re the last to know.’

‘Killed a child?’ Fulcrom frowned. ‘What sort of creature are we talking about?’

‘We’ll find out soon enough,’ Brynd replied. ‘Come.’

Fulcrom and Lan, wearing thick robes to cope with the colder conditions, followed the commander on horseback across the city to the iren. The sky had quickly become grey, filled with the promise of snow, though none came. When they arrived, they tied their horses and dismounted in silence, Fulcrom too fascinated by his new surroundings to talk.

The city was busy, much more so than Villjamur, which surprised Fulcrom. The buildings were old and frail, in much need of repair. Slates were missing from rooftops, some lay on the ground in shattered pieces. On closer inspection there was poverty here, even more than he had seen in Villjamur’s caves, but it was kept to side streets, alleys in which people clustered around pit fires — he could see people’s blankets stacked to one side, food rations piled alongside weaponry. Exotic smells drifted from houses, spices he wasn’t familiar with, colours and sounds that seemed a world away from Villjamur. It could take a lot of getting used to.

‘It’s this way.’ The commander led them into a busy thoroughfare and then into an enormous open iren, now up and running again. For a post-war city the amount of trade was incredible: everything from grain and vegetables to metalwork from other islands, from spices to scribe services. The economy was certainly starting to recover again.

‘We cancelled pitch rents for the poorest,’ Brynd said proudly. ‘The previous portreeve had privatized the irens — which was public property would you believe — in many districts, so that landowners were taking profits from the traders and the market barely made any money. The prices were ridiculous. We took the irens back, slashed rents, prices fell and now look at the place — it’s busier than it was before the war. I think that speaks for itself.’

They moved forward through the crowd until they reached a sealed-off military area. Thirty or forty Dragoons were standing casually in a line, but stood to attention when they spotted the commander advancing towards them.

‘At ease,’ Brynd called, but they weren’t half as slack as they were a moment ago.

A gap parted, and the newcomers moved in to examine the scene.

Fulcrom was admittedly shocked. On the floor was a truly strange creature, in all its gruesome multi-limbed glory. It lay there giving off a strong aroma of decay. He had never seen anything quite like it. Not even the new races who had helped out the refugees on Jokull were so alien.

Lan cringed in disgust, but Fulcrom coolly crouched down to get a better look. ‘I’m going to ask the obvious — this isn’t part of the local habitat, is it? Something that lives further out of the city?’

‘There’s nothing natural about this,’ Brynd said.

‘Is it a hybrid creature often talked about but rarely seen?’

‘No — hybrids are more coherent, more logical than this. Besides, we’ve done research into what creatures there are and there is nothing like this.’

‘Look over here.’ Lan was crouched down pointing to foam surrounding the body.

‘Well spotted,’ Fulcrom said. Then, aloud, ‘Who washed away the blood? There are soap bubbles here and here.’

Brynd looked over to a Dragoon soldier, who answered, ‘A couple of traders cleaned it away, sir, so they could get on with business.’

Fulcrom sighed. ‘We could have done with knowing just a little more about where that blood came from.’

‘You don’t think it was from this thing itself?’ Brynd enquired.

‘The cobbles have bloodstains over too wide an area to have come from the creature.’ Fulcrom gestured in a wide circle to denote the extent. ‘And the creature itself does not look as if it has lost that much blood. Not that I know much about the creature’s anatomy, of course.’ Fulcrom stepped around the giant corpse, examining it in detail. Could’ve done with my notebook . . ‘Can someone help turn it over?’

No one moved for a moment; the soldiers just looked at each other sheepishly.

‘For Bohr’s sake, you heard the man,’ the commander called out. ‘Four men, you three and you, one of you get an arm and the rest of you shove from the other side.’

The four Dragoons moved into place and reluctantly began to try to lift the monster. They struggled a little before giving up.

‘Sir, it’s rather heavy,’ one of them said.

‘Oh, really — I’ll give you a hand.’ Lan marched to the side with the three soldiers, who looked askance at her. Fulcrom smiled as Lan took hold of the corpse, closed her eyes and gently tuned in to her powers. The creature’s body began to lift up from the cobbles and soon the rest of the soldiers joined in, not to be outdone by her. With them all helping shove it, the thing eventually collapsed onto its front.

‘Thanks for your help, lads.’ Lan winked at the soldiers as she rejoined Fulcrom. The men shyly stepped back into line, muttering to themselves.

The creature’s hairs were soaked with blood, and yet Fulcrom couldn’t help think something wasn’t quite right with the scene.

‘Strange,’ he said to Brynd. ‘There are no wounds anywhere on its body, and yet there must have been quite a bit of blood on the floor — until it was cleaned away, of course. So unless the creature has somehow vomited up such blood, which, I have to say, usually has a particular scent not present today, this was made to appear as if it had died here — but I don’t think it actually did. And look.’ Fulcrom crouched down by the creature’s immense hand, which was leathery and clawed, and which had lain by the child’s corpse. ‘If this thing had actually killed the child, why are there no wounds or tissue damage? There are no signs of a struggle. There is no ripped flesh to denote any hunt, not to mention it seems that rigor mortis has begun to set in. . No, none of this sits right with me, commander.’

Fulcrom tilted his head to suggest they step aside, and Brynd obliged.

‘Everything here says to me that someone has placed the corpse here deliberately and, given that we’re in an iren, this seems as if it was staged to catch the eyes of as many of the citizens as possible. Someone, somewhere in this city, wanted people to think a monster had come here to kill. Now that presents us with a few questions, admittedly. The first one, where did they get the creature’s corpse?’