Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

‘So what? We can take them, surely. I’ve got my powers.’

Someone shouted from underneath.

Fulcrom watched in horror as Lan, almost bouncing on the spot to ready herself, suddenly put her foot through a floorboard: as she tried to rebalance herself, she engaged her powers, which worked against her. She flipped her head back and smacked it on a timber support with the full force of her enhancements.

It happened so quickly.

‘Fuck.’ Fulcrom dashed to her side and was relieved to see that she was still breathing, although she had cut open her head on the sharp edge of the pillar.

Footsteps on the stairway.

Fulcrom glanced to the door and back to Lan. He tried to lift her up, to see if she was still alert, to see if she could tune in to her powers.

Footsteps were now outside the door. There was a silent pause then the door was kicked open. Four men each carrying a blade ran forward into the room — and there were another two coming up, all of them tough-looking types that looked as if they knew their way around a fight.

Fulcrom held up his hands as if to say something but a punch came to his face and the next thing he knew he was pressed against the floorboards.

‘What the fuck should we do with ’em?’ someone said.

‘Tie them up. Take the buggers down to Malum. He can decide.’

Still dazed, Fulcrom felt the ropes binding around his wrists and twisted his head so that he could see Lan. She, too, was being bound. Together they were dragged downstairs by their feet, each step digging into his back. The two of them were shoved into a brighter, cleaner room that was sparsely decorated. There was a window overlooking the street, a few tables, a row of swords and a few bottles on the floor.

Fulcrom breathed mindfully, trying to force away the pain. Stay alert, stay smart . .

‘So,’ came a strong, bass voice, ‘we have guests. Two more for the takeover, do you think?’

There were a few chuckles from the others, as Fulcrom and Lan were levered upright and pushed against a wall. Fulcrom looked over to Lan to make sure she was OK, but she was still dazed.

His vision settled on one man sitting back with his feet up on a large table. It was Malum. There was a blade resting by his boots. He picked up the blade and pointed it at Fulcrom. ‘You. What the fuck were you doing up there?’

‘We’re homeless lovers, sir. Looking for shelter. Times are tough in the city and we’ve fallen on hard times. Have a heart.’

‘Bollocks are you homeless,’ the man replied. ‘That medallion around your neck is worth a month’s rent for a start. Speaking of which, it’s one I haven’t seen in a while. Inquisition, right?’

‘I stole it.’

‘Give up, clown, it’s obvious who you are. The Inquisition is usually in the pocket of the gangs, or it was before the war, anyway, so I’m guessing you’re new stock, that right? Working for the albino?’

Fulcrom nodded.

‘Hear that, lads? This is the albino’s last line of defence.’ They all laughed.

‘So what were you doing up in the attic. .’ Malum mused. ‘Hoping to listen in to my progress to report back to the albino, right?’

Fulcrom simply gave a sigh in reply.

‘Well then. You know the albino isn’t around now, right?’ Malum stepped back to get a better look at his two captives.

‘He’s at war, trying to save people’s lives,’ Fulcrom replied defiantly.

‘I was thinking of leaving your heads for him as a welcome-back present.’ At that point, Fulcrom realized he would probably die, and he greeted the thought with utter calm and logic. ‘I had hoped for a more adventurous, braver end to things.’

‘Ain’t that always the way,’ Malum muttered. ‘No triumphant ending for you two.’

‘You know, I meant what I said when I said we were lovers,’ Fulcrom muttered.

‘What, you and the commander? I can believe that — isn’t that right, lads? Queer fuckers.’

‘No,’ Fulcrom cautioned. ‘Me and my companion. We’re lovers. That much is true. If you’re going to kill us, I just ask that you don’t burn our bodies.’

‘You think I’ve got the time for that anyway? You’ll end up in the harbour like everyone else.’

That was a relief, at least. Right now, Fulcrom had to put as much faith in what he thought would happen next as he could manage. He tried to recall all that he knew of these matters. ‘Thank you,’ he breathed.

‘What the fuck for? Killing you?’

‘Please, a stab to the heart would be wonderful for the both of us.’

‘You’ve balls, I’ll give you that, inquisitor,’ Malum grunted. ‘See that?’ He announced to the rest of the room. ‘The man faces death honourably. No quivering, no pissing himself like some of the shit-bags you see around this city. Look upon this execution as a lesson in how to go if you ever get to this stage.’ Malum reached for his sword and ordered someone else to stand over Lan, a much younger man — almost a boy. Both of them pressed the tips of their blades above the respective hearts.

‘He needs to move down a couple of inches,’ Fulcrom muttered.

‘What?’

‘Your young colleague’s blade is too high to penetrate her heart properly. I’m guessing this is his first time.’

‘Oh, right, good spot,’ Malum agreed, and gave appropriate instructions to the nervous-looking lad before turning his attention to Fulcrom once again. ‘You got guts, rumel. You could have a place in my operation; we could do with a man like you.’

Fulcrom shook his head. ‘I serve only the law.’

‘Principles, too,’ Malum laughed. ‘What a waste.’

Don’t look at Lan now , Fulcrom told himself. Whatever you do, don’t look at Lan and remember you’ve tried your best. .

The last thing Fulcrom noticed was Malum’s grinning face as he pressed the blade firmly into Fulcrom’s heart, instant pain, the daylight fading from sight, then a lightness. . utter freedom.

A release.

Standing around the cauldron, they watched the battle unfold slowly. Brynd conferred with the Night Guard soldiers, who seemed embittered by their sudden distance — and who could blame them? They were the best of the best, and now here they were, simply watching from the sidelines, humbled by a sophisticated technology. They all knew it wasn’t right.

‘We’ll get down there,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll all have our chance.’

When the engagement commenced, the members of the Night Guard soon forgot their bitterness.

They gawked in amazement, watching from afar as the invasion fleet approached the coast of Folke. Channelling a viewpoint directly above the thick of the action, they stared as thousands and thousands of vessels ploughed straight into the shallow waters, running aground as predicted. Massive doors collapsed into the tumultuous surf, and out spilled thousands more Okun, soon pooling thickly, turning the shallows black.

There to meet them were monstrous creatures, ploughing down the beach or rocky shores in vast swarms that backed up deep onto the land and out of sight. The numbers were so astonishing that the entire scene seemed fabricated, as if it was not happening, and for a moment Brynd contemplated asking to see what was going on from the landing platforms. But, as he recognized many of the landmarks along the coast, he realized this was quite real. This horror was most definitely unfolding on the ground.

For the better part of half an hour, the tide of the battle ebbed and flowed, and it was difficult to ascertain what progress if any was being made by either side.

Brynd glanced at the elders, and at Artemisia standing alongside them, and they were all conferring, gesturing to the maps on the table. Now and then she would stand alongside Brynd to ask his thoughts on troop movements, but it was always in relation to the topography or the weather, as if seeking his confirmation rather than making the decisions with him.