Mark Newton - The Broken Isles

He opened his eyes again and began to make a slow arc upwards trying to count how many were present: Artemisia, one of her people, fourteen Night Guard soldiers, and that was it.

There was no trace of the Policharos. An absence stood in its place, and various objects or creatures were circling in that vacant space, but now they’d lost all formation and consistency. They began to drift aimlessly.

Artemisia steered the group away, to safety.

They barricaded themselves in a room on the top level of the Citadel that overlooked the courtyard. As the moons glided above the city, they watched the slow progress of those down below, wondering how long it would be until they were freed from the time trap. The noise they generated was audible still, but was now a low, dull mumble, nothing that generated fear or intimidation. They broke bread around a table and served it with cold meats from the kitchen. Two of the soldiers sat with them, more for reassurance than security. Blavat also joined them momentarily. Randur observed this elusive woman who had played such an important role in the defence of the city against the Okun, an event that already seemed a distant memory. She seemed a nervous type and picked at her bread and ate it in tiny morsels. After a while she got up and left.

Eir said, ‘The woman spends so much time on her own that she must feel uncomfortable up here, without her relics.’

‘She’s welcome to bring more,’ Randur said. ‘I won’t say no to some of the more deadly ones on standby. So how long must we wait now, do you think? What will the gangs do next?’

‘They’ll tire at some point,’ Eir observed. ‘This isn’t an organized military campaign. They haven’t thought about the needs of their own, like the commander does so well. Not planned for nourishment and bedding. They will be cold and hungry soon and then they will dissipate.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Randur replied, and stuffed a chunk of bread into his mouth.

They managed to get some sleep, curled up in their same quarters as if nothing was happening. While they rested, the soldiers managed to take it in turns to hold back those intruders who had not been slowed by the relics, but they were in small numbers and more confused by what was going on with their own kind. The act of cultist magic seemed enough to scare some individuals away. Those who came up the ramp to join in the uprising were probably shocked by the absurd scene that presented itself.

Dawn broke, the sun spilling its muted light cast the scene in the colour of blood. Randur woke to the sounds of the gangs being freed from their temporary imprisonment. The noise built up again. The crowds stirred as if they had been stunned. People were trying to make sense of their surroundings again. Though they did not seem to promise the same level as violence as before.

‘Maybe by now they hoped they’d be inside,’ Randur suggested.

‘Their momentum has been considerably slowed,’ Eir said. ‘I wonder if they’re tired now?’

One of the soldiers came to find them to report that all was well and that no further levels had been breached.

‘I guess now we just wait,’ Randur said.

‘Where’re you going?’ Jeza said to Coren, who was standing with his belongings in a case and a sack full of relics over his shoulder.

‘I’ve bought a place, on the edge of the city — a nice place.’

‘Haven’t you heard what’s going on?’

‘What? The gangs? Sure, but that’s none of our business. Well, none of my business at least.’

‘Why’re you leaving?’ Jeza asked. ‘You can’t leave me here.’

‘We’ve got money now, haven’t we? There’s more than enough for each of us to do our own thing. Why hang around? I’ve always wanted to see more of the world. You can come with me if you want.’

She pondered the point for a long while. Things had certainly been awkward since she’d observed Diggsy and Pilli that night, and she’d not even had the guts to say anything, or to act upon her knowledge. ‘Buying a place on the edge of the city is hardly going exploring now, is it?’

‘No, but that’s not. .’ He sighed. ‘I’ve just had enough of this, all right. We’ve fulfilled our contracts. It just feels right.’

Jeza moved over to him and for the first time since she had known him she realized he was someone she would miss being around. What was absurd was the fact that she was the one who should have left by now, but where would she go? The culture at Factory 54 was all she had.

‘I’ve been thinking about it for ages,’ he continued. ‘Sure, the place isn’t quite ready to be filled with drugs and dancing girls, but I’m halfway there.’

Jeza gave a sad laugh. ‘It feels wrong that you’re going right now. I wanted to help do something about the gangs. They’re taking over the Citadel. You know that they used our monster to help plan an uprising?’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘The corpse they bought off us — that’s what they used. They tried to create fear. They made it look as if aliens were entering the city so that they could get the people of Villiren to support them in an uprising. It’s working, too.’

‘I don’t want to get involved in crazy politics,’ Coren muttered. ‘Not my scene.’

‘This politics stuff affects everything though,’ Jeza said in despair. ‘They could take over the factory, take our possessions, take our money, who knows what. Every little move we make in life will change as a result of crazy politics .’

‘They wouldn’t do that,’ Coren replied.

‘They’re insane,’ Jeza said. ‘If they take control of the city, you’ll need to buy yourself a new house somewhere else. The commander had plans for stability. This Malum guy is crazy. I’ve seen the look in his eyes.’

‘Can’t the commander sort it out when he gets back from the battle?’

‘There might be nothing left for him by that point. It could be all over — or worse, a second war for Villiren. I don’t want that.’

‘All right, then what do you suggest we should do about it?’

‘Get the wasps out.’

‘What, precisely, would a few Mourning Wasps do?’

‘We can scare the shit out of the gangs. We can taunt them, maybe move them away from the Citadel, just keep them from causing too much damage. I know we’re in the business of palaeomancy and the likes, but there are a few cheap Brenna -based relics lying around that we can use.’

‘I don’t know. .’

Jeza took his hands and stared pleadingly at him. ‘Just this once, will you help me? One last time.’

The numbers of invaders thinned out during the day but, when darkness came again, the advancing gangs, used to their nocturnal lifestyle, returned in full force. It seemed to be the opposite of siege warfare in the military, whereby campaigns were conducted in the light of day. Now the gangs brought climbing equipment, ladders, ropes and hooks, determined not to be outdone.

Randur gave instructions to make sure the windows were all blocked on the lower level and, from the floors above, four soldiers fired arrows or crossbow bolts at those trying to scale the heights.

Is it really possible to defend this place against so many people?

Another hour passed in which the gangs tried repeatedly to gain access to higher levels, but they were not skilled in the arts of combat like this. Perhaps on a street corner they could dispatch bodies with ease, lurching out of the darkness in stealth, but here their efforts fell apart. Time and time again those who tried to ascend were shot and fell to ground.

Randur almost began to feel confident, up until the point where they began to hear more explosions — first they seemed like fireworks, but then they could feel massive detonations ricocheting around the Citadel. Each was spaced a few minutes apart, and followed by a silence in which people tried to assess the damage. Randur consulted Blavat at this point, but the cultist declared that she had hardly any relics left.