Mark Newton: Nights of Villjamur

The Garuda's Head was unusually closed, a man slumped in front of it, either asleep or unconscious.

'Wait here,' Randur instructed the women. Eir drew her sword just in case.

The two men walked around the back of the bar, then returned with Randur's bags, and a replacement quiver of arrows.

From one bag, Randur dug out some female garments. 'Bit more stylish and probably warmer than what you've got on.'

'Thank you,' Rika said graciously, as she and her sister began pulling on layers of clothing. Randur and Denlin kept a look-out. It was strange to see Caveside so empty.

'Ready,' Rika decided at last. 'I want to tell you how truly grateful we are.'

'Sure,' Randur said, thinking that it was only for Eir he was doing this.

'Pleasure,' Denlin said. 'But not over yet. We need to sail through the caves first, and past more military stationed outside. They should be stretched, what with the riots, like, but there's bound to be a few on watch.'

'Sail?' Eir asked.

'Yep,' Randur said, 'the last of our money bought us some kind of boat. It's no longship like you're used to, but it'll get us the hell out of here.'

'Let's go then,' Denlin declared.

Randur hauled the other bag over his shoulder.

'What else have you got in there?' Eir said.

'Just my clothes. Why?'

Eir sighed.

*

The city docks at the far end of Caveside were crammed with fishing vessels, of every kind, a line of them packed in tight along the harbourside, the only safe getaway route left open for them. Randur had slipped out first in stealth and cut down two of the soldiers on patrol, dragging their bodies into the water. One fisherman turned from fixing his net, saw the incident, then waved casually before ignoring them again.

The small group climbed aboard the small boat that was waiting for them – a fishing boat offering little shelter – then pushed off. Soon the wind blustered through the caves, bringing fresher air with it.

Denlin explained, 'We'll all need to row until we can get the sails up.'

It took an immense effort to push their craft through the water.

'Bit of a step down for an Empress, this,' Denlin joked.

'I will do my bit,' Rika said. 'I am quite capable of being treated as an equal.'

An arrow pierced the water right beside them. A soldier was firing from a vantage point just ahead and to the left.

'Get down,' Randur urged the two women, and ducked down himself.

The old man brought an arrow to docking point and let fly.

It connected with stone. He repeated the action whilst the boat edged forwards. The soldier didn't dare to return fire whilst Denlin was aiming at him. 'Good thing I brought so many arrows, but I don't want to waste them on this bugger.'

Oars split the water, and helped by the current they made progress. Now they were out of view, Denlin picked up his oar to quicken their pace.

No conversation passed between them; they were all preoccupied with a determination to escape.

Ten minutes later and one of the moons became visible, the sounds of rioting became sharper, despite the greater distance. They were outside. Randur opened his bag and pulled out a couple of blankets and offered them to the women. He took time to wrap Eir up snugly, enjoying the moment of intimacy.

'You not going to wrap me up too, eh?' Denlin said. 'I'm old. I feel the cold.'

'Can we relax yet?' Randur said.

'Once the sail's up.' Denlin fiddled with ropes and set up a small mast. He unfurled a sail that snagged tight as the wind caught it, and the boat lurched. The oars were pulled in.

Randur sighed physically, and feeling mentally drained he turned to Eir, who nestled into him, her head resting under his chin. He didn't feel the need to talk right now. All he wanted to do was fall asleep beside her. All that mattered to him now was Eir. And here she was, in his arms, so things were fine.

'Where to now, then?' Denlin said, pulling him back to reality.

Randur glanced across at Rika, whose arm rested on the side of the boat as she sat gazing out to sea. She nodded vigorously, then spoke, almost to herself. 'Villiren. That's where Commander Lathraea has gone.'

'Brynd?' Eir asked, shuffling upright.

'Yes. My name needs clearing. In fact, both our names do. Chancellor Urtica has corrupted the whole city hierarchy, and now only the commander will believe me – even though the military will serve whoever's at the top. I just know he'll believe me, and do what's right. The last I heard, he was heading for Villiren. We shall find him there, and then he can advise. Ask yourself the question: can we allow Urtica to steal from us the Empire that generations of our family have ruled over? No, I'm still Empress, so it's my duty to resist him, and this is only the start of things. We can't do that from here, as we are clearly going to be outnumbered. So we need to go to Villiren.'

Randur didn't think it mattered much who led the Jamur Empire – nothing seemed to change anyway, and the Council made all the decisions. Didn't fancy explaining that to her just yet, though. Instead he muttered, 'There was me thinking I'd got the girl and that was it.'

Denlin said, 'And I can kiss goodbye to putting my feet up and growing old disgracefully.'

'Denlin, Randur – I owe you great rewards. Please, will you stay with me?'

'I'm going where the lad goes,' Denlin replied.

Randur turned to Eir. 'I go where this one goes.'

Eir shrugged. 'Well, I don't fancy being constantly hunted down and then slaughtered. So I guess we're all in this.'

Her sister leaned back with a sigh.

Doesn't anyone just want a quiet life? Randur thought.

'Thank you,' Eir whispered, words meant for his ears only. Her glistening eyes fought back tears of exhaustion.

Given all the problems of this world, Eir offered him so much comfort, and that was maybe enough, wasn't it, just to find someone to love, and to get through life with that person alongside you, because there were no certainties in this world except maybe uncertainty itself.

As the boat was dragged by the breeze, he could see the orange glow of light in the windows of a handful of houses along the shore, warm and inviting but distant and untouchable, and it was as if they weren't just sailing away from Villjamur, but from all the comforts and luxuries they had been used to, from their own lives as they had been lived.

From the world as they knew it.