City of Ruin

T HIRTY-SEVEN

The Exmachina was a city ship, Artemisia had declared proudly, powered by two immense metal plates reacting to the Earth's hidden forces. Artemisia further described it as a 'magnetic barge', although this made things little clearer. Randur had no comprehension of much of what Artemisia explained, or the true functions of the ship.

He remained simply in awe.

There were city decks below, situated where would have been the hold and bulkhead of a normal ship, three levels containing streets and eclectic wooden buildings impossibly crammed in. And they were all empty. No people wandering in and out of the darkness, a ghost city of lanterns remaining unlit, passageways crowded by dust. Bold and intricate arches adorned many of the buildings down there, some billeted and others possessing fine interlacing motifs but in designs that were beautiful, completely alien to the new arrivals. Small and ragged rips in the hull permitted sunlight, although these gaps were being repaired at a constant rate by the Hanuman – the term Artemisia used to describe the winged monkeys. For the time being, this warrior woman was living alone on here, she told them, with only the Hanuman for company, moving through the skies in search of the travellers. She spoke philosophically about her lonely quest.

They were all now seated on the main deck – there were no benches to be found anywhere. There was no mast, no sails rippling tightly, just raised wooden platforms that stretched endlessly, and isolated cabins scattered across the ship's width seemingly without thought or purpose. There were shrubs and plants and vines sprouting everywhere, and lichen swarmed around the rim of the ship, clinging on the few vertical planes where nothing else could exist. It might just have seemed possible that this vegetation was holding the entire structure together.

Randur enquired about the ship's origins.

'It is able to slice through from my own world to any other dimension,' Artemisia revealed. 'That is a word you use, is it not? My terminology may well exceed your range.'

'You mean from your world to ours?' Eir suggested. 'Then, yes, I suppose that's still the word we might choose, although it has other uses in our language. Come to mention it, how is it that you can speak our language, if you do not come from our dimension?'

'I speak most known languages, give or take a few dialects. Your own is enforced within your Empire, which certainly makes things easier for me.'

'Artemisia,' Rika breathed the name as if she felt honoured to be in her company, 'tell us why you're here. Are you… Jorsalir? Are you even one of the Dawnir? I feel I already know you, perhaps from a description in some text I've studied. There was someone in Villjamur who was said to be that ancient, but he looked nothing like you.'

'I know nothing about this fraud you mention. He could have been one of any number of types. Where I come from, there is no shortage of variants.' Artemisia gave a macabre chuckle, removed her swords and placed them on the deck. She sat down cross-legged next to them, and almost instinctively Rika moved closer to the bulky figure.

Randur kept wondering why the former Empress was behaving in so strangely intimate a manner.

The expression on Artemisia's face suggested what she was about to say was not easy for her. 'You need to know that my own people have been fighting a war for hundreds of epic cycles. In fact, ever since we were liberated by Frater Mercury.'

'Who's that?' Randur asked.

'It was he who gave us our freedom – our whole existence is thanks to him. But we abuse such freedoms through long millennia of violence. Only now have our internal wars infringed upon your dimension. The last ten cycles have seen our enemy find methods of entering other dimensions, although they have not yet set foot in this one. How may I put this simply: they wish to repopulate this primitive world with inhabitants from their own, and carve out a new society. All of our races wish to come here, in fact, because our own dimension is scheduled to end long before this one will. The temperatures for us are very hostile, the sun something we have no experience of. The invasion has already come to your lands to the west of this archipelago, while in the east, beyond your cartographical awareness, cities greater than Villjamur are already burning, with millions being slaughtered in their own homes. Cities are being systematically cleared in preparation. You have a word called "genocide", I believe?'

Randur took a deep breath, trying to absorb this staggering information.

'I had hoped to find you in Villjamur, Jamur Rika, to make my discussions with you somewhat simpler, but you went on the run instead.'

No one said anything for a while. A melancholic atmosphere took over the group as they attempted to comprehend just what this warrior woman was telling them. Randur simply didn't know what to make of it. He had thought he knew a lot about the world, but clearly not. In a few sentences their entire existence had been so casually undermined – if this being was to be believed.

Artemisia continued. 'I have therefore had to track you down – not a simple task given your current weather patterns – which has meanwhile allowed their brood to not only wipe out an island but also move to assault one of your major urban settlements. Personally, I care not about dead humans, however my superiors, what you call the Dawnir, feel somewhat indebted to their creators.'

Eir suddenly then realized. 'We created them, the Dawnir? We created the gods?'

Randur thought he had never heard anything so ridiculous, but stole a glance at Rika, who had devoted so many years to worshipping Astrid, the female embodiment of the Dawnir that humans had now apparently created. Still, they only had the word of this murderess to go on. 'How can we trust anything you say on this?' he snarled.

A thunderous sigh from Artemisia. 'I guarded you, even when you didn't know it. I watched those Empire warriors closing in on you – I had located you by the time you had departed that rural abode, but I already knew the old one had sent signals for those men to intercept you. You, Randur, even saw one of the Hanuman while you were dozing by the fire – they were watching over you. You were all quite safe, even when Jamur Eir was snatched and taken into the caves by Ancients of your own world. They were harmless creatures and their construct would not have significantly harmed you.'

Randur felt shame at having been spied upon without his knowledge, but shrugged it off. As if hearing their name mentioned, one of the Hanuman darted overhead, followed by another. Artemisia barked something at them in an unnatural tongue, before the creatures calmed down, descending in a flutter to settle at the far end of the deck.

'I simply do not believe this assertion that we created our own gods,' Eir said suddenly.

Artemisia sighed. 'Time is vast. The Truwisans – people of Truwisa, or Dawnir as your culture corrupted the name – are crafted from your ancient technologies. We were made from your imagination. This was all before you diminished yourselves to this primitive way of living after the wars of your culture, your rebellion against such change. One human guided our creation – Frater Mercury – and our liberation was with the guidance of him, too. He is now a god to us. So we ancient creatures – my ancestors, I mean – had been cultured to perfection, before they took over your world. Then they were forced to abandon it.'

'What, just like that?'

'There were… complications. Technology had become so intimidating, so it is said, and much of your kind rebelled against Frater Mercury and his creations. Given the bloodshed, it became prudent for us to sidestep into another realm of existence – and we departed from the very location where Villjamur now sits. So now I have come here seeking to bargain with the most powerful leader in these islands, and the fact that you are no longer the ruler of this Empire, Jamur Rika, causes me a predicament. You are the one my superiors instructed me to find. It is by your permission that landscapes can be altered. It was with you alone that we were supposed to form an alliance, so that we could move ourselves from our world in a well-ordered and peaceful manner.'

'Peaceful?' Randur snapped. 'You didn't seem particularly peace-loving just a while ago.'

'In my superiors' eyes, I am considered violent,' Artemisia admitted. 'Why else do you think they keep me away from my homeworld as often as possible?'

'Why not just negotiate with Urtica?' Randur sneered. 'He's the one in power now, so you should be talking to him.'

'He suffers from some kind of… instability, so it is believed. It is clear that he is not one for us to debate with. He would not understand our ways, which makes our task substantially more complex, and, furthermore, he is not a man with a peaceful nature. As I said, the repopulation must be conducted harmoniously. Besides, my instructions were to find you, Jamur Rika.'

'Couldn't you just come back at any point in time and repopulate?'

'You say that as if there was any room for debate in the matter. There are a handful of time-paths available. This is the path of least resistance – because you are still so primitive, and the land remains reasonably hospitable. Remember, we come not to fight.' She turned to the two women. 'Jamur Rika, I feel, has a more pacifist nature than other leaders. To introduce our alien culture into yours successfully, it is essential that the process is holistic and integrated. Otherwise, this entire world of yours collapses too.'

'Can't you put a stop to any of this endless violence, in both our worlds?' Rika interrupted.

Randur realized then that Rika was ready to believe everything this death-machine was saying to them.

'On these islands,' Rika continued, 'across my Empire, peace would always be preferable, then your lives would not be wasted.'

Artemisia laughed bitterly, then simply shook her head. Randur imagined he saw the distant millennia reflected in her oddly glowing eyes. Here was a woman absolutely tired of what she was. 'You say peace as if it were an offering of wine.'

Rika took hold of her gaze for a moment.

*

Artemisia left them alone for a while, and the three sat in ontemplative silence. Dusk approached, and the two moons progressed alongside each other, skimming the blood-coloured cloud-base.

'It might all be lies,' Randur said eventually. It irritated him, this sudden revelatory burst of new knowledge.

No one responded to him at first.

Eir said, 'Unlikely though, isn't it? I mean, just look around you. And don't stare at me like that. Whenever you don't understand something, you simply become irate. It's perfectly all right to not understand this.'

Calming himself, Randur glanced up to watch the Hanuman flapping about eccentrically as silhouettes. Artemisia rejoined them eventually, carrying what he took to be a telescope. For a moment she focused on the horizon.

'The two moons look beautiful from here,' Rika offered.

'You think both of them are moons?' Artemisia seemed surprised, and pocketed the device. 'That does amuse me.'

Not more crap. Randur was now feeling overwhelmed by unwanted information. His entire concept of the world had been shattered by these conversations. He almost didn't want to know the truth, preferring the sanctuary of innocence or ignorance.

They talked of nothing significant for the rest of the evening, instead taking shelter below deck. Artemisia remained intimidating, but she conducted herself with grace, and saw that they were well looked after. Food had been left for them on a large platter, fruits and vegetables he'd never seen, olives and figs, and there was also bread and watered wine.

They huddled together in a small cabin panelled with dark wood, on a bed covered in opulent cushions. Around the edge of the room were placed long chests whose flat lids were painted with various scenes presumably from this other culture. A tripod stood next to the bed, and coloured lanterns hung from the roof. Gemstones were set into the wood furniture – lapis lazuli and jasper and quartz.

The three of them ate on the bed in silence. Randur kept thinking about the things that Artemisia had saying, about their world not being how they had thought it to be.

*

After night had fallen, Eir and Randur took a walk above deck. Ias surprisingly warm, as if the ship was emitting its own heat froithin. Initially, the smell of smoke prompted thoughts of wood fires, but they couldn't see any. Eventually Eir pointed out that all the Hanuman were smoking roll-ups, similar to those used back in Villjamur.

Randur thought it absurd.

'Little addicts, are they not?' Artemisia had appeared silently behind them, her hands clasped behind her back. She approached alongside. Even without factoring in her size, Artemisia would have seemed intimidating, yet dignified – a killer yes, but a regal one. Now wearing a simple black tunic, her pale-blue flesh was exposed and her muscles frighteningly well-defined.

'How come they all smoke?' Eir asked.

'It is their payment.' Artemisia spoke proudly, a noticeably different tone from earlier. 'They work in exchange for tobacco, to which they are addicted, and therefore they become addicted to working for me.'

'Isn't that like slavery?' Eir suggested.

'It is no different to working for money, like your races do,' Artemisia replied.

'What do they do, on this ship?' Randur asked, strolling up to one perched on the edge of the rail so precariously, he wondered if it might fall off. He began stroking its fur, and the winged monkey regarded him coolly, taking another puff of its roll-up. It wore an expression of deepest satisfaction.

'Mainly they do repairs on the Exmachina for me,' Artemisia said, 'since they can easily access all the way underneath. They run errands about the ship, and they scout better than anything else I've known, providing they fly on solo missions. They're prone to arrogance and infighting among their tribes.'

There were so many questions Randur wanted to ask, but it didn't seem urgent. It occurred to him that he felt immensely secure on this ship – being on the run had driven him into a sense of paranoia. A gust of wind came on board, disturbing the peaceful ambience. Artemisia glanced up in irritation, and only then did he think it odd that the wind hadn't really been present before. His first thought was of some cultist trickery, then he realized that this woman and her ship might be beyond all that.

Rika strolled across the deck, a dark gown rippling softly against her body, once again every bit the Empress. Her demeanour was like a premonition, a return to something more ancient and established. Artemisia responded with something that might be mistaken for an emotion, though what, he couldn't say.

Rika had noticed them survey her clothing. 'I found it in one of the cupboards. It doesn't fit perfectly, but it's surprisingly warm.'

'It is an example of what the few humans might wear, where I come from,' Artemisia said.

'You have humans in your world?' Eir asked, but received no response.

Rika's glance towards Artemisia was wide-eyed and approval-seeking. Randur knew this because Eir had often done the same to him. So Rika sought attention from this being but, according to Eir, Rika had not once in her life shown such interest in anything other than the Jorsalir church.

'Lady Rika,' Randur said boldly, 'you look at this woman like she's a god.'

'Perhaps she is,' Rika whispered, speaking to herself more than anyone else.

'She said that we – we as a race, as a species – we created them, in another earlier time,' Eir observed.

'Let us not steer into teleology,' Artemisia said. 'Has all my earlier information been absorbed?'

'It's just too much to believe in without seeing confirmation for ourselves,' Eir said.

'Agreed,' Randur said. 'You have evidence for all this, I take it? Something we can just, uh, see?'

'Amusing that you assume merely seeing will confirm reality. If one sees a stump of a tree in a field at dusk, it may resemble the form of another human, and your fears may creep in, but it is still a tree. One should question what is being seen, at all times.'

Artemisia moved away, assimilating into the darkness. The remaining three stared at each other and then Randur gave a shrug, pushing back a lock of his black hair, and turned his attention to the Hanuman once again. A moment later, the creatures squawked and flapped off to one side, out of sight.

Randur needed to know what they would be doing next. This lack of purpose and clarity was unsettling.

Suddenly Artemisia strode back towards them, carrying a massive metal container in one hand, displaying her immense strength. In her other hand she held two ends of some metallic rope, which trailed away to a part of the ship he couldn't see. She dumped the container on the deck and declared, 'Come over, if you wish to see.'

The three of them knelt by the side of the tub, which was about four feet wide, and peered into the shallow pool of water it contained. Carefully, Artemisia draped the two pieces of metal rope into the water. Numerous sparks began skidding across the surface. A sizzling sound came and faded, and before long images with the consistency of a reflection began to form in the water.

'This is in my world,' Artemisia declared, standing a distance away as if she couldn't look at it herself.

An apocalyptic landscape.

Structures that Randur could barely identify: metallic and ivory alien architectures.

Lumbering creatures engaged in abstract warfare which was barely possible to imagine.

Skies suffocating from smoke? No, there was merely a sun scarcely as potent as a moon.

Races similar to Artemisia's, many humanoid, some like rumel, others possessing a square spine that revolved as they walked.

Occasionally the flash of explosions.

Swarming numbers of inhabitants.

'Who's fighting who exactly?' Randur asked.

'The enemy is led by the Akhaioi – your own mythology calls them Pithicus – who possess potent military might. I have served on these battlefields and tried to combat their finest warriors. They are constantly attacking us – we, perhaps, who are the last free culture. I cannot remember for how long, precisely, but we estimate this current set of campaigns began all of ten thousand years ago. At this current stage, the Akhaioi lay siege to our greatest city, Truwisa, having seized the outlying beaches long ago. Our two cultures have been engaged in combat for so long it feels as if we are wedged in some epic cycle, destined never to end, apart from when the earth dies, and even then…'

'Enough,' Randur said, pulling back. It hurt him mentally to contemplate the phenomena he'd seen. 'Why don't you just invade our world like the other lot? What's a few more deaths to someone from your world?' He indicated the vision in the water, which was now stuttering out of shape, losing its clarity. Soon it had become simply water again.

'Because, Randur Estevu, if we wiped many species from this world, it would create an unstable system, which would inevitably lead to our own collapse. Your human cultures have done so again and again, wiping out biological systems that were depended upon. Among all things, we Dawnir cannot be accused of thinking about the short term.' Something flickered across her expression, a smile perhaps, or something darker.

'If I could be Empress again,' Rika said, 'would you wish me to help?'

'It is, perhaps, the only option I can see. We need you – or an equally trustworthy leader – to mobilize your people effectively.'

'I feel… it is the right thing to do.' It was as if the very presence of this woman had intoxicated Rika. A true seduction by the gods. There was something about Rika's manner, a glimmer in her eye now, which indicated she had regained her determination. Perhaps she felt this stranger was still a deity, and would do anything requested by her.

'Hang on,' Randur said. 'What's to say you're not representing evil, in all of this? How can we trust you over the other lot, the Pith-wotsits?'

'The Pithicus, the Akhaioi. And to answer your question, you're still alive aren't you? That should be sufficient indication. And, remember, across the outermost islands – our enemy, are they not wiping out your people?'

'I've not seen it.'

'There were intelligence reports, Randur,' Rika offered. 'Indeed there has already been genocide on Tineag'l. That's why the Night Guard were dispatched to the north – it wasn't a simple military mission. They were to investigate what could have destroyed the settlements.'

'Good,' Artemisia finished. 'It is settled. Let us rest for tonight. You have, I feel, witnessed enough for the moment. Please, absorb what I have said. I will get a couple of the Hanuman to guide you two to some comfortable quarters. In the meantime, Jamur Rika, I invite you to my bedchambers to discuss the future.' It was said so matter-of-factly, but Randur couldn't help but think she had designs on Rika in some way, although he hoped she was sensible enough not to be swayed by such attentions.

'Yes,' Rika said, 'it would be an honour.'

'Rika!' Eir exclaimed.

'Easy.' Randur held her arm, and whispered a reminder of just how many soldiers Artemisia had killed.

'Eir, I will be perfectly fine,' Rika said.

Artemisia and Rika strolled away from them, leaving Eir seething. Randur held her but she shrugged him off.

He raised his hands in despair and muttered, 'She's a grown lass.

Dammit, she's older than you, and Empress, and can do what she wants.'

'Not now!' Eir snapped.

Two Hanuman fluttered down to his feet and began screeching something, and with little hands they waved emphatically for them to follow.

*

Through the night and through the walls, the groans of a woman filtered in gently. Eir lay there awake, trying to discern if it was Rika's voice. A candle flickered in the bedchamber, casting a warm light across its wood panelling. There was a constant dull hum somewhere below.

'Get to sleep,' Randur mumbled into the pillow.

'It's her,' Eir said. 'She's doing something to her. It sounds like they're having… you know. Sex.'

'Least someone's enjoying themselves.'

She slapped his back and he grunted. 'Not Rika. She's never done anything like that. And, anyway, Artemisia isn't even human. It's wrong, and it sounds as if Rika's in pain. What if she's torturing her?'

Nothing was to be heard for a moment. Then Rika's voice penetrated the night like a muted banshee, then a moan that was sensual and deep. Eir made to get up but Randur placed a restraining arm across her, then leaned nearer, squinting in the candlelight. 'Eir, it doesn't sound like torture. If it's sex, then yeah, I'm surprised too, but I'm sure Rika knows what she's doing. The fact that Rika is not yet dead suggests that Artemisia doesn't hate the lass. And if they've developed some form of bond – then I reckon that it bodes well for all of us. Look at us – we were betrayed by that arsehole Munio. We were about to be dragged off and at some point executed, and then this… whatever she is, fell out of the sky and saved us. She needs us alive – or at least Rika. So as long as we're on her side, we're safe.'

'Maybe you're right.'

'I'm always right.'

'What about Munio?'

'Well, nearly always.'

She softened at the sight of his face. He was trying to smile, but by now she'd learnt to see beyond his bravado. She turned over and attempted to sleep, but the noises her sister was making continued to disturb her.

Dozing off, Randur wondered, too, What is Artemisia doing to her?

*

Morning, and red sunrays spilled across the ship's deck. A wind buffeted them, and the massive ship groaned under the elemental forces, yet the vessel maintained its stability. Hanuman drifted around the ship, a flock of oversized gulls silhouetted against the sun. Randur really wanted one for a pet, he decided. They seemed pretty nifty, couldn't do any harm, so he would ask Artemisia for one, at some point.

'Where're the others?' he asked.

Eir hadn't slept well at all, and had kept him awake for half the night. She was now leaning against the railing, peering down across the cloud-base.

Joining her, he still couldn't believe what they were standing on – a city-ship that apparently floated along, using sources of energy he couldn't get his head around. The texture of the clouds looked unusual from this angle, the inverse ripples carpeting the distance. Only by seeing all this did he realize just how far he'd come since he had first left Folke for Villjamur.

'I don't know,' she yawned.

The ship was easier to see at this hour, and he was astounded by how extensively moss and lichen blanketed the deck. The platform itself seemed so long that Randur could barely see the end of it.

'Good morning.'

The face was hers, Rika's, but the voice was utterly different. Her clothing had changed also. Dressed like a man, in khaki breeches, a black shirt and boots, she looked like an assassin more than an empress. She strode purposefully towards them, Artemisia some distance behind. Everything about Rika's posture and her manner told Randur that this was someone reinvented, but he was surprised to see it happen so quickly, so thoroughly. Was that a blade hanging from her belt? Leather straps ran diagonally across her shoulder, and he stole a glance to see if there was a sword nestling behind, but there was nothing. Why was she dressed like this? What had happened to this formerly passive woman?

The transformation disarmed him.

Eir moved nearer to her sister and seemed uncertain how to begin. 'What happened last night? We heard-?'

'I was absolutely fine,' Rika replied sternly.

'You look different.'

'I am different.'

Eir sighed and shifted back by Randur's side. He placed a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged him away. Rika regarded them both as if they were merely a part of the ship.

Artemisia reached them, unchanged, as if she never could be any different. Her skin looked lighter now, but the ridges of muscle in her arms were still clearly defined.

'We're heading for Villiren immediately,' Rika declared.

'Still to see the commander?' Randur asked.

'Yes. Artemisia has offered to aid us in combat, so while I'm there I'll persuade the Night Guard to give me their allegiance. Once they're made aware of the situation, we're certain they will comply. From there we can build a platform to seize back the Imperial throne from Urtica – by force, if we must. That man will suffer for what he's done to us.'

Seize it by force, Randur thought. Make him suffer. These surely aren't her own words?

'The allegiance of the Night Guard lies with the Empire,' Eir observed. 'Not you, personally.'

'Then their allegiance will change.'

Randur was impressed with Rika's tone, her firmness. Her manner suggested things might be done with a little more zest at last.

'And just what can Artemisia do?' Eir turned to face the pale-blue woman. Randur wished she wouldn't behave so petulantly in front of the killer, not that Artemisia seemed to care much.

'I will turn whatever fighting there is in favour of the defenders,' Artemisia said. 'My presence alone will probably cause quite a stir. I believe, also, that I can set the Exmachina on course to disable the gateways through which they've infiltrated. I might lose the ship temporarily, but I can salvage enough equipment for me to return home.'

'Why didn't you just stop them coming through earlier?' Eir said.

'It is not a permanent solution. My disabling of the gates will not last that long. The Akhaioi will open them within… weeks perhaps. The technology they use is sophisticated enough. It's rather like drilling a borehole through existence.'

Randur didn't understand the concepts or the philosophy, and being made to feel ignorant merely angered him. 'Let me get this right,' he said. 'We go to Villiren – if it's still there and we're not too late – and join a war in which we'll most likely perish.'

'Worry not. Rika will come to no harm under my guidance.' Artemisia placed a hand on Rika's shoulder. 'And we will aid the Jamur dynasty, as part of our deal.'

Eir looked disgusted. 'What did this thing do to you?'

'She did nothing,' Rika replied coolly.

'Last night – I heard you.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, sister.'

'Look, I think we're all wondering, did she fuck you last night?' Randur interrupted. Everyone turned to glower at him, and he could sense their collective rage. He held his hands up, apologetically, knowing that he had been a tad too blunt.

Artemisia towered in front of him, then pushed her way past. A dozen Hanuman spiralled above their heads, and she communicated to them in that guttural language. Then she turned to regard the group of humans, but only Randur was paying her any attention. Eir and Rika stood gazing at each other, the fracture between them painfully clear.

Artemisia announced, 'We leave immediately.'