The Broken Isles

EIGHTEEN

The new criers of Villiren began their work early.

Like an invasion force, several of them penetrated the streets of Saltwater, Althing, Scarhouse, Deeping, the Ancient Quarter, what was left of Port Nostalgia and throughout dribs and drabs of the Wastelands, wherever there might be people who would listen.

In a bright-red doublet, black breeches and black tricorne hat, which Brynd had commissioned for their newly formed role as official information distributors, they marched forth bringing news. While last night those who were interested in the wider world had gathered to see the Night Guard’s return, there were still tens of thousands of people who had not turned up, who were either too busy or uninterested in things beyond their streets. Brynd left the Citadel, to follow the criers’ progress and gauge public reaction from the corner of road junctions. At the back of his mind, he wondered if he’d witness the Empress gorging herself on some poor unsuspecting soul. .

It was a chilly, sharp morning, and a sea mist had drifted onshore, leaving its ghostly impression upon the streets. The criers’ voices seemed to come from nowhere and gained greater significance in these conditions. They rang their bells, and issued forth the news that Brynd had scripted for them.

Villjamur had been destroyed. Tens of thousands of people had fled. The Imperial forces came to their rescue and were victorious. There was a roll call of some of the few senior military names who died. There was a reiteration of the victory, that the enemy had not just been defeated but comprehensively beaten. The first message was simple and repeated itself from street to street, verbatim. People seemed to acknowledge the words and perhaps mutter a comment or two to someone nearby, but otherwise citizens seemed utterly uninterested or unimpressed.

Good, Brynd thought, they don’t feel threatened or concerned. It’s business as usual for them.

A little later on in the morning came the second wave of messages: the man who called himself Emperor is dead. All Imperial powers have henceforth transferred to Villiren. The Jamur lineage is to be reinstated. Military law continues from the aftermath of the siege.

Then the third and final message of the day: good news. We have powerful new allies to the south of the city. They supported us in the war. They bring prosperity to our lands. Our friends will help us keep the vicious enemies, who have destroyed Villjamur, at bay. Only with our new friends can we succeed. Together we will create a new, wealthy, safer world for our children. It is important we welcome them. The Empress extends her hand of friendship.

It occurred to Brynd how people barely reacted to Rika’s name, and he hoped — when the time was right — she could continue making public appearances. He felt it was important for people to buy into a stable leader.

He walked down one of the main thoroughfares to Scarhouse, and into an iren, as this last piece of news was absorbed into the city. Traders looked up, customers paused in their browsing. A weird silence fell here.

Together, prosperity, important, welcome, safer, wealthy, all words that Brynd had agonized over. Their tone was right, he felt, and it should plant a positive seed in people’s minds. He could never predict just how people would react. People could not care about the most important matters, issues that directly affected their lives, and yet something exceptionally mundane could spark riots. The criers might not be enough, however. It occurred to him that, yet again, he would also need to get the Jorsalir Church on board, much as he loathed to do so. Their help had been crucial in mustering volunteers for the war effort; their help would also be a necessary evil in getting the message across that a transition to a new culture would be harmonious. How helpful would they be in the face of new cultures coming to these islands?

Brynd made a safe assumption that there would be plenty of trouble to come. What would be the consequences of integrating their two worlds? Humans and rumels did, generally, get along — though that took centuries to happen. Perhaps they should settle on different islands altogether, and build separate communities, in peace.

Nothing like this had ever been attempted, and his inexperience was showing. The only thing that was right in both his head and heart was for there to be acceptance of each other’s culture.

And that required sound propaganda.

Whilst continuing with his morning patrols, and keen to see some of the city after his brief mission on Jokull, Brynd decided to pay a visit to the youths at the factory. He wanted to give them the good news regarding the success of their armour in battle, to tell them he would be ordering plenty more, and to see what else they could do.

The fog began to clear, and he could see the streets around the factory were quiet as always. Few people seemed to want to travel here, and why would they? There were few irens, few stores, few taverns. The place needed renovation; the streets should be thronging with activity. What happened to these factories and why had they mostly stopped working?

Since he had helped to organize a successful defence of the city, Brynd wanted to improve Villiren vastly. He could see so much untapped potential in the city. Here was an area that needed injecting with money to get production going again, to get people moving in and spending money and creating jobs. So much could be done — there was no reason this area couldn’t become an engine room of the future city, a trade hub.

He eventually reached the factory where the youths were. There, he banged on the door loudly and waited. Very distantly he thought he could hear something inside, like a grumbling.

Or a droning noise. Or was that growling?

Then there were loud footsteps running over a metal frame, and someone calling from one corner of the warehouse to another, before silence fell. Then, nothing.

He thumped on the door again, then regarded the street as a few flakes of snow fell to the ground before melting away. He waited a little longer.

Eventually someone came to let him in and the bolts slid free.

‘Commander!’ Jeza stood in the doorway, covered in muck and looking totally flustered. Her red hair was tied back, and strands of it flitted across her face in the morning breeze. ‘Oh, we weren’t expecting you back just yet.’

‘Have I come at a bad time?’ Brynd asked, curious as to what was going on.

‘No, no, it’s that, I. . Look, you’d better come in.’ Jeza skipped aside from him to enter. He plunged into the semi-darkness behind her and waited for her to lead the way again.

‘How was your business out of town?’ she asked. ‘Did you get everything sorted?’

‘It was a battle.’

‘Literally or figuratively?’

‘Literally.’

‘Oh my,’ she replied. ‘You should have said.’

‘I didn’t want anyone to know at the time,’ Brynd replied. ‘Though you could have guessed with my recent orders. So has the team been keeping well?’

‘We’ve certainly been a bit busy,’ she said, leading him through the dreary corridors. ‘You said you were in battle then — so, does that mean you were testing the armour?’

‘That’s correct, yes.’

‘And. .’

Brynd laughed. ‘It stood up exceptionally well, Jeza. None of us who were wearing it bore any injuries where we were protected by it. What’s more everyone reported back on the weight and mobility improvements. We’re going to want a lot more of it — as much as you can manufacture.’

‘Oh that’s great!’ she replied. ‘I’ll show you how we’ve improved our production methods.’

‘Very efficient of you,’ Brynd said.

Jeza directed him towards their seating area, but before she did she paused and her expression changed to one of concern. ‘Now, I know I said you didn’t come at a bad time, but just to warn you, things are. . OK, I’ll not shit you — they’re a little bit lively in there at the moment. Things have gone wrong.’

‘Should I be worried?’

A sudden clamour erupted the other side of the door, and it sounded as if quite a few things had been knocked over with an enormous clatter. Jeza cringed. ‘No, no,’ she said, and shook her head vigorously. ‘Not at all. It’s just that. . an experiment or two is underway, and I think maybe it’s getting a little out of hand. .’

‘I understand,’ Brynd said. ‘Do you want me to stand to one side until you sort it out?’

‘That. . yeah, that might work. OK, you ready?’

He nodded and she opened the door.

Brynd stepped in behind her and immediately looked upwards. Though he couldn’t quite fathom its precise shape, something enormous, and with many legs, was drifting across the ceiling. It was covered in a slimy skin and making an unnatural, guttural noise without really opening its maw. Its head was lolling from side to side and it lumbered its way awkwardly across to a platform on one side, where it then cowered in a corner.

‘What on earth is that?’ Brynd enquired.

‘Experiment number eighty-something. . Eighty-three I think.’

‘Could you expand on this, just for a curious soldier?’

‘You know, we’re in the business of creating all sorts here, and this is a bit of prep work to see if the regenerative technology will work on something else, which I think it might. We’re in the trade of horrors and grotesques — which is precisely what this is. We make monsters.’

‘It doesn’t look especially horrific,’ Brynd observed. ‘The thing looks more frightened of you.’

‘Stupid beast.’ One of the other lads entered the room, the laid-back handsome blond, who placed his arm casually behind Jeza’s back. ‘Yeah, we’re not great at refining their moods just yet.’

‘But once we get the formula right. . Don’t forget, this is only to see if we can activate the life form. Regeneration and palaeomancy and the like. We’ve got something else in development, but there are a few essentials you need to get in place before you gamble. We’ve only got one of those specimens, so it’s a bit like doing trials beforehand.’

The creature suddenly sprinted across the platform and into the shadows above, knocking over some crates and sending rusty relics spilling onto the floor with an enormous racket. Two others from their group ran after it across the platform, the first time Brynd had noticed them, and disappeared through a hatch and into another room. Howls came from the distance.

‘Fuck,’ Jeza said, and she and Diggsy ran forward to try to clear up the mess on the floor.

Brynd sauntered up to them and watched.

‘Oh they’re everywhere,’ Jeza said. ‘We’ll have to clean up later.’ She stood up in a huff, with her hands on her hips. ‘Later, yes. First let me show you the warehouse, commander, since you’ve come all this way.’

‘I’d appreciate that, thank you. Then we could perhaps have a chat about logistics and then I’ll leave you in peace.’

There was another racket and a curse from the other room.

‘I doubt there’ll be much peace for a while,’ Jeza muttered.

Jeza showed Brynd their new ad-hoc facilities, which entailed opening up more rooms of the surprisingly deep factory. She lit a few lanterns on stands in the centre of one particularly large room, which he did not need to help him see, but they did cast a warm glow across the rows and rows of shelves.

Sitting upon them were hundreds of pieces of glistening armour.

‘We cleaned this area up,’ Jeza announced, ‘and dusted down these units, and they were great for storing more pieces of armour. We’ve been making all of this since you left and we probably have just over a thousand complete sets now. We would have made more, but I didn’t want to over-commit — you know, in case you didn’t want any more.’

‘This is impressive. Over a thousand?’

‘Yeah, and we can make more really quickly. It’s simple, once the kit is set up. We should probably discuss how many you’re going to need and by when, because I’ve a few private clients that have been discussing other forms of work and I’d really like to plan our workload. We’ve come a long way in a few weeks.’

‘I’ll say,’ Brynd said. ‘Is there any chance of exclusive contracts. .?’

‘We do a lot of things here, commander. I wouldn’t want the guys to just make armour all day long. They’ll soon go their own ways — they can be a fickle bunch, but I love them for it. To keep them sane, they’ll want to work on other things.’

‘I understand,’ Brynd said. ‘Tell me — these so-called private clients of yours. Why would they be after armour?’

‘Strictly speaking it’s not armour, sir, but other creatures.’

‘This could be a matter of great importance to the Empire,’ Brynd stressed.

Jeza shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, commander, but as much as we generally loathe them, we want to operate like many of the other cultists in the city, and we adhere to a strict code of conduct. That way we ensure clients come back to us and not elsewhere.’

Brynd’s curiosity was now piqued, but he did not want to assert himself too strongly. He needed Jeza’s talents; he needed her industry. Upsetting her could impact upon the outcome of a battle. He looked once again over the rows and rows of armour, contemplating just what he’d need.

‘I want to bring more samples of standard-issue Imperial armour to you,’ Brynd said, ‘body armour, shields, helmets, the works. My specifications would only be to improve upon it in the same way you have already.’ He paused, knowing that if he discussed numbers, it would most likely cause concern. ‘We’re going to have to sign contracts that forbid you to discuss these matters with anyone — anyone at all — which, if breached, are punishable by fairly strict means.’ She looked worried suddenly. ‘It’s fairly standard stuff,’ he added. ‘Just to protect Imperial assets. It’s the same thing we use for people like ore merchants.’

‘OK,’ she agreed.

‘Excellent. I’ll have the contracts and the samples brought to you as soon as they’re ready, along with quantities of what we’d need, roughly by when, and how we’ll collect it. You can return with some estimated prices. Meanwhile, I’m interested in these other things you’re creating — these so-called aggressive creatures. Do you think they can be used easily as a weapon on the battlefield?’

Jeza nodded. ‘It’s funny you should mention that because I’m working on something that might be really, really useful. I can’t say too much right now, in case it crumbles, but it’s looking good — and I think it might work because. . well, you saw for yourself that we had a successful regeneration earlier.’

‘I’m intrigued,’ Brynd said. ‘When you have something final, cost it up.’

Brynd headed quickly back to the Citadel, whereupon he immediately called for an emergency meeting of the Night Guard.

They filed one by one into the obsidian room, garbed in their crisp all-black uniforms, and took their places around the vast table that dominated the room. Once they were all settled, Brynd closed the door — and locked it, which raised a few eyebrows. He then stoked the fire so that it roared loudly before he took his place in the centre of the table, facing his regiment. As soon as he was seated, a respectful silence came. Afternoon sunshine fell across some of the gathered faces, revealing cool and attentive expressions.

‘Before I start,’ Brynd announced, ‘I want to thank you for your roles in the defence of Jokull. That was an outstanding mission, one which you should all be proud of. I have rarely seen an enemy dispatched so efficiently, nor can I recall having seen us work with any other forces so well, and it does our army credit. Morale will be raised as a result. We can see that the enemy, the Okun, are vulnerable on the right occasion. This is an important message to spread.’

A murmur of appreciation spread across the table.

‘Now we’re back in Villiren,’ Brynd continued, ‘I want something done and it is of the utmost importance. I would like Jamur Rika to be shadowed at all times — in the most discreet manner available. Whoever follows her — and I recommend this is not a solo mission — should remain at a distance and unobserved. She should not know you are watching her. No one should know where you are going. I want you all to take shifts doing this, and it should be something that occurs all night and all day.’

‘Why the cloak and dagger, commander?’ Brug asked. ‘I mean, what should we be watching for? Is she likely to be attacked?’

‘As I mentioned, this is not a normal mission,’ Brynd continued. ‘But it is a particularly sensitive case. It is unlikely she will be attacked and, to be honest, this is not the focus of the mission. I’ve received a report from a respectable source that Jamur Rika has formed unnatural habits. Not a word of this leaves the room.’

He paused. The soldiers nodded.

Brynd cleared his throat. ‘She has been witnessed eating the flesh of the dead.’

No one gasped — that wasn’t the way of the Night Guard — but some of them raised their eyebrows. Brynd informed them in detail of what Randur had seen, gave his impressions on the matter, and tried to reassure them if they doubted the chain of command.

‘I want her tracked, so we can really assess the situation. I have. . planned accordingly, if this turns out to be true, but it is simply too early to tell. I’m interested in surveillance only for now. Any questions?’

No one responded.

‘Finally, on to more fitting business,’ Brynd said. ‘It is time we prepared for war once again. Our next move — and ultimately, I hope our very final move — will be to remove the sky-city from the skies and rid the Archipelago of anything it leaves behind.’

‘Do you think that is possible?’ Brug said.

‘After the defence of Villiren and the rescue from Jokull, I’d say anything’s possible,’ Brynd replied. A few of the others muttered their agreement on that sentiment. ‘Now, the question is how we go about this and, if I’m honest, I do not yet know. I want to consult with Artemisia and her people. You will all help me in this matter, as I wish you to become ambassadors for our culture. It goes without saying my trust in you all is beyond question. . I’ll want you to mix with their people and help glean information on their military. Though Artemisia is going to assist in such matters, I’d like to know troop capabilities, what weapons are at our disposal. What creatures, even. We might bring many of them into the city, to begin the process of integration.’

‘Do we have to fly again?’ Mikill joked. He was a slight man, and young, so the others had quickly ribbed him about not being able to handle the rough journey across to Jokull. A few chuckles broke out.

Smiling, Brynd said, ‘Yes, it wasn’t exactly what I’d call comfortable, was it, but look at how quickly we could respond to the crisis there. What other methods do these new people possess that we can use to our advantage?’

‘A change in your tone there,’ Syn pointed out. He had that quiet, dangerous look about him, the one most of the Night Guard muttered about when he wasn’t around. ‘You’ve gone from talking about friendship and harmony to exploitation for our own advantage.’

Brynd contemplated the statement, before nodding. ‘You’re quite right, Syn, on both counts. I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive points. We do need to live harmoniously with them, but they also possess many powerful creatures for us to use.’

‘We could get our own creatures,’ Syn pointed out. ‘Plenty of hybrids on the underground.’

‘Interesting you say that,’ Brynd continued. ‘That is a matter I’m looking into. But there are, for now, some interesting specimens I honestly believe we should use to our advantage — and I say that because preserving our culture here — helping the humans and rumel who make up the Boreal Archipelago as it is — they’re also a priority right now. Of course, whatever is in the encampment to the south, once they’re here for good, then their integration becomes a shared responsibility.’

‘Have you seen anything of particular value in their encampment?’ Brug asked.

‘I have,’ Brynd said. ‘It wasn’t so much a creature based there — it was someone who managed to break through into our world of their own accord. I have mentioned this Frater Mercury figure before. He could be key to bringing down that sky-city but, as far as I’m concerned, we’ll have to go through Artemisia’s people first.’

‘Is he their god?’ Tiendi asked.

He’s a god to all of us, apparently, Brynd wanted to say, but thought better of it. ‘Of a sort, yes. We’ve already seen that he has staggering powers — he created those land-vehicles, after all, so it’s safe to say that without him most of our people would already be dead. I need to. . negotiate, with Artemisia, with their elders, with Frater Mercury himself, if I can somehow schedule a proper meeting with him. That will be my biggest concern for the immediate campaign — if he is to be a weapon of sorts, just how we can use him.’

‘Who will you send first to meet with their people?’ Tiendi asked.

Brynd contemplated her question for a moment, and looked at the men — and woman — gathered around the table. ‘You’re all the best soldiers I will ever know. You’re all suited for combat. You’re all intelligent people. Any of you will, I’m sure, do a good job in promoting our concerns and gathering information. I will make sure you all get to investigate what’s there within five or six days — each of you will help me form a strategy.’