The Broken Isles (Legends of the Red Sun 4) (26 page)

‘There is only one thing that stands between us and the paradise this city can become. The very people that assaulted Villiren have taken the island of Jokull for their own and they will
move from island to island until they reach us. All I ask is that all healthy individuals offer their services to fight for this noble cause: you will be fighting for your future, for your
families, and for your homes. Without such assistance, I dare not think of the consequences . . . If you remain alive afterwards, this world will be a perilous place.

‘However, if we are victorious, you have my word that there will be access to hospitals for the poorest, initiatives to ensure all families are fed, and the new governing bodies will see
an investment in new industries to see that there will be jobs for all those who return. We will see you are looked after. We even have the finances to pay decent wages for those who join
up.’

There was a hubbub, but he couldn’t tell what they were thinking.

‘Of course, there is one other path available to us – a path I would not like us to choose, and that would be to do
nothing
. We simply carry on as we are and we do not fight.
We will most likely see ourselves encircled in this city again – under siege once again. I believe you will agree with me in thinking that to be an unfavourable option.’

People had been stunned into silence. They had come here in their thousands to celebrate something – anything, perhaps, given what happened to Villiren – and while he had them there
Brynd had moved them straight into the next stage of his planning. He knew he wouldn’t have such an ideal opportunity again. He could feel the gaze of the Empress, and probably the bankers
and the lawmakers around him, fuming that he had not consulted them on any of these matters.

‘These islands will be united against the forces that have invaded from beyond our realms of knowledge,’ he continued. ‘But you should know we are not alone any more. This
recent victory was only possible due to help from friends elsewhere. They are . . .’ He searched for the word, knowing it would be crucial. ‘Neighbouring races. They are, indeed, our
neighbours, from a place off our known maps, but they are friendly and skilled. Some of them look just like you, just like me. Some of them look . . . a little different, but they are still our
neighbours and our allies and they helped save the lives of our people. They offered many of their own as sacrifice. These neighbours are very different from our enemies – these alien races
that seek to destroy us. We must welcome them if we are to defeat the aliens. They are our friends in our hour of need.’

The mood was different again: hesitant, confused.

‘But tonight is a time for rejoicing.’ His voice became noticeably more upbeat. ‘With our allies, our military has – for the second time – defeated the alien
terrors that seek to ruin our lands and our peoples. Let me tell you it was a spectacular display, one that served our people proud. The future is a much brighter place than it was several days
ago. And all of us within those walls’ – he gestured to the Citadel behind him – ‘will dedicate our lives to ensuring Villiren’s safety and prosperity.’

Brynd turned to walk from the platform and trumpets began to sound, the noise ricocheting around the streets. Only then did Brynd realize how much his heart was racing, how his palms were
sweating. He stepped down to ground level, where he was guided like an emperor towards Rika and Eir. It felt strange, being sheltered like this: he was the one who should be protecting people.

An avenue opened up through the staff and military personnel for him to walk back to the Citadel.

Suddenly, Randur Estevu – of all people – lurched into view from his position alongside Eir. ‘Commander,’ he grunted, ‘it’s urgent I speak with
you.’

‘Can it wait?’ Brynd replied. ‘I’ve just returned from a mission, if you haven’t noticed.’

‘Appreciate that, sir, but this is absolutely fucking serious.’ His voice was more discreet now, and he kept looking back towards the Jamur sisters, who were being marshalled up
along the main track inside. ‘It concerns your plans for the future,’ he added. ‘It concerns . . .
her.
’ He tilted his head towards Rika.

Brynd nodded. ‘I’ll quickly settle some affairs. Meet me in my quarters in one hour.’

‘Right you are, commander,’ Randur replied, and shuffled his way back towards Eir’s side.

What a curious fellow
, Brynd thought.

*

Brynd opened the door to his chamber and Randur practically collapsed into the room. He stood up straight and peered behind him out of the door.

‘You seem quite the paranoid man,’ Brynd said with amusement.

‘Paranoid men don’t handle secrets well.’

‘I can handle a secret all right,’ Randur replied. ‘It’s creepy, bat-shit-crazy women I can’t handle.’

Brynd gestured to a chair by the fire, then closed the door behind Randur.

‘Would you mind bolting it too?’

‘As you wish,’ Brynd sighed, and obliged.

Randur shuffled over nervously and took his place in a wonderfully ornate wooden chair. He frowned and struggled to ease himself into it. ‘Not very comfortable, this chair of yours. I
would’ve thought someone in your position would use something more comfortable to rest his arse.’

‘It keeps me from falling asleep too much by the fire,’ Brynd replied, taking the seat next to him. ‘Now, would the loving partner of Jamur Eir be good enough to tell me why I
can’t get a moment’s peace on my return? What is it that you find so urgent and secret?’

‘Right you are, boss,’ Randur said. He leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his thighs and began his story.

He reminded Brynd of their exchange on Rika’s change in personality and behaviour. What he then went on to describe caused a great deal of discomfort to Brynd.

‘So there I am, in the middle of the city, and she’s eating the kid’s arm.’ Randur leaned back and held up his own as if to prove his point. ‘She’s biting the
flesh like some rabid – no, not rabid – a
starving
dog.’ He gave a remarkable level of detail, location, time of day, lighting, who else was around, whom he reported it to
– enough to convince Brynd that Randur believed what he saw.

‘Don’t think I’m mad, will you?’

‘I did already.’ Brynd tried to remain expressionless. ‘And you’re quite certain that it was Rika? It couldn’t have been someone else?’

‘I didn’t see her kill anyone, I’ll say that much, but I saw what I saw. I came back here when I lost her to find her back with Eir. She claimed she’d been out on
business. What’s more, when I was in my room earlier she was there at the window.’

‘What happened?’

‘She just vanished, like some spirit.’

‘You’re absolutely sure of this?’ Brynd pressed. ‘It seems more than a little fanciful that she was just hanging about outside.’

Randur shrugged. ‘I’m just telling you what I’ve seen. I’m not asking anyone to believe me – but given that you’re about to make this woman the centre of your
new world, I thought you might like to know she’s one wave short of a shipwreck. Might not go down well with the electorate once she starts eating them.’

‘Colourfully put,’ Brynd muttered and considered the matter for a while longer. Was there any reason not to believe Randur? They had both witnessed Rika’s deterioration, and
Randur had personally seen her safe passage across the Archipelago. He harboured no grudges that Brynd knew of, either, and now his demeanour seemed genuine. Brynd knew the look of panic in
someone, and Randur was displaying it here genuinely. Despite his sceptical nature, Brynd was inclined to believe that there was something in what Randur said that was probably the truth.

Which was a deeply distressing realization.

‘What do you think you’ll do about her?’ Randur asked.

‘I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest, but I believe you saw what you say you saw.’

‘Huh, which means you could think I had the eyes of a madman.’

‘It’s a very thin line between a sane person and a mad one. Some suggest that the only difference between perceptions of sanity and madness is the status of the person in
question.’

Randur grunted a laugh. ‘I’ve seen some weird shit in my time, I can tell you, enough to last me a lifetime. I saw what I saw. This was an extraordinary sight.’

‘I’ve no doubt you felt it was.’

‘Do you think it’s related to Artemisia?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, Rika does seem rather keen on the woman – emotionally attached. It’s a bit like love gone wrong, their relationship.’

Brynd regarded the flames of the fire as they began to die down. He reached forward to throw another log on, and gazed as the flames licked at the wood. ‘She enquired about Artemisia
earlier – it was the first and
only
thing she asked of me. Not how the battle went, not how many casualties there were, nothing about the refugees.’

‘Look,’ Randur said, ‘I’m no politician, but is she really the kind of lass you want to be putting in front of folk? Do you really want people to put their support behind
someone who’s not all there?’

‘She is the Jamur heir,’ Brynd replied. ‘It is as simple as that.’

‘Madness took her father, didn’t it?’

‘It did. I was there when he fell to his death.’

‘Oh,’ Randur said.

‘This isn’t the same kind of madness. It was paranoia that affected her father, and was an affliction that accumulated slowly over the years.’

After a pause, Randur said, ‘I only hope Eir keeps her wits.’

‘She’ll have to with you as her partner.’ Brynd smiled.

Randur’s own smile faded. ‘Look, chief, to be perfectly frank, I’m a bit worried – she was outside my window. You know what I’m saying? She
knows
that I saw
her. She
knows
that I’m a threat – and is no doubt worried I’ll tell you about her secret.’

‘Well, she’d be right,’ Brynd pointed out.

‘Oh very funny.’ Randur stood up and pointed at Brynd. ‘If I end up as some midnight feast, with all my youthful limbs bearing her teeth marks, I will personally come back as a
spirit to haunt you. And I’ll be twice as annoying when I’m dead.’

Brynd chuckled and waved him down. ‘Don’t worry, Randur. Firstly, you’re with Eir each night, right? Rika would not bother her sister, I wouldn’t have thought.
She’s had hundreds of opportunities to kill her – or indeed anyone at the Citadel. No, I’d say if she’s hunting in the streets, she doesn’t want to be seen –
perhaps she’s aware of her own urges, and is therefore trying to avoid being caught in the act.’

‘I don’t know – I think we can safely assume she’s not right in the head,’ Randur said, and began to saunter around the room. ‘Anything could
happen.’

Brynd turned in his chair to follow Randur’s steps. ‘OK, I’ll have two soldiers stationed outside your door and we can make sure your window gets boarded up – we can
claim it’s broken.’

‘I’d appreciate it.’ Randur picked up one of Brynd’s swords from the rack against the wall. ‘Decent blade, this.’ He began to work through some moves that
seemed a little genteel at first, then Brynd could see some real flair there.

‘We’ve not had the pleasure of sparring yet, have we?’ Brynd asked. ‘Perhaps we can see what you’re made of soon.’

Randur finished a series of moves with a flourish. ‘I’d like that,’ he replied. ‘I was without doubt the best swordsman on my island. I fought my way across the
archipelago to keep the Jamur flame burning. I’d say I’d hold my own.’

‘That is if you’re not eaten in the night.’

‘I don’t especially like your jokes,’ Randur said. ‘They’re not actually funny.’

‘Who was making a joke?’ Brynd replied coolly.

Randur grunted his reply. ‘So, what will you do regarding Rika’s position?’

‘I need to sleep on it first,’ Brynd replied. ‘The mission has drained me somewhat, and I think it needs the clarity of a good night’s rest before I actually engage with
the situation.’

‘Fair enough,’ Randur replied, and moved towards the door. ‘But it might be worth having her followed, in case you’re not sure whether or not to really trust me.’
He flipped back the bolts and opened the door cautiously to see if anyone was outside. He waited a good minute before he was confident and then he glanced back into the room. ‘Thanks for
taking the time to listen.’

Brynd gestured wearily. ‘I appreciate you telling me – honestly, I do.’

As Randur closed the door, Brynd sighed and approached the window. He moved his hand to draw back the curtain – paused, bearing in mind what Randur had said about Rika – then with a
swift flick of his arm he pulled them open.

There was nothing there, no creature scaling the walls, no mad former Empress. Only the cityscape of Villiren presented itself and Brynd stared down on the glistening beacons and lanterns around
the harbour. He had only just arrived back from fighting and wondered if the situation could get any worse. If what Randur said was true, and rumours broke out across the city, Brynd knew just what
that would do to his plans to get the remains of the Empire moving forward.

Will there be any end to this? How bad will things have to get?

Jeza decided it was time to return to the location where the Mourning Wasp had been discovered. Though she had taken small samples to assess its potential, she alone could not
have conducted the complex experiments to take it back to the factory.

She brought Coren and Diggsy with her this time, and they helped her with their sophisticated equipment. The boys cursed the rain that lashed against their faces on the journey there, and cursed
the ascent on their skittish horses. But, eventually, in the sanctuary of the cave, they saw what Jeza had found and were astounded – as she had been herself.

As she stared at the remnants of the original Mourning Wasp once again she realized that the find managed to fulfil that need in her life, the thirst for knowledge.

It seemed to fill the void of answers in her own existence.

Like some of the others at the factory, Jeza had grown up without knowing her parents. She told herself she didn’t care about this. She had been lucky, though, and had somehow managed to
scrape a decent existence alongside cultists, who had taught her to read, had instilled in her a sense of curiosity.