Fractures

by C S Vass

  Lord Hightower spoke slowly and with gravity, each word passing through his lips with weight.

  “But why?” Fiona asked. “Why did Rodrick go to Morrordraed? How could he have gotten past the border with the Empire scrying for him?”

  “How indeed,” Geoff mused. The old knight seemed to be looking at something nobody else could see. “That Rodrick has been to the swamplands greatly concerns me. There is magic there far beyond what the Vaentysh Boys could hope to accomplish with the tinkering of runes. If they truly are back then they must be working towards some new strategy to overtake the city.”

  “He was there,” Fiona said at once. “Rodrick was in that room! We almost had him.”

  “You spoke with him?” Geoff Hightower’s emerald eyes gazed at her unflinchingly, and Fiona suddenly became very uncomfortable.

  “Well, no, not exactly,” she said. Internally she was cursing herself. She couldn’t tell Geoff about the manjeko. There was still something deeply personal about it, and sharing that information didn’t feel right. Especially not now that he had just warned them about the dangers of tampering with magic. “I…I caught a glimpse of him as he was leaving. But I’m positive he was there.”

  Geoff held her gaze for what felt like an eternity. She got the feeling he saw right through her lie. “Very well,” he said at last. “We will have to deal with this. I must speak with Sandra Redfire. But first, tell me Martin, what news should I know of the city?”

  Martin’s face flushed red and Fiona realized that he was ashamed to tell Geoff that he was no longer Captain of the Guard. “All focus has been on the Forgotten,” Martin said. “That is where the city is placing their efforts internally. If you want any more details, you’ll have to speak with somebody else. I’ve resigned.”

  Fiona was certain that the old knight was going to scold him for abandoning his duty, or at the least give him some inspiring words to try to talk him back into his post. Instead he merely nodded, taking the news as fact and not questioning it.

  “This is not the life I would have chosen for you for either of you,” Lord Hightower said. “You do not deserve to be caught up in this nonsense after the tragedies two years ago. But as with all who find themselves trapped in such turbulent times there is no real choice in the matter. In any case I cannot know peace until Rodrick is brought to justice. Lawrence Downcastle may be the leader of the Vaentysh Boys in name, but it’s clear as daylight who is truly in charge of their operations.

  “What we need is more information. Without knowing exactly what the Vaentysh Boys have accomplished in Morrordraed or why they’re back now we can do no better than stab blindly at shadows in the darkness. I will travel to Sun Circle to see what can be learned there and plan a defense of Haygarden. I fear the worst will soon be upon us.”

  It was then that Fiona remembered her earlier trips into the world of the manjeko, when she had first caught Rodrick’s presence. Tome Vaenti. That was what she had heard. Over and over again. Obsessively.

  “Lord Hightower. Do the words Tome Vaenti mean anything to you?”

  Geoff’s thick eyebrows pushed together as he thought. “Not immediately. It has the ring of the elder tongue about it. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard the phrase before. Why do you ask?”

  Fiona kept a straight face. “It’s nothing important, just something that I heard one of the Vaentysh Boys whisper while I was trapped in their pentagram. It sounded odd.”

  “Do you remember anything else? Any clues from their manner or subject of speech?”

  “Well…I was under the impression that it was something they were searching for.”

  “If the Vaentysh kings of old kept tomes that would be news to me. They were famously suspicious of the written word, and are said to have burned many folk accused of necromancy and other dark magic for simply possessing books. But I will make a note of it.”

  Fiona felt her stomach tighten with guilt. She was sorely tempted to simply tell Geoff then and there about the manjeko. What if it truly was important? What if he knew something about it that could help to save them all?

  But before she had a chance to speak up the old knight was marching away. She had missed her chance. Perhaps it was for the best. After all the last thing that Fiona wanted now would be for Sandra Redfire’s agents to escort her to Sun Circle and question her for using powerful magic.

  “Why is it that I’m seeing more action and adventure right now than when I was Captain of the Guard?” Martin asked bitterly.

  Fiona looked into Martin Lightwing’s bleary eyes and felt another pang of guilt. He truly had a very hard couple of years, it was written all over his face. When would all of this finally be over? When would any of them get some peace?

  “Martin, we should talk,” Fiona said. “Let’s go somewhere where we can sit down. The guards will clean this mess.”

  “Anywhere but my house,” Martin agreed.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Fiona and Martin found themselves warm and at ease in an inn that bordered the Stone and Leaf Districts. Before her was a heaping bowl of thick soothing stew with generous chunks of beef, brown rice, potatoes, onions, carrots, and a host of spices of that gave the meal a rich red color. Martin had insisted on going somewhere he wouldn’t find rat shit on his boots (or in his food) and said he could pay for it with money he had saved from the city guard.

  “So what are you going to do?” Martin asked her through a loud slurp of ale from a tin tankard.

  “I don’t know.” It was a very good question. The Vaentysh Boys were so close, Rodrick was so close. She couldn’t let him escape this time. But what was the best way to find him? Rodrick had been in that room. The manjeko had shown her. But either he had known somehow that she was coming or he simply left before she had arrived.

  “Well that makes two of us,” Martin said as he ripped a piece of black bread in half and dunked it into his stew. “I thought that leaving the city guard would be the end of my problems. I thought that as soon as I left I would be able to put it all out of my mind. But that hasn’t been the case. I guess it takes more than quitting your job to make you happy.”

  “What did you want to put out of your mind?” Fiona asked.

  “All of it,” Martin replied immediately. There was a bitter look in his eyes. “There was so much stress and trouble. Everybody calls on you when there’s disaster and blames you when you can’t fix it well-enough to their liking.”

  “The common criminals are really getting bad, aren’t they?”

  “That’s not half of it,” Martin complained. “Common criminals are the easy part. What’s worse is when my own men get out of line. They get rowdy and get into mischief. Get drunk and brawl it out in bars. Several times there were actual deaths—murders a lot of folk would say—coming from my own people. What am I supposed to do when that happens?”

  “Justice,” Fiona said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Martin shook his head. “You just don’t understand, Fiona. It’s easy to say no man’s above the law. It’s harder when I have lieutenants above me threatening me from eight different directions if everything isn’t handled to their liking. And we haven’t even gotten to the worst parts of the struggle yet. It’s not just about my own men. The Forgotten—they’ve made my life and the lives of so many people in this city a living hell.”

  Fiona had funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t quite identify. She sipped on her own beer and said, “Tell me about the Forgotten.”

  “They’re stronger than we are.” A shadow had grown over Martin’s face. “Nobody understands how very real of a threat they have become. I hate the Vaentysh Boys, and I hate the Empire. But the Forgotten are the only group that truly scares me. They’ve struck a balance between some of the raw power the Empire seeks and the blind loyalty that the Vaentysh Boys try to cultivate. You know their founder—”

  “I know about their founder,” Fiona said as she suppressed the urge
to vomit. “But what do they truly want?”

  “Power,” Martin said. “Money. Their own people in the right positions so that they can make the rules. It’s a game to them. Part of me sometimes thinks that they’re not doing this for any secret revenge, but simply because they’re bored. It would make sense to me, truth be told. Why does anybody do anything? Life in the Forgotten is probably more interesting than life as a farmer.”

  Martin’s bitterness as he spoke was so intense that it made Fiona’s heart ache. This was who that awkward boy with the laughing eyes grew up to be.

  “But all of that is behind you now,” Fiona said. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore. In essence, you’re actually free.”

  Martin scoffed. It was an angry and belligerent noise.

  “Free. What does that mean Fiona? I’m starting to realize that you can’t always run from your problems. Surely you’ve learned that lesson after two years of galavanting around the Lordless Lands and gods know where else. Did a change in location make you any happier?”

  “I wasn’t running from my problems,” Fiona said, cool herself now. “I was running towards them. And when I catch him then I can worry about what comes after that.”

  “I understand. Truly I do. There is a woman in the Forgotten, a vicious killer. She’s a plague upon the city and has caused untold harm to many good people. I’ve been chasing her shadow for the last year, but without so much as getting near enough to catch a whiff of her. If there’s one regret I have about my time in the city guard, it’s that I was never able to bring her to justice.”

  Fiona felt a growing sense of understanding. Smiley’s latest offer came flashing back to her. But what were the chances that Martin was speaking of the same woman? There was only one way to know.”

  “Aiyana,” Fiona whispered.

  A fevered look came into Martin’s eyes. “So you’ve heard the rumors.” His voice was so low that she could barely make out his words.

  “Martin, I know what it’s like to chase a shadow. I know what it’s like to be possessed by the image of a person who has done great evil. You know in your bones as much as I do that even if you do end up leaving the city you will never find peace while you know that Aiyana is here, weaving whatever terrors she can into the fabric of Haygarden’s existence.”

  “What are you saying?” Martin was looking at her the way a starving man looks at a bowl of food being offered by some kind stranger.

  They talked for many hours while the snow piled up on the windowsill next to them and the sun sank beyond the horizon. Fiona told him everything about her meetings with Brandon and Smiley. There were times when he took her story in silent disbelief, and times when he openly shouted at the prospect of her working with such uncertain allies.

  In the end though, Martin Lightwing was her friend and he understood. He didn’t fault her for doing what she had to do in order to pursue her brother. She left out all details of the manjeko (the thought dawned on her as she made that decision that she might not ever be ready to share that with anyone) but otherwise gave him a full account of her time in the underworld of Haygarden.

  Of course, Martin was eager to push Fiona towards accepting Smiley’s offer. Should she turn assassin and kill the woman Aiyana then she would be doing Haygarden an enormous service and at the same time getting one step closer to Rodrick. After all, if Smiley really did have Yondril then who knew what they might learn about the Vaentysh Boys?

  By the end Martin had transformed into an entirely new person. He had none of the innocence of his youth, too much pain had been written into his face over the years, but there was something else now too. A determined light. He had purpose again. There was a chance for him to redeem himself, even if his time as Captain of the Guard was over. Together they would kill Aiyana and in doing so come one step closer to ending the painful chapter of their lives that has started two years ago when the Commander of the Brightbows plotted to overthrow his Duke.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It took her mere moments to find Brandon. She was so accustomed to slipping in and out of the manjeko that Martin hadn’t even noticed her do it. He was in a house not far from them, alone in front of a hearth with its fingers of flame reflected in his brown eyes. The two sped off as another bout of snow descended on the city.

  “Well well,” Brandon grinned without rising. “You’ve come to see me, and you’ve brought my favorite captain. So tell me, Fiona, are you here to work with me, or to kill me?”

  “It’s time for me to meet Aiyana,” Fiona said.

  “And your friend?”

  “He wants to help,’ Fiona said.

  “Captains of the local authorities are more helpful to me in the bottom of the river with punctured lungs and a strong belt of stone. Why would I take him?”

  “I’m not a Captain of the Guard, as I’m sure you know,” Martin said. To his credit he didn’t so much as flinch when meeting Brandon’s eyes.

  “I am indeed aware,” Brandon conceded. He was twirling a knife in his right hand very delicately. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me then why you’re here?”

  “I’m here because the city guard is worse than your group, and pays far too little. Corruption is everywhere and I don’t have a problem doing dirty work, but I want to be compensated appropriately for it.”

  Brandon laughed, a harsh hacking sound. “So, it’s as simple as that? A little disillusionment and the motivation of money is enough to turn a captain of Haygarden’s guard?”

  “Why wouldn’t it?” Martin asked. “It’s like I’ve told you. I’ve already quit. I’m planning on leaving the city soon, and I’d rather have some gold in a coin purse before I do. Believe it or not, I don’t really care. But I may be able to help you with some of the information I’ve gathered during my time in the guard. I think we both know Aiyana would be upset if you made such a unilateral decision without her.”

  The smile never faded from Brandon’s face, but something unpleasant and beastly crept into his eyes. “Confident, aren’t you? I suppose you’ve learned enough about the Forgotten in your time chasing us that you think you have everything figured out. Very well, Martin. Come with us. But don’t be surprised if Aiyana decides that you’re better off at the end of a rope.”

  They walked through the Stone District in silence. Brandon, leading the way, would sometimes stop and whisper a few words to the beggars on the street, occasionally slipping them a piece of silver. When they reached the front of a blacksmith’s forge with a large rust-iron sign in the shape of an anvil he stopped. “A friendly house,” he said without turning to look at them.

  They walked inside, past a lumbering slump-shouldered fellow with an eyepatch and thick black beard that fell to his waist. He didn’t so much as glance as they walked past him downstairs into a basement cellar that had been transformed into a meeting room.

  The first thing Fiona thought when she saw Aiyana was her startling resemblance to Sandra Redfire. It wasn’t in the appearance, though they were roughly the same build, but rather in the sharp look and powerful silent demeanor she carried. Her eyes were a metallic grey that held a grave intensity, and her hair was midnight black.

  To Fiona’s surprise Martin’s face drained of color the instant he saw her. For the briefest moment it twisted into the most hateful rage-filled scowl she had ever seen him wear—and just as quickly vanished into a stiff mask. Fiona wasn’t sure if she had imagined the entire thing.

  “Fiona Sacrosin and Martin Lightwing,” she said. “We meet at last.” She gestured for them to sit in front of her. Fiona and Martin glanced at each other. There was no clear indication of how this would go down. They had no plan but to act when the moment presented itself. She imagined plunging a sword into Aiyana’s soft body and shuddered.

  “We have a common enemy,” Aiyana said without sitting. “That should be enough to ensure that we work in our mutual interest to see the Empire out of Haygarden. I do not love the days of old when the banners of the
Empire flew above the city, though I was just a child at that time.”

  “Here we are,” Fiona said. “What would you have of us?”

  “Nothing at all if I had another choice,” Aiyana said. “But Donyo Brownwater is of the utmost importance. He’s working on something big. Something that could put all of us in danger. I need to know what it is.”

  “We need more information,” Martin said impatiently. “I’ve spent a great deal of time with Donyo Brownwater, and the only thing he’s been working on is how to flood his body with every beer brewed between here and Laquath.”

  “Then you’re a fool and the city guard is lucky to be rid of you,” Aiyana said, coldly. “Had you maintained your post, Martin, you could perhaps be valuable to us in other ways, but now this is all that we need of you. Donyo is working on a project, there is no doubt about that. Who he’s doing it for and what it is are the questions we need answered.

  “But there is another issue now, that you seem not to realize the importance of. Your loyalty is highly dubious at the moment, and I’m not quite certain that we haven’t made a mistake in choosing to work with you. The Forgotten have been walking a knife’s edge for years. In many ways we have done more for the protection of the city than your own guards have.”

  This time there was no mistaking it. Martin was completely losing control. His face burned scarlet and there was murder in his eyes. Aiyana looked at him curiously as he took great heaving breaths in and out. Fiona didn’t know what to do.

  “So that’s the way of it,” Aiyana said simply. “I feared as much.” She looked absurdly like a school-teacher scolding a student after class.

  “You killed him.”

  The words were whispered so low that Fiona couldn’t be sure she heard him right. Uncertainty filled her. Martin was trembling worse than ever. She was positive he was about to rupture.