The Broken Isles lotrs-4

by Mark Charan Newton

  She thought to herself, what if the deal with the army collapses? What if the commander had to pull out of the contract? If she was going to be a legitimate businesswoman, she would need another plan, something to fall back on.

  So she had decided to go on her own, yet for her own safety was secretly wearing one of her own pieces of armour designed to fit her small frame. I don’t want to get stabbed with all that money sitting there unspent in a bank vault, she thought.

  As she headed towards the agreed meeting point, by way of the enormous Citadel, she noticed something strange occurring down one of the side streets. There, amidst the rubbish sacks discarded by the nearest bistro, was a hunched figure rooting around in the darkness.

  For some reason, Jeza’s curiosity got the better of her and she sauntered cautiously towards the person: it was a human, a woman and, surprisingly, her black clothes seemed to be well cut, though more fitted for combat than anything else. In fact, everything about the quality of the clothing and neatness of her hair suggested that she was from a good background.

  Not a beggar then, Jeza thought. Has she fallen on hard times?

  Jeza tentatively said, ‘Hi,’ and the woman snapped around to face her. Blood was drooling from her mouth and smeared all over her right cheek, but she didn’t seem injured. In her hands were the remains of something fleshy. Jeza’s gaze followed the trail of blood by her feet and back up the alley — this suggested that the rest of the fleshy thing at the woman’s feet had been dragged here. It had not been found here, discarded by the bistro.

  That realization made Jeza’s skin crawl.

  The woman looked at her — right through her, in fact, as if she was in some kind of trance. Jeza remained utterly still. Somewhere in the distance she heard a pterodette screech.

  ‘Who are you?’ Jeza asked the woman. ‘Do you need any help?’

  The attempt at conversation seemed to draw the woman out of her state. Her gaze relaxed, and settled more naturally on Jeza. ‘Are you all right?’ Jeza held out her hand, though drew it back hesitantly when she remembered the bloody flesh.

  ‘I. . I must be going,’ the woman muttered, her voice incredibly refined, her accent from the west; and suddenly she dashed past Jeza and back out into the city. She had dropped something on her way and, after peering around cautiously, Jeza examined it-

  She lurched back in horror. It was a child’s arm, and very definitely mauled around the fleshy muscles of the forearm. Who was that? Had they killed a child? The woman seemed far too normal to have done such a thing.

  A bell-tower struck in the distance, and Jeza realized she had to be moving on. Reluctantly, and now feeling a little sick, she stumbled out of the alley and back into the night.

  The tavern was surprisingly clean and decent for Villiren. It had all its windows intact and the door had not been ripped off its hinges.

  There was no graffiti on any of the walls and no bad smells. Though it was crammed into a row of whitewashed buildings, it seemed big enough to hold a regular flow of respectable clientele.

  Inside was a large fireplace near the bar, and plenty of warmth. She ordered herself just a tea — she didn’t want to drink when she had to be alert — and took a seat in a plush armchair by the fire. Brass accoutrements hung on the walls, with shoddy-looking paintings, and a fug of smoke had stained the ceiling. There weren’t as many people inside as she thought there would be, but those who were there seemed solitary, quiet types, which suited her fine.

  She sat for a while contemplating the place. Eventually a man with stubble, wearing a long wax coat and a tricorne hat, approached her. He was handsome, bore a scar or two on his face and moved towards her with an effortless cool.

  ‘You got my message.’ His voice was gravelly. For a moment she thought she saw two animalistic fangs in his mouth.

  She nodded.

  ‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Name’s Malum.’

  ‘Jeza.’ She watched him slump into the chair with grace.

  ‘So then, you’re the girl who’s got the underground talking.’

  ‘I try not to listen to rumours,’ she replied.

  Malum laughed and she couldn’t tell whether or not he was mocking her.

  ‘Look, I’m interested in your military gear,’ Malum continued. He smiled. He looked around sheepishly before he leaned in a little closer. ‘You’re doing business with that albino commander, am I right?’

  Jeza nodded, intrigued as to how much he already knew about the dealings. She was, for now, thankful he was treating her like an adult and not speaking down to her.

  ‘Does he pay well?’ Malum asked.

  Another nod; she didn’t want to betray the commander.

  ‘You’re a closed book, young lady,’ Malum said. ‘I respect someone who’s got secrets — but you can treat me like a business client. I’m interested in purchasing your wares, and I’m also interested in the range of wares that you deal in. Trust me as much as you want to, but I don’t do business with people I don’t believe in. I have faith in your operation. I like what I’ve heard.’

  ‘What’s your business exactly?’ Jeza enquired.

  ‘I’m a trader, of sorts,’ he replied coolly. ‘I tend to deal in whatever I can get my hands on, in just about every ware you can think of; but I also deal in private security, or settling scores for people. Sometimes a contract needs enforcing and, in the absence of any decent Inquisition around here, businesses need a little kick now and then. I’m increasingly in demand — things are changing in Villiren.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Tensions, mainly. You know of the aliens to the south of the city?’

  ‘I’ve heard a little about them, but not much.’

  ‘Big encampment — like a new city filled with all sorts of weird, deadly creatures. It’s causing a lot of worries with many important folk in this city, business leaders, local representatives, bankers. They’re worried that these things are just going to come and take over when the city needs stability. They don’t belong here, you see. They’ll upset the balance and do strange things. There’s talk of creatures coming in to the southern fringes of the city and eating pets; even one report of a child being eaten by them.’

  Jeza thought of the woman earlier, in the alleyway. ‘It’s a difficult situation that everyone in this city finds themselves in.’

  ‘Those aren’t your words, that’s the commander speaking,’ Malum grunted, but he didn’t seem angry. ‘It’s all right for the likes of the powerful — they can get to make decisions and influence whatever they want. For the average man or woman on the street, this is really frightening.’

  ‘Do you see yourself as a man of the people?’ Jeza asked.

  Malum eyed her. She couldn’t tell a thing about his thoughts from his neutral expression.

  ‘Not as such.’ He smiled. ‘But there’s money to be made in representing their concerns.’

  ‘At least you’re honest,’ Jeza chuckled dryly.

  ‘That, young lady, I am.’

  There was a pause in conversation while two men ordered drinks from the bar, and Malum and Jeza waited until they had moved on.

  ‘So,’ Malum continued, ‘I find myself in an interesting situation. I might be looking for all sorts of solutions, to help appease concerns of the city folk, so I’d be intrigued as to the kinds of things you deal in. Tell me what you’re all about.’

  Jeza explained the operation at the factory, glossing over the new armour and finishing with her ambitions for synthetic creatures. She skirted over the intricacies of the operation, but let him know just enough — that they were good, that they could be trusted. Malum remained silent as she talked, letting her do all the work.

  Once she had said her piece, Malum spoke again.

  ‘Now, I can’t tell you my specific business with representing the interests of the people of this city, but I can tell you this — I’m interested in all you have to say, particularly with these creatures. I’ve always been a fan of s
uch beings — they can cause a lot of damage.’

  ‘I don’t want our creations causing harm!’

  ‘They won’t be — I wouldn’t worry. All I’m interested in is helping people.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘You make me out to be the monster here — you’re the girl that makes them. I’m a businessman, plain and simple.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Now,’ Malum said, standing. She could see a small blade sheathed at his hip, and for the first time she became nervous. ‘I’ll be in touch, Jeza. I needed to know what you had and I’m impressed.’

  Jeza had a vague thought that if he was a criminal of sorts, he wouldn’t be able to match the military. ‘We do charge quite a lot, given what the commander has given. .’

  Malum gave a wry smile. ‘I can afford twice whatever he’s paying, don’t you worry. I’m a professional. I’d also like to see some of these creatures for myself, when they’re finally finished. How long, do you think, until they’re ready?’

  ‘They’ll be ready when they’re ready,’ Jeza replied, ‘but you should know that most of them never make it.’

  Malum seemed satisfied with her answer, and slunk out into the night, leaving Jeza with an uneasy feeling. However, if she cancelled potential business purely because someone made her feel uneasy, they would never make a living.

  When Jeza arrived back at the factory, the others were still up making their usual racket. They were eating fried fish, which she could smell from some distance. The place was a mess again. It seemed no matter how much money they had, no matter how much respect they were accumulating, they would forever be kicking around boxes of junk, food containers, or empty bottles.

  ‘Guys,’ Jeza announced profoundly. ‘I think it’s about time we hired a cleaner.’

  ‘Place is fine as it is,’ Coren called out. ‘Besides, we’ve too much sensitive stuff here — cleaners could go messing with things they don’t know about. Anyway, how’d it go tonight? Who was the mystery man?’

  ‘It went pretty well actually,’ she replied. ‘His name was Malum and he seemed interested in the monsters. Said he could pay well, too.’

  ‘That’s the main thing,’ Coren replied.

  ‘Yes. The thought occurred to me that we’d need a back-up if the thing with the commander fell through. If we can get this guy on board we can build up a decent and secure set of projects. Diggsy, did you buy those new relics that were uncovered in Saltwater the other day?’

  ‘Yup,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got two crates of them sitting in the next room. It was a good idea to spend some money investing — there might be some really useful things there. I’ve heard about a few underground markets after buying these — there are levels below ground that not even cultists know about. We’re about to enter a much bigger scene. There’s also a few pieces that might help with the development of the Mourning Wasp and speed that process up.’

  ‘Jeza, what’s on your mind?’ Coren asked. ‘You look as though not a word of that went in your ears.’

  ‘I also saw something weird tonight. There was this woman — decent-looking, well-to-do type, and she was. . well, she had a child’s arm in her mouth. It was like she was in a trance.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve seen the Cannibal Lady,’ Coren said excitedly. He stuck his fork into a piece of fish before dropping it on the floor. ‘Aw shit.’

  ‘You know about her already?’ Jeza asked. ‘Is that her name then?’

  Coren leaned back up and put the fallen fish in his mouth, much to everyone’s disgust. ‘They’re calling her that, yeah,’ he continued, while munching. ‘And I don’t know all that much, just that there’s been talk in a few of the bars around the Ancient Quarter. She’s been spotted quite a few times, and on each occasion she’s been seen, it’s been the same thing — her, somewhere secluded, munching on flesh. They say she’s some kind of animal.’

  ‘Do they say where she came from?’ Jeza asked. ‘Is she one of the creatures from the south of the city? Malum mentioned there had been sightings of things coming into Villiren and taking people.’

  ‘Could be.’ Coren nodded. ‘Though they say this one didn’t so much as come from the south, but was here already. People are whispering that the Cannibal Lady comes from the Citadel.’

  FIFTEEN

  Malum spotted the poster nailed to a decrepit noticeboard outside a Jorsalir church, deep in the Ancient Quarter.

  It was late morning, the skies had just cleared after a quick shower, and the cobbles shone brightly in the sunlight. A flock of seagulls swooped by overhead. The day’s traffic had calmed after the throng of the dawn markets, allowing him to contemplate the notice in peace.

  But Malum read the information in disgust.

  The notice was a piece of pro-alien propaganda from the military; it played on the fears of the populace and tried to appeal to their sense of self-preservation. It explained what was happening with the alien peoples camped to the south of the city and that without their aid against the Okun — or worse — Villiren, and the whole island, might be destroyed.

  How many of these posters were around the city, he had no idea, but the military were obviously trying to get the people to accept the aliens.

  ‘Imperial filth,’ he muttered to himself, and ripped the poster down, chucking it into a puddle.

  Cheap tricks, he thought. I’m going to have to tear these down and raise my own game in the war to get people behind the gangs — and behind me.

  Malum buried his hands in his pockets, and headed to an agreed meeting point outside a tavern.

  Four members of his gang were loitering outside, one of them with a huge hessian sack at his feet. A black horse and a large, sturdy wooden cart pulled up a moment later, and the cloaked driver nodded to Malum. One by one, his comrades climbed up onto the back of it, the final one hauling the sack and carefully lowering it on board.

  ‘We’re good to go,’ Malum called over to the driver, then hopped onto the back.

  The cart turned in a large circle and rode south-west through the city.

  An hour later, they found themselves in scrubland, just beyond the poverty-stricken district on the edge of Villiren. There was nothing here but snow, mud and a few copses of trees. It was much colder in these exposed conditions, and much quieter, but at least the skies were still clear.

  ‘This’ll do,’ Malum shouted, and the cart drew to a halt. ‘Right, let’s get to it.’

  The gang disembarked and began to set up the gear from the hessian sack. They unveiled a large harpoon catapult, one previously used for whaling, arranged it so that the tip pointed up into the sky at an angle of around sixty degrees.

  Malum asked for the harpoon to be loaded to test it out.

  ‘Let it go,’ he said, and one of his men released a harpoon with a thunk — it rocketed into the sky, almost out of sight, almost touching the base of a passing cloud, before falling to the ground some distance away, beyond a copse.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ he said. ‘Good work, lads.’

  They mumbled their thanks before loading it up with something else entirely — a relic they’d bought from a new cultist contact, a woman who worked from a rented apartment in Saltwater. It was a thin silver tube, with a pointed end, and in many respects looked exactly like a harpoon. The only difference was that when this reached the highest point in the sky, it would detonate, stunning anything within fifty feet.

  ‘How long till one comes, boss?’ one of his younger crew asked, a swarthy, grubby-looking guy not long out of his teens.

  ‘This is the route garudas take, and at least a couple come by after noon each day,’ he said. ‘We’ll just wait it out and fire when we’re ready. For now, just scan the skies and the first of you to spot one gets drinks all night on me.’

  It was the better part of an hour and Malum continued pacing around the mud, contemplating his strategy.

  ‘Hey, Malum! One’s coming now.’

  Malum stood by the catapult and
gave the instruction to fire when it was within range. The avian drifted in an arc towards Villiren, a stark silhouette against the bright sky.

  Thunk.

  The relic was released and travelled right towards the bird — and, at its peak, the device gave a spark of purple light. The garuda immediately fell from its flight directly to the ground, and the gang began hollering their excitement.

  ‘Nice work, now let’s get over there,’ Malum said. ‘Tie it up, get a sack over its head, and load it onto the cart. We deal with the questions in the city.’

  As the moon broke free of the clouds that night, while Malum pored over his crude accountancy, he was informed that the garuda was now fully conscious. They had dragged the brown-feathered creature underground, to one of their bolt-holes. There they stripped it of any Imperial armour, held back its arms, and his men laid into it, giving it several blows to the back of its wings, before striking it repeatedly in its stomach.

  The thing gave off a hell of a noise, and Malum called away his men. Gripping a lantern, he stepped closer to the creature, which was slouched against the stone wall. He noted its impressive plumage and gently speckled face, its huge beak, muscular arms and torso.

  ‘You don’t talk, we get that,’ he growled. ‘But we know that you fuckers can write.’

  He nodded for one of his men to bring a piece of paper and a pencil, and placed it on the floor in front of the garuda.

  ‘We’ll be back in an hour,’ Malum said, ‘and in that hour you will have written down all the movements of the alien races that are going on around the city. I want to know exactly what the threat is to Villiren, where this so-called threat is, but mostly I want to know if the Okun are anywhere near the city. And if you don’t, we’ll break off one of your wings.’

  As he walked away, he whispered to one of the more senior of his gang, ‘Make sure you dump the body out of the city when you’re done. We can’t have gossip of this getting back to the military.’