Nights of Villjamur (16 page)

'Sele of Jamur, wing commander,' Brynd said.

The bird-man, Wing Commander Vish, then raised his arms to sign,
Why have you stopped?

'We're only stopping to rest the horses. Did you spot anything on the way here?'

Just more refugees approaching the Sanctuary Road. There are probably at least a thousand camped outside the city now.

'As many as that.' Brynd shook his head. 'What'll you yourself do - during this Freeze?'

The wing commander eyed him expressionlessly, then signed,
What do you mean?

'I mean, when the ice comes so densely that people are sealed in. That's not so far off now. You're intending to stay in Villjamur, right, for all those years? What're you going to do there?'

Just because the gates are closed, doesn't mean I can't fly. I can still serve the military, serve the Empire. You appear rather philosophical today, commander.

'I guess the Emperor's death will bring about changes for the city. Maybe I should be thinking of a change myself.'

Maybe you have never quite felt a part of things in Villjamur. I always thought you were too self-conscious about the colour of your skin.

Brynd looked away as if to cut him off. 'Well, if that's the case I've picked the wrong career.' He wasn't aware garudas could be so perceptive. 'I'm just getting old.' Brynd laughed. 'Perhaps I've started thinking about myself too much.'

Then you'd be the same as the rest of your race.

'Come on. Let's get something to eat.'

*

Chancellor Urtica strode through the armoury as if he owned the place, yet was almost knocked back by the change in temperature. Rows of men drenched in sweat were working at benches. They looked up to inspect the intruder, their white eyes startling against dust-smeared skin. In the background, a huge furnace burned violently, producing a heady smell. Everywhere, the
clunk clunk clunk
of metal being beaten and contorted into shape.

'Can I help you, chancellor?' A short, stout man, blond hair, wearing a short-sleeved black tunic and black breeches. His arms, shimmering with sweat, were totally smooth because continual exposure to the flames had burned away all the hairs. This was the Chief of Defence for Villjamur - in reality, a retired soldier who still directed the smiths according to battle orders.

'Indeed you can, Fentuk, my dear fellow,' Urtica replied, smiling around at the other workers, who glared back sceptically. 'Walk out with me, if you please, so that we're not heard.'

'Sounds important,' Fentuk muttered.

Urtica led Fentuk out of the building and over a darkened bridge nearby, where you could look directly across the roofs of Villjamur.

It was approaching dusk, a carnelian sky. House lanterns scattered throughout the city seemed to mirror the stars. The twin moons Bohr and Astrid hung on opposite sides of the sky, giving a brilliant light that seemed to catch all the spires and bridges in an ethereal glow. Some distance below them, a horse was being led along a dully lit street, its hooves clopping loudly on the stone. There was a flash of magic. A door opened and closed, chattering of women heard in-between, and there was a lute playing sevenths in some tavern nearby, a dreary tune accompanied by an off-key singer.

One of those perfect Villjamur nights.

'So, Chancellor Urtica, what've you brought me here for?'

'Insurance.' Urtica leaned against the parapet of the bridge. The wind ruffled his cloak and he shivered. 'One can never be too certain who's listening in, these days.'

'Listening in?'

'Listening in.' Urtica reached under his cloak, produced the arrow. 'I urgently need to know where this came from.'

Fentuk took it, examined it closely. 'Hard to tell in this light.' He rolled it between his fingers, lifted it this way and that. 'Well, it ain't Jamur,' he continued. 'Not from any of the islands to the west or south. My guess would be Varltung, but I can't be certain. Made very poorly, you see. Could also be Maour, Dockull or even Hulrr.' The man pursed his lips thinly. 'Why? Where d'you get it?'

Urtica clicked his tongue against his teeth. 'It was found in the corpse of a Night Guard soldier. The commander suspects it was a Varltung ambush. I was hoping to get your confirmation, to support the case for a campaign against that nation, before the Freeze sets in.'

'Oh, well, I . . . I couldn't say for sure it's from Varltung, no.'

'Are you
certain
you can't be sure? We need to strike back against the Varltungs before it's too late.' The chancellor waved his hands in the air to stress the point.

'No,' Fentuk said. 'I really can't be sure, not if it could mean war. Not on my word. Is this all the evidence you have?'

'We've more,' Urtica said. A lie, of course, and he didn't think twice about saying it.

'I can't help you in this case, chancellor. I'm sorry.' He handed the arrow back to Urtica, who concealed it beneath his cloak again. 'Was that everything?' Fentuk said, running his hand through his hair. 'I have to be getting back now.'

'No, there was something else - something much more important.' Urtica looked around the parapet. He stepped in closer to Fentuk. 'I must whisper this.

'I can offer you a substantial sum of money to make sure that you never have to step foot in that rancid armoury again - we're talking safe accounts and country estates. All you have to do is confirm for me that this arrow came from a Varltung bow, and back me up officially if I wanted to initiate an order of war. You could do that for me, couldn't you, Fentuk?'

The chief of defence was solemn as he clasped the parapet. 'I . . . I really don't know.'

Urtica placed an arm around him. 'I wouldn't like to say what might happen otherwise. I mean, there are some prominent pro-military Council members with significant investments in armoury and ores - and in times of war their incomes and influence are known to rise hugely. Should they be denied this opportunity - and your name will be thrown about the Atrium - well, I have heard tell of punishment beatings for this sort of thing in the past. Such stories . . .' He shook his head and sighed for effect.

A moment later, as if ordered, a banshee began keening in the distance, somewhere possibly Caveside. As time passed, Fentuk was visibly shaken by this potential premonition. 'How much money are we talking about exactly?' he muttered eventually.

Urtica smiled. 'That's the spirit, Fentuk. You won't regret this. You should maybe join me for drinks sometime, socially.'

*

Brynd had ordered his men to set up camp for the night on the edge of a copse of trees seven hours' ride further on from the hamlet of Goule, and just past the Bria Haugr, a conical hill that was reputed to be an ancient Azimuth burial mound. The surrounding fagus would provide them with some concealment.

They were now halfway to the military port of Gish. Brynd didn't want to travel via E'toawor, a significant port town and favoured entry point to Jokull. He couldn't afford to go further north either, to the towns of Vilhokteu and, on the estuary of the River Hok, Vilhokr. He certainly did not need the eyes of common tradesmen, dockers, and farm labourers to be the first of her subjects to set eyes upon the new Empress.

As the sun set Brynd and Sen sparred with sabres a little to fend off the boredom. But as the sky became a bold shade of purple, it was clear that Sen was getting the better of him. The others, including the garuda, sat around the fire, backs against the wheels of the carriage, watching.

'He'll have you, Brynd,' Apium said. 'I can see your defences falling apart. Sen doesn't even need a sword.'

Brynd ignored the taunts.

'Go on, lad,' Apium continued. 'Aim low. Go for his cock - he's not got any use for it these days.'

Finally they sheathed their sabres and Brynd turned to the others. 'Time for a close-range scout. Sen'll stay here with the wing commander. The rest of you want to take a look around with me?'

Everyone groaned but they stood up.

Apium brushed himself down. 'Which way we heading, commander?'

'I think we'll follow a circle going east, nothing too far out, just a few hundred paces. I need to make sure there'll be no surprises tonight.' Brynd wasn't sure exactly how wary to be. This was Jokull, after all, and there hadn't been any serious fighting on the island for years - before Daluk Point. Before that incident, the idea of any threat on the home island was something not even considered.

The others followed him in a huddled group, taking a three-hundred-pace radius around their camp. The terrain was largely flat, and away from the forest, an open view for leagues. Underfoot was a mossy grass that concealed rocks and dips. Apium managed to fall over just twice.

The sky blackened further. The glow of the campfire stood out as an intense beacon, revealing the silhouette of the carriage. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Only one of the moons was showing - the larger one, Bohr - but it was now cresting the horizon just before leaving the landscape in utter darkness.

After a while, Brynd heard something strange in the distance. He had spent enough time in the wild to know that it was nothing natural.

He regarded the carriage.

Apium asked, 'What's up?'

Brynd gestured for him to be silent whilst he scanned the scene with the enhanced vision which the Night Guard benefited from, but it wasn't enough for a clear identification.

Shadows moved across the landscape.

Nelum and Lupus moved alongside, staring back to the campfire. Lupus said, 'I see something.'

'Strap your weapons and armour tight,' Brynd said. 'Let's get back quietly.'

The four soldiers jogged in stealth across the tundra, back to the carriage. Brynd began to slow, waved for the others to follow suit, then signalled for them to unsheathe their weapons. Lupus swiftly nocked an arrow, Apium and Nelum drew short axes, Brynd pulled out his sabre. As they approached the campfire they spread out.

Sen and the garuda were nowhere to be seen, the only noise coming from the crackle of the fire.

And something was wrong, an uncertainty hovering in the air, and once again the environment became to Brynd a matter of statistics, of distances, chances, arrows spent. He turned back to study the copse of trees. He concentrated, heightening his level of perception.

To the other side of the carriage: a strange lump on the ground. It was difficult to make out in the darkness despite his superior vision.

He went over and knelt down next to it.

Lurched back in disgust.

It was Sen's head, severed cleanly, blood draining away from it in a small trickle between Brynd's boots.

Brynd hailed the others in an urgent whisper, and they ran to his side. The sense of shock amongst them was palpable.

Brynd looked up. 'Stay calm. Stick together.' He analysed the scene as if the trees would produce instant answers.
What the fuck is happening on this island of ours?

He noticed the trail of blood leading under the cover of the fagus trees. The rest of Sen's body must be there somewhere. The treetops fizzed under the night sky.

'Wait, commander,' Apium whispered. 'I don't think we should follow. Whatever did this to Sen is obviously skilled at picking people off quietly. Best we don't separate for the moment.'

'You might be right there, captain,' Brynd murmured, though uncertainly.

'What, we're just going to let Sen's death go without investigation?' Lupus said indignantly.

Brynd gestured for him to lower his voice. 'One of the most promising young soldiers in the Empire is dead. One of our garudas has gone missing. So you think we should pursue this right now, at night, in the dark in the woods? There're just four of us now. Already two down.'
Maybe I should've brought more men along, but no one but me could've known we were taking this route.

'So we simply wait here,' Lupus protested, 'and get picked off one by one?'

A rustling from the trees.

Everyone looked towards the copse.

Three figures lurched forwards and Lupus brought an arrow to anchor point, aimed it.

'Not till I say.' Brynd held up a hand, but was reaching for his axe with the other.

The dark figures started running towards them.

Brynd signalled. Lupus released an arrow.

It whipped through the air, struck one of the intruders powerfully in the face. By then he was nocking another arrow, and soon another figure was falling to the ground. The final one stepped forward with sword raised.

Brynd hurled his axe though the intervening space.

It cleaved the attacker's face and he too slumped to the ground.

Then suddenly the unlikely happened: all three fallen bodies began struggling to push themselves upright, trying to pull out the arrows, with jerky, improbable movements.

Lupus fired repeatedly, pinning the bodies to the ground, twitching. And again they tried to stand with a jagged motion.

'Aim for their legs,' Brynd yelled, running to reach under the carriage for a crossbow. Then, returning to Lupus's side again, he began shooting at the heads and torsos.