The Broken Isles

There was a tremendous ripping noise from the west and, up in the sky, possibly directly above the rearmost of the refugees, part of the sky-city began to detach itself.

Even though it was a good distance away, Fulcrom could see one of the vast, spiked pillars separate from the main structure and lower itself to the ground slower than if it was falling naturally. There was a strange, ambient silence now, like being in the centre of a storm. Eventually, it connected with the earth, landing like an arrowhead in what Fulcrom thought was marshy terrain. He waited for the sound to follow, some bass shudder to denote its presence on the ground, but nothing came. Again, a lingering silence. The wind now began to change direction. Sounds began to travel further, voices being carried on the breeze.

‘What do you suppose that is?’ Lan asked.

‘Nothing that comes down from that thing,’ Fulcrom said, ‘has so far been beneficial to us. I have no idea what could be next.’

The descended structure lowered its other end, so that it eventually lay flat, stark and black against the snow. Barbed and smouldering as if hot, something seemed to flip down on its right-hand side. Out of it spilled a dark tide.

‘Warriors. .’ Fulcrom muttered. ‘More of them. Dear Bohr, please, let there be no more.’

‘Is this it then?’ Lan asked. ‘Is this where the trail ends? Do we just send out the order for everyone to flee wherever they can?’

‘I don’t know,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘We’ve faced attacks before. We’ve done all right. If people just disperse, they’ll die.’

‘We’ve never faced that many — just look at those numbers. They’re filling up the whole landscape already.’

Lan wasn’t wrong. Swarms of these dark things seemed to occupy the terrain quickly; some began to take the form of orderly rows and regiments, tightly packed and intimidating.

‘It’s hard to see, but this looks like a concentrated attack,’ Fulcrom agreed. ‘There’s only one guy who can do anything about this.’

Fulcrom shouted and waved to get the attention of Frater Mercury, whose towering horse had now caught up with their own standard-sized animal. Eventually the god-thing stepped off the horse’s back, drifted down and connected with the ground effortlessly, using one hand to stabilize himself. Frater Mercury’s half-metal face shimmered in the afternoon sun; his cloak stirred in the onshore breeze. Fulcrom and Lan both dismounted, and then Fulcrom approached him.

I have been summoned, the voice said in Fulcrom’s head. Why?

‘Can’t you see?’ Fulcrom replied hesitantly, then jumped down from his horse, where he gestured to the sky- city’s latest manoeuvre. ‘They’re coming for us. This is it for us. We’ll die right here if you can’t help.’

Frater Mercury turned his head for a moment then returned his gaze to Fulcrom. Whatever he was — if indeed he was a he, Fulcrom only had a priest’s word for it — Fulcrom hoped he would be able to provide some assistance. ‘What can you do to help us?’

What would you have me do for you?

‘I’d like to see our people survive whatever is going to happen.’

We all die eventually, Frater Mercury said. It is a freedom, of sorts.

‘I don’t care for philosophy right now!’ Fulcrom said with irritation. ‘We’ve got tens of thousands of people coming up this slope and I want to see all of them live a little longer. Now, do you have any idea what is going to happen?’

Yes, Frater Mercury said.

‘What?’ Fulcrom demanded.

Slaughter is what will happen. But one gets used to it. I have seen enough for dozens of generations. I am indifferent to it.

‘I refuse to get fucking used to it,’ Fulcrom said despairingly. He felt Lan’s presence now, as she held his hand — a gentle, soothing touch. ‘I don’t know what your plans are exactly, but it is my responsibility to get these people to safety,’ he continued, ignoring the fact that he had previously thought otherwise. ‘Can you provide anything — anything at all — to help me do this? You’ve done it before, but this threat seems huge. Whatever you need from this world we can help you — I’ll do my best, for what it’s worth, but please. .’

Silence. If Frater Mercury understood Fulcrom’s words, he showed no sign of it.

‘Don’t forget, I did help to see you brought into this world. Why did you come anyway if it wasn’t to help us?’

To die, Frater Mercury said mysteriously. For freedom. You have seen my tricks, as you call them, and you wish for many more. Think, dear rumel, what it is like to have millions of people demand such miracles again. It starts off very simple. The task of seeing that a child does not die of an illness.

The requests become larger after this: governments offer their allegiance if I can provide tools to create their worlds. I oblige and find myself locked in endless, endless councils and must sit through infinite pleas for assistance. Over the millennia, war comes — on a scale which sees my creations rise up against each other — my own children fighting against each other. The side I choose, the side of peace, is outnumbered vastly. Ultimately my children die. And then the world begins to end — slowly, dully, predictably, when time finally runs out. What use is any of it? Who can tell.

I have become imprisoned by the neediness of my creations. Yes, I seek freedom, too, but I first wish to see the landscapes I helped to populate. I would like to know how my. . my work has flourished in this realm before I see to it that things are ended.

‘Your work,’ Fulcrom interrupted, ‘as you put it, is about to be fucking wiped from existence soon. Is that how you wanted to see it? If you did indeed create these things, is this what you hoped would happen? You have the choice now to not let many of your so-called children die in a genocide. This is not dignified.’

Dying rarely is.

‘Please,’ Fulcrom said.

After a lengthy silence, Frater Mercury added, There is an endearing persistence in your mind, rumel, though it is a story I have heard many times before.

‘Look, all I ask is that our people get the chance to move east across the seas,’ Fulcrom pleaded. ‘There we can seek our own military personnel or somehow organize ourselves naturally. It at least gives us the time for a fighting chance. We didn’t ask for this,’ Fulcrom waved to the airborne threat, ‘this is something that has been brought out of nowhere. I would not have so many people die at once. If you don’t like making decisions any more, let me make this for you.’

Frater Mercury seemed to consider these words — or that’s what Fulcrom hoped. He looked again to the swarms of the enemy that had extended so quickly and so far across the landscape.

What would your wishes be? Frater Mercury asked. You who have designated yourself leader of these people. I know you feel the burden — it is a burden, is it not? — so please, tell me, what do you first require?

Fulcrom’s heart skipped a beat. He had to think quickly. What was the most urgent thing, protection at the rear or seeing that they could leave the island? Think, man, he told himself.

‘The land-vehicles,’ Fulcrom said. ‘I want them to travel through water, first, but I want more of them. I want to get all our people over this hill, down to the shore and simply to carry on eastwards. Is there any way you can do this before it’s too late? Can we get more vehicles to do this? We need to be quick, because we both saw the power of this thing. All we’re asking for is a little more time.’

It is possible, Frater Mercury replied. He spun then walked down the slope.

‘Now what?’ Lan asked. She was now on foot, her arms folded in the chill of the coastal wind.

A noise in the distance, like a horn: the swarms began to move forwards at the rear of the convoy. Fulcrom could see in the clarity of the late afternoon sun how the refugees from Villjamur and Jokull were being attacked.