The Broken Isles

‘That. . yeah, that might work. OK, you ready?’

He nodded and she opened the door.

Brynd stepped in behind her and immediately looked upwards. Though he couldn’t quite fathom its precise shape, something enormous, and with many legs, was drifting across the ceiling. It was covered in a slimy skin and making an unnatural, guttural noise without really opening its maw. Its head was lolling from side to side and it lumbered its way awkwardly across to a platform on one side, where it then cowered in a corner.

‘What on earth is that?’ Brynd enquired.

‘Experiment number eighty-something. . Eighty-three I think.’

‘Could you expand on this, just for a curious soldier?’

‘You know, we’re in the business of creating all sorts here, and this is a bit of prep work to see if the regenerative technology will work on something else, which I think it might. We’re in the trade of horrors and grotesques — which is precisely what this is. We make monsters.’

‘It doesn’t look especially horrific,’ Brynd observed. ‘The thing looks more frightened of you.’

‘Stupid beast.’ One of the other lads entered the room, the laid-back handsome blond, who placed his arm casually behind Jeza’s back. ‘Yeah, we’re not great at refining their moods just yet.’

‘But once we get the formula right. . Don’t forget, this is only to see if we can activate the life form. Regeneration and palaeomancy and the like. We’ve got something else in development, but there are a few essentials you need to get in place before you gamble. We’ve only got one of those specimens, so it’s a bit like doing trials beforehand.’

The creature suddenly sprinted across the platform and into the shadows above, knocking over some crates and sending rusty relics spilling onto the floor with an enormous racket. Two others from their group ran after it across the platform, the first time Brynd had noticed them, and disappeared through a hatch and into another room. Howls came from the distance.

‘Fuck,’ Jeza said, and she and Diggsy ran forward to try to clear up the mess on the floor.

Brynd sauntered up to them and watched.

‘Oh they’re everywhere,’ Jeza said. ‘We’ll have to clean up later.’ She stood up in a huff, with her hands on her hips. ‘Later, yes. First let me show you the warehouse, commander, since you’ve come all this way.’

‘I’d appreciate that, thank you. Then we could perhaps have a chat about logistics and then I’ll leave you in peace.’

There was another racket and a curse from the other room.

‘I doubt there’ll be much peace for a while,’ Jeza muttered.

Jeza showed Brynd their new ad-hoc facilities, which entailed opening up more rooms of the surprisingly deep factory. She lit a few lanterns on stands in the centre of one particularly large room, which he did not need to help him see, but they did cast a warm glow across the rows and rows of shelves.

Sitting upon them were hundreds of pieces of glistening armour.

‘We cleaned this area up,’ Jeza announced, ‘and dusted down these units, and they were great for storing more pieces of armour. We’ve been making all of this since you left and we probably have just over a thousand complete sets now. We would have made more, but I didn’t want to over-commit — you know, in case you didn’t want any more.’

‘This is impressive. Over a thousand?’

‘Yeah, and we can make more really quickly. It’s simple, once the kit is set up. We should probably discuss how many you’re going to need and by when, because I’ve a few private clients that have been discussing other forms of work and I’d really like to plan our workload. We’ve come a long way in a few weeks.’

‘I’ll say,’ Brynd said. ‘Is there any chance of exclusive contracts. .?’

‘We do a lot of things here, commander. I wouldn’t want the guys to just make armour all day long. They’ll soon go their own ways — they can be a fickle bunch, but I love them for it. To keep them sane, they’ll want to work on other things.’

‘I understand,’ Brynd said. ‘Tell me — these so-called private clients of yours. Why would they be after armour?’

‘Strictly speaking it’s not armour, sir, but other creatures.’

‘This could be a matter of great importance to the Empire,’ Brynd stressed.

Jeza shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, commander, but as much as we generally loathe them, we want to operate like many of the other cultists in the city, and we adhere to a strict code of conduct. That way we ensure clients come back to us and not elsewhere.’

Brynd’s curiosity was now piqued, but he did not want to assert himself too strongly. He needed Jeza’s talents; he needed her industry. Upsetting her could impact upon the outcome of a battle. He looked once again over the rows and rows of armour, contemplating just what he’d need.

‘I want to bring more samples of standard-issue Imperial armour to you,’ Brynd said, ‘body armour, shields, helmets, the works. My specifications would only be to improve upon it in the same way you have already.’ He paused, knowing that if he discussed numbers, it would most likely cause concern. ‘We’re going to have to sign contracts that forbid you to discuss these matters with anyone — anyone at all — which, if breached, are punishable by fairly strict means.’ She looked worried suddenly. ‘It’s fairly standard stuff,’ he added. ‘Just to protect Imperial assets. It’s the same thing we use for people like ore merchants.’

‘OK,’ she agreed.

‘Excellent. I’ll have the contracts and the samples brought to you as soon as they’re ready, along with quantities of what we’d need, roughly by when, and how we’ll collect it. You can return with some estimated prices. Meanwhile, I’m interested in these other things you’re creating — these so-called aggressive creatures. Do you think they can be used easily as a weapon on the battlefield?’

Jeza nodded. ‘It’s funny you should mention that because I’m working on something that might be really, really useful. I can’t say too much right now, in case it crumbles, but it’s looking good — and I think it might work because. . well, you saw for yourself that we had a successful regeneration earlier.’

‘I’m intrigued,’ Brynd said. ‘When you have something final, cost it up.’

Brynd headed quickly back to the Citadel, whereupon he immediately called for an emergency meeting of the Night Guard.

They filed one by one into the obsidian room, garbed in their crisp all-black uniforms, and took their places around the vast table that dominated the room. Once they were all settled, Brynd closed the door — and locked it, which raised a few eyebrows. He then stoked the fire so that it roared loudly before he took his place in the centre of the table, facing his regiment. As soon as he was seated, a respectful silence came. Afternoon sunshine fell across some of the gathered faces, revealing cool and attentive expressions.

‘Before I start,’ Brynd announced, ‘I want to thank you for your roles in the defence of Jokull. That was an outstanding mission, one which you should all be proud of. I have rarely seen an enemy dispatched so efficiently, nor can I recall having seen us work with any other forces so well, and it does our army credit. Morale will be raised as a result. We can see that the enemy, the Okun, are vulnerable on the right occasion. This is an important message to spread.’

A murmur of appreciation spread across the table.

‘Now we’re back in Villiren,’ Brynd continued, ‘I want something done and it is of the utmost importance. I would like Jamur Rika to be shadowed at all times — in the most discreet manner available. Whoever follows her — and I recommend this is not a solo mission — should remain at a distance and unobserved. She should not know you are watching her. No one should know where you are going. I want you all to take shifts doing this, and it should be something that occurs all night and all day.’

‘Why the cloak and dagger, commander?’ Brug asked. ‘I mean, what should we be watching for? Is she likely to be attacked?’

‘As I mentioned, this is not a normal mission,’ Brynd continued. ‘But it is a particularly sensitive case. It is unlikely she will be attacked and, to be honest, this is not the focus of the mission. I’ve received a report from a respectable source that Jamur Rika has formed unnatural habits. Not a word of this leaves the room.’