Norn, Grendel
Raindrops collected upon the car's windows. The rattle and squeak of the wipers sliced away the water upon the windscreen. With my shoulders immobile, I could move my head. The waterfront. Where's the bridge? Gantries loomed overhead. Crane arms stood over fat haulers, their winches dangling over block upon block of containers. This isn't the way back. My hands tightened over my knees. "Where we going?" The car nosed between stationary freight cars before bumping over a set of rails. Is there a boat waiting? A pier, a thin finger of ferrocrete and wood, stuck out between two warehouses. Bright lights shone above the tall double-doors. Upon stacks of crates, stevedores sat smoking. In the distance, a bell chimed.
The car drew up in front of the lightless passage and stopped. Three doors popped open. The driver remained in his seat. I looked first to the right then the left. The man at my right shoulder remained seated. The other stood by the open door. Faces turned my way when I climbed out. Eyes fixed upon the car and the occupants. One of the stevedores slipped his hand beneath a tarpaulin lashed over some crates. Head down, I followed and was followed by the strange men, Greatcoat leading, two others tailing me closely. A door banged outwards in front of us. Slings tautened. Clicks came as safeties were thumbed. The intruder, armed with nothing more than an iron bucket, saw us and backed away, slamming the door behind him. Underfoot, the ferrocrete gave way to wooden planks. Tall poles stood at intervals along the pier, each one equipped with lamps, though all were dead. What little light ghosted the water's surface offered nothing more than a scant relief from the darkness. Where's the boat? Besides an old shed, the water around the pier was vacant.
"Tags." Greatcoat's open palm hovered in front of me. I dug inside my sweater and drew the linked disks over my head.
"Is it him?"
Greatcoat weighed my tags then scrutinised them. "Larn. These aren't Lairs-issue. Foreign type."
"Give 'em…" A hand on my shoulder pushed me down.
"Don't move," said Greatcoat. "You're safe here."
Safe? I folded my arms across my chest and sniffed. Greatcoat moved away with another man, leaving the third leaning against the white-washed railing watching me. I squeezed my hands inside my armpits and bit upon my lips to quench the shake in my jaw.
"That soot on your clothes, where'd it come from?" Greatcoat squatted.
"Building – building caught fire. Some explosion or something."
"Which building?"
"The Belladonna."
Greatcoat dangled my tags in front of me. "Right, well you've admitted you've been out of bounds. It's a very serious matter. We'll be having words with your CO, we will. I want you to think about what you're going to put in your report, son. The whole truth. D'you understand what I'm saying?" I nodded. "Just sit tight. Be home soon. Keep a look out for our ride, will ya? It's coming across the water." Greatcoat stuffed the disks inside his pocket, something I frowned at. What does he want with them then?
"…Waiting for, sir. Let's get this over with." I heard Greatcoat muttering. Sir? I glanced at the man keeping an eye on me. An unlit cigarette was held between his teeth. Both hands remained in his pockets. One shoe rested upon the wooden beam behind him. He was a stranger. Who's Greatcoat answering to then? I shrank as a shadow in a dark zip-up jacket took Greatcoat's place beside me. A maroon roll-neck sweater protruded from the jacket's collar. "Got a knack for rule-breaking, have we? You fucking sneak." Shoulder-holster glared at me. "Keep sticking your hand down holes and you'll get bitten. Look over there. Out across the water." A safety catch clicked in my ear. A cold, round muzzle kissed the back of my head.
"Sir, Valkyrie!" Greatcoat shouted. A searchlight tore through the clouds and swept across the river towards the pier. Turbojets blasted spray across the water.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." The muzzle withdrew.
"Fucking PDF, sir!"
Shoulder Holster slipped his weapon inside his jacket. "Move." Abruptly the beam swung back over the river.
"Fugees, sir." The other nameless officer popped the cover from a slim ocular and glassed a tiny raft caught in the searchlight. "Where do they think they're going?" Thunder roared from the Valkyrie's chin. Torn to shreds, the raft's occupants disappeared. The searchlight lingered upon the floating splinters for a moment then tracked back to the pier. Bathed in the hot glare, I screwed my eyes shut.
"RETURN TO THE SHORE."
"S'pose shouting's out of the question, sir."
"Bring him."
Greatcoat slapped at my back. "Move it, son." Hustled back along the pier, I stumbled. Is that blood? Through narrowed eyes, I picked out a dark stain coating the planks. Greatcoat's hand slamming upon my shoulder pushed me on. The searchlight followed us. Shoulder Holster's colleague shouted. Whatever he said was lost to the ungodly howl of the Valkyrie's engines.
Fwip. I dove to my knees and covered my head. "Graw!" Shoulder Holster whipped out a sidearm and loosed off a shot at the landward end of the pier. Greatcoat and the other man dropped to a crouch and levelled stub pistols. "Go!"
"Fucking move!" Greatcoat gathered a bunch of my collar in his fist and forced me forwards. A tide of warm air blanketed us. Overhead, the Valkyrie turned its chin gun on the far end of the pier, unleashing a waterfall of shell casings on our heads. "Aaargh, throne of—!" Greatcoat swiped at brass casings falling inside his collar. "Oi, you little—" I kicked out, the thick sole of my boot hitting the back of Greatcoat's knee. With his fingers loosened, I shimmied through the gap between the planks and the railing and plunged downwards. A smack and the river swallowed me. Rumbles shot through the water. Hives of insects skittered along my arms, down my neck, and up my trouserlegs. I clapped my hands over my ears, bubbles flying up to the surface. A wooden post connected with my flailing boot. Silt gave way underfoot. Light swept over me, illuminating horizontal beams linking the pier's supports. Lungs warming, I hugged a beam and lifted my leg over it. Darkness returned. The screeching nails in my ears subsided. Two beams above me formed an X-shape. I grasped at one, my fingertips dragging across the wood. With pressure inside my chest building, I expelled my last ounces of air and got my hand around the cross-beam. Water streamed from my head. Spluttering in the cold air, I spat and pumped my submerged legs. Free of the river, I leant my chin and upper torso upon the flat beam above the cross. Nothing stirred on the pier. Thin slices of light cut through the gaps in the planks, nothing more than a deep grey, a shade lighter than the sky above. A numb glove encased my nose and ears. The rising wind curled around my shoulders, trickling inside my collar. I lifted my stinging eyes. Two pinpricks of light blinked at me from on top of the beam. A tiny hand reached out to me and took mine. "Evening," I gasped.
Two children, pale, frail creatures, squatted with me a few inches above the waterline. Both wore dark robes with hoods drawn over their heads. "Hey, what you doin' down 'ere?" The children clung to one another. "Where's your ma, uh?" One pressed a finger to his lips. "Yeah, ssh. S'alright, they've gone now." Have they gone now? I edged around the post I leant against and peered up through the slats. "Stay 'ere, yeah. I'll be back."
Post by post, I clambered further along the pier. The white stood paint out clearly from the water. Now I understand. They were bringing me here to waste me because I walked away from the Belladonna. A ladder at the far end of the pier ended a full two feet out of my reach. Grunting, I flapped at the air beneath the ladder. A head bobbed over the edge of the pier. How did you get up there? I gaped at the children. Both pushed at the ladder and slid it along its rails. "Hey, ssh, keep quiet."
I stayed on my knees once back on the pier and raised my open hands. The children shied away from me. "Lotta bad men 'round 'ere. Stay quiet." I motioned them to kneel down, which they duly did. "I'm James." Both looked at each other. "James." I patted my chest. One of the children touched the corners of his hood. The other grabbed at his wrist and shook his head. "What bit you, lad?" I rose. The two scurried back along the pier. "Oi!" My boots thumped after the children's pattering feet.
Both the car and the stevedores had vanished, leaving the area around the pier desolate, yet shell casings were scattered about. "Hey, psst!" I tumbled through a gap in a fence and crashed in to a stack of wooden pallets. Splinters nicked at my hands. "Oi." The children flung themselves at an intact fence. Both pawed at the smooth wood with neither finding purchase. "I…" I slid to a stop at the fence and bent double wheezing. "C'mon, I'm tired already." The children danced away from me, hopping through a fissure in the wall of a storage warehouse.
Iron rings throttling my belly, I wriggled through. From the floor to the distant rafters, crates were stacked, forming a maze. "Lads?" I Squelched after the pitter-patter of the boys' feet, my own leaving damp footprints behind. I'm not playing silly buggers with you at this time of night! An adult's screech further ahead drained the energy from my step and set my teeth on edge. I froze as a man in a tin hat shambled across the passage further on. The lamp attached to the crown jerked a light beam across me. His hands were clamped over blood oozing from his nose. What the…? I shrunk back from the rolling beam. Those boys…
Around the corner, two very small shapes huddled behind a broken crate that had fallen from the nearby stack it sat upon. Straw and wood splinters carpeted the warehouse floor. "Hey." I knelt across from the boys. "S'alright." The boys hugged one another. One of their hoods had fallen back, exposing dark hair and pointed ears. "Oh… Throne of Terra." I covered my chin and inhaled through my hand. "You're hers." Sniffing, I bowed my head and scratched at my damp hairline. Dirt gathered it together in greasy clumps. "Can you…?" I tried gauging the little one's reaction. "No, no you can't, can you?" I rocked back and forth. What do I do?
A door slamming somewhere in the warehouse brought me to my feet. "I know your ma – your mother." I made a cradle with my arms. "Your mother…" If only I knew her bloody name! "…Wait." I felt for the folded-up drawing of the womanand opened it gingerly. A click and a torchbeam played across the floor. The bareheaded child fiddled with a tin hat, spinning it around in his hands before placing it on his head backwards. His brother swivelled it around, blinding me. "'Ere." I held the smudged picture up. "Can you…?"
"Ishar!"
"Huh?" I turned the picture. The soaking had taken the sharpness from the sketch, leaving patches a blurred mess. Half of the woman's face remained recognisable though. Thanks for this, Art. Never thought it'd come in handy. "Ishar, is that her name? Is she your mother?" I handed the picture to the boy. "I know her, so I do." The boys put their heads together. Neither appeared to be speaking, only giving gentle twitches of their shoulders. I clenched and unclenched my hands, shifting from one foot to the other, until one of the boys tiptoed around to me and opened his hand. "Take you to your mother, yeah?" The little one's hand warmed my wrinkled fingers. In the shadows inside his hood, two bright eyes glinted.
The Scorpr Bridge, Norn, 21:46
"Nosy fucking bastards!" Captain Egan Brasso punched the passenger door's side panel. "PDF swine! Did you slot that boy?"
Sergeant Lisle Annand twisted in the front passenger seat. "Cunt slipped off the pier, sir. Fucking gunship dropping brass down my neck. Right mess this turned out to be, sir."
"Your mess, Sergeant. You'd better hope he can't swim."
"Won't matter, sir." Annand brandished the soldier's identity tags. "We cross his name off the list. No-one else walked free from the whorehouse."
"Aren't you forgetting someone, Sergeant?"
"The bint, sir?"
"That bitch the soldier was with. You saw him enter the hab with her, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"See her come out?"
"No, sir."
"Was she at the Belladonna."
"I don't know, sir."
"Then drop it, Sergeant. One bitch means nothing. She's probably a merc paid for by Graw."
"And what if Graw gets their hands on the soldier?"
"They'll waste him and dump his body in the river, if it's not there already. Move on, Sergeant." Brasso scowled and propped his elbow up on the side panel. "I'll let Brecher know the MIA is now officially KIA. You found the body, Sergeant. You'll write the report."
"Sir." Annand flicked his lighter open and lit up.
"Window, Sergeant." Brasso scratched a rash underneath his chin. Wispy smoke curled along the car's flank as it turned through the gateway leading in to Regia Barracks.
"What's Joparr up to then?" Annand waved his cigarette at a group of Paras standing in a human chain next to a Horus six-wheeler. Crewmen poking out of hatches took hold of 3-inch shells passed to them by the Paras and bore them inside the car's square turret. Other crew were at work on the smaller and lighter six-wheeled Chariots. "Thought Five Hundred weren't on ops, sir." Annand flicked his smoking butt away.
Brasso tutted. "Last thing we need is a hammer. There's Brecher. Pull up next to him, Corporal." Lieutenant Colonel Brecher, Major Delica, and two Joparr officers were in discussion outside the entrance to Battalion Headquarters. Joparr looked particularly distinct in their red berets and polished flashes, especially alongside the deep blue Lairs wore and their own dull brass flashes. Brasso slammed his door, stuck out a hand for the soldier's tags, and went over to Brecher.
"Captain."
"Major, the last Lairs MIA has now been accounted for." Brasso thrust the tags at Delica.
"Has he?" Delica turned to Brecher. "Excuse me, Colonel?"
"Hmm?" Brecher broke off his converse with Joparr. "Yes, Major? Evening, Captain."
"Last Lairs MIA accounted for, Colonel." Delica offered Brecher the tags.
"…Right. The body, Captain?"
"Sergeant Annand discovered the body of the missing soldier near the Stonehill, sir. Graw had tortured and executed him. Retrieval of the remains was not possible. The danger of exposing my operation to Graw was too high, sir."
"Major, you – you pass these on to GSO Three at A branch." Brecher pushed the tags back at Delica. "We can close the book on this farce and concentrate on tomorrow's operation."
"Yes, sir." Brasso, holding his face tightly, waited for the dismissal then swivelled around to Annand. "You'd better 'ave that fucking report on my desk first thing, Sergeant."
"I hear you have yet more proof of murder." Lieutenant Colonel Rogal Orisko folded his arms and leant closer to Brecher. "What's this about a torture?"
"Lairs business, Rogal, nothing to worry about."
"Hm, of course." Orisko touched his throat and cleared a build-up. "Excuse me. You know I had a scan of my lungs last month?"
"Oh, flame-grilled or slow-roast?" Brecher laughed.
"Black and pink! Well, I'd prefer dying young doing my duty to the Emperor, as I'm sure we all would."
"Servitude can only grow harder the older and frailer the body becomes."
"Haha! Do you know if they will authorise a culling of the old and infirm when we head in to the slums tomorrow?"
"Aah…" Brecher rubbed a mole on his chin. "Ours is a mere token show of force, Rogal. Let the governor's tanks ride the rabble from the ruins."
"Or maybe drive them in to the ruins and bring the earth down on their heads?"
"…Yes." Brecher showed his teeth. "It'll be good seeing Joparr in action again. Just do me a favour and show those black-clad bastards who the real troopers are."
"Mm-hm. Can we go over the briefing one more time, Breaker?"
"Of course."
Brecher, Orisko, and 500's 2iC headed down in to the operation's room in the basement. Maps of Norn's western quarter were pinned up on bulletin boards. A red line had been drawn, starting off on the Scorpr bridge, and heading through the areas with the heaviest population, through the poorest sector – the slums – then north around the old stadium. Once past the stadium, the route turned south, heading past a cathedral for a kilometre before making a sharp left and returning eastwards past the marshalling yards and then across the other road bridge.
"Andrew, can we run through the briefing of tomorrow's operation again?" Brecher said to his GSO III; a senior captain. "Damned having to share headquarters, isn't it, Rogal?"
"Recaf, Breaker? I don't sleep well before an op."
"Sarn't Major? Recaf for the colonel please."
"Sir. Milk and sugar?"
"Milk and sugar, Rogal?"
"Two and one."
"Two and one, Sarn't Major."
"Sir?" The G branch captain was poised with a pencil upon the starting line.
"Alright, go ahead, Andrew," said Brecher.
"Our intention is a song-and-dance in the green sector, where the objective is a simple showing of strength to GRA and other undesirables. Along for the ride is an armoured troop loaned to us by the governor; they'll provide the spearhead. Jumping-off point is the eastern end of the Scorpr bridge manned by the Tin Men. Our sappers are currently removing the barricades on the western side giving our convoy a free run in to enemy territory."
"H Hour?"
"0900 exactly, sir, though the tanks are only scheduled to appear at 0845."
"Why?" said Orisko.
"Stationary armour in an urban environment puts the wind up the crews, sir, and they only answer to the man in the high chair."
"Alright, so we roll through these districts, firing off rounds, and just generally making noise."
"That's right, sir."
"March order?"
"One half of the armoured troop shall top and tail the column respectively, sir."
"Bulldozers," Brecher muttered.
"Yes, sir. The point vehicles are equipped with bulldozer blades in case the locals attempt to erect any roadblocks. Directly behind are Joparr's Chariots – nine of them – headed by your Horus, sir."
"I like the big guns rolling on point." Orisko took the mug of recaf from Lairs' sergeant major. "Thanks, Sergeant Major."
"Behind Joparr are half a dozen Pythons carrying a battery from Lairs, sir."
"Battery A, Andrew?"
"Yes, sir. Gunners from Battery B have been transferred over to A after the incident, putting A up to one hundred per cent strength."
"Very good, Andrew. Any questions, Rogal?"
"Accompanying ARV?"
"Nothing of the sort exists in the governor's arsenal I'm afraid. Let's cross our fingers shall we, sir?"
"Cross our fingers that GRA have nothing heavier than rifles." Orisko's brow furrowed. "AOP?"
"A representative from the governor's inner cadre shall be observing the operation, sir."
"From how high up in the sky?"
"Outside rifle range, sir."
"Rules of Engagement?"
"Don't fire unless fired upon. The tanks' main batteries will have empty ammo racks and their guns will be facing to the rear. The same with your Horus?"
"Yes."
"Other than that, any man, woman, or child firing rounds at us is fair game, just don't go overboard. We don't want a massacre."
"Yes, quite right, Andrew. Ah, Major, anything we might have forgotten?"
Delica frowned at the map. "Will Joparr stick to the planned route, sir? So, no running firefight if there is trouble?"
"There will be trouble," said Orisko. "Also… Are we on the lookout for anyone in particular? Any known players we want lifted off the street?"
"The more arrests we can make the better, Rogal. Doesn't matter who."
"Okay… Do we know where the GRA are going to be?"
"Yes, sir, we know a GRA stronghold exists in this theatre four hundred yards west of the old stadium. So, upon our right flank as we turn the corner south will be the likeliest place where GRA chooses to make their contribution."
"Which I've no doubt they will. I'd like to halt a block before the turning and post snipers on top of the roofs with a clear line of sight towards the theatre."
Brecher shook his head. "Under no circumstances are we to enter buildings. It's a no-go."
"We must have eyes on the rooftops, Breaker. I won't have it."
"Live rounds, sir?" Delica said. Orisko snorted in to his mug. "Okay… Press placement?"
"Uhh, let's not inform the papers of our intentions just yet, Major." Brecher laughed. "They'll swallow the story the governor drip-feeds them."
"I've no interest in the propaganda war." Orisko scowled. "Drink, Breaker?"
"Yes, of course, Rogal. Andrew, do we have that tablet with unit callsigns and comm frequencies to hand?"
"Certainly, sir, it's in the hands of one of my juniors. If you'll excuse me…"
"Well, I'll say good luck to you now, Rogal." Brecher shook Orisko's hand.
"You're not coming along for the ride, Breaker?"
"It's not the business of battalion OCs to command single batteries. I'd rather a captain sunk his teeth in to the rotten underside of Norn than a forty-year-old lieutenant colonel."
"Hm, quite right. Chat over a drink? Recaf's too hot."
Green Sector, Norn
Twin spires scratched the night sky. Glowing embers rose from fires in far-off streets; at their hearts blazing furnaces.
No, this is wrong, I strike too far west. South, Ranger, south! Izuru barred the mental map from casting doubt upon her consciousness and continued along the path running parallel to the street. The Lugo carbine, freshly cleaned and loaded with semi-armour-piercing rounds, hung from the loop of bungee cord running around her right shoulder. With the stock collapsed, only the end of the carbine's flash hider poked out from her jacket. Hidden within and attached to her belt were two holstered sidearms, her knife, and magazine pouches, and still her shouldered bag bulged with ammunition.
Patches of fire bursting from incendiary bombs spread across the street further ahead. Izuru darted in to a doorway and pressed her back against the side of the porch. A mob of rioters charged past, arms flailing. Vermin. Izuru clutched her bag to her side and slunk from the porch, making for the street corner the humans had surged from. Kurnous! Izuru dodged out of the path of a second mob and, with nowhere to hide, crouched amidst a collection of broken timbers protruding from a broken wall. Single-minded, simple people seduced by violence. She bowed her head. Pass in anger.
The clatter and clamour of the horde dispersing, Izuru hastened from the lee of the timbers and shed the glow of the fires. Barricade. Izuru checked off street after street piled high with wreckage fallen from or torn down from surrounding buildings. What do they wish to conceal from their masters? Derelict vehicles, their insides scoured to the bone by fire, sat in heaps mating with the others of their like in the vertical graveyard. The vaunted shrine to the so-called deity of Mankind stands proud in its perversion. Izuru ducked inside a covered entryway underground which had caved in, leaving rubble blocking the way down. Barks and hoots rolled along a street, channelled forth by the high blocks rising either side of the dirt. Kaela! Izuru scuttled across the mouth, catching a glimpse of a wall of humans marching towards her. Cracks and wallops rocketed around the slums as rifles were discharged in to the sky. Muzzle flashes danced over the heads of the mob. Stones clacked upon the ground. What drives them in to such frenzy? Izuru fled along a passage leading to the right of the surge. Silent blades gripped in grubby hands hoved at her from the shadows. Izuru yanked the zip of her jacket down and, thrusting her elbow back, levelled the Lugo. The knives scattered, some clanging to the ground. Izuru snapped the Lugo's safety around the 'semi'. Her forefinger squeezed the slack from the trigger. The red dot in the centre of the Lugo's optic found the back of a fleeing human. His legs and arms windmilled. A shrill wail, a plea for help from his accomplices, echoed off the buildings. Flee to your den. Bury yourself deep. Izuru returned the Lugo to her jacket. The storm is upon you.
More parades of chanting humans funnelled Izuru along routes she did not want to go, and in a direction wholly different to her desired route back to the river, and from there the spaceport. Bloody-handed One! Whiz-cracks pursued Izuru over a fence. Do they shoot without restraint? What madness holds sway over their minds? Izuru hared through a yard, an island in the centre of the chaos, and climbed on to the roof of an outhouse, hauling her bag over the top of a hedgerow and dropping down in to an open street. That cathedral again! Do all paths lead there? A round spat past her. A stray? Izuru flinched. A ting of metal on metal brought her round. A shaggy shape with bare legs banged a rusty pipe upon a drainage cover down the street. Izuru stared after the human who scuttled apelike to another of the cast iron covers embedded in the road and tapped on it. Izuru straightened up and backed away, drawing her jacket's zipper down. And by Her word, the weak and the insane were culled, and the hardy rose neutered, babes in the waste.
Out of the orifices in the street humans wormed, as dishevelled and wild-looking as the barbarian who had invited their kind to the surface. Bloody-handed One! Izuru bolted from the new threat. Anarchy reigns! Covers popped ahead of her, disgorging sickly sweet fumes. Fingers shot out from the holes. Izuru plucked a thermos grenade from a pocket and pushed her thumb through the pull-ring. The Lugo bounced from her shoulder. Windows on both sides of the street shattered. Barbarians burst forth from their hovels, dragging hand weapons through the openings. A low moan rippled through the humans' ranks. Izuru spun and aimed the Lugo at the mass, thumbing the selector to 'automatic'. A sun bloomed over her head, spinning around and around until its arc dropped it at the humans' feet. Izuru swiped her hand in front of her eyes. The warmth given off by the flare tore at her retinas. "Nightcap, madame?" A human beckoned from an open door just off the street. Izuru charged at it, muzzle trained upon the human. Her thumb returned the Lugo to 'semi'. "My master's compliments—" Izuru swung the Lugo around. The steel edge of the buttstock connected with the human's skull. Other humans rushed at Izuru, surrounding her.
"The bag!" A hand pinned the Lugo to Izuru's side. "Shut the door—" Izuru rammed her head back. Her skull connected with bone. "Mmmph!" Her left arm shunted sideways, elbow outwards. It dug in to a soft mass. The heel of Izuru's boot came down upon toes, squashing the fat appendages inside cracked leather.
"Help!" A human squealed. "Stun her! The – the prod!"
"Get the prod!"
Izuru pivoted around and swiped at the back of a knee, shoving a human away. The one attacker, still holding the Lugo against her side, collapsed against the wall, his head ringing to the solid crack Izuru's elbow dealt. Teeth gritted, Izuru drew her knife and laspistol. From the heave of the four prone humans, one groaned. Izuru kicked at his midriff, cracking bones. Behind her, a bookshelf lay on its side. No retreat. Izuru tilted her laspistol and removed the safety. Corners and behind the doors.
"I've got it." A human rounded the far end of the passage, a crackling prod in his hand. "Shi—" Izuru touched the laspistol's firing stud. A white flash lit up the corridor. The human dropped to his knees; a boiling tattoo on his chest. A second shot burnt away the fragments of his shirt, laying the skin open.
"NO!" A human caught the other's body from behind. Izuru sent a third shot in to the head of the body, blasting the features from the human's face, rendering it a shapeless, unrecognisable mess. Hiding behind the body, the human flung the prod at Izuru. Izuru's shoulders convulsed. A throaty growl ripped down the passage. "She's not human." The cowering human fell away from the body and scrambled backwards. "SHE'S NOT HUMAN!"
Flee. Spread tidings of me. Izuru tracked the fleeing human. She nudged the body with her foot. Smoke coiled around it, rising inside her nostrils. The scent on the unclean. Disgusting. No prayer will be said for you. Izuru paid a glance at the humans behind her. Not one stirred. Spineless vermin. Izuru paused before the passage opened in to a wider room and leant sideways. Cobwebs coated the corner. Izuru swung her laspistol and checked the other corner. More cobwebs. "Strike a light." Izuru swung her weapon up to a balcony and hooked her finger around the firing stud. "Hello, sweetheart." A rough voice rang from the upper floor. Torch beams surrounded Izuru. Black muzzles aimed down at her. "D'you take sugar?"
Clack-clack…Clack-clack-clack…Clack. The tap ofmechanical keys irritated Izuru who, restrained in a chair with a cloth sack over her head, could only listen. "Leave them on the table, Errol. Slash those cuffs now."
"Give her her hands back? Want me to take her hood off too?"
"Won't make a difference if we do or don't. It's my house. Do as you're told, Errol."
"Right, Boss." A blade sliced the plastic ties holding Izuru's wrists to the chair. A hand whipped the bag from her head.
"There you are, me lovely." A grey-haired human with yellow, wonky teeth smacked his lips. Dull grey eyes bored in to Izuru. Between the human and Izuru was a low wooden table with two steaming mugs on the surface. Bereft of a cloth, the surface had long lost its shine. "Don't mind these fellas. It's just you and I, Sweet Susan." The human reached for his drink. Izuru counted twelve toughs leaning in various places around the room. Wallpaper peeling, damp rising. This house has seen little love. Behind the grey-haired human, a typist sat at a desk. "Haven't got the patience for Twenty Questions, so I'll ask three. Number one: what do I call you?"
"Call me Inezh." Izuru crossed her legs and leant back in the chair.
"Hm." The human's eyebrows wavered. "Tea's there if you want it." He took a sip from his own mug. "Mmm, that's sweet enough. Now, question number two. Did you blow up my product?"
"I don't recall."
The human rapped his mug upon the tabletop. "Did you or did you not apply explosive material to my farm?"
"Maybe."
"Which, I take it, was in retribution for my hospitality?" The human waggled a finger. "Bring out my trophies, John." The human spoke to another standing behind Izuru.
"The sword, Boss?"
"Not the sword, the ears – put that down! Have someone's eye out, you will." The human tutted. "I'd say eye for an eye but apparently it's ear for an ear." John placed a cloth bag in front of the human then retreated behind Izuru. "Fetch a pretty price on the black market these will." The human pulled a string loose and produced two pointed ears which he held out in the flat of his palm. "These belonged to your friend. D'you want to know what I did to him?" The human leant back and linked his fingers.
"You made him a cake and bade farewell?"
"No."
"You asked him to dine with a fine wine?"
"No."
"You shared a blissful moment of understanding?"
"No. I don't think you're taking this discourse with the seriousness that's appropriate given your current situation. Right now, you're in the middle of a frozen lake, love, and there's a thaw coming fast, so watch your tongue." Izuru rose from the chair to her full height.
"Easy there, stickie." Pistols and knives appeared. A curved sword blade shot across Izuru's shoulder, the edge turning towards her neck. A few of the humans swallowed nervously and glanced at their leader, the only human who hadn't moved.
"Sneaky fucking stickies. Of course, you're a tall bunch, aren't you?" The human fiddled with a leatherbound timepiece on his wrist and looked Izuru up and down. "Lotta fat on you I see. Make some of my associates very happy, so it will. How 'bout you sit down and ask your questions now, my love. You raise your swords now, boys. There'll be no more hostility in my house."
"What do I call you?" Izuru returned to her seat. The long cavalry sword returned to a wooden mount on the mantlepiece behind her.
"To any and all, I am Oruc Veen, at the people's service. That's the people's service because, in case you didn't suss, we don't like outsiders round 'ere." Veen began ticking off his fingers. "Be it government, soldiers, or knife-eared bints."
"I've seen the squalor, the poverty your people live in. The gangs outside—"
"Junkies off their walnut-sized minds on obscura. That's question number one. Hanky will you, Errol?" Veen blew his nose. "S'cuse my manners."
"There was another, another like me. He…"
"Oh, you mean him?" Veen jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Open the blinds." A crony leant over to a pull-cord. Behind the blinds hung a half-naked Saeros.
Kaela Mensha Khaine, what have they done to you? Izuru kept herself still. Her linked thumbs turned the same colour as Saeros's face. The whites of Saeros's eyes showed between the slits of his eyelids. Can you hear me?
"You know, I genuinely had a crisis pondering what to do with this whelp. I mean, he obviously weren't the brains of the operation… Then again, neither was the other. That'd be you, wouldn't it?"
"Last question. How do I leave the city?" As she spoke, a nut of worry nibbled at her gut. And now I fall in to his pocket.
"Oh! Well, you'd best lay something on the table, dearest, 'cause otherwise you'll be up on the block waiting for a short drop and a sharp stop with your friend over there. Oh, and you'll be wearing a dress. Only fitting a woman should wear a dress. Show some skin."
"Your best against me."
"Huh?" Veen curled the top of one ear over and tilted his head at Izuru. "Gonna have to repeat that."
"Your best against me."
"What, knives, sticks?"
"Bareknuckle."
"Are you sure, sugar?"
"I win, I walk. The other at my side."
"Nah. You win, that's your life. Him back there, still up in the air; in both regards."
"Name the time and place, and I am yours."
"Well." Veen clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Enthusiasm, that's admirable that, though I don't expect you'll see many bets going your way, sweet-pea."
"Your biographer?" Izuru's eyes landed on the typist. Grey too, the human's dirty fingers drummed upon the keys of an antiquated machine that routinely pinged. Every now and again, the typist slid the top half of the machine across and wound a dial.
"That's an unlicensed question there." Veen raised a finger. "You'll be keeping your tongue to yourself now, me darling. No spreading subversive stickie shit around my neighbourhood, you'll upset the locals." Veen glared in to his mug. "I can serve plonk if you so desire. Best drink in all Lysades, I tell you."
Izuru shook her head, mouthing, "no."
"Alright. That's a nice jacket you're wearing."
"Now!" I let go from the tailgate. Flagstones rushed up to me. Two tiny pairs of feet slapped upon the hard surface behind me. "'Ere!" I gathered the twins by their shoulders and pulled them around the corner, away from the tail-lights of the thundering lorry. "Lads, up and over. Sssh now!"
"Ssh!" The child held a finger to his lips. His brother copied and giggled, receiving a poke.
"Oi, quiet." I clambered up a stone wall and swung a leg over the top. "C'mon." I caught the little one's hand in mine and lifted him up. "Careful, there's a drop." The boy sat, legs dangling, and waved down. "Any time this week, lad." I lay on my front and flapped my hand. The boy bounded up the wall, ignoring my hand, and planted his backside next to his brother, a smile puffing out his cheeks. Sharp edges digging holes in my chest, I pulled a leg up, perched precariously on the edge, and dropped. Shit, that's hay. Is it hay? I drew circles around where I squatted. Who keeps hay out in the open? That's not right. The twins picked at the hay. One sniffed a stalk and tried to chew it, the other put one behind his ear. "Stay here. I'm gonna have a look." Both pairs of eyes blinked at me. "Stay."
I tiptoed around puddles. Flecks of mud licked my sodden trousers. The socks Risto had leant me squelched. Inside them, the plasters rubbed at the backs of my heels. What's that smell? Stinks. A car engine lay half-submerged in one such puddle. On dry ground sat a yellow gas canister, a burnt-out cooker, and thick piles of animal dung. Fuck me, it's getting worse. I followed a plume of smoke rising from the chimney of shack; part of a collection of hovels arranged in a circle around a mound of burning rubbish. More homeless? Or just bloody tinkers? I eyed up a gang of the homeless folk sitting around the blaze. God, I'm freezing.
"Who's that?"
"I'm hurt." I trudged towards the homeless, head hung, armed folded. "I'm hurt."
"Bollock it, he's lying!" A homeless plucked a burning piece of timber from the pile. "Sneaky runt!"
Torches whipped around. Sharpened pieces of metal glinted from inside sleeves. Tattoos leered at me. "Looking for a handout, are we?" Cracked lips drew back from black teeth. A fat cleaver chopped at the air in front of me. "You're in trouble now." Water rippled around my boots. Sandals and bare feet sent waves across the surface of the puddles. Blackteeth flourished the cleaver. Fire flickered around me. I stumbled backwards over the gas canister, causing a splash. One of the homeless flapped his bent arms up and down, making chicken noises. "Those your kids there, boy? Sure they want to watch?"
"Huh?" I picked myself up out of the puddle and huddled in a corner. "Run!" I mouthed.
"You know what they say, you play with fire you get burned." An iron poker, the tip glowing orange, dipped towards me.
"Run! RUN!"
The poker clattered to the ground. The hand holding it, the skin lost underneath black ink, flew to its owner's face. "Aaargh!"
What? I gaped at the twins. Neither made to run. In once voice they chanted, "Iem eatoam, xios iem ishtikam. Sib iem amtoamthu aul!"
"Children of the Warp!" A homeless wailed. Torches were cast aside. "Flee! Flee!"
"Stand, its only children!" Blackteeth clapped the howling man on the back of his head, the latter collapsing to his knees. "Warp-spawn!" Blackteeth raised his cleaver. Fire turned his eyes red.
"Iam furta cait Ual."
"…Throne of—" Blackteeth's teeth turned red. Blood dribbled from his gums. "What are you?" The cleaver sang as it bounced, coming to rest in a puddle. Hands hauled the two bleeding men away. Shrieks and hoots carried the haggle of homeless off in to the night. Two little hands touched my arm and ran up to my shoulder.
"Please… Please don't hurt me."
"Fir."
"I don't – I don't understand… Can't understand you." One of the twins nuzzled my shoulder, the other tugged at my hand. "Alright, alright, I'll come." I trailed the twins around the fire. "Oi, careful. Them lot might come back." What's the point? They don't understand a word I say. "Don't go in there." I crouched before a drape hanging in front of a doorway. The boys slipped through and rummaged around the squalor inside the shack. I caught sight of a toilet through a hole in the curtain lying on its side. Worse than Butcher's Rock this place. "Nah, I can't put that on, it's filthy." I shrugged off the moth-eaten blanket the twins draped over my shoulders. "Fleas and diseases." Their hands wrapped the blanket around me and kept it there, rubbing up and down my arms. "Alright, I'm okay, me lads." I pinched the blanket together at my throat and followed the boys around the back of the shack. "Hey, where you off to?" Underneath cobweb-ensnared eaves the boys led me. Long, spindly spiders' legs frantically spun their bodies away from me. Up and over the sloping sides of a bin the boys leapt. Bloody hell, they don't half move when they want to. I dropped the blanket behind me. A section of the lid flexed underneath my weight. The twins waved to me from the top of a fence. "Go on, make room."
Gas lamps glowed inside glass cases at the top of poles. A three-storey complex of ferrocrete foundations loomed above me. Scaffolding clung to the outer skin. At least there's a roof, even if it's just a sheet. "Lads?" Their tiny forms hunkered down against a pillar. Company? A breeze ruffled the sheeting pinned up where the walls would have been. No tools around. Are the workers striking? A pot for mixing cement sat forlorn and abandoned. Sacks of dried cement rested against a stack of wooden pallets half-covered by a tarpaulin. Vertical notches had been scratched in to the ferrocrete. I laid a finger upon the first notch and counted along; seven, the number was meaningless to me.
Forgotten and abandoned. I ran my fingertip to the edge and peered at the circle of grey dust. A tug at my sleeve and the child pointed at a round object sitting on its own. "What is it? It's a…" I left the twins and, bending down, picked up a ball of brown leather. Bits of stuffing poked out of the seams. I spun the ball between my fingers and turned to the boys, both of whom watched as I dropped the ball and kept it up between my toecaps.
One, two, three, four, five. The ball landed and rolled away. I chased after it and walked it in a circle. The boys, round-eyed, skipped away and hid. Their faces poked out from around a corner of a pillar. "S'alright." I picked up the ball and bounced it up and down. "Won't 'urt." A nudge from my toe and the ball went their way. They poked at the leather, sniffed it and shook the ball as if expecting a trinket hidden inside. I kicked my feet. "Go on, son, give it a kick now." The boy brought it to me. "No-no, you've got to kick it. Can't be touching it with your hands now." I waggled a finger. "Bad that." The boy dropped the ball at my feet and scampered back to his brother. I dragged my heel backwards over the leather and balanced the ball upon my toes. "Hmm?"
A smile stole across my face. Again, I passed the ball from foot to foot without it touching the ground. One, two, three, four, five, six. "Ha!" I launched the ball up and conked it against my forehead. Both boys stood on one foot then shifted to the other, wobbling against one another. A push from one, and the other fell over. "Oi!" I planted the ball in a rut and poked a finger at the child. "If I was your mum, I'd cuff you for that, or maybe your dad would do it, I dunno." I took the other boy's shoulder and helped him sit upright. "Your dad, eh? Wonder if he's looking for you too." I turned over the boy's hand. "Nothing broken? Nah, you're grand." The boy rubbed his eyes and sniffed, his lower lip protruding. "Sorry, I know you're scared. I'm scared too if it makes you feel better."
The ball punched me in the small of the back. "Oh!" I flicked my hand at the grinning twin. Not now! "He's a right handful, he is. Wish I had a brother taking care o' me. S'pose you don't know what it's like growing up alone." The other twin, both hands gripping the ball, whacked it against the back of my head. "Yeah—oi, give over! Punching bag, is it?" I wheeled about, rolling my fists around the boy, who galloped away with the ball. "Cheeky."
Scooting around a pillar, the boy peeked around one corner before darting out from the other. He jumped and threw the ball over my head. "Oh, that's how it's gonna be, is it?" The boy's brother, no longer sitting, caught it. I sidestepped to the left and right, beckoning. "C'mon, give it a punt." The boy lowered the ball, let it go and kicked it. The ball thumped in to my groin. I let out a strained groan. My knees touched together and I keeled forwards very slowly and lay still on my side. The boys bounded over and prodded my leg. A hand began to shake my arm.
"BWAHH!" The boys shrieked and tore away. "Oi, shush!" I clamped my hand over my mouth, suppressing a laugh. My turn now. I nabbed the ball and dribbled it through the pillars. Come on! It's Durnanville versus Willans Ferry Town. Four-two, or was it three-two? I spun around in front of a bulging section of sheeting pinned between two pillars. That could work. I planted a heel upon the ball. "Ready?" The twins paid one another a smirk and shifted apart. A solid boot and the ball flew between the boys. "Your feet. Use your feet!" The ball passed between the boys' feet. Each gave gentle taps at first. "Hey, over 'ere."
I curled both hands and planted them on my knees. Rubbing my hands together, I shuffled sideways. "Ooh, he's in." The leather passed between my legs and smacked against the sheet. "Shot." I pushed the ball away. The twins beamed at the thumbs-up I gave and came at me again. I slapped the ball away. "Nuh-uh." The twins chased after the ball, their feet entangling. Right pair they are. When did I ever have a playmate? I smoothed down my trousers and thrust my head forwards. The ball sailed past, whipping my hair and landing against the sheet. I laughed and held up two fingers. Two to you.
Five points later and with a pounding head I conceded defeat and fell to my knees. "I give up. I'll come quietly. I promise." The boys gallivanted around me. I pinned them against my sides, stood up, and spun around. "Whey-hey!" They giggled and squealed, their legs pedalling at the air. "Awright, that's enough. Let's find your ma, eh?" I set the boys on their feet and gave the ball one final kick, sending it far away in to the night.
Izuru ducked her head underneath a low water pipe running along the ceiling. "How'd she know that was there?" A human, one of Veen's men, whispered.
"Shush, you fool. If she speaks, she'll bewitch you!" The delights of ignorance. Izuru stooped through a doorway then whirled around, her head jutting forward. The humans yelped and fell back in to one another. "Fucking—!" A door slammed in her face. Behind it, a smear of insults and profanity rang up and down the passage. They want to do what to me?
"Lady Ranger?"
"Saeros!" Izuru hurtled at the voice, her bound hands finding Saeros in a corner. "Forgive me. I should not have allowed Derin and yourself to venture off alone. A curse! A curse! My name on your lips."
"Derin…"
"I am sorry. Please, allow me to look up you. Tear this rag from my head."
"Mmmn. My hands…"
"Use your teeth." Izuru laid her head underneath Saeros's chin.
"I have it."
"With ease." Izuru backed away. Saeros spat the sack out and leant his head against the wall. Even upright, the colour in his face still remained. Purple bruises dotted his bare chest.
"Plum or beetroot? My face." Lines appeared in the corners of his eyes.
"You…" Izuru reached for Saeros's hands and held them up. "Tomorrow I fight for you."
"Fight?"
"A gutter-bout with whoever the human's best is."
"A duel. Blades?"
"No-no, bareknuckle."
"Bareknuckle? You play the savages game?"
"I offered myself to them. Had I not, I would be sharing a grave with Derin."
"Where his body is, I know not. Nor his Waystone." Saeros's chin drooped. "'Tis Condemnation eternal. I weep for him."
"To where does Derin harbour loyalty?" Izuru shifted closer to Saeros and placed her shoulder against the wall.
"The princess."
"But his life before the Void Dragons. From where did he hail?"
"I do not know. Before my assignment to you, I scrounged. Do you remember the morsels I stole for you onboard the Gorynych?"
"A kind, heartfelt gesture, one I replied to with heartless apathy."
"This corsair was nobody. You made me somebody. Gratitude, Daughter of the Stars."
Izuru inclined her head. "Rest thy head here. Rest."
"Your warmth unnerves." Saeros's eyebrows steepled.
"Let your head come to rest in my lap, as if you were one of my own." Izuru guided Saeros's head in to her lap. "Rest."
"Your children…"
"Concern yourself not with them. Our paths will intersect in the near-future, and where they are, Saarania shall follow."
"Ask not for me to break my vows. A betrayer I am not."
"No, Saeros. This ends with me and her. Saarania will drive her lackeys before her, as do all tyrants. When there are no more skirts for her to hide behind, our blades will cross."
"Dragut and Vliss…"
"They can try. Then they will know what it means to come between a mother and her offspring."
"I fear for you."
"Fear for them, for they shall know it when it comes." Izuru placed her palm upon Saeros's forehead. "Your temperature rises."
"My pulse follows."
Izuru kissed Saeros's brow. "Goddess of the Hunt watch over you."
"I have no deity to pray to. Such is the lot of the outcast."
"Then we are outcast together. I shall bring you away from Grendel alive, young one; that is a promise."
Saeros shut his eyes and gave a gentle shake of his head. "All paths end in annihilation for me."
"You do not know that."
"Can I depart with dignity? Will you allow me that?"
"I order you to remain in my company, warrior. When opportunity presents itself take action. Remember this maxim: take action. Tomorrow, I require you to kill without hesitation, be it male or female, and with blade, firearm, or mind. Show the lower species why they should fear us."
"…Take action; why did I never?"
"Your insatiable curiosity brought your path across mine. There, you took action. You will take action after I beat the humans bloody on the morrow."
"Trust them not."
"There are none alive to whom I place my trust in. Treachery tomorrow is guaranteed." Izuru plucked at the neck of the AdMech shirt and pulled it over her head, shaking her arms free from the sleeves.
"I pray it is not a sign." Saeros smiled at the blood-red garment Izuru spread around his shoulders.
"Save breath for the coming fight." Izuru gnawed at the binds. "Aah, impossible."
"What of the human?"
"All resemble the other."
"The soldier. His name was—"
"Saeros! Names are for friends, confederates, allies. That human is where he should be; with his own kind. Dwell not upon him." And trouble me no longer with that irritating accent, Whelp. A muscle in Izuru's temple twitched. Your impertinence is galling.