Fractures

by C S Vass

  “Sasha,” Fiona couldn’t even find the words. She had been ready for Reggie to be armed, or even more likely for him to have brought along some hired muscle. But here they were, alone and defenseless, and Sasha was telling her to go. It just didn’t make sense.

  “Don’t you understand?” Sasha pleaded. “We don’t want you to be here. Reggie doesn’t. I don’t. I don’t know what you think is happening. We came here simply to get a little bit of privacy, and to work on our marriage. This isn’t a place where people should come out of the blue. Especially waving swords around.”

  Some anger was slowly creeping into Sasha’s voice. “Why are you always waving swords around, Fiona? Why are you always so quick to jump in and throw your lot in with other people’s problems? So much violence!”

  “I just…I wanted to help you,” Fiona said. She was absolutely stunned. Sasha was the one who had run away, after all. Was there something more sinister going on? Was Reggie somehow controlling her mind?

  “It’s time for you to go, Fiona,” Reggie said firmly. “I will forgive you this, but I implore you to seek some help. We’ve all had our fair amount of trauma in the last two years. You should take some time and try to heal. You just can’t do it here. We have enough of our own issues to worry about at the moment.”

  Fiona felt a lump bobbing in her throat that she just couldn’t seem to swallow. After a while she nodded. “Very well,” she said. “I apologize for the intrusion. I can see that you two are best left alone.” Feeling like an enormous idiot, Fiona lamely turned around and walked out of the cabin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fiona kept turning over the events that happened in the cabin in her mind, but she could not make sense of them no matter how desperately she tried to. What had all of that been about? First Sasha makes out like she’s running for her life, and the next thing she’s holed up with Reggie in the woods refusing to be rescued.

  But what choice did Fiona have other than to believe it? There was nothing stopping Sasha from walking away. Reggie was unarmed, and even if he wasn’t she was confident that they all knew what would happen if she and him actually drew blades on each other. Maybe that was it…perhaps Sasha couldn’t bear to see her kill Reggie.

  But she wouldn’t have! They would have just left. She kicked a stone in frustration and sent it skipping into a stream. It just didn’t make any sense. Why did everyone have to be so wishy-washy. First Smiley couldn’t seem to make up his mind about what he actually wanted from her, now Sasha.

  Fiona was turning each of these thoughts over in her head, as if a secret answer was in front of her but she simply could not find it. With no better objective in mind she started back towards Haygarden, supposing that she would have to start deciding what to do about Brandon and Smiley.

  She moved slowly, purposefully delaying her journey back to the city. There was so much trouble and grief waiting for her in Haygarden. Why go back at all? The thought was a selfish one, she knew, but what did it matter? She would only really be hurting Donyo and Martin, and it was clear that they would understand. The two were so disillusioned she didn’t think either would be surprised if the other simply dissolved into thin air one day.

  But where would she go? Was she skilled enough to move past the Tellosian scryers who relentlessly scoured the border searching for anyone trying to make an illegal crossing? Maybe there was a way for the manjeko to help her, if she developed it a little bit more. Even so, which way would she go?

  Lost in these thoughts Fiona wandered aimlessly nearer to Haygarden when her mind exploded. There was something happening inside her, the manjeko, it was on fire. Instinctively she dropped to her knees and poured herself into the magical orb that throbbed inside of her like a second heart.

  Immediately she saw him. Emotions too strong to put to words boomed in her head like fireworks. It was Rodrick! He was standing in a dimly lit room, but it was him. His forest green eyes were shining malevolently, and he had sprouted a bushy brown beard that gave him the look of someone who had spent a great deal of time in the wilderness, but there was no mistaking him.

  Immensely satisfied Fiona used the manjeko to zoom in on the situation. The room held five other people, none of whom she recognized. They were hooded and cloaked with only the fires of a few candles to give light to their features.

  “As Haygarden’s strength wanes the Empire will come in for us,” a short man with small eyes pleaded. “I assure you, my lords, that they will seek to give the people of Haygarden reason to want them. These Laquathi toys, they are satisfying in the moment but beyond the base pleasures of catharsis they do not serve us well.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes despite the situation. Of course this group of losers would style themselves as lords.

  “You would have us do what then?” a taller man hissed. “Return to the desert? Abandon the home of our ancestors? The fight is hard. We know this. That does not mean we can leave it!”

  “You’re fighting the wrong enemy,” the short man returned. “Sandra Redfire is nothing more than a puppet. You think we are winning but do not be blinded by arrogance. They are letting us win because it suits them!”

  “How many more of the runes do we have?” Rodrick asked. His voice was deep and resounding, a voice everyone in the room fell silent to hear.

  “Nine ready for immediate use,” a hunchbacked man with bushy grey eyebrows said. “Another twenty potential…but I advise they be thoroughly examined to be sure there is no fault with them. We can expect another ten by the moon’s turn.”

  “Pathetic,” Rodrick growled. “We should have ten times that by now, and the city would be ready to fall! We cannot topple a government without more weaponry.”

  “The old knight seems to have an indescribable ability to foresee our movements,” the hunchbacked old man said.

  “Why is he still alive?” Rodrick snapped. “Since our men seem clearly to be too incompetent to rein him in why have the Laquathi not done it? Or do they no longer respect even their own laws?”

  “My lord,” the old man wheezed. “The banishment was many decades ago, and in that time our knight-errant has earned himself a rather astounding reputation. While by law the Laquathi should have put his head on a spike, he has many friends and admirers in the city.”

  “Indeed,” Rodrick snorted. “So tell me, where are my friends and admirers? Where are the true patriots of Haygarden who pine for the days of the Vaentysh kings, before greed and incompetence ruined their city?”

  The room had no answer to that. After a few moments the tall man spoke up. “My lord nothing will bring us allies but clear victories. Please, allow me to do this thing.”

  “We will all be dead by nightfall if you do,” the shorter man hissed.

  The taller man continued calmly. “Sandra Redfire will meet with a Tellosian envoy tonight. I don’t need to tell you what they will be discussing. Let us take control of the situation, and remove Sandra as well as a chunk of the Tellosian scourge and thus play this game on our terms. Anything less, and we will simply be waiting for the Tellosians to remove her at the time of their own convenience, and by then it may well be too late.”

  “This won’t give us the city,” Rodrick said. His jaw tightened.

  “It will not,” the tall man conceded. “However, my lord, wars are not won on single battles. Do not lose sight of the longer game we are playing. This will be an important step forward.”

  “Very well,” Rodrick said. The tall man began to say something but Rodrick held up his hand. “No details! I want no part of this, nor does anyone here. It’s safer that way. The Tellosians have Yondril. I am sure of it. Just think where we would be if he knew anything of actual importance. We keep information on a need to know basis, Kyro. This is your idea, so you’re in charge of it.”

  “My lord is wise,” Kyro said with a bow.

  The scene immediately swirled away before Fiona’s eyes. She was already running towards them. This was it. She knew where they were. She
saw the house. Saw the street. Saw everything.

  Thoughts of whatever happened with Sasha melted away from her. She was on to something so much more important. She raced back to the city in less time than it took her to leave it, leaping over obstacles and racing as fast as her legs would carry her. Sweet revenge was so close, she simply had to seize her moment.

  * * *

  A short time later Fiona burst into the room. There was no need to plan, nothing to debate. She was going to kill Rodrick, then and there. She found herself in the same candlelit space she had seen with the manjeko. The air was thick and dusty. As she took a quick headcount of her enemies it became obvious that one person was missing.

  “Where is he?” Fiona roared. She faced four tired-looking men in weatherbeaten cloaks. The group did not look good, like they had only just found lodging after roughing it on the road for a great deal of time. There was a sour smell in the air.

  “So he was right after all,” the old man with the hunchback sneered. “We didn’t think you would manage to find us, at least not so quickly.”

  “No matter,” the tall one said as he steepled his fingers. “You’re here now, and that’s the important thing. It is a pleasure to meet you, Fiona Sacrosin. You must be very proud of your older brother’s accomplishments.”

  “Where is he?” Fiona demanded. She could feel the weakness in the room. She was a lion among hares, and these old men would not intimidate her.

  “Come forth, and we will take you to him,” the old one wheezed. “He is quite eager to meet with you, after all Fiona.”

  “You think I’m playing games,” Fiona said, certain the she was being mocked. Her eyes narrowed as she felt the magic of the manjeko swirling inside of her. She took a step forward and drew her blade. As soon as the demon-pommel sword was in her hand, her whole body seized up.

  Furious Fiona tried to move to see what had ensnared her, but she found she couldn’t so much as turn her head. Every muscle in her body had been painfully locked as if she were covered in an iron mold. Below her on the ground a deep purple pentagram glowed softly.

  “Release her head,” the tall one said. “We will need to speak with her.”

  The old man shuffled in and out of her view several times, doing something that she could not see. After a few moments she immediately felt everything above her neck break free from the invisible magic.

  “You fucking cowards!” she roared. Laughter echoed all around her.

  “Maybe we should put it back just for a little, until she learns her manners,” the short man sneered.

  “I can’t believe this one is related to Rodrick,” the shorter man said. “Look how impulsive she is, like a wild animal.”

  “What is it that you’re doing here?” Fiona asked.

  “Now she wants to talk,” the old man huffed. “Let’s save the talking for your brother.”

  “Where is he?”

  She was trying furiously to free herself from whatever spell had ensnared her, but she was completely disconnected from her body. She couldn’t feel the manjeko inside her any more than she could feel her legs.

  “Your elder brother had some important business to take care of,” the tall man said. Something about the drawl of his voice made her skin crawl. “You needn’t worry though, he will come soon. Morrordraed didn’t stop him, and neither will a Laquathi barterer who doesn’t know his place.”

  “Morrordraed?” Fiona’s forehead wrinkled. “Are you telling me that Rodrick has been to Morrordraed?”

  “We have been many places these last two years,” the old man wheezed. When he talked his head bobbed up and down like a buoy on the water.

  “Why?”

  “Why not be silent until Rodrick gets here,” the shorter man hissed. “It won’t be long. Maybe there’s something else we can do to entertain ourselves while we wait.” He touched Fiona with a small gloved hand on the thigh and gave her a slimy smile. She thrust her head at him, but without being able to move her neck instead of bashing his nose into his brain like she had done with Jared, Fiona only managed to give herself a shooting pain up her spine.

  “Fierce,” the small man said.

  “Tell me about Morrordraed if you were really there,” Fiona said, desperate to keep the conversation moving.

  “What’s to tell?” the tall man said. “Swamps and bogs and wood witches and demons. That is all that can be said of the land across the sea. It is here that we are concerned with. It is here that we will rule again as Vaentysh Kings.”

  “Kings.”

  The word was uttered with so much derision and disgust that it practically burned in Fiona’s ears. But, it couldn’t be. She tried desperately to turn her head but she was frozen stiff.

  “Kings are the pillars of civilization,” he continued. Fiona’s heart soared in her chest. “For better or worse they are men of power, men who move their hands and mold the world. Kings whisper their secret visions into the water and rivers change course at their grace. I see no kings in this room. I don’t even see men. All I see are broken ambitions—the death rattle of an old order that has passed its own era. You are nothing more than the fractured remnants of unworthy aspirations, and your time is up.”

  “You think you still have a place here?” the short man huffed. His eyes were wide and there was a frenzied look on his face. “You’re nothing but a ghost!”

  Geoff Hightower laughed, a dark grim sound. Then he drew his blade.

  * * *

  For years to come peasants and lords alike would whisper over their drinks and minstrels would sing for courts that the battle was quick and bloody, but that was not true. There was no more of a battle between Geoff Hightower and the tired old men he faced than there can be a battle between a wild dog and a pack of rats.

  The short man, perhaps frightened mad and perhaps calculating his best chance at survival, leapt at Lord Hightower without warning with a long, deadly sharp blade in his hands. Fiona couldn’t see what happened as he left her field of vision, but she felt the spray of warm blood against her cheek and heard a high-pitched shrieking sound as he fell to the ground clutching the stump of his arm tightly against his chest.

  The old man was huffing and wheezing in the corner, chanting rhythmically while his hands flowed over each other in a wild combination of gestures and motions that Fiona didn’t know human hands were capable of making. Meanwhile, the tall one was backing away quickly.

  “You think encountering a stray witch or rusalka makes you a conquerer, do you boy?” Geoff Hightower barked. His blade was lined with crimson blood. “A true hero, back from Morrordraed? I’ve encountered things in that swampy land that you wouldn’t believe exist. Know your place!”

  All courage left the man as he slumped against the wall, hands raised defensively. He didn’t so much as attempt to draw a weapon. Hightower snorted and struck him hard with the pommel of his blade. He instantly crumpled into the corner unconscious.

  Meanwhile, the old man finished his chant. He placed his hands upon the ground and roared. There was a glow, and an explosion.

  The world went white and black as quickly as if a bolt of lightning had struck through the room. In fact, Fiona wasn’t entirely certain that that hadn’t happened. She felt her body tossed from the pentagram. She tried to get up, but the magic still had a hold of her and now she was awkwardly splayed against the wall, unable to move.

  There was still a blackness all around them. She could hear the metallic screech of swords clashing against each other. It seemed as if more people had entered the room, but she couldn’t be certain. Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her and she felt herself slung over somebody’s shoulder.

  They burst out into frozen daylight, and Fiona could tell she was being whisked away by somebody much larger than her who was not in the room when she first arrived. She could see the house they had emerged from, but Geoff Hightower was still inside.

  Fiona was desperately trying to think of something to do that might help her situatio
n when suddenly the two went crashing together in the snow in a tumble of limbs. Fiona would have almost certainly battered her skull had the snow not padded the rough landing.

  Without realizing what had happened Fiona found she could move again. She quickly rolled away from her abductor and when she turned to look saw that he was a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, with a long black arrow sprouted from his left eye socket. Grimacing, Fiona stepped away from him. When she looked up she saw a tired-eyed Martin Lightwing standing before her with a longbow in his hands.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Martin…thank you.”

  Martin Lightwing nodded. “Just be glad Geoff had the foresight to bring me alone and watch the outside. Who is that, anyway?”

  Fiona looked at the corpse, but it was nobody she could put a name to. “Some Vaentysh Boy.”

  “Shit. So they really are back in the city.” There was a white tinge to Martin’s face.

  Suddenly, Fiona remembered the old knight. “Geoff!” she said, but before she got two steps down the road Geoff Hightower emerged from the house. He wiped a streak of red blood from his sword with a cloth, his braided hair swaying over his shoulder as he walked towards them.

  “There is no more threat at the moment,” the old knight said solemnly.

  “You’re back,” Fiona said. She couldn’t think of what else to tell him, so she simply gave her thanks.

  “Why are you back?” Martin asked. “Is your mission in Laquath complete?”

  Geoff shook his head. “My mission in Laquath is hopeless. I have learned some things and meddled in the affairs of the Vaentysh Boys to a great extent, but my ultimate hope was to win the aid of the city against the Empire’s position here in Haygarden. On that count I have completely and utterly failed. There will be no assistance from the West. In any case, when I learned that Rodrick was back from Morrordraed I knew I had overstayed my time away.”