Across the city — under bridges and viaducts, past the shadows of wrecked taverns and behind military lines, Vuldon pressed a nail through dozens of copies of MythMaker, fixing them to doors or noticeboards or any sheltered surface he could find. This sketch was special, he knew it, and had to be seen by as many of the city’s children as possible.
The city was a depressing vision. Walls had crumbled, blocking paths, whilst militia groups prevented him from gaining access to certain roads, but he managed to target all the main thoroughfares on the levels farthest from the attacks. He couldn’t get to the crude Caveside plazas, though, which was of concern — he wanted all children to have equal access to these sketches. Once he had finished he dashed back across the city to his headquarters. Two hours late, but I don’t give a fuck.
When he came in he found Tane slumped on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
‘Ah, the traveller returns. What were you up to?’
‘Never mind. Let’s go babysit the Emperor.’
*
As they ascended the steps of Balmacara, past one unit of soldiers and heading towards another, they were presented with a panorama of the rise and fall of the city’s rooftops.
‘Wait,’ Tane cautioned.
‘What?’
‘I can hear something.’ He turned his head into the powerful wind trying to locate exactly where the noise had come from. ‘There,’ he said, pointing just as a flash of light soared up and struck the cloud-base, then a bridge collapsed somewhere around the third and fourth level. A cloud of dust rose up from the streets, and a sound of rumbling followed moments later.
‘We should hurry,’ Tane said.
Guardsmen, having recognized Vuldon and Tane, ushered them up the steps of Balmacara quickly, and led them into the relative warmth of the Imperial residence. A commanding officer of the Dragoons led them through the lantern-lit corridors, past a number of soldiers who were buzzing back and forth. They looked as if they were stockpiling food and weapons, ready for Balmacara to be a fortress.
‘Wouldn’t these warriors be better out there protecting the people?’ Vuldon said.
‘Aye, sir. I suspect they would.’
‘You agree?’ Tane asked.
‘Sir.’
‘Then why the fuck aren’t you out there?’ Vuldon demanded. ‘People are dying.’
‘Not our decision, sir,’ the soldier replied, ‘not our choice. You’ll see.’
Vuldon looked to Tane, who simply shrugged.
Through layer after layer of security, through ever-darkening passages, and into an antechamber, they finally entered a vast room, with a desk maybe fifty paces away at the far end, and little else except a huge burning hearth and several vast windows that offered a remarkable view of the city. No lanterns were lit, no candles, so once they stepped away from the firelight, they were in a room of shadows. Flashes lit up the horizon now, booms of illumination that lingered and hovered, before scattering themselves throughout the cloud base. Snow raked against the windows, wind rattling the glass against the frame.
A figure was silhouetted against the flares of magic in the distance, but as they marched closer, Vuldon and Tane realized that the person wasn’t looking out, but facing towards them.
‘The Knights of Villjamur,’ the figure gasped. ‘I am relieved that the two of you are now here. Those fuckwits behind you are about as useful in a war zone as a silk handkerchief.’
‘You wish us to leave the premises and join the fighting, my Emperor?’ the commander queried, with obvious sarcasm.
‘No, no.’ Urtica’s tone was suddenly devoid of control. ‘Get to your stations.’
As they retreated, Vuldon glanced across Urtica’s desk, on which lay several maps of the city and the Archipelago, and there were more on the floor, too — enlarged, detailed plans of various sectors. On a small table to the left, there sat a platter of various meats on the bone, with a huge carving knife sticking out of it.
‘What do you want us to do?’ Tane asked.
Urtica observed him in the darkness. Vuldon could see the flicker of the firelight reflected in his eyes. ‘They tell me that the city is falling.’
‘Who?’ Tane asked.
‘Them,’ Urtica made a vague gesture to the door. ‘The soldiers. The military. The idiots should be able to handle a few Caveside yokels. They’ve got all sorts of superior weaponry — and all the reports I receive are of military losses, of streets overrun and claimed in the name of the anarchists.’
‘What’s the situation now?’ Vuldon asked.
‘We are withdrawing.’
‘To here, I take it.’
‘Indeed,’ Urtica replied. ‘All councillors and their families are now ensconced within Balmacara.’
‘What exactly are you going to govern over, if there’s nothing left of the city?’ Vuldon demanded.
‘Do not question my motives. I am the reason you are both still in employment — the reason you were first given your new lease of life.’
Like I give a fuck, Vuldon wanted to say, but even he thought better of it.
Urtica seated himself at his desk and ran his hands through his hair.
Tane looked to Vuldon then back at the Emperor. ‘Do you really think the anarchists are going to come here to get you?’
‘Without a doubt — they have been trying since that Shalev bitch came to Villjamur.’
‘Then why bottle yourself up now?’ Tane asked. ‘Why not have as many soldiers on the streets, wearing them down?’
‘It is not the anarchists I’m worried about.’ Urtica slid back and gestured to the flares of magic. ‘Do you know what that is?’
‘No,’ Vuldon grunted. ‘Not really.’
‘Neither do I, precisely. It is a cultist who has entered the city and, allegedly, begun a systematic destruction of Villjamur. Two garudas are taking it in turns to update me on his progress, and each time they return their news is even more disturbing. So far, much of the first level of the city has been destroyed.’
‘What do you mean destroyed?’ Tane asked.
‘Reduced to rubble. Blood in the streets. People burned by magic. Houses collapsed. How precise a definition do you require?’
‘Does he fight for the anarchists?’ Tane asked.
‘He fights for sport, so it seems.’
‘What do you want us to do?’ Vuldon asked. ‘You want us to stop him?’
Urtica’s face seemed to have aged massively — even in this light, Vuldon’s acute vision could make out his tired eyes, the desperation etched on his face and the constant fidgeting of his hands. This was a man on the edge. There was none of the usual calm authority or resplendence that Vuldon had previously observed. ‘Would you mind?’ Urtica breathed, as if it now took all his reserves to form speech.
‘The hell are we going to do against a force of nature like that?’
‘You will find a way,’ Urtica replied insistantly. ‘This is what you were created for.’
‘Or what, you’ll kill us?’ Tane said.
Urtica leaned back in his chair and grasped the arms with bony hands. ‘No. But I will kill the former investigator, Fulcrom, who is currently being interviewed by my agents. You… you had a close bond with him, yes?’
Tane’s expression revealed his concern. Could he really have caught Fulcrom? Vuldon wondered. The investigator said that he’d be a wanted man… ‘You’re lying.’
‘I don’t need to lie,’ Urtica hissed. ‘But if you want proof, I could perhaps fetch for you a finger? Something more convincing, like his arm perhaps?’ There was an almost manic tone to Urtica’s rasping voice, suggesting that if his city was going down, then he was taking everything else with him.
‘We might not be able to do anything,’ Vuldon muttered. ‘If this person’s as strong as you say he is.’
Urtica began to snicker softly. Then he addressed the surface of his desk. ‘My city is falling. Everything I worked for is failing. Those scum from Caveside need to be eradicated. And this cultist needs to be stopped. I don’t care how — just get it done or I’ll personally see to it that Investigator Fulcrom bears the full weight of my disappointment at your failure.’