The Shattered Lands - Chapter Two

An intern has her first brush with the brutality of the Shattered Lands.

Erika awoke in her parents bed, momentarily lost in the echoes of the dream that had wrapped her up in a blanket of comfort and sweet memory. In the escape of sleep, her mother and father had been bustling around as they always had, arguing with her brothers, making the breakfast of eggs and pickled vegetables, and even a little bacon. The smell of it had made her salivate, and the warm jokes and ribbing had left her eyes watering with laughter.

In the cold daylight, the only smell was the dust. The laughter was silenced. The house was not her parents house, it was just hers.

She wandered down the narrow steps from the bedroom to the kitchen, and cracked an egg into a dirty pan. She stared into space as she waited for the flickering, tiny flame to heat the stove top, and was so lost in memory that she didn’t notice the egg burning.

She reluctantly ate it anyway, then dressed in her third-hand doublet and trousers. Time was pressing her, and with the early morning would come the beginning of the end of her first week of work. The bounty office had taken her on as an intern, because there was little else she could do. She had few skills apart from rudimentary bookkeeping, and she needed to learn as much as she needed to live. Hachi, the proprietor, paid her two silver bits and five copper bits a day, and that was enough to scrape a life if she didn’t mind missing a meal every couple of days.

She stepped out of the door and engaged the heavy, rusted bolt. Dryxovan Island had risen an hour or two before she had, and was full of the morning rush.

She watched people pushing carts and wheelbarrows along the bouncy cobblestones, making for the dockside markets. Coils of rope and bolts in one cluster of the merchants’ carts, jars of vegetables and nuts preserved in vinegar in another, eggs and dried pork in yet another. They all competed with each other for the attention of the visiting airmen, as the dock provided the most lucrative opportunities for the island’s citizens.

Dryxovan Island was one of the only inhabitable islands for fifty miles in every direction, including up and down. Once upon a time it had been a town or city, in the days before the Shattering. Now it was a dense ruin of old hewn stone and damp, with the remains of grand buildings that the people here now struggled to find a use for. Erika’s house had once been part of a school, she was sure of it. Workmen had converted what rooms they could into houses, fixing wooden slat roofs over smashed or crumbled ceilings, fitting or carving stairs for those that could afford a second level. In some of the rooms that still lay in ruin, Erika and her brothers had explored and found drawings on some of the walls, clearly made by children younger than them, in eons past. In others there had been carvings of names inside lovehearts, etchings of stick figure warriors fighting great beasts, even an old book or two that was falling apart, the pages faded and flaking like ashes in a fire.

The dock was next to a grand, dome-like structure, with writing emblazoned on its curved walls that no-one was able to read. The tongue had died when the city had been wrecked, more than likely. Erika gazed at it as she strode down the cobbles, peeking above the ruins around her that contained even more houses, urban farmsteads, and even small eateries, general stores and taverns.

What it had been used for in the past was a mystery, but in the great dome nowadays, mummers and musicians performed inside on the raised platform at its centre, taking advantage of the striking way that sound swirled around the curved walls and filled the entire building. When standing on that platform, a whisper would be easily heard by someone touching the outer wall. When a concert played, the music would drift over the city ruins like a fog, and gave Erika what little comfort she could find in this place. She would lean on the wall by her small window and hum along to the songs, or sing the ones she knew.

Hounds huffed and panted at her as she passed by the homes and dwellings they were guarding, and she patted the ones that allowed her to. They knew her scent by now. She welcomed their natural warmth, there was precious little of it on the island in general.

Once she was clear of the dwellings, the walk always felt longer. The bounty office was on the other side of the docks from the dome, and the constant noise and hollering always made her uncomfortable. Lately, the other factor dragging her feet was the work waiting for her. In the week that had passed, only two bounties had come in, both for stolen cargo, and Hachi had been the one to deal with them. She had been left to log the recoveries on paper, the process of which seemed to be an infinity of minutia that never got any less dull and only grew more difficult. At the very least it was improving her reading.

The dockyard itself was a wide, flat plain of smooth stonework almost a mile across. Airships and hot-air balloons settled into berths marked by repair sheds and flaking paint. The balloons could land straight on their flat-bottomed baskets, whereas the airships had to settle in semi-circular iron frames, which could be adjusted to fit the width of the hull. The far side of the yard was the empty edge of Dryxovan Island. The ruins and the ground simply stopped, and became a jagged, rocky cliff-face leading downwards. It was as if some great beast had chomped down on the edge of the ruin and flown away to dine on it.

Erika walked around the periphery of the yard, in no mood for the whistles and fancies of the airmen, and especially the occasional pats on the rear from the more lecherous men and women among them. The yard was busy that morning. Cargo ships had arrived and were being unloaded of their food and iron ingots, as well as oil and flour. Two ramshackle airships were sitting on either side of a hot-air balloon, a deep purple mess of canvas, the sails and the deflated dirigible draped over the basket. The town guard had three of their airships and a balloon out in the yard for repairs and general maintenance.

She didn’t recognise the men and women working on them at that distance, although her friend Artor was probably among them. He typically worked the mornings, up until the late afternoon, same as her, and they always made time to eat together after the long working day.

She trudged up the steps to the office, and pushed the door open.

Hachi frowned up at her, his forehead fat crinkling. He was the only person she knew who had managed to eat enough to have a layer of fat on areas of his body that were meant to be pure bone. She was so distracted by him that she didn’t register at first that he wasn’t alone.

The man had his back to her. He wore a wide brimmed, black hat, and a heavy coat that stretched down his back. The handle of a sword was poking up from the space between the collar of it and the collar of his tunic at the back of his neck. He was tall, and his hair was short and dark brown. His skin had a gentle tan to it from long periods in the open air, as many airmen had. In his hand he carried a black strongbox, hand tight around the handle.

His head turned so one of his ears was facing her. The movement was quick and alert, and Erika instantly knew that this man was a far different prospect than the two who had been to the office previously.

“You’re late!” Hachi barked at her.

“I’m sorry, Hachi. I was … I’m sorry.”

“Get on the record book! Go on, chop chop!”

Erika ran around the desk and dragged a chair over to sit beside him. The record book was open in front of Hachi’s ample gut, and she dragged it over in front of her, dipping a feather quill in a pot of black ink.

“No smudging!” Hachi chunnered, poking her with a finger. The bounty hunter on the other side of the desk didn’t move. Erika’s eyes slowly stole a glance at him. He wasn’t regarding her at all. He had fair green eyes that didn’t waver from Hachi at all, with wrinkles at the corners. A well maintained shrub of facial hair adorned his cheeks and chin. He was on the older side of young, roughly in his thirtieth year.

“New intern?”

His voice was quiet and calm, his mouth twitching out the words.

“Oh, pay her no mind. At the top, girl! Master Rand Irellian is the name, write it bold.”

“Are you going to make me repeat myself, Hachi?” The bounty hunter muttered.

Hachi waved a hand. “No, no. Erika, the bounty to be collected is on Vriess, a brigand who plagues the aerspace between Dryxovan, Senon and Ulverland.”

“Plagued,” Rand Irellian murmured.

Erika jumped up and ran to the bounty board. It took up an entire wall of the office, a soft wooden set of planks with scraps and sheets of hempen parchment and paper pinned to it. Vriess had one of the larger sheets, listing a series of crimes. She glanced at it as she worked the pin out. Piracy, larceny, rape, murder, kidnapping, participation in siege action. Wanted dead or alive, with a bounty of forty gold bits.

There was a caution listed as well. Captain Vriess had a crew, and was part of what was believed to be a larger gang of brigands. It was recommended to engage him with at least one airship and crew of one’s own, and to show no mercy.

“Hurry up!”

Erika yanked out the pin and rushed back over with the bounty sheet.

Hachi glared at her and then up at the bounty hunter. “I apologise, Mister Irellian, as I said she is brand new.”

The bounty hunter shrugged one shoulder and put the strongbox on the desk. “Proof of identification.”

Hachi cleared his throat and huffed as he struggled to his feet.

“You want me to put it on the floor so you don’t have to get up?” The bounty hunter muttered.

Hachi sank back down into the chair and smiled, showing his sugar-cracked teeth. “If you wouldn’t mind. Erika, the description please.”

As the bounty hunter rolled his eyes and lowered the strongbox to the floor, Erika read aloud: “Distinguishing features: teeth filed to points, skin pallor and blo … blot …”

“Blotchiness,” the bounty hunter murmured.

Erika glanced up at him. “Th…thank you. Skin pallor and … blotchiness consis … consistent with powder use. Hair shaven, tattoo on the top of his head in oil ink, in the shape of a spiral.”

The bounty hunter undid the latch on the strongbox, and Hachi leaned over with a groan of back pain.

“Hmm…” Hachi muttered. “The description seems to match … of course, you could have dressed up any poor bastard’s head to look like Vriess.”

“That amount of oil ink costs more than the bounty,” the hunter stated calmly.

Hachi muttered something incoherent.

Irellian nodded at the contents of the box. “If that isn’t sufficient, I have other means of identifying Vriess … his ship, his belongings, his crew of miscreants. There are also bounties on their heads, I believe.”

Hachi waved his hand. “Well, that will have to be verified as well.”

“Two airships for salvage as well, one of them undamaged. Worth quite a pretty handful of bits each, especially considering Vriess’s is armed. I could always go to the dock master here and get the salvage fee …”

Hachi chuckled, his fat bubbling and quivering with the movement. “If they are indeed flight-worthy, Irellian. You’ve been known to give over an apple or two with maggots at the core.”

The bounty hunter folded his arms. “Why do I get the impression that you just don’t want to get up?”

Hachi spread his meaty hands.

“That’s what the interns are for, I suppose.” Irellian’s eyes fixed on Erika for the first time.

“She’s new,” Hachi grumbled again.

“You mentioned.”

“Doesn’t know a balloon from a bundle of sticks.”

“She has the bounty notice, she can verify everything.”

“The girl can barely read…”

“Then this will be good practice.”

Hachi grumbled unintelligibly again, and pushed Erika out of her chair.

“Go on then, go with him.”

Erika swallowed and stood. The bounty hunter was already making for the door. She clutched the bounty notice in her hand and followed.

As she glanced back at Hachi’s irritated face, her eyes found the open strongbox. A pair of sunken, human eyes stared out at her, a slack mouth gaping, with pointed teeth, and a bald head covered with a jet black spiral tattoo.

She jumped and stumbled back, her heart leaping into her throat. Her head began to spin, and a hand gripped her shoulder tightly. It belonged to Irellian.

“He’s not worth your discomfort,” he muttered. “The fresh air will help.”

He dragged her out of the door. The chilly air caught her cold sweat and chilled her to the bone, and it seemed to jolt some sense back into her.

Irellian let her go. She backed away from him a step.

He raised an eyebrow, and gestured towards the dockyard.

“Let’s get this over with.”

She followed his quick stride at a jog. He moved between the airships of the town guard, ignoring their scrutinising looks and their words of challenge. Erika spotted Artor carrying a heavy crate of munitions, grunting as the sweat soaked his tunic. He spotted her as he put the crate down on the top deck of the nearest craft, and leaned over to grin down at her. His eyes narrowed at the bounty hunter leading the way.

Then they had passed them by, and were making straight for the two older ships she had seen before, on either side of the purple balloon.

The first had clearly been beaten to death. There were wide, jagged holes in the hull. The name painted on the side was half blown away, only the letters AIL were visible.

Irellian climbed a ladder attached to the docking frame, and disappeared onto the top deck. Erika followed, folding the bounty notice and stuffing it into a pocket.

As she struggled over the railing, the smell hit her. Coppery, and like an outhouse and old coals. Red and brown smears covered the wooden deck.

As she slowly walked over to the bounty hunter, he was starting to climb down through a hatch, into a sub-deck. The smell down there was better, but here there was a hint of rotten meat that hovered behind a general scent of sweet and savoury spices.

It was a cargo bay, full of barrels tied together with hempen rope. There were a hundred or more against each wall. Some of them had exploded and sprayed their contents all over the hold: varying fine powders of multiple colours, as well as grains of salt and sugar.

“Quite the salvage, I’m sure you agree,” Irellian muttered. “According to the manifest: salt, sugar, saffron, dried pepper, dried garlic, dried ginger, things like that.”

He handed her two small books, the manifest and the captain’s log.

“Ship was the Swallowtail, five days out of port at Senon, bound for the upper tiers of Mihre. She’ll still fly, but she’ll need patching up. There’ll be a reward for the cargo, probably a hefty one if it was going to the wealthy, but the spices are valuable enough to hold onto for a while. I know Hachi likes his ginger and garlic, he thinks it helps his gout.”

He nodded to the fore of the ship, where four bundles lay wrapped in canvas. Erika realised after a moment that they were four corpses, and accounted for the rotten smell. She chewed her lip.

“They’re for burial or burning, whatever rites the families choose. Couldn’t do much for the rest, Vriess’s men were dumping them over the side when I caught up to them. Are you getting all this?”

Erika nodded quickly. Irellian looked at her piercingly, and gestured to the ladder. “Onto the next one.”

Erika hurried up the ladder and walked quickly to the side of the wreck. As she went, her foot skidded in something wet and awful, and she almost tumbled over.

Irellian walked calmly after her, and led her around to the second airship. This one had a single deck, with a shed on top acting as a cabin. The words The Cold Bich were emblazoned across the side in black letters. Predatory eyes were painted on either side of the fore hull, with jagged teeth around the bottom.

“They misspelled ‘bitch’, as you can see,” Irellian muttered. “Unless Bich is slang for something worse.”

“I… don’t know.”

He led the way onto the deck. The ship was undamaged, and a little less blood-soaked than the other, but the smell was far more potent.

The cannon at the centre of the deck, near the burner, was spattered with gore, as was the helm and the mooring ropes on the port side.

The stink grew stronger as Irellian led her across to the cabin. She was shuddering as he pulled open the door.

Six mangled corpses lay piled on the floor, with a seventh on the moth-eaten bed. That one had no head, and a hole in its chest so big that Erika could see the blanket beneath it. The rest of them were no better. The two thinnest, both young men, also had holes blown right through them. Their bloated skin was as blotchy as their captain’s, from powder and rot. Another thin one was missing the top of his head, tongue lolling at her on top of the broken teeth on a bottom jaw. Two warriors in armour had also suffered a similar fate. One’s skull had been reduced to mush, while the other’s head had been entirely separated from her shoulders, resting on her chest on its side.

Erika’s eyes fell on the last one, a girl about her age … not a woman yet, still a girl. The right side of her head was gone, leaving a bloody cavity, with one remaining eye staring at the floor.

Erika covered her mouth from the stink and the shock. Her head began swimming, the sound of rushing water filled her ears.

She stared at the dead girl, and kept staring. How had she gotten into this position, laying without dignity on the floor of a cabin, and left to rot. What could the bounty on her head have been? How many silver or copper bits was worth the snuffing out of her life?

Irellian pushed her backwards and closed the door, yet the stink remained.

“Vriess’s crew are worth at least as much as he is. I want a fee for them, both ships, and the Swallowtail’s cargo.”

Erika blinked and looked up at him in horror.

“You need me to tell you again?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she shook her head. She retched, and he took a handful of her doublet, and dragged her back down the ladder onto solid ground.

It wasn’t quite enough to keep her eggs in her stomach. They spattered onto the flagstones, but she didn’t dare fall down in front of him.

“First time around the dead?”

Erika looked up at him and shook her head.

There was no gentility or compassion in his voice or his face.

“First time around someone like me?”

She swallowed burning bile, and gave a single nod.

Irellian’s eyes remained cold. “You work in a bounty office. Get used to it.”

No words passed between them on their way back to Hachi. Artor caught her eye from the top deck of the nearest guard ship, frowning at her in concern. She tried to smile at him, but it died long before it got anywhere near her lips. He made for the exit ladder, before the guard captain collared him and told him to get back to work.

Rand Irellian’s stride never faltered. He leaped up the stairs and opened the door without leaving it open for her.

Hachi peered up at both of them, focusing particularly on Erika. She must have been pale and sickly, because his eyes narrowed in concern for the first time in their brief working relationship.

“Well?” Hachi asked.

Erika nodded. She put the bounty notice on the desk, which was damp with the sweat on her palms.

“Sit down,” Irellian murmured. His hand opened and touched the small of her back, also damp with her sweat. She trudged around the desk, and sat down heavily. Immediately, she saw what was on Hachi’s lap, hidden by the desk: a blunderbuss.

It was loaded and cocked, and sweat poured fresh from her forehead. The bounty hunter had taken care of seven brigands seemingly with ease, brigands that should have only been engaged by superior numbers. Hachi was wider than he was tall and could barely walk across a room without his heart threatening to pop, and she was no older than the girl he had killed already.

Irellian nodded to her, oblivious to the danger, and refocused on Hachi.

“Now, pay me, and next time send someone with a stronger stomach.”

Hachi nodded. “Let’s discuss the price, then.”

“There’s no discussion to be had, Hachi. The bounty on Vriess is forty gold bits. His crew are worth the same at least. There are also two ships and a cargo of spice for salvage. It’s more than you’d usually get out of a dead brigand.”

“More than I’d be expected to pay for any simple bounty, though, eh? More difficult questions for me to answer … and forty gold bits for a group of dead powder snorters?”

“A group or murdering, raping maniacs, led by a murdering, raping maniac.”

Hachi sniffed. “Forty for Vriess, I fully agree. Ten for his crew, fifty for both ships. That’s a total of a hundred gold bits.”

“I’d get a hundred gold bits from the dockyard, and another hundred for the spices. Believe it or not, big man, I’m doing you a favour, and making you money … but only if you’re going to compensate me accordingly.”

Hachi sniffed, and made a show of considering it. “Then we’ll call it a hundred gold bits total, and your life.”

He brought up the blunderbuss, and pointed it at Irellian’s chest. It rested against the table.

Irellian looked at it, then at Hachi. He showed no fear or uneasiness at the weapon. He raised his hand slowly towards Erika, and shooed her away from the desk. Hachi frowned as she slowly stood up, and backed away from the table, heart in her throat.

“A threat for the sake of a few more gold bits?”

“Just another bargaining tool, Irellian. I know you well enough to know that you’ll take what you can’t get fairly.”

Irellian’s eyes went cold, but his voice stayed soft. “Who have you been talking to, hmm? Have I ever given you anything but fair treatment?”

Hachi grinned. “Take it or leave it. A deals a deal.”

“It’s not much of a deal for me.”

“Then open a new bounty office on Dryxovan. A hundred and your life.”

Erika began shaking. “Hachi…”

“Stay out of this, girl. Watch and learn, like you’re s’posed to.”

Irellian was still unmoved, but a change had begun. His shadow, cast from the morning light coming through the window, began to lengthen. For the first time, his voice took on a razor-like edge. “Don’t push it.”

Erika stepped away until her back touched the bounty board. Hachi swallowed, and the barrel of the blunderbuss began to tremble.

“That boom-stick is a single shooter, isn’t it?”

Erika squinted, sweat running into her eyes. It looked for a moment as if Irellian’s eyes had changed, were changing and twisting as she watched. When he spoke again, there was something behind his voice, as if it were not just him speaking. It seemed deeper, and sharper, piercing like a needle.

“You had better not miss, fat man.”

Hachi’s jaw was twisted, his eyes bulging in terror. He released the hammer on the blunderbuss, let go of the trigger, and lay it flat on the desk in front of him.

“A hundred and fifty gold bits,” Irellian said, his voice calm once again. “I get appropriate compensation for my time and effort, you get a potential fifty gold bits profit for the salvage you take off my hands. Better yet, no-one has to inconvenience anyone else with a loaded firearm.”

Hachi swallowed. He was breathing heavily, snorting like a hog. “Erika … get the man’s money.”

Erika bolted from the room and through to the back room. She unlocked the chest where the strongboxes were kept, fingers fumbling with the keys. She unlocked the strongbox containing the gold bits and attempted to count them out, expecting at any moment to hear the boom of the blunderbuss. She lost count twice, and when she finally thought she had it right, she tipped the bits into a pouch and hesitantly peered back into the office.

Irellian was waiting patiently, his arms loose at his sides, looking both at Hachi and towards her as she looked out at him. Hachi’s eyes were fixed on the table, and the blunderbuss was nowhere to be seen.

Erika walked out slowly and held out the pouch. Irellian took it in one hand. As he did so, his coat moved open, and she caught sight of a pistol holstered at his hip, and another under his arm. She backed away again.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I’ll count it myself, of course.”

Erika swallowed and nodded.

He turned to Hachi. “That’s not the first time you’ve tried that with me, though the blunderbuss is a nice new touch. Don’t try it again, or you’ll make me irate.”

Hachi pursed his lips, and nodded, but said nothing.

Irellian turned and pushed the door open, striding out into the morning as if nothing untoward had happened. Hachi was still trembling a little, until he seemed to notice that she was there.

“Damn it all, girl, get to the dock master and tell him about those airships and spices! Now! And I don’t want a bit of copper less than a hundred gold bits for the ships.”

Erika hurried out of the door, and he shouted after her. “And send a missive to Mihre about those spices!”