Broken Realms by Various

Author:Various
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-28T00:00:00+00:00

MARKED FOR DEATH

Laglo’s place was loud, the Bugmansson’s draught in her tankard was rich and strong, and Admiral Imoda Barrasdottr was some distance from sobriety. A pint or ten helped these days, with the memories. The conversation droned on around her.

‘Everything’s spun about,’ Admiral Ruftsson was saying, grinding the heel of one palm into an empty eye socket. ‘The sky-lanes in flames. Seven of the Zilfin council dead, and the Sunderer destroyed. Two seats on the Geldraad to those wazzocks from Barak-Mhornar.’

‘In strife, there is opportunity,’ said Admiral Brulf, wagging a gloved finger. ‘The aether-streams are settling at last, and Barak-Zilfin’s already claimed more than her fair share. We’ve gained a seat at the high table ourselves, don’t forget.’

Ruftsson grunted, seemingly annoyed at this reminder that not all was disastrous. Imoda watched him reach into a pocket of his flight suit and retrieve his aethermatic eye-piece, jamming it into place. It whirred and clicked before fixing on her.

‘Of course, there’s some that’s made their fortune out of all this,’ Ruftsson said. ‘Like the good Admiral Imoda here. I hear tell the Council’s granted you the lease of two brand-new Frigates, fresh from the dockyard. Up-gunned and swift as a Hyshian zephyr, so it’s said. Fortune shines on some more than others, doesn’t it?’

The old greybeard could barely hide his envy. Ruftsson was an old hand, a steady sky-dog who could be relied upon to keep his margins stable and his hull filled with aether-gold. But he was never going to rise any further than his current station. He lacked imagination. And dash.

Imoda smiled bitterly as she leaned forwards, running a hand through her hair. She was barely half Ruftsson’s age, but she had a whiter mane than he, and her face was deeply lined and pallid. This was no natural weathering, but the result of her last voyage – a journey that had taken her damned close to oblivion.

‘Talk to me of my good fortune, oh wise one,’ she snarled. ‘Perhaps you’d say the same of my crew, or those few that survived that flight through the Granthium Mountains, with gheists and uzkuldrakk and Grungni alone knows what else at our heels.’

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Grutti Fadrunsdotr standing over her. Her first mate wore a familiar look of concern upon her angular face.

‘Admiral, the repairs are complete,’ Grutti said. ‘The Intaglio is sky-ready again. Mayhaps you’d like to look her over yourself?’

Imoda favoured Admiral Ruftsson with another sour look. The old greybeard matched her with a glare of his own, while Admiral Brulf simply shook his head and took another swig of fire-ale. This was not the first time Imoda had lost her patience in recent days. She rose abruptly from her chair, sending it skidding backwards across the polished stone floor.

‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Apologies, friends, for my ill temper. I’ve shares in this establishment. Tell Laglo I said your drinks are on me for the evening. Time for me to retire to my cabin, I think.

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