Broken Skies Read online

  What she needed to say was terrifying. Lord George and Francis had led their people admirably, but how would they defend against demons? Bastian and Danil would be able to see what was coming, once she’d recovered a little—but would it help them cope?

  Her eyes turned to Marcus. She had no doubt he would stand and fight whatever came their way, but even his sword had its limits.

  “The portals,” Julianne said after a moment. “They’re from another world.”

  Francis sat down, hard. “From another world?” he asked, voice unsteady.

  “Yes.” Julianne leaned back to accept the cold washcloth Polly draped over her forehead. It wouldn’t do much to help with the thumping headache, but at least it felt nice.

  “And you thought I was an idiot for trying to mind-link with a vark, who, as it turns out, is an alien,” Bastian muttered. “Look, Master. I’m expected to do stupid stuff like risk my life in an experiment. You’re supposed to be smarter than that… no offense.”

  Irritation prickled at Julianne, probably because he was right. She’d done something dangerous, and probably stupid, but it had paid off with a warning they’d be stupid to ignore.

  “I’d add my support to Bastian’s comments, but I’m sure you know where I stand.” Danil’s face was dark and angry. “Dammit, Jules! Why didn’t you pull back? We could feel you breaking apart!”

  Julianne shrugged. “I was too close to give up. But… there’s more.” She’d only touched on what Hannah had shared with her. A shudder crept over her skin.

  “More?” Lord George asked. “More than aliens from another world, appearing through portals? I’m beginning to think that your actions will change our world.”

  “Can this wait?” Marcus asked. “Francis, do you have somewhere Jules can lie down?”

  “Shh.” Julianne waved down Francis’s answer. “There’s more. More than little varks and overgrown insects.”

  “What do you mean?” Danil leaned closer, curiosity finally getting the better of him.

  “I mean…” Julianne took a breath, wishing she had the energy to just show them instead of relying on words to convey the impossible. Casting an image spell now was about as possible as flying up to touch the clouds.

  “Go on, my dear,” George said softly.

  “Hannah showed me what else is out there. Demons. Huge, angry demons that lay waste to cities. And a presence, something so evil I couldn’t begin to understand what it was.” Julianne swallowed to hold back the urge to scream. “We have to close that portal. We have to do it now. Before…”

  “Before a demon comes through,” Danil whispered. “Bitch’s oath, Jules. Couldn’t you have just found a nice little planet with friendly paper-munchers?”

  Julianne summoned a wavering smile, and Danil grinned back.

  “Well, then, let’s close this damn thing.” Bastian stood, hands on hips. “I don’t suppose Hannah showed you how?”

  Julianne carefully shook her head. “She just said we have to close the portals. No matter what.”

  He nodded, opened his mouth, then stopped. A moment later his eyes grew wide. “You said portals? Plural. More than one?”

  Julianne blinked slowly, gathering the fractured memories of her desperate conversation with Hannah. “She said… they’re popping up everywhere.”

  Marcus rested his hand on her arm. “That means she’s encountered more than one herself,” he said, looking around. “And knowing Hannah, that means she’s shut down more than one. Probably by herself.”

  “If she can do it, so can we.” Julianne sat a little straighter, feeling hope penetrate the fog in her mind. “There must be a way, or she wouldn’t have suggested it.”

  “Well, then,” Lord George said, some of the color returning to his face. “I suggest we go about finding a way to do so. In the meantime, let’s not scare the people more than needed, eh?”

  Francis nodded. “This must stay between us, at least for now.”

  Bastian glanced out the window. “I agree.”

  Julianne nodded her consent. Together, they would face what was to come, and they would beat it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next morning, Marcus left Julianne with strict instructions to rest as much as she could. She’d fought him, of course—but a meeting scheduled with Lord George should at least keep her out of trouble.

  With a smile of his own, Marcus eased the door shut to Danil’s house and strolled off down the street.

  Despite the news Julianne had delivered, nothing in the town had changed. Why would it? Marcus wondered. Just because I know there are whole other worlds out there—worlds with monsters and Skrima and demons—Tahn has no reason to change.

  The thought reassured him, that no matter what they faced, there would always be places worth protecting.

  He met Garrett at the gate just as Bette was returning from an overnight shift at the portal. The two had been informed of Julianne’s conversation with Hannah, but seemed to have taken it in stride.

  “Good mornin’, ye big lug,” Bette called with a wave. “Don’t let me lieutenant here get ye into any trouble up at the crack!”

  “The crack?” Marcus asked with a sideways glance at Garrett.

  “Aye,” Garrett said mournfully. “She won’t let me call it the vagina, so now it’s the crack—shits out monsters like a rabbit in a field full of laxative carrots.”

  “Yer a dirty minded wee shit, aren’t ye,” Bette teased. “It’s a crack in the air, no cheeks to be seen. Or hair, so we know it’s not Garrett’s crack at least.”

  Marcus shuddered. “Please, no visuals. I’d like to eat again one day.”

  “Oh, but can’t ye just picture runnin’ yer fingers through the silky soft locks?” Garrett asked innocently. “I’ve almost got the ones up close to me nuts long enough to braid.”

  Marcus made a gagging sound and Bette erupted into laughter. “I wish I could tell ye he’s lyin’, but he’s not!”

  “Bitch’s tits, stop!” Marcus pleaded. “If you say another word, you’ll have to explain to Julianne why I suddenly can’t—”

  “Get yer dick up?” Garrett hooted. “There’s a herb for that!”

  “I was going to say keep my food down,” Marcus shot back. He rolled his eyes and waved at Bette. “See you when we get back!”

  “Not if he shows ye his hairy ass—ye’ll spend the rest of yer life blind as Danil is!” Bette walked off laughing so hard she was nearly doubled over.

  “Come on, ye prick. Stop lustin’ over me beautiful ass.” Garrett hoisted his axe over one shoulder and strode off down the road.

  Wiping tears away, Marcus jogged to catch up. “I needed that laugh today,” he admitted. “Bitch’s oath, anything to take my mind off what’s on the other side of that… giant vagina?”

  Garrett snorted. “Ye’ve never seen a thing like it, but that don’t mean we can’t blow the fucker up. I’m a rearick, remember. I’ve spent me whole life blowin’ shit up.” He rubbed his chin. “Not all of it on purpose, mind ye.”

  Buoyed by the rearick’s confidence, Marcus felt the tightness in his chest ease. “So, how are things back here since we left? Apart from the giant vagina-crack, the remnant incursion and those new soldiers George found.”

  “Ye mean the ones that are uglier than the wrong end of a dog?” Garrett asked, scowling. “Aye, fuckin’ peachy.”

  “Woah, what did I step in?” Marcus asked, startled by Garrett’s sudden change in demeanor.

  “Those hired swords aren’t worth the shit they flush down the latrine after bad chowder.” Garrett spat on the road. “Bully boys that never finished on their mother’s teats, if ye ask me.”

  “Bullies?” Marcus asked. “That doesn’t seem like something George would stand for.”

  “He doesn’t know.” Garrett shook his head. “And we can’t prove a damn thing. Seen a hint here and heard a rumor there, nothin’ clear enough ta take ta the old man.”

  “Still,” Marcus said,
“Shouldn’t someone say something?”

  Garrett sucked air between his teeth. “Most likely. We were goin’ to mention it to George this visit. If it comes to a head here, we‘ve got the mystic to crawl in their heads and see who’s a dick and who’s a rotten dick.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out,” Marcus said. “Julianne has already offered some suggestions.”

  “Anything would be an improvement,” Garrett agreed. “As long as Bette don’t kill one of ‘em before we get the chance ta see yer lass’s plans through.”

  “Ah.” Marcus grimaced. “I see.”

  If Bette saw the new guards display anything but their best behavior in the town she was charged with protecting… it might be the guards who needed to be kept safe.

  The walk to the portal was brisk, and Marcus had sweat running down his back by the time they got there. He rested one hand against the watchtower, letting the breeze cool his face.

  “What, a few months on a mountain made ye soft?” Garrett scoffed.

  Marcus straightened. “Soft? No. It’s just a warm day.”

  “Aye, I find meself pinin’ for the cold winds and black toes of the Heights on days like this one,” Garrett said.

  Marcus hesitated. “Black toes? Not exactly what I was missing, you strange little man.”

  “I’m no’ little!” Garrett snapped, then stomped away.

  “Where’s this big vagina?” Marcus called after him.

  Garrett flung an arm up, gesturing Marcus to follow him. Groaning as he left the cool shade, he did so.

  Garrett pushed through some foliage, and Marcus trailed behind. When he got to the clearing just a few feet into the heavy undergrowth, he froze. “What the fuck?”

  He blinked, but the razor-sharp slice taken out of the sky still hung there.

  Garrett laughed. “Aye. That’s what we all said the first time we saw it. Except Mack. I swear on the Bitch’s own boots he said, ‘want to fuck’, not ‘what the fuck’. Mack always did have strange taste in the lasses, though.”

  “Fuck you, tiny man.” Mack waved cheerily at Marcus and headed over. “Watch the hole, Carey!” he called over his shoulder.

  “Watch your own hole,” Carey yelled back, but readied his spear and stood straighter anyway.

  “Bitch’s oath, Garrett,” Marcus said, still staring at the rift. “If you think that’s a vagina, I’d hate to see what you’ve been fucking in your spare time.”

  Mack let out a whoop of laughter as Garrett grumbled under his breath.

  “How does anything fit through there?” Marcus asked. He walked closer, tipping his head to view the rift from different angles. No matter how he looked at it, the opening was paper-thin, and vanished as he tried to view it from the side.

  “It stretches and heaves like a lass givin’ birth,” Garrett explained. “But don’t let Bette know I told ye that. She thinks it’s not polite or some shit.”

  Marcus stepped back. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible passage between worlds. Then, he stepped forwards and lazily swung his arm around, slicing through it with his sword.

  The sword slowed and caught, like a stick trying to cut through quicksand. Unseen forces grabbed at the blade, drawing it in.

  Marcus’s heart raced, and he yanked it back. The sword released with a low ‘pop’ that was felt, rather than heard.

  “Watch this,” Carey said. Without taking his eyes off the rift, he dropped into a squat. One hand felt along the ground until he found a rock. He stood, pointed his spear at the crack to aim, then pelted the stone.

  It flew straight at the portal, which slipped and contorted around the rock. Marcus felt his stomach roil as he walked around. Half of the rock had just… vanished. Gone. Viewed from the right angle, the rock was invisible entirely.

  The portal shuddered, then the rock dropped out with a soggy thud.

  Marcus walked over, leaning as far away from the rift as he could, and kicked the stone closer to the watching men. It was coated in a shimmering red goo.

  They watched as the substance evaporated, leaving a simple, unmarked stone on the ground.

  “That was some creepy-ass shit,” Marcus breathed.

  “Aye! Fun, isn’t it?” Garrett chuckled.

  “Fun?” Marcus murmured, wondering what the hell Craigston was hiding if this was how rearick had ‘fun’.

  Garrett sighed. “Yer a bore.” He turned to Carey and Mack. “You lasses can have a wee break. Us men have grown up things to discuss.”

  Mack snorted. “In other words, piss off, boys, we’re comparing stories about our big vaginas.”

  Carey chuckled and lowered his spear. “Don’t slack off. Bette will have our asses if she finds out we left our positions.”

  “Go fuck yerselves,” Garrett said jovially. Once they were alone, he turned to Marcus.

  “What the fuck are we goin’ to do about this wee thing, eh?” He kicked at the rock and it flung upwards, lodging back into the edge of the rift. A few moments later, it fell back out.

  Marcus approached carefully, one hand raised flat towards the opening. He waved it closer, only a hair’s breadth from touching it. “It pushes the rock out, but it’s not repelling my hand. Does it move at all?”

  “Hasn’t since we’ve been here.” Garrett leaned close, squinting through the narrow gap with one eye. “What are ye thinkin’?”

  “Maybe… we could build a wall. Some kind of barrier to stop anything getting through this end.” Marcus watched the rock until it was clean, then picked it up again. “Has anyone stuck a hand in?”

  “Do ye think we’re fuckin’ stupid?” Garrett squeaked. “Stick a hand it that? I’d rather shove me arm up a remnant’s pussy.”

  “Don’t involve me in your weird fantasies,” Marcus replied. “What if we hold the rock in. Will it shove its way out, or stay there?”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know.” Garrett shrugged quizzically. “Why are ye so damn interested?”

  “If one of those giant Skrima come through, we want to know how much force it would have to withstand. Or, if we bring down a mountain on it and some debris falls in, we need to make sure the whole thing doesn't end up unstable if the portal is shoving stuff back out.” Marcus waited for Garrett to work through his explanation

  Garrett watched as Marcus lifted the rock and pressed it against the portal. The edges shimmered and warped, wrapping around the stone and absorbing it in. Marcus held his hand up, just far enough away to avoid touching the rift itself.

  He waited. The rock pressed gently against his hand but stayed mostly inside the rift.

  “See?” Marcus said. “Now we know we can—”

  The rift warped and shifted, spreading and stretching. The rock tumbled out below Marcus’s hand and he jumped back, startled.

  “Shit! I thought I was gonna—” Marcus scrambled back further as a spindly appendage slithered out of the rift. “What the fuck is that!”

  The stick-like limb was spiked and folded down at the top. The rest of the leg soon followed, along with two bulging eye protrusions and a limp, dangling snout.

  The creature—a Skrima, if Marcus understood correctly—tumbled out and landed on the dirt, dazed. It stood on wobbling legs, eye stalks moving independently of one another.

  Marcus shuffled back, drawing his sword.

  “Don’t be scared, lad,” Garrett chuckled. “They’ve never attacked anyone before.”

  One eye stalk turned towards Garrett. Then, the Skrima attacked.

  It jumped, the deeply folded knees launching it in a blur of speed. Garrett screamed, and Marcus yelled for help, hoping Carey and Mack hadn’t gone far.

  He stabbed with his sword, but it glanced off the hard carapace on the creature’s back. Scissor-like front limbs clawed at Garrett’s neck, and a third pair pinned his wrists to the ground.

  “I wasn’t scared, rearick,” Marcus grunted, slicing at a leg. The shell cracked, oozing deep red ichor, but the creature held on. “I was just being
cautious.”

  “Cautious me the fuck out of here, then,” Garrett called, voice strangled.

  Another sword-swipe dismembered an eye-stalk, and finally, the creature reacted. It launched for Marcus, but he was ready for the speedy attack. He crossed both arms over his chest, gripping his sword tightly.

  The Skrima tore at his forearms, trying to bury into his chest, but he held tight. The small front legs stabbed at his face, only to be fended off by the sword in its way.

  “The eyes!” Marcus yelled. “Go for the eyes!”

  An axe swung straight for Marcus’s face, and he closed his eyes, hoping Julianne would shed at least a few tears at his funeral—if there was enough of him left to bury.

  A wet thud exploded ichor and fluid all over his face. The spiked limbs stopped their urgent rending of his skin, though barbs still clung to his flesh. Marcus coughed and spat, nostrils filled with gunk.

  He rolled, heaving and vomiting the remains of the busted Skrima’s face onto the dirt.

  “Ha! HA!” Garrett danced, waving his axe around. “I told ‘em! I fuckin’ told ‘em all the little pricks were bad news! I was right!”

  “You told me they wouldn’t attack, you limp-dicked, shit-spewing little prick.” Marcus gagged again and spat, trying to remove the acrid taste from his mouth.

  “I’m not the one heavin’ his guts up on the dirt,” Garrett said sagely. He rested the head of his axe on the ground and folded his arms, leaning on it.

  “Fair point,” Marcus gasped. “Next time, I’ll make sure it’s you.”

  Garrett snorted, then helped Marcus to his feet. The rearick spun around. “Picked yer skirts up off the floor, yet, boys?” he bellowed.

  Marcus looked over his shoulder and saw Mack and Carey standing, jaws slack. “How long have they been there?” Marcus asked.

  “Long enough to have saved ye a face full o’ alien squirt,” Garrett snapped.

  “Aliens? You know something we don’t?” Mack said immediately.

  “I know enough to know yer as useful as a couple of tits on a bull, ye wee shite.” Garrett tossed his axe at Mack. “Clean me blade, and make sure ye get all the guts off. And make sure ye scrub Marcus’s yak off the handle!” he yelled after Mack as he walked away, gingerly holding the ichor-soaked axe between two fingers.