The Broken Isles (Legends of the Red Sun 4) by Mark Charan Newton

worries.
    *
    Screams woke him.
    He bolted upright, the blankets sliding off him. Lan was already awake, rolling the sheet back, letting in the noise from the clearing: to one side, the land-vehicles were lined up behind each
other; to the other, people were beginning to surge forwards.
    Fulcrom stumbled up, brushing his clothes. He wrapped up the blankets and bundled them into a small bag, which he slung across his back, then picked up his crossbow, bolts, and a blade.
    ‘What’s going on?’ he called out, though no soldiers were nearby.
    Lan and Fulcrom watched in confusion – it was still dark, and campfires had become smouldering ash piles. One of the moons was overhead, its faint glow cast down upon the scene. There must
have been a hundred people moving to scramble to the other side of the land-vehicles. A few soldiers on horseback rode back the other way with their weapons at the ready.
    ‘Can you see Tane?’ Lan asked.
    ‘No,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘Are they coming for us? I can’t see anything.’
    Lan craned her neck to look up. ‘Not from the air at least. I’m going to see what’s going on.’ With that, she bounded up towards one of the land-vehicles, used one of its
wheels for leverage and took huge arcs through the air and out of sight.
    If only I had such powers , Fulcrom thought, as he trudged over the ice-cold mud. His pulse racing, he headed towards a family pulling their small handcart hastily through the
clearing.
    ‘What’s going on?’ Fulcrom asked.
    The father, a slender, bearded man in a baggy jumper, stopped and urged his family to go on. ‘I’ll catch up.’ Then, to Fulcrom, ‘There’s word of things coming out
of the far end of the forest, sir.’
    ‘Things?’ Fulcrom asked. ‘What things ?’
    The man shrugged. His eyes looked tired. ‘I’ve only heard word, like. I don’t know really. We’re just getting the hell out of here before the sun rises.’
    ‘Can you give me any description?’ Fulcrom asked, wanting to shake the man. ‘I need something to go on, anything.’
    ‘Word . . . word is that ghosts have started attacking, that’s all, sir, I swear.’ The man looked this way and that, then back to his family.
    ‘Thank you,’ Fulcrom sighed, gesturing for him to return.
    People swarmed past now, and Fulcrom began hassling others at random to ask them what they had seen. Again, only the suggestion of ghosts. Spectres. Glowing things. Only hearsay, nothing
definite, which frustrated him.
    Fulcrom jogged towards the head of the convoy, away from the noises, where dozens of soldiers had now stationed themselves, but had not yet moved into action – instead they were slouching
by one of the fires. Further up, standing alongside the front leg of the furthest horse, Frater Mercury stared out into the darkness.
    The soldiers stood to regard Fulcrom.
    What the fuck are they doing just lying around? he thought to himself. ‘Evening,’ Fulcrom announced, ‘we’ve reports of events at the western end of the convoy.
People are looking for help.’
    ‘We don’t know what to do,’ one of the younger men said. ‘We’re waiting for orders.’
    ‘You pick up your swords and bows and you help them,’ Fulcrom urged.
    Two looked at each other, another one – older – seemed to get the idea. ‘Gather all those wearing Empire colours like before.’
    Fulcrom nodded. ‘Good, and hurry. I’ve heard odd reports of spectres – which sounds different from what we’ve dealt with before.’
    The soldiers split up – some went to locate their horses, others moved on foot. Ahead of the convoy lay the limits of the woodland and, beyond, the vast expanse of grassland and tundra,
much of it buried underneath snow. There were no lights of towns or villages, only darkness.
    Fulcrom headed up towards Frater Mercury, moving around the legs of the gargantuan horse, which seemed to remain so still it was statue-like.
    When Frater Mercury spoke it was directly into Fulcrom’s