The Conquering of the Brokenhood
I am Bortor. Read my words and be my friend.In this paper I shall write of the true story of the conquering of my home, the Brokenhood. As painful as the memories are, the truth must be preserved. I fear for my life in the following days, so I entrust the tale to a sheet of paper. I can only hope that it will find its receiver.
In my life I have travelled great distances over the klay universe and I have seen how the Empire devoured everything around it. Only once did I dare to cross its border. I intended to scout the Empire's inside strength and technology, but I was captured. Barely managing to escape, I never set my foot on the Empire's land again. Until the year 868, when there was nowhere left to run.
During the course of a year, the isle of Brokenhood traverses through the universe at great speed. Due to this speed, it's hard to land and disembark with any kind of vessel. If you chase the island from behind, it will fly out of your reach. If you come to meet it head front, you will be smashed to pieces. This kept my homeland safely out of the reach of the Empire until Scout 1 was invented, an aircraft that matched the speed of the Brokenhood and could land without much trouble.
My family wasn't as ignorant of the dire situation of the klay universe as our dearest neighbours Neverhoodians. We were ready to defend our land in time of need. My father Ottoborg and my twin brothers Ottimo and Tuborg had constructed five robots for both defensive and offensive purposes. In defiance to the Guardians who lived on the Neverhood and did naught to protect us, we called these robots Guardians as well. We were prepared for warfare. At least we thought that.
Father and the twins considered our five Guardians unbeatable. The ground shook under their powerful legs and their metal coats shone like gold. But there was one thing that my foolish family didn't take into account. Ever since the time when my father created his first kingdom, he had a habit of placing a Good/Bad switch inside every robot he made. He argued that this option was an alternative to being able to choose between good and bad as an artificial being. My twin brothers added another, far heavier argument: the robots used up three times as much energy when they were set to Good. Therefore, during the time when they weren't needed, it was desirable to have them run in Bad mode, making them broody and lazy. They could always be set back to Good should something happen, my brothers said.
I was never as into robotics as my father and the twins were, so in their eyes I wasn't qualified to protest against this arrangement. My objections that the switch was an obvious weakness were ignored, both by the three mechanics and by the rest of my family. Needless to say, time proved me right. But it was a proof that I would rather have done without.
Having next to no sources of trustworthy information on the Empire, we weren't aware of the construction of the Scout 1 aircraft and we didn't hedge against a sabotage. We thought that the only usable passage to the Brokenhood lead through a teleporter on the Neverhood and that was heavily guarded both by the local Guardians and by Hoborg. What was more, we were confident that the Neverhood had still not been found amidst the large Neverhood nebula, so we considered ourselves completely safe.
On a winter day in 868, we woke up to find all five of our Guardians missing. There had been a blizzard on the previous night, so all tracks were covered in fresh snow and we didn't even know where to start searching. When we discovered a foreign aircraft with imperial insignia, we realised that we had been had. Someone had landed on the Brokenhood during the night and persuaded our “Bad” Guardians to follow him. We were defenceless.
Even so, we had no intention to give up. We made our way back home as fast as we could. The twins were already discussing possible ways to defend the castle without the use of robots. Even though I had never been too fond of the two of them, at that moment I was amazed with their ideas and creativity. They were already better creators than my father. Not because they were more powerful. They were simply sane enough to use everything they had got. I believe that father was too mad to make use of the incredible power he had at his disposal.
Anticipating the worst, father sped us along our way until we nearly ran. Breathless, we arrived at the castle. But we were too late. The enemy had been waiting for us to dispatch in search of the missing robots. While we were away, he had taken my youngest brother Gred along with our Neverhoodian chamberlain Alan.
I was shaken, as everyone was, but I wasn't surprised. I was only mad at myself for not seeing it coming. In retrospect our mistake was painfully evident. We had given the enemy a perfect opportunity to take a hostage. Gred was the obvious choice, since he was the weakest household member. It was strange, however, that Alan had been kidnapped as well. The aircraft we had found in the wilderness was built for one person. I couldn't believe that a strong, healthy Neverhoodian could have been overcome by a single man.
We hid in the castle, trying to figure out what to do. In one blow, we had lost the cook and the chamberlain and we were gradually losing the lord of the house as well. Mother was doing all she could to calm father down, but despite her efforts his mental state was worsening. It was only a matter of time before he did something irrational.
An hour upon our return, we received a message suggesting we negotiate. My mother and sister were strongly against it, arguing that we should wait it out. The perpetrator couldn't last for long. In winter time the wilderness was a harsh place. If he didn't starve to death, he would freeze, they said.
The twins, on the other hand, wanted to reclaim Gred and Alan as soon as possible. Their point of view was that if one aircraft landed, more would come in time. The sooner we tried, the greater chance we would have, they reasoned.
The argument dragged on. I refused to back up either side, since the benefits of leaving the safety of the castle depended solely on the number of enemies. My opinion, therefore, was that we should scout the island first. While at it, we could even stumble upon our Guardians, which would bring us a considerable advantage. It was shirt-sighted to try anything before knowing our situation.
Yet suddenly, father stepped in. He declared that the number of enemies was of no consequence. He would not let his family be taken away a second time. He would fight along with the twins.
We were so happy about father's recovery that we agreed to begin the negotiations at once. The enemy was waiting outside our walled gardens, which were currently covered in snow. We came out to meet him, confident that if the negotiations failed, we could always defeat him by force. But we didn't expect what we saw. And we weren't prepared.
In front of the main gate, there was a person clad entirely in fur, facial features or even race unrecognisable under a leather helmet. Gred was standing to his right. My brother's hands were shackled behind his back and he was shivering in the cold wind. To the pilot's left, Alan was kneeling in the snow, immobilised completely by a knot binding his wrists to his ankles. When I saw his state, I felt sick. His entire body was covered in long reddish bruises. Whip marks, I realised. Made by a whip infused with a potent poison, since they weren't regenerating. The enemy had been prepared to face a Neverhoodian and he had hurt Alan until he could barely lift his head.
Startled as we were by Alan's appearance, the negotiations didn't go well. The twins were too shaken to be of any help, mother was too angry and sister was too horrified. The only one who kept his head reasonably clear was father. Unfortunately he was never exactly a voice of reason. While he and the enemy were arguing, I weighed the situation. Gred seemed unharmed, which was good. Alan was definitely in pain but it didn't stop him from exchanging eye signals with the twins, so he couldn't have been too bad off either. My greatest concern was how close the pilot kept Gred. The chain which was binding Gred's hands most likely ended in the pilot's fist. He was going to use my brother as a shield in case we tried anything.
To my side, the twins entwined their hands. They were ready to take action.
The ground under the pilot's feet reared, knocking him off balance. At the same time a wave of snow rose behind Alan and it carried him toward us. The twins extended their arms toward the pilot and the snow around his ankles melted and crawled up his legs, soaking his clothes and freezing him to the bone. Mother let out an enraged cry and she charged at the enemy, swinging a frying pan.
But the pilot was unfazed. He jerked the chain in his hand backward, making Gred stumble toward him, and he pinned my brother against his chest. Gred cried out in shock but he fell silent when the pilot put a knife against his throat.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
Mother came to a sliding halt a few steps before the pilot. The twins swore simultaneously. Father yelled something and broke into a run, but before he could make a step, I grabbed his hand and pulled him back. That wasn't good. That was not good at all.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my sister rushing to Alan's side. While maintaining a hold on father's wrist, I took a small knife out of my belt pocket and I threw it to her feet. She picked it up and began cutting Alan's ties.
“I was hoping that you would be more cooperative,” the pilot sneered. His teeth were chattering. The twins had stopped creating when the knife made its appearance, but they had managed to freeze the pilot's legs all the way up to his thighs. He couldn't move and, moreover, it wouldn't be long before hypothermia got him. We had him cornered.
And so he did the only thing that he still could.
Bad Ending
Good Ending
“You forced me to do this,” he spat, staring father dead in the eye. And then he slitted Gred's throat.
Mother and sister shrieked. The twins cried out: “No!” I was about to charge forward and avenge Gred with my other, bigger knife. But then I saw father's expression. Face contorted with utter terror, father was gasping for air. I let go of his hand unconsciously and he sagged to his knees.
“You can still save him, you know,” the pilot hissed, eyes fixed on my father. “Surrender and I will return your son to you.”
Suddenly I realised the horrible truth. This had been his plan all along, to take advantage of father's instability. To scare him into submission. I wasn't going to let that happen.
“Dad,” I said insistently and I grabbed his shoulder. “Don't listen to him. We can still win this fight.”
But father only shook his head. “Don't... please don't... not again...”
I pressed his shoulder as hard as I could and I shouted at him: “Dad, look at me! Listen to me! We are still here with you! Don't give up!”
The rest of my family became aware of the most imminent danger as well and they came to my side to convince father that everything was not lost yet. But he wasn't listening. He was muttering under his breath, moaning, his eyes flickering about. I heard him saying: “Please don't take my children. Whatever happens, please don't take my children.” And then: “I will do anything.”
“Anything?” the pilot echoed.
As my father was replying “yes, anything”, my mother came to stand between him and the pilot. She outstretched her hands in a gesture of protection and through gritted teeth she said: “No, you won't.”
Releasing a low growl, the pilot gripped the curl on Gred's head. My little brother whimpered with pain as he was lifted into the air by his head, his lacerated throat opening up and tearing. For a moment I saw red. All I wanted was to grab my knife and gut the bastard. But then I remembered that the twins should have been prepared for this kind of situation. Now was the time to execute whatever plan they had in case negotiations went awry.
“Guys,” I hissed at Ottimo and Tuborg.
They nodded. “We're on it,” Tuborg whispered. Yet despite having said that, they did nothing but crouch by father's side and stare at the pilot's feet.
To tell the truth, they didn't seem to have a plan ready. They seemed to be trying hard to come up with something – and failing. A few heavy, suffocating seconds passed. Then I noticed that furtive gesture. They were holding hands behind father's back.
Suddenly I knew what Ottimo and Tuborg were trying to do. They were attempting to create without using their palm eyes. I had witnessed them do it once before, but back then they were positive that they couldn't repeat the feat. The sheer amount of willpower required was ridiculous. And willpower was never their forte.
I had to act. The pilot was placing his other hand on Gred's shoulders and slowly pushing down. At this rate he would tear Gred's head clear off his shoulders before the twins managed anything.
“W-wait,” I called out, stepping forward. My family gave me an incredulous look. I walked around my mother, who was watching me with alarmed eyes, and I stood before the pilot. “We... we won't cause you any trouble. We just want... I just want... Gred back.”
“Bortor, what are you doing?” someone said behind me.
“Just please... return my little brother,” I begged, carefully avoiding the sight of Gred's mangled neck.
“Surrender,” was the only thing the pilot said. I shut my eyes tight and I nodded.
“Bortor!” Ottimo or Tuborg called out behind me. At the same time, a snowball rose into the air behind the pilot's head. That was the signal.
As the snowball hit the back of the pilot's leather helmet, I slipped my hand into my belt pocket. The pilot yelled with irritation when he saw me throw a knife. He pulled Gred up to cover his body – but the knife was thrown to miss. By the time the enemy realised that the knife had been a deploy, two axes had sprung in the air from the snow on both his sides. With a sickening crunch, the pilot's arms were chopped clear off. I bolted forward and snatched Gred before he hit the ground. The enemy could only roar in rage as I carried my little brother to safety.
On my way back to my family, I passed Ottimo and Tuborg. The twins were walking toward the pilot. Arms outstretched and all six eyes glaring furiously, they were the embodiment of revenge. I put Gred down on the ground and I looked over my shoulder. The pilot was already encased in ice up to his chest. In a few seconds, the cold prison closed over his head.
The twins stood there for a moment longer. Then they slowly lowered their hands. And finally they let go of each other, turned around and ran to us.
“Let us look at him,” they whisked us away. We quickly made space while Ottimo and Tuborg each placed a hand over Gred's throat and clasped their remaining hands. We watched them work quietly.
“We're sorry, little brother,” Tuborg said finally. “This is all we can do right now.”
“We'll have another look at you while we're inside and you aren't freezing to death,” Ottimo added.
Gred nodded.
“Can you undo the shackles?” mother asked nervously.
The twins helped Gred sit up and a while of palm glaring later, the shackles fell apart. Gred's hands immediately went up to his throat, touching the area gingerly. He tried to say something but nothing came out but a low rasp.
“Don't speak yet,” Ottimo told him hurriedly. “We've only re-attached your windpipe and neck muscles, so that you can breathe and hold your head up.”
While Gred repeated his nod, father rose to his feet. He swayed and the twins hurried to catch him. Father wrapped his arms around them and began crying out of joy, thanking us all over and over again.
To be honest, I'm not very fond of group hugs. But if this story ever got into the hands of my family, they would hate me for not mentioning the final group hug. So there you go, I'll say that we all hugged for a long time.
After this victory, we retreated into the castle. We all knew that it was too soon to celebrate. All we had done was gain some time before the next attack came and we needed to think of our next steps.
While sister was tending to Alan's wounds and the twins were mending Gred's throat, we discussed what we should do. I will write nothing more than that we decided that staying on the Brokenhood was no longer an option. We agreed on splitting up because that way we would have a greater chance to go unnoticed by the Empire.
On the same day, we packed our bags and we left the Brokenhood. Before we did, however, we sent a message to the Neverhood. We told them to destroy their teleporter and to reinforce their security measures, if they had any. Finally we bid each other farewell and we each went on our way.
It seems like my journey will end soon. I am surrounded by enemy soldiers with little hope of escape. Therefore, I entrust this story, the last piece of the history of my family, to a falcon bird. The falcon is a small, tireless bird that flies high. It remembers the face of the one it's supposed to find and it will look for that person relentlessly until the letter it carries is delivered.
These are the words of Bortor, son of Ottoborg, son of Quater. May they serve as a beacon of hope. United, we are strong. As long as we stand together, we shall not lose.
