The Limbs of the Dead (A Wielders Novel Book 3)
Page 20
Jake the Headcracker was wide-awake and alert where he’d been left. His arms and legs had grown back to half their normal size, already bunched with muscle. His vestigial limbs had not been sufficient to protect him from the attacking arm-steed, but it wouldn’t be long until they would be close to their usual strength. The bruises he’d sustained from the recent attack had faded and were hardly visible against his dark skin. Left alone, he’d had time to think about the situation.
“I have a plan,” Jake said. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“Those are the best plans of all!” said Skulks eagerly.
“No, you’re really, really not going to like this plan,” said Jake. And sure enough, Skulks did not like the plan when he first heard it. After Jake had outlined his idea, Skulks had the opportunity to speak.
“So you want me to rub some of this stolen powder into your flesh in order to spawn a smaller version of you?”
“Uh-huh,” said Jake.
“Then you want me to let this smaller Jabin’oh steal the remaining potions?”
“Uh-huh,” repeated Jake.
“And I chase your replica until it leads me to Zera Graves?”
“Good lad, I think you’ve got it!” said Jake patronisingly. “If you spawned another replica of Tan Skulks, it might be too fast for you to follow, or it might hide itself from your sight. You could easily keep up with a lumbering oaf like me.” In reality, Jake was not slow or lumbering, but he certainly looked like he was when he ran. Nevertheless, he was more of a distance runner than an outright sprinter.
There were numerous flaws to this plan, the most notable of which was that spawning a Zera-Graves-controlled version of Jake the Headcracker could not end well, whichever way one looked at it. The easiest solution would have been to spawn a replica of a less formidable specimen, such as Heathen Spout or indeed anyone else apart from Skulks or Headcracker. Skulks’ brow furrowed as his brain pursued the positives and negatives of Jake’s plan.
“I think it’s a splendid idea!” said he in a total about-face from his initial misgivings. “Let me fetch that powder.”
Soon, eager fingertips descended into the pouch of stolen powder. Pinching together, these fingertips trapped a quantity of the fine red dust and withdrew it from the pouch.
“Drop it here, on my leg,” instructed Jake. “And if more than one of me appears, don’t forget to kill the extra replicas.” Skulks nodded, forgetting that he no longer had his dagger-swords.
Crouched low, Skulks carefully sprinkled his excessively-large pinch of red powder onto a visible area of flesh on Jake’s leg. With a finger, Jake swirled the powder around on his skin, while Skulks wiped his own fingers clean to ensure that no mini-Skulkses would spring from his digits.
“It’s a bit warm, isn’t it?” said Jake as the powder congealed on his flesh. “Ooh it’s stinging now.”
Shortly, smoke billowed from the powdered leg while Jake grumbled about the pain of it. As they watched, a blob of molten flesh slipped away from the whole and landed on the floor.
“It looks like there’s only going to be one replica of you,” said Skulks as a shape coalesced in front of them.
It didn’t take long for the mini-Jake to appear. It was slightly greater than knee height on Skulks, with black eyes and a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth.
“It looks like a nasty little thug, doesn’t it?” asked Jake.
“And it’s got hair!” chortled Skulks, pointing at the new arrival. Indeed it had - the mini-Jake sported a luxurious head of thick, black curls. “And a moustache!” squealed Skulks with joy.
“Harrumph! Who needs hair?” snorted Jake.
In the brief time they had been talking, the mini-Jake had taken stock of its surroundings.
“Give it to me!” it commanded, its voice more of a squeak than a rumble.
“You forgot to put the potions on the table!” said Jake. He was correct - Zera Graves’ potions were still tucked inside Skulks’ tunic.
Skulks was given no opportunity to rectify the situation, as mini-Jake launched itself across the room in his direction. Skulks sidestepped the charge and stuck out his foot to trip over the evil spawn of Jake. The simulacrum tumbled over the outstretched foot and slid into a wall with a thud. Skulks expected his tiny opponent to spring back to its feet and attack once more, but it did not.
“Eh?” asked Jake. “You’ve killed it, haven’t you?”
They both looked at where the replica lay. Its head was at a funny angle and it showed no signs of movement.
“I only tripped it up!” said Skulks defensively. “You saw me.”
“Am I really that easy to kill?” mused Jake. “I don’t recall ever breaking my neck after a stumble or fall in the past.”
In spite of it all, Skulks felt a bit guilty. Jake evidently had high hopes for this smaller version of himself and gave every sign of disappointment that it had been so easily killed. As the two of them stared at the dead replica, there was a knock at the door and Heathen Spout let herself in. She looked a bit perkier now, having finished a cup of strong hotleaf and an egg sandwich. Spout looked at Skulks, then at Jake and finally at the small body against the office wall. She looked like she might be about to say something - indeed her mouth opened for a time before she closed it abruptly once more. Eventually, she did speak.
“Tan, I’ve had a thought.”
Skulks liked Heathen Spout and respected her very much. He was sure that the thought she mentioned would be the solution to all of their woes. It wasn’t.
“You mentioned that you found a note in Zera Graves’ house referring to a ‘special’ construct. We already know that she’s used three of Mr Headcracker’s stolen arms to make herself a steed.”
“Please call me Jake,” said the referenced Mr Headcracker.
“That’s correct,” said Skulks, wondering how many more of Jake’s arms and legs might be out there, already sewn together into a vast and monstrous creature.
“Do you think Graves might attempt to kidnap your friend again? In order to harvest more of his limbs?”
Skulks thought about it. “It’s a possibility. This special construct was definitely not on the Blackened Crumpet, so I think it has already been delivered to King Meugh. Whether Graves will want more of Jake’s limbs or not is another matter.”
“I don’t think you should leave Jake alone again. In case Meugh’s necromancer comes back for him.”
“Look at his expression,” piped up Jake. “You can tell he was going to sneak out for a quick mug of ale.”
“I was not,” lied Skulks. In fact, he had been considering doing exactly that, but only because he did most of his best thinking when his mind was at ease. And his mind was always relaxed when he was in a tavern.
“Tan, why don’t you take Jake out somewhere for a little while? He’s been cooped up in your office all day. And besides, I know you can’t keep out of trouble, so you need someone to keep an eye on you.” Spout cleared her throat and a twinkle appeared in her eye. “Maybe you could take Jake down to the barracks and see how Captain Honey is getting on?”
Twenty-five minutes later they set off, with Jake trussed firmly to Skulks’ back with a series of ropes and pieces of tarpaulin that Skulks had sourced from a room in the Chamber Building basement.
“You’re going to need to lose some weight, you great lump,” muttered Skulks sourly.
“Yah boy! Giddyap!” shouted Jake.
Twenty-One
Walking through the late-night streets of Hardened, they ignored the curious glances of those whom they passed. Skulks gnawed at a slice of fruit cake and held another slice over his shoulder for Jake to eat. They had known each other for several hundreds of years and as such, much of their conversation was just time-wasting natter about nothing in particular, often reduced to little more than light-hearted mocking and insults. Not so now.
“I think she might be a Wielder,” said Jake.
“What makes you say th
at?” responded Skulks, though he already had suspicions that he’d tried to ignore.
“She’s just too good at things. Do you remember back when Lucy Amber was eight years old and she convinced that man not to hang himself in Ironsburg?”
“I remember. And then she talked him into giving her twenty Reals as a reward, which he had to steal in order to pay.”
Jake laughed. “There was something about her, wasn’t there? Captain Honey’s the same.”
Skulks couldn’t hide things from his friend. “When we were in the apothecary Turgos Rumps’ shop, she ran through some poisonous smoke without being killed. And she was able to see Rumps as clear as day when he turned himself invisible.”
“There! I knew it! And when the arm-steed attacked me, you should have seen how quick she was! If she’d had some proper weapons like your dagger-swords, she might even have driven the Graves witch off.”
They journeyed in silence for a few dozen more strides.
“You need to talk to her about it, Tan. Over dinner.”
Skulks harrumphed and picked up the pace towards the barracks. Jake was very heavy and though he would have prevented Skulks from attaining a full sprint, Skulks was strong enough to maintain a good speed regardless.
“I hope we hear some news soon,” he said. “I am worried about my dagger-swords.”
As it happened, news did not come to Skulks and Headcracker, so much as Skulks and Headcracker came to the news. The Hardened barracks lay on the outskirts of the city itself, but still within the main walls. They were in a large compound, with a smaller wall separating them from the civilian shops and dwellings nearby. Woe betide any industrious butcher who tried to build a meat stall on the roofs of the barracks - further construction within the barracks compound was strictly forbidden. There were seven stone structures to house the soldiers, each three stories high. An eighth building was a full four stories high and housed officers as well as the army’s squadron of adepts, the latter of which numbered a mere three. The army was currently small (and expanding), but in the past Hardened had boasted one of the largest military forces on Ko-Chak. Consequently, the barracks were much larger than they needed to be for the comparatively small force they now housed.
It didn’t take a man of Skulks’ investigative genius to notice that there was a problem. Firstly, there were no soldiers stationed at the barracks gate. Secondly, there was the sound of combat, with steel ringing on steel. Once inside the compound there was further evidence in the form of dead soldiers. These weren’t the sort of dead soldiers one might weep over as the dead hero lies serenely on a slab. These soldiers were running about on spider legs, brandishing a variety of weaponry at all and sundry.
Jake the Headcracker had been born on a small island in the Treads Archipelago, with his dark skin testament to his years living in withering tropical heat. He’d met and killed more than his fair share of necromancers in the past, so he was rather more educated on the subject than Skulks, who had spent much of his youth stealing and swindling.
“I’ve never seen the like!” said Jake. “Why on earth is Zera Graves serving a weak foreign king when she can do all of this? She could raise enough dead to conquer a kingdom of her own.”
“Perhaps that is what she intends to do,” said Skulks, all humour gone. “It may be that she wishes to take Hardened for herself, rather than hand it over to King Meugh.”
The commotion was centred on the command building. It was surrounded by several hundred spider-soldiers, clustered at the base. In the same way as the spider-Graveses had manifested themselves, these soldiers’ legs were gone, replaced by eight spindly, black, hairy limbs, which they scuttled about on speedily. For now, the sturdy door of the command building held steady against their aimless attacks, but numerous spider-soldiers had tentatively started to climb the walls in the hope of finding entrance higher up. From above, lightning crackled into the swarm as the army’s adepts cast their spells through open windows. Here and there, the creatures fell dead, but Skulks already knew them to be resistant to magical attack.
Skulks felt a momentary panic that Captain Honey might have been overcome, but shrugged the thought aside. “She must be in the command building,” he convinced himself.
Up until this point, Skulks and Jake had been unnoticed, but as they trotted across the compound looking for a source of weaponry, a spider-soldier sidled out of one of the barracks buildings. It hissed and charged towards them. Skulks looked at it and saw that the man it had been was gone. The eyes were featureless, black orbs and the mouth was full of sharp teeth. In one hand, it held a standard-issue sword which it swung at Skulks.
In no mood for distractions, Skulks ducked, forgetting for a moment that he was carrying Jake. Skulks felt a twinge as a back muscle was tweaked by his imbalanced load, whilst the sword missed the top of Jake’s head by less than a whisker. Had Jake not already been bald, he would have lost a chunk of the luxurious locks he didn’t have.
Cursing himself for being unprepared, Skulks rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the spider-soldier. With Jake on his back, their combined mass was considerable and the soldier’s legs faltered under the load. The three of them fell to the ground, with Skulks pinning the spider-soldier’s sword arm as Jake flailed at the creature. A leg popped out of its socket and the creature hissed, just before one of Jake’s thrashing arms caught it on the side of the head with a heavy thump. The results were messy and Skulks found himself dripping with the black juices which had burst from the ruptured skull. Skulks had not forgotten how strong Jake was, but the brutality of it still retained the ability to shock.
“Urgh!” he exclaimed. “That poor man!” Sorry for the soldier’s fate, Skulks’ determination was renewed. The blackness of the man’s juices convinced the Wielders that there was nothing they could do to save those afflicted by spider legs. Freed from guilt, they resolved to act with the utmost ruthlessness.
Skulks had been on route to the blacksmith’s shed when they had been attacked and they entered this shed unmolested by further spider-soldiers. What emerged was more deadly than that which had entered. Skulks now held a short sword in each hand, with a third tucked into his belt. The Headcracker had two stout metal bars strapped to the end of each arm, giving him a considerable amount of reach, though they would have interfered with his ability to safely gesticulate in a shop selling precious antiques.
Fortunately, there were no purveyors of fine dinner services in the vicinity, only a mighty gaggle of horrendously poisoned and re-animated spider-soldiers who now sought the death of the living. Carrying Jake prevented Skulks from becoming unseen. More specifically, it didn’t prevent Skulks from becoming unseen, but Jake would have remained visible, appearing to float along as if by some powerful wizardry. Still, even with their new and motley collection of weaponry, Skulks didn’t wish to confront all of the spider-soldiers in the compound.
They ended up taking a circuitous route behind one of the smaller barracks buildings where the shadows were heaviest. They were both wearing dark clothing and Jake’s skin was brown enough that he wasn’t easily visible. Skulks looked carefully around the corner at the end of the barracks building wall. They were close to the command building and there were fewer spider-soldiers on this side of it. Across the compound yard, he saw that the spider-soldiers had hauled up a heavy tree trunk, evidently to serve as a battering ram. Several dozens more were inching their way slowly up the command building wall, though items of a heavy nature were occasionally dropped from above in order to dislodge them and slow their progress.
Skulks was not known for hesitation, even when a measured approach might better suit the occasion. With Jake on his back, he lumbered as quickly as he could across the compound, hoping they would avoid notice. Luck was with them and the mass of spider-soldiers continued to hiss and batter away at the recalcitrant front door. They should not have been surprised at the resistance this gateway offered, for military doors were rarely made out of plywood.
All was not as hunky-dory as it could be. The power of Jake’s attacks tested Skulks’ balance greatly. With each swing, Skulks found himself pulled left and right, giving him something of a trying time as he attempted to attack with his own swords and avoid the attacks directed at his own person.
“Gods, I’ve missed this!” said Jake at his back. “Give me a roasted chicken and a metal bar and I’ll give you the world.”
Skulks remembered these words from their dim and distant past, where a troop of evil bandit gorillas had invaded their camp deep in the Tarkener jungle. These apes had attempted to steal the five spit-roast chickens that Skulks and Jake had been looking forward to, but the hungry gorillas were forced into a hasty retreat when two equally hungry Wielders had set about them with metal tent poles.
Here in the Hardened barracks there were no chickens to be seen and there were no gorillas. Spider-soldiers there were, however and in great numbers. Trying not to be distracted by these memories of times gone by, Skulks forgot about his own swords and focused on retaining his balance. Jake was doing well enough on his own that sharp blades were not needed. Skulks dodged and feinted, while over his head metal bars flew. Two more meaty crunches in quick succession saw the last two spider-soldiers flattened into a heap against the wall.