Bianca moaned as they lifted the stretcher, and carried her toward the arch. The King’s little girl was fucked up. Well, mentally, she’d always been fucked up, but now it was physical, too. The one girl he might have been able to marry off when she was old enough, to cement a deal with the Sultan Of The Sands, for mutual protection from Over The Sea. The Sultan’s head wife would bitch, but she was a shrewy little cow, who only deserved to be strangled and tossed to the hounds.
If the girl died...
Fuck it. Whether or not she died, that asshole was going to pay. He should have tortured the fucker to death when he had the chance. Now... now, when he caught the murderous little bastard, he was going to wish he’d been buggered to death by the Royal Hounds, instead of whatever they came up with. And Bianca was going to get her fun, too. The boy’s skin would look good stretched out on the castle wall.
Oh, yes. There was something else.
“Where’s the other one?”
“Princess Furball is safe, sir.” Liam nodded toward the far side of the courtyard. She sat beside the remains of the food stall, chatting to Kevin. He laughed, and she leaned closer, to whisper into his ear. The top of her dress fell aside, and a furry breast flopped out through a tear in the front. She let him stare for a moment, before she reached down and covered it again.
“I’m not sure I’d call that safe.” Not that the bitch was good for much. Who’d want to marry her? But he didn’t need any unexpected royal bastards running around the castle. “Take her back to her room, and keep an eye on her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if I hear you touched her, you’ll pay with your balls.”
Liam’s red, sweaty head nodded rapidly. He strode across the courtyard, and muttered to Kevin. Kevin glanced at the King, then stood and brushed the dirt from his uniform. Furball shook her head, and scowled as Liam pointed at the King. Then Liam lead her away, toward the tower.
The King turned on the spot. Some of the spectators were leaving. More were tending their wounds. Others were splattered across the courtyard in a pile of their own blood and guts. On the plus side, this was a Brawl no-one would forget. They’d be talking about it in the bars of Kingston for decades.
“What are you fuckers doing?” the King yelled. “This is the fucking Brawl. If you can’t have fun here, where can you?”
A couple of men raised their arms and gave halfhearted cheers. The rest did nothing.
“Isn’t this the best fucking Brawl ever?”
Two more men yelled.
The King pointed at the closest two. “You. And you. In the fucking arena now, or I’ll rip your heads off myself.”
One of the men rubbed the small of his back. “I pulled a muscle, sir.”
“A hundred silver shinies, and a week in the Cat House, to whoever comes out alive.”
They glanced at each other. The sick man suddenly forgot his wound, and pulled out his sword. The crowd began to turn and yell as the pair strode into the arena.
The King pointed to another of the men. Short, stubby, with a dirty little moustache. “Can you cook?”
“I can roast a rabbit.”
“Then you're the new cook. Get that barbie going.” The King pointed at the bodies scattered around the courtyard. “We feast tonight.”
That finally got the crowd cheering. Ten years ago, he could still inspire the people of Kingston with one of his loud tirades about protecting their glorious homeland against the assholes from Over The Sea. Now they’d grown fat and soft. All they cared about was money, girls, and stuffing their bellies.
Though, if he was to be honest, so had he. The blacksmiths had adjusted the exoskeleton twice in the last year so it fit better after his middle-aged stomach had expanded from too much of the good life in his tower. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.
He had to find something to make Kingston great again. Make him great again. Give his people something more to worry about than who’d be next on the barbie.
He should see the Brain. Convince him to get started on the invasion force. When the people of the Borderlands saw what he was taking to capture Over The Sea, they’d be lining up to join him. Maybe they’d crush the Sultan while they were at it, and there’d be no need for that wedding after all.
Cheers rose from the arena, as the clang of metal on metal echoed around the courtyard. That was more like it. The two men he’d picked dodged around the dirt, swinging sword and axe at each other like professional fighters, as they fought for their prize. If money couldn’t motivate a man, his dick would.
The King pulled some broken planks of into a pile tall enough to sit on. He pulled another, but a lung and some bloodstained organs he couldn’t identify clung to the end, so he tossed it aside. The planks creaked as he sat on them. Probably lucky the steam engine was belching so much smoke that he could barely smell the stench of blood and guts around him.
Though that brought back pleasant memories of the old days, tearing his enemies limb from limb, stealing their shinies, raping their women, and taking the best for his harem.
Ah, to live like that again...
Kevin coughed. That sneaky little shit must have been standing there for a minute or two, while the King mused about better times. If the fucker had touched his daughters again, they'd have his balls for supper. No way was his rotten cock popping royal cherry.
A short, baby-faced Guard stood beside Kevin, staring at the dirt. Kevin nodded toward him. “Sir, Short-Ass has something to tell you.”
The Guard stared resolutely at the ground, his gaze not moving a millimetre toward the King. His face was covered with sweat, and his wet hair was stuck to his scalp. Did he think the King had time to waste?
“Get on with it, man.”
“Sir... the Brain...”
“What about that bastard? Has he finally come around to his senses? Ready to start working for me again? Ready to make Kingston the envy of the world? Or did that fucking spider just eat him at last?”
Short-Ass glanced at the other Guards who were watching nearby. Kevin nudged him. Short-Ass looked down, bit his lip, then looked up at the King. Then he leaned forward and spoke in a whisper, as though he was afraid for anyone to hear.
“He’s... escaped.”
CHAPTER 62
Daniel took a deep breath, then lowered his face to the stream. The water cooled his wounded skin, and filled his broken nose. The suns beat down on his bare back and ass, above the water. How long could he hold his breath? Better be long enough to float past the Guards. He couldn’t risk letting them see his face, and alerting the King. Once past them, he’d be... safer.
The stream carried him on, as he fought against the urge to gulp down more air. The world grew darker as the oxygen left his brain. His chest twitched, his lungs wanted to breathe, his cheeks bulged, eager for fresh air. How far had he gone?
He was dead, either way. He twisted his head until his mouth was just out of the water. He let air slowly bubble from his lips, and sucked in more until his lungs wanted to burst.
Someone whistled. Daniel's wounded eye was above the water, and he opened it a few millimetres. A Guard stood by the wall, whistling to himself as he pissed into the stream, and ignoring the naked body that floated out under the bridge. That was probably a common sight around Kingston, like the one he'd seen in the river the day before.
A drone buzzed down, and its cameras twisted toward Daniel's face. The Guard turned toward the noise, and Daniel closed his eye. He resisted the urge to grunt as his side smacked into a rock, and pain stabbed him from his injured ribs.
His body stuck fast for a second, his arm around the rock. He could easily pull the arm down, but that would give himself away. He twisted left and right as the waves beat against him.
“That one looks fresh,” a high-pitched voice said.
“Probably from the Brawl.”
“Can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“They’d have tossed it on the barbie.”
“Nah, they always have a few leftovers only a mad-man would want to eat.”
Daniel opened his eye just far enough to watch the two Guards arguing beside the bridge. They were looking at each other, not him. He slid his arm carefully, until the current caught him again, and he floated away from the rock.
“We should fish it out,” the high-pitched Guard said.
“What for?”
“Might still be fresh enough for a bit of fun.”
The Guard glanced toward Daniel, who closed his eye again. “I tried it once. It'll be all cold and slimy by now.”
“I don't mind.”
“You will, when bits of his guts come out stuck to your dick. That's something you don't try twice, trust me.”
Daniel floated past them. The sunlight beat down on his ass, until he could almost smell roasting meat. He was going to have a crazy sunburn if he couldn't get out of the water soon.
He twisted his head toward the riverbank. A tall, muscular woman strolled toward Kingston, a sword slapping against her thigh, and metal armour on her body. She held two thin, busty girls on long chains, with their faces made up and long dresses covering their bodies. A cart rattled the other way, drawn by haulers. A Guard leaned against a tree, hand on his sword and a roll-up in his mouth. Daniel was moving faster now he was out in the river proper, but he’d be playing possum until night fell, if he didn’t want to be seen.
Would this disaster never end?
CHAPTER 63
The King’s face turned pale as he stared at Short-Ass. The man was mad, or making a joke. It must be the stress of such a shitty fucking day. The Brain was safely locked up in the dungeon, with Guards watching him every second of every hour. There was no way out of his cell.
“What do you mean, escaped?”
“I mean... he’s... he’s not in his cell.”
The King’s face grew red, and steam hissed from his back as he raised a hand. The watching drones backed away, to avoid his swing. “How the fuck can he not be in his cell? He never leaves it.”
“He’s gone. There’s a dead body in his bed.”
“Whose body?”
“I don’t know. Some Guard I’ve never seen before.”
“How the fuck did you let him get in there, and the Brain get out?”
“I was there all the time. He couldn’t have got past me.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. The whole fucking stupid mess of the last two days. That dumb boy, the girl, the bear-thing. They were all in this together. Somehow, while the boy and girl distracted him, they’d kidnapped the Brain. Then the bear-thing rescued them, and got them out of Kingston. They’d planned this perfectly. Real pros, just acting like idiots.
But where were they planning to go?
They had to be from Over The Sea. Nothing else made sense. If they didn’t leave the Borderlands, he would find them sooner or later, then he’d torture them, and–eventually–he’d kill them. They must know that. But Over The Sea’s top agents would take that risk, particularly if they knew about his plans. Attack first, before your enemy has a chance to attack you.
What if the Brain had told them what he was doing? This plan must have needed brains. He might have worked it out himself, somehow contacted them, and arranged for them to get into the castle.
But, if he’d done that, what else could he have done?
The steam engine boiler grew hot on his back as it brewed up steam in response to his adrenaline rush. If the Brain was in touch with Over The Sea, he might already have helped them build new weapons. They could be over there now, preparing to invade Kingston, while he was confused and unprepared. Their invasion fleet could be sailing for him while he spoke. Hundreds of ships, with steam cannon and fighting machines, blasting flame, burning down the walls, and killing everyone who resisted. The King’s metal-clad body shook.
He pointed at Short-Ass, Kevin, and another random passing Guard. “You, you and you. You're going on the barbie for letting the Brain escape.”
“Sir,” Kevin said. “I wasn't even there.”
“I don't fucking care. If you'd done your job, the Brain would be where he's meant to be, and those shits wouldn't have kidnapped him.”
Pig-Face coughed. “Sir... I hate to interrupt your vengeance, but we're a bit low on Guards right now.”
Shit. He had a point. A dozen or more Guards were lying wounded, or dead around him, or splattered in bloody chunks across the courtyard. How many had he lost this one fucking Newbie Week?
Far too many.
“Bring me one of the assholes, and you keep your head.”
“What about our balls, sir?” Short-Ass said.
“And your balls. And anything else I was looking forward to hacking off. Fail, and... you know the rest.”
“Do we get a reward, too?” Kevin said.
The King leaned toward him, so the crowd wouldn't hear his words. “Whoever brings me the Brain can have that fucking bitch daughter of mine.”
Kevin saluted. “Consider it done.”
The other Guards frowned, and glanced at each other.
“All right. Whoever brings me the Brain can have their pick of my fucking daughters.” That raised some nods and smiles. “But anyone who even hints the Brain is missing to anyone outside the Guard... will be feeding the bitches tonight.”
Screams came from the arena. He’d been so engrossed in the news that he hadn’t even noticed the yells and clangs from the fight. He glanced that way, just as a fountain of blood sprayed over the crowd. Looked like it was over, then.
Well, the show must go on. For now, at least.
The winner strode from the arena, his shirt red where a sword had slashed his chest from shoulder to hip. But he was smiling, and holding his arms high. Obviously that bad back had gone away once he had another man trying to hack his guts out. It usually concentrated the mind.
The King's exoskeleton whirred and groaned as he tried to raise his own hands. They stopped just above his shoulders, and he'd have to make do with that.
“The winner,” he yelled, then nodded to Pig-Face. “Get the man his prize.”
Pig-Face reached into a metal-clad chest in the debris, and pulled out a handful of shinies. He counted them quickly, dropped them into the man's blood-stained hands, and counted out some more. A smile crossed the man's face. Blood dripped onto Pig-Face's boot, and he wiped it clean on a rock.
The man glanced at the King. “And the Cat House?”
“Take whoever you want, however you want, as often as you want.”
Pig-Face dropped more shinies into the man’s hands. He tossed them from one hand to the other.
“Even the cat woman?”
Kitty wasn’t supposed to be on the menu, but she’d been bitching for months about the new girls he’d sent her. A good ride might shut her up for a while.
“You can have any of the bitches who takes your fancy. Just try not to fuck yourself to death.”
The crowd laughed.
“I'll send a Guard to check on you in a week, just in case.”
The crowd laughed louder. The King turned toward them, and lowered his arms. This war more like it.
“Now, for all you worthless bastards, I have something even better to offer.”
CHAPTER 64
“Where the fuck is he, then?” Slaphead said as he stared out to sea. The setting suns cast long shadows over the towering waves that smashed against the cliffs below them. The wind rattled the spiky branches above their heads. Drones twisted side to side as they tried to steady themselves, and flying things dove past to catch swimming things in the sea.
“I never sssaid he’d be here,” Red said. The whole point of rushing through the woods was to get there before Moses did. He’d led the group along the fastest route he could find, and got them there without losing anyone. So much for the fucking bears. “But we sssure as fuck beat him to it.”
“So we just wait?”
Red looked to the left, his gaze follow
ing the cliffs as they descended to a rocky beach far below. The beach led along the edge of the wood until it reached the mouth of the river a few klicks closer to Kingston. “Fuck, no. We get down to the ssshore, then we head upriver until we run into the bassstard. If he’sss heading thisss way, we have to find him sssooner or later.”
Snake slumped down on a tree trunk that the coastal winds had bent almost sideways. He pulled off one of his boots, and moaned as he rubbed his foot. “My feet are buggered. I’m not used to all this fucking walking. I’ll wait here and see you when you get back.”
The hounds patrolled around them, hissing, sniffing the air, and staring into the twilight. If anyone, or anything, was sneaking around in the woods, they’d try to eat it before it ate them. Red sniffed, himself. Just the usual rotten smell of the forest, the salt smell of the sea, and the stink of his men. The gang, the hounds, and a couple of drones recording from the treeline. Not a hint of a fire, or any other human presence.
Slaphead leaned back against another tree. “And I’m tired. I had to run all the way from Kingston, and now I’ve hiked the best part of twenty klicks through the woods. It’s too much for one day.”
“Besides,” Stubby said. “It’s getting dark. I don’t want to be creeping around this place at night for hours, when I can’t see where the fuck I’m going.” He stared into the woods. “Who knows what might be waiting to eat us?”
Snake pulled off his other boot. “Let’s make camp for the night. The fire will keep them away.”
Fuck that shit. “Yeah,” Red said. “Why don’t we sssit up here and roassst rabbitsss, while we watch Mosssesss sssail passst down below?”
“Sounds good to me,” Stubby said. He nodded toward the hounds. “The boys look hungry, too.”
“How about we roassst you, and feed you to them?”
“Better than getting my head bit off by a bear.”
Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) Page 25
