A Thousand Eyes

by Christian Leese

  “Help,” the hiss said from within.

  “I could lose my mind!” shouted Canis, but a well-aimed blow to the face from the Warden made him black out.

  His vision, his mind, fell between red and black as he struggled to regain consciousness. He flinched as the machine stooped over him. He couldn’t move, but as it went to land another blow, his arm deflected it to his side, an ache burrowing into him as though someone had siphoned his bone marrow.

  “Rise!” the Scourge parasite commanded as it merged its blood with his.

  Canis felt thick fluids surging through his veins. The Warden went to hit him, but this time he jumped to meet it and, after he climbed its body, slammed his fist into the machine’s gauzed face. Its head snapped back, and it tumbled into the building behind it. He used his legs to push off the machine’s chest and escaped. It spun to catch him, its arm colliding with the wall. Stone exploded, raining down in jagged heaps.

  Canis ran into the square. Everyone had stopped fighting and cheered him. A group had gathered as he fought the Warden, but he didn’t stop and used his shoulder to force his way through the crowd.

  “Canis!” Titus shouted.

  “It’s Canis Rayne?” he heard someone say, then another, his named spreading like heroes of old.

  They gathered around him, chanting his name. As he pushed through them, they turned to run as the Warden gave chase. The machine collided into the walls, paying no mind to innocent bystanders. Canis looked forward. Now that he knew what death looked like, he didn’t want to see it again. He ran.

  An earsplitting hiss filled the air. Everyone around him held their hands to their heads, but nobody stopped running. Canis fell and used an injured man to pull himself upright. The man collapsed to the ground, trampled by the rush.

  Cobbles bounced as the mechanical guard chased, the heavy vibrations shaking Canis’ bones. Three more Wardens thundered through the streets, crashing into buildings in complete disregard for collateral damage and combined in front of the escaping mob. The Wardens ignored them, though, ignored Canis, and charged through everyone.

  Canis forced a glance over his shoulder to where they headed. The Warden he had been fighting was covered in the waxy Scourge from the village. Two more Scourge emerged from the guard tower. They had followed him. What have I done!

  There were five of them, including the one-armed man, but it was clear the Warden was overpowered as they bent its metal arms back, its limbs warping into scrap metal. It continued to let out a loud hiss. The other machines spurted napalm from their shoulders, covering their fellow guard as they came to its aid.

  A sorrow inside Canis clawed away at the rage he had used to escape. The parasite mourned its kin as their flesh melted into a slush pile of skin and charred bone.

  He left the image behind and ran, his ears ringing, and the Scourge withdrawn inside him.

  Chapter 8

  Belloch Storme sprinted to his Company. He had been sent back to Mortalo’s guard tower to spy, but after arriving mid-battle, escaped through the fleeing crowds. The revised scouting had been worth it, though, and he had watched the slave’s return. The man-boy had taken on a Warden, and the different Companies chanted his name, but the idiot, Canis, had brought back the Scourge with him. The king’s prince has returned, and with him, our end. Belloch hid as the Wardens scraped the Scourge from their armor, his sprint delayed as he absorbed the nightmare in front of him.

  A young girl ran by. He snatched her from the shadows and placed a hand around her mouth. His lice-infested crotch burned and his manhood filled with blood. She thrust her foot onto his and the desire was replaced with anger as he snaked his blade over her throat. Her arms twitched and she fell, lifeless, her ugly face hitting the ground.

  He glanced at his blood-soaked dagger and cursed Kruger Sky for risking his life again. Why do I work for that scat-bastard? Then he remembered the Imperium’s weapon Kruger kept the Bone Singers in order with. They called it the Flame of Blackrose, but Kruger didn’t use it as a weapon, more like a source of power as it heated an ancient steam engine, keeping them warm whilst the other Companies died of cold in the winter.

  Belloch looted the dead girl’s body; a moment of regret washing over him as he realized he’d never feel his manhood ripping her between her legs. He slid his weapon behind his belt and continued his sprint to Kruger. Hunger demanded his attention, and if Kruger didn’t feed him this time, he would slit his throat too.

  Chapter 9

  Canis Rayne slumped against the wall of the alleyway. Dark brown liquid trickled into the gutter. A rat poked its head from beneath a crack. He held his head in his hands, his greasy hair clinging to his fingers, the slime from the walls dripping down his face. The rat disappeared.

  Did I lead them in?

  “My thoughts. They followed my thoughts,” replied the Scourge presence.

  His question hadn’t been directed at anyone, and the thing’s reply gave him a cold shiver. The Wardens will rip them apart, thought Canis as he tried to quell his guilt. That pipe is too small for more than a few to get in at any one time.

  “They will help kill,” it urged.

  There’s no way I can kill those things, not with your help, not with any help. He looked at where the mechanical guards had destroyed so much to get at the Scourge. Why would I? The Wardens keep us clean from things like you.

  “Not them. Mortalo,” it said, the words forced as if had trouble with Canis’ language.

  Mortalo will be worse than them. I escaped the Wardens. I barely got away from Mortalo alive.

  “Army.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of. He’s got an army of slaves under his thumb. Combine that with his powers and I’d die before I got close to him…

  The thought of turning a sword against Mortalo’s slaves, his innocent comrades, was too much to bear, even if growing up amongst them had pushed him to suicide. Not now, though, not since Vann had defended him. He shook the idea from his mind. I’d rather die than turn against Vann.

  “No. Unite. Army,” it persisted.

  An army of my own? Where would I begin to find men brave enough or stupid enough to follow me against Mortalo? He’s feared everywhere. He told me so himself. He started walking through a dark alley, thick with fetid air, to a smaller tunnel ahead. I don’t know where I am in my own city.

  Every stone slab, door, and window were foreign, alien, blankets of stitched skin devoid of limbs. Mortalo’s citadel was an impressive structure, but it wasn’t the whole of Blackrose. And it was all Canis had ever known until a few days ago. He tried to add more landmarks to memory like the lookout tower, but his vision was a blur of boarded windows and cobbled streets, narrowed by the crumbling stone of Blackrose’s buildings.

  All around, he felt the eyes of the city bearing down on him. Borders between Companies were roughly defined by soul lines, though anyone who knew what was good for them understood where a familiar territory started and a hostile one began. Canis had been educated in the dangers, but not the actual boundaries. It was suicide to wander out of one’s home Company in Blackrose, but he was without a home and would be dead no matter where he went.

  The streets and buildings were cracked and frayed. Vines and roots had punched through the cobbled walkways and grew over the structures. Most houses in this Company had their doors reinforced and windows sealed over with stone ripped from the streets, making the little huts into makeshift strongholds. Every alley Canis searched tapered off into a dead end, surrounded by high walls with tall, narrow windows cut into them, designed to ambush anyone unfamiliar with the territory.

  His mouth dried, and his heart thudded. Sword, I need my sword. He wouldn’t unsheathe until he needed to; walking with a weapon out was asking for trouble. He edged to the shadows nearer the buildings on his left.

  A group of people—all women with shaven heads—saw him in the shadows and eyeballed him, their hands reaching for their weapons.
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  Canis skulked around in the dark. He turned into an alley with an archway overhead, moss having found a home in the cracks of the stone. Light from the other side of the narrow passageway gave him a way around the women behind him, but as he drew closer, he heard a click.

  His skin prickled, cold sweat stinging his back. That feeling was never good. A glaive, the size of his upper body and supported by thick chains, swung from a gap in the side of the wall. It shaved the tip of his nose. He froze. Mortalo had mentioned the traps dotted around the different Companies, but Canis didn’t want to see one this close again.

  The glaive glided back and forth in front of him, his reflection returning in slow, heavy swings. Its bulk put strain on the chains above, dust from the bolt falling. He swallowed hard and stepped back from the trap.

  Canis heard the faint tapping of footsteps against the stones behind. He whipped around to face the assault, hooking his sword into his palm. He was too slow. Eight arms grabbed him, pulling him to the ground, pinning him.

  His sword clattered to the stones a few yards away. His rage, his strength, had not yet recovered after his confrontation with the Warden and his attackers were able to subdue him with ease, working as a unit. One fastened his arms in chains while another shackled his ankles together. Another jammed a burlap sack onto his head. Agrim crawled over his face, trapped. Its long hair brushed against him, the fine bristles irritating his skin.

  They dragged him. Canis tried shouting but was met with a swift punch to the head. Though he couldn’t feel much pain, the blow had done damage as his hearing pitched, an aggressive ring thrashing in his ear. The clock tower donged, adding to his vexation. He didn’t try it again. No one would’ve come to an outsider’s rescue, anyway.

  The Scourge parasite was quiet, lingering in the back of his mind as it watched things unfold. Canis felt it, though, and the thing trickling influence into his body, not enough to induce or control a rage. Not yet.

  Is it Mortalo? Did he find me already? He took a deep breath, trying to suck in as much air as he could through the bag.

  His captors didn’t say a word. All he heard was a light breeze and their footfalls to the tune of the city’s beating heart as it absorbed the souls of the dead. More sounds flowed into Canis’ recovered hearing. He focused, holding his breath as he tried to figure out what was going on. Wind was replaced with dripping water and the squeaks of rats. A door’s slam confirmed it. They had brought him inside.

  Another door slammed. The hands dropped him, and he wriggled on the floor like a freshly dug worm. They pulled him onto his knees and ripped the bag off. Don’t attack, Agrim. Please beastie. They’ll kill you. Agrim had been moving since they’d bagged his head, but after Canis’ thoughts, it stopped and buried itself back in his dreadlocks. Maybe it already knew the danger it was in, or maybe it’d heard Canis’ internal plea.

  There were three torches mounted on the walls, throwing soft light into the room. Canis’ eyes adjusted, and figures came into view. Barbed and hooked weaponry hung from racks on the periphery of his vision. Two dozen people stood around, their gaunt bodies in tattered rags, hair cut to the scalp, large pieces of metal skewered through their noses or cheeks. They were all women.

  “Thought you could walk right in here and kill us, didn’t you?” one of the women, a large skewer threaded through her bottom lip, said.

  Canis shook his head. Someone clubbed his back before he could speak. His spine arched in spasm.

  “We’ll see what Aurora has to say about this one,” another woman said. “Go get her,” she called to the one who had struck Canis.

  The door opened and slammed again as she left.

  “You’re either brave or stupid to come in here like you did. In any case, you’re a long way from your Company.”

  Another blow to his back, pre-emptive this time. The creature inside writhed around his muscle tissue, tearing at him. Stop it; you’re going to kill me!

  “Who sent you? Are you one of Kanak’s Silver Skulls? Kruger’s Bone Singers? You know you’re going to tell us, eventually. You could be one of Vek Tarosh’s Black Guard. They’re cracked enough to take us on.”

  Canis threw his head from side to side as the Scourge parasite burrowed in deeper for protection.

  The woman spoke again. “We can figure that out later. What was your plan? Why attack us?”

  “I need an army,” Canis managed. He rattled his chains, testing their strength.

  “And I need a new scarecrow.”

  The women laughed. One of them grabbed a hooked stave, a weeding tool they had converted into a weapon.

  The door opened, and they fell silent. Only the flickering of the torches’ flames made a sound. Canis managed to turn his head and saw another woman, short, boyish in figure, but her big brown eyes pulled him in. Her hair, unlike the rest, was long. She circled around to Canis’ front. Mortalo had once explained to him the practicality in shaving one’s head. There was no sense in giving a thief or a rapist a convenient handle during an assault. So far, all the women in that place followed the advice, but the one in front of him had hers braided in clear, fire-red, goading defiance.

  “Where’s Aurora?” asked a woman holding a spear.

  “My mother is busy, Vada.” The girl’s voice gave her age away, and Canis made sense of her underdeveloped body. About the same age, Canis had felt the same hatred from his peers back at the citadel.

  “We need her, not you,” said Vada.

  “She’s busy!” The girl said again and walked to the point of the spear, a dagger held behind her back.

  Vada’s face unscrewed, and she lowered her spear. “Okay, Thorne, have it your way. Forgive me.”

  Thorne turned to speak with Canis. “Who’re you supposed to be?” she asked, scraping back her red hair.

  “My name’s Canis.”

  “Canis Rayne?” one of the women asked from behind him. “The same Canis who stood up to a Warden today? You gave it one, didn’t you?”

  Canis nodded. “Did they kill all of the Scourge?”

  Thorne spat onto the floor. “The only thing you need to know is my mother runs everything in this Company.” She kept her voice smooth and slow, right to the point. “We run the water, food, and trade, and we run who comes in and out of here. We let the Wardens deal with the Scourge.” One of the women handed her the hooked stave.

  “Okay, I—”

  “Shut your mouth!” she said, shoving it in his face. “Imagine our surprise when my girls told me they’d caught a stranger sniffing around.” She scraped the edge of the blade against his arm, shaving off a few hairs. “So maybe you should tell me how you crept in here. Who sent you and what did they send you to do? Or do I have to cut off a hand to persuade you?”

  “No one sent me.” He pulled at his chains. They held.

  “A lone wolf?” She laughed, over-dramatic. “And you thought you could kill my Company of Dusk Raiders all by yourself?”

  The other women, the Dusk Raiders, joined in cackling, or at least most of them. Thorne’s claim over them was not shared as a few skulked back from the group, their eyes like daggers of their own aimed at her back.

  “You must think yourself some kind of warrior!” Thorne’s soft voice turned into a mocking roar.

  “I could kill you,” Canis said. The laughter drowned his words. “I could kill you all,” he said again, louder.

  The laughter ceased as Thorne locked eyes with him. “If it wasn’t for those chains, right? Listen here, big’un, my girls brought you here without a drop of sweat between them. You’re nothing but talk.”

  “I didn’t kill them, or you, because I need help.”

  “I’ll say you do,” she said. “Someone’s chained you up.”

  Her warriors sniggered.

  “I need help to defeat Mortalo.”

  Thorne shrugged. “This Mortilo character may run things in your Company, but that doesn’t mean anything here.�
�� She ran the blade against his neck. “If you’re so big and bad, why do you need help from us? Kill him yourself.”

  “It’s not that easy. My brothers, the Iron Hands are weak. He’s warping their minds.”

  “Do you mean the King of Demons? Why should we help you? You show a lot of disrespect coming in here, looking for your blade to use on my welcoming party.” She signaled and the Dusk Raiders gathered more weapons, aiming them at Canis.

  “Mortalo must die,” the parasite hummed inside him.

  “Mortalo is a madman, despite his delusions,” Canis said. “He’s going to get Blackrose destroyed. If you don’t help me kill him, he’s going to come for you.”

  “I’m not sure if I can trust you. Not without you giving me something first.”

  “I don’t have much to trade, maybe a med kit and some armor, but that’s about it. I can join your Company.”

  “Kill him!” said Vada.

  “Listen.” Thorne pulled Vada to one side. “And risk the wrath of his Company? It could be a trick.”

  “Killing me would be a bad idea,” said Canis.

  “We don’t need men and we’ve got plenty of med kits, thank you. And plenty of dead bodies,” she said with a cold smile. “No, big’un, I think you could be useful. We’re surrounded by enemies on three sides, and I don’t like strangers pressing in on my tur—My mum’s land.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want their heads. That’s what!” Her smile stretched, revealing over-developed canines and a grin that dripped with venom and hate. “You stomp into the other territories, kill their Company leaders, and bring me back the proof. Then I’ll help you kill this Mortilo of yours, or at least find someone who can.”

  “His name is Mortalo.”

  “His name is ‘your problem not mine’.”

  What do I do? They’re going to kill me. If they don’t, the other Company leaders will. Stay calm. Think like Vann. He would know what to do. “That’s a big request,” Canis said. “What can you do to aid me?”