A Thousand Eyes

by Christian Leese

  He held out his hand but couldn’t reply. Instead, he addressed the entire room, shouting so everyone could hear. “Beatrix Thorne and Teller Redmaw are going to be sorting you into groups and making sure you’re armed. We must be ready to fight.” It didn’t feel right, leading these people, but he felt as if he owed it to them.

  He didn’t wait for a response and stormed off, pushing through the crowd. He knew, or rather hoped, Thorne would pick up the pieces, organize where he couldn’t think straight. He felt Bane at the back of his throat, the silent passenger always looking to control, twisting his view on things that used to be so simple, twisting its way about his body as if it were its own.

  The lights from the base of the walls scanned the room, a green glow washing over him. He looked back to see everyone in the same light. The lights vanished, and he was left to wander the dark, spacious halls, his footsteps echoing around him. He chased the sounds of his own steps, trying to escape the hub of survivors, and the banging of the Scourge pressing on the doors.

  Panels bigger than his body created segments on the wall and floor. Sheets of metal pinned in uniform perfection. His reflection stared back at him everywhere he looked, and the smell of rust and old wood drifted to him from the halls. He followed the aroma to where the sleeping Wardens had been, the room looking empty from atop the mezzanine.

  Broken glass littered the floor and splintered tubes were scattered in pools of dark liquid. The dynamo generator hummed its constant beat, cushioning his ears with comforting regularity. The sound had become a part of him, ever since re-entering the complex. It must’ve been a part of everyone’s lives. The thought of it not being there brought an ache to his chest.

  He looked at the machines, matching them to his own limbs. Parts of the Wardens lay scattered. Maybe I can build one? But the thought evaporated as he remembered the living tissue. The Imperium was long dead, or so he hoped, and he guessed this might be the last working technology in a world on its last gasps; even the airships were just mindless machines in an endless cycle of ones and zeros.

  He stepped over the masses of metal and headed toward the back of the room. A faint blue glow called him over, its soft luminance reminding him of the mushrooms from the Bone Singer’s Company. A dark shape cut out the light at the bottom. He neared it and discovered a chair fixed into the floor. He gripped the back of it and spun it around. Half a skull rested on a pile of dust on the seat. On the arms of the chair were multitudes of buttons and lights that were smaller versions of the ones on the wall in front of him. He didn’t understand any of it, nor would he.

  A circular design rose from the wall, different segments and patterns embossed all over. The lights flickered in unison with the ones on the chair. He thought it might be a door, but as he took a step back, he found the layout familiar. It was a map of Blackrose, each of the Companies divided with the raised patterns, each with their own set of lights. In the center, printed in raised letters were the words Prison 7 – Xenos XII-Blackrose. The words looked important, their defined ridges making them stand out.

  He examined the chair and noticed tubes feeding up from the floor, fixed into grooves running over it. It was small enough for a man, and with the other parts of the room designed for Wardens, it brought a sense of belonging. He wanted to sit, but the skull was looking at him. The thing crumbled to dust when he tried to move it from the seat, and he swept it off before slumping into the chair.

  The map on the wall was beveled over him at a forty-five degree angle. There was no light in the area of the ravine, only a dead bulb. He imagined Vann jumping from roof to roof, trying to avoid the Scourge below. You won’t catch him, he thought.

  “Press one of the buttons,” said Bane.

  Don’t get any ideas. This is for us, not bottom feeders like you.

  “I’m already sitting in my throne. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

  Bane wrapped around Canis’ spine, and he tensed into a ball. The chair moved and spun as he did, the pain spanning all over his body. His face burned with rage, and he looked at the map through a red haze. Drool dripped from his mouth and onto the floor, mixing with the remains of the dead controller. The veins on the side of his head throbbed, threatening to burst. Black ichor spluttered from his mouth, and the pain subsided. He sunk back, his heart beating, his bones aching.

  You cannot control me, parasite.

  “I will, when the time comes.”

  When the time comes, I’ll throw myself onto the nearest sword.

  “Maybe I already control you. In spite of all the wondrous things humans build, your thoughts are so black and white.”

  Canis wiped the saliva from his face, the black liquid sticking to his bracer as he dragged himself out of the chair.

  He pinned Bane to the deep dark depths of his mind and thought about the people huddled near the entrance, waiting for the Scourge to break through. The same people who he had thought of using as a diversion. I’m a coward to be here alone. The old Company leader, Aurora, entered his thoughts, and how Bane’s influence had turned the face of an aged treasure into something revolting. Maybe Bane was right about him already being in control. Maybe when the time came, he couldn’t kill himself. Maybe he wouldn’t have to.

  I’m getting wise to your manipulations. You compared yourself to Mortalo earlier, but you haven’t learned anything. He had me a willing slave for most of my life. You’re nothing compared to him.

  He walked back to his men, but with his mind more focused now than it had been in days. I will be the savior Mortalo always intended me to be. I’ll set these people free.

  Chapter 29

  Vann Xan’s back was flat against the wall, the sharp edges cutting into his shoulder blades. He held his breath as a Fallen Warden stomped through the streets below; they were still careful to avoid the buildings, still under the impression that the city would be theirs. They were everywhere and had chased him ever since he’d left the complex. His heart hammered against his chest.

  The clock tower had donged six times since leaving Canis Rayne, and Vann’s muscles ached after hours of silent creeping, each one a constant reminder he was on the verge of failure.

  Sweat dripped from his brow. The cold air of the day sent shivers down his spine, and he still had half the journey to go. The cylinders glowed, hung around his neck with stretched leather strips. They were heavy, and the strap cut into his skin, biting with every movement. The souls of the dead swirled in the sky, and he drew inspiration from their plight, determined not to end up there.

  He looked over the side of the wall and across the rooftops of Blackrose. If his gaze didn’t drop any lower, he could pretend nothing had changed. Crops still grew—albeit randomly—in place of actual roofs. The smell of its unwashed populace still hung in the air, mixed as a potion with scat and sewers.

  The Scourge marched, their footfalls clumsy but they moved in groups. He heard a scream. It pierced his eardrums, an unwelcome distraction from the chittering. The closeness of the sound made him jump and he ducked behind the edge of the roof. Jittering groans drifted from the street. He dared take the edge’s challenge, his hands and head poking over the top.

  The Scourge had a woman cornered. With nothing but a wall at her back, she clawed at an escape that would never come. One of them walked toward its victim. From behind, the living mannequin was pleasing to the eye, its figure enchanting, but as the woman-creature grabbed the human by the hair, Vann saw it for what it was, what they all were.

  The Scourge yanked the woman’s head back and planted its mouth on hers. Vann could just make out the black mass of a parasite hook onto the woman’s lips and pull itself into her mouth. It was different than the one that had emerged from Canis’. This one was small, lighter in color. The woman tried screaming again but it was muffled and choked as the parasite forced its way down her throat.

  Vann left the images behind and skulked over to the other side of the roof. Some of the gaps b
etween the cragged buildings were more than he could manage. A lick of some mooncap gave him the balls to jump, the balls to dice with death. He pulled some more from his pocket as he judged the next gap. The alley on the other side of the building was clear, and he leaped from the rooftop. The gap seemed bigger than it had moments ago.

  The broken wall of the next rooftop hammered into his chest as he landed on the other side. The cylinders clashed together. He dug his spiked gauntlets into the ridges of stone and heaved himself up. The thudding of the Warden went out of earshot. His chest tightened, threatening to collapse with every movement, but he couldn’t let Canis down. Mooncap tickled the outer reaches of his senses.

  He ran at the next gap and jumped. Thunder erupted in the air and bathed him with a waterfall of rain mid leap.

  He managed to clear it and didn’t stop as he ran across the open roof. Soil and plants squished underfoot, and he used them as a minor springboard to clear another gap. His thighs burned for rest. Vann threw himself against a ruined chimney and stopped.

  The thunder bellowed.

  A guard tower stood tall in the distance, still overshadowed by the great walls, overlooking most of the city. If I can get there, I’ll be able to plan my route.

  He spotted another group of Scourge, their pale flesh reflecting what little light the dome of overgrown thorns let through. I need to find a different way there. He moved behind the chimney for cover and crept over the other side and peered out; two Scourge-freaks walked side-by-side, bumping into each other on the streets below. He held his breath and jumped, his gauntlets poised on either side of him, ready to strike.

  The wind blew his hair back, and his victims died as he landed his claws into their spines. The bodies cushioned his fall, their bones cracking under the weight. Vann dived into the shadows. The blood from the Scourge dripping behind him, washing away with the rain, he breathed erratically, desperately.

  I’ll do it for you, Thorne.

  Chapter 30

  Belloch Storme snaked through the overcrowded room to get at Beatrix Thorne, the eyes of Tarosh ordering him forward. A child bumped into him and he ignored the brat as he neared Aurora Heart’s daughter. He smelled the red-head, her scent injecting flashes of glorious rape into his mind, and he licked his lips as he hovered behind her.

  Belloch whispered into Thorne’s ear. “They want to know when you’re going to kill him.”

  Thorne flinched but did not turn around. “Does he have to die? We need him.”

  “We’ll need him for the battle, but if this bunch of scat-bastards manage to withstand the Scourge, then the Company leaders will need to retake control. A boy can’t lead.”

  “Canis Rayne is more man than you, Belloch.”

  “I’ll show you how much of a man I am,” said Belloch as he licked Thorne’s ear.

  She turned around, her dagger poking into his gut. “When this is all over, I’m going to rape you, but with this.”

  Belloch smiled and disappeared back into the crowd. When Vek Tarosh kills your mother, I’m going to tear the hairs from your head. A thud shook the clock tower and cold sweat pricked his skin, his bowels tightening. How in the hells did I end up trapped in here?

  Chapter 31

  Canis Rayne stood in front of his warriors, his able-bodied, and his fodder. He tried to think like Mortalo but without Bane’s influence. There was no room for weakness now. He found it hard to believe such ill-fed people could hold a weapon, but their hardened and wiry frames were deceiving. If it weren’t the Scourge lurking outside their door, then it would’ve been some cutthroat waiting for them to fall asleep.

  Life goes on, thought Canis. I just hope there are enough of us left to be a part of it.

  He still planned to let the weak fight first, to use them as a lure. And however cold Beatrix Thorne thought it to be, it didn’t take away from the fact that their numbers were few. He glanced at his fellow brothers. They stood like statues, clutching their axes and swords. The white of their knuckles the only sign that they gave thought to what waited for them on the other side.

  Thorne had made him realize how foolish rushing into battle was. “Why let them cut us down out there, when we can cut them down in here?” she had said. Her words were defiant but drenched in truth.

  Rain dripped in through the mangled vent and the battle of thunder crashed miles above.

  The majority of the complex was designed for Wardens; their large bulk allowed for ample room, but there was something of a maze towards the back. Rooms and corridors shot off. Someone had controlled the city at one point, using the map and Wardens at will, but not anymore. And the human-sized structures would be the only place they could escape them, but wherever they went, the Scourge would be snapping at their heels.

  He hoped the structure would continue to block Bane’s thoughts. If it had been blocking them at all. If not, and the enemy ran straight to them whilst hiding in the cavities of the wall, then his brothers would be ready, every one of them inviting it to happen, having counted the dongs to this moment so they could take their fill of mooncap. One more dong and it’s time to show these walking puppets this is my city.

  “I’m going with the other two groups,” said Thorne.

  “We’ve been through this. I need you with me. It’ll be safer,” replied Canis.

  “Is there such a thing as safe anymore? All I see is survival, and when I think about it, that’s all I’ve ever seen.”

  The door to the complex shuddered as something heavy crashed against it. The metal room vibrated, and Canis could still hear the bottom feeders groaning outside, trying to form human words, new to their bodies, their chittering constant.

  Canis faced Thorne. “When the Wardens chase the others to the back of this place, my brothers will attack the Scourge from behind; we’ll ambush them by hiding behind the panels of the walls. If we can cut the Wardens off and close the doors, we can lock them in here and overwhelm them.”

  “I’m beginning to think your idea of charging into battle might actually be the better option,” Thorne said.

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “And what if Bane leads them to us? We’d be trapped in these walls.”

  “I’m stronger than him now. And I’m counting on the metal panels to block any communication.”

  She said nothing.

  “All we can do is try, Thorne.”

  “I know, big’un, but there’s no way I’m wriggling into any small spaces with these brutes while we wait to attack. I’ve seen what that idiot-rage can do, and I’ve seen what men can do.” She glanced toward the floor. “I’d feel better about having a wall at my back and a dagger in my hand.”

  “Whatever keeps you alive.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “It would all be for scat if Vann Xan risked his life for you just for you to die.”

  Thorne smiled. “I’ve never had someone risk their lives for me before, and I don’t need protecting. I’ll be with my mother. You might want to use the old women as bait, but they’ll show you only experience comes with age. The ability to twist that blade, refined.”

  “Make sure they’re close enough to invite the enemy in, but far enough away so they can get away. I never wanted them to die, but I didn’t want to be seen as weak.” He grabbed her wrist and looked her in the eyes. “And if you’re going to be with them, then I want you to open the door. You’re quick enough to get back before it swings open. But before that, you can put the panels back into place once we’ve cramped ourselves into the walls. I’ll tap from the inside, and you tap back to let me know you’re ready.”

  “It all hinges on me, eh?”

  Canis nodded. “Yes, you and Vann. I pray he manages to lead the Herald here.”

  “So does everyone. He’s stupid but brave. I’ll give him that.”

  “He loves you, you know.”

  “Love? He doesn’t know me,” Thorne said, her cheeks turning red like her
hair.

  “Does he have to? Whoever you were before has gone. We’re the future, and his future is with you.”

  “Presumptuous!”

  Canis sighed. “Go, help everyone into position.”

  Thorne nodded, gripped her dagger, and turned on the spot. Her red hair bounced as she ran to lead the other groups. Canis gestured Teller Redmaw and his men toward him. They shuffled over, their hulking figures dwarfing the rest of the men as they went by. Many of them wore helmets, but he recognized Titus Warp.

  Aurora Heart, Telsa Reinhart, and Vek Tarosh waited in the second group; the able-bodied and strong queued behind them with their weapons drawn. Tarosh smiled at him, his black teeth half-broken and big.

  The panels of the walls came away with some force. Four rested on the floor. Canis peered into the holes they left behind, leaning on a rigid frame that had held them in place. They had to squeeze their bulk in, scraping skin against exposed wires and metal.

  The thought of being trapped in the wall brought back memories from when he’d first left Blackrose. His mouth went dry.

  Teller got in too. Thorne patted Canis on the shoulder and nodded toward the wall. “Go on, big’un, your turn.”

  “I’m not sure this’ll work. You might not be able to fit the panels back on,” Canis said with half a smile.

  “You’re not getting out of it. Go on, get in.”

  As Canis raised a leg to step in, the clock tower donged. The sound vibrated through the metal, but this time it was like hugging an old friend. Canis held his breath before stepping into the narrow space. His shin scraped against an exposed pipe. The heat hit him like a wall. Sweat pooled on his brow. He nodded to Thorne from the shadow, and she lifted one of the panels. Her wiry arms rippled as she heaved it up. It popped into place, and Canis’ pupils adjusted to the darkness.