A Thousand Eyes

by Christian Leese

  Strength trickled back to his muscles and a surge of energy hit him. He opened one of the bags on his belt and looked at the med kit, but decided against it, feeling as energetic and strong as he had in months. Bad mooncap. That must’ve been it. I took too much in an unfamiliar place and believed what I saw to be real.

  Canis ran in the direction his gut told him was right. As he bounded through the trees without the slightest onset of fatigue, none of his surroundings changed. Multitudes of rocks looked like the last. Still, he sensed he was getting closer to something. The infection wriggled through his veins, gently touching his mind. Simple pictures formed. Images of the buildings he couldn’t enter, images of the Scourge projected within. The presence left his thoughts.

  He misplaced his footing as he weaved through the roots and tumbled to the moss below.

  The noiseless presence of the Scourge prodded him again to rise. He still couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the mooncap playing tricks and continued on. He ignored it, trying to pretend it wasn’t there.

  Something external growled in his ear. Canis opened his eyes and saw a pack of wolves. He grasped his sword, never taking his gaze off them. He noticed five pups playing underneath the bitches and dogs. He gripped the hilt and waited for them to react first. Don’t make me kill you. They each sniffed the air, sitting with their heads cocked to one side. They were covered in the same rotten gaps and fur as the last creature he had faced. Are you alive?

  “We,” the presence from inside him said.

  Canis froze, the threat of the wolves nothing compared to the chill travelling along his spine. He flicked his eyes from shadow to tree, from pups to sky. There was nobody else there. His gaze fell on the beasts again, but they didn’t move.

  By the grace of the maker, what’s going on?

  “Go,” the voice beckoned, cutting off Canis’ thoughts.

  He turned his back on them and ran, but the voice inside his mind didn’t go away, the echoes of its hiss trapped inside his head. Canis continued, feeling the lingering threat pressuring his spine and mind.

  Silent with his thoughts, he didn’t make a sound, as though something tried to clasp its hand over his internal mouth, trying to stop him from panicking. Like a stone rolling downhill, he travelled with no effort or say in the matter.

  A fog edged into Canis’ mind. Pure bliss coursed through his body as though he had never endured hardship or received a single scratch his entire life. It reminded him of the bath Mortalo had thrown him into. The thing inside him latched onto the idea, replaying the feeling over and over again. His memories dissolved. Only the sensation remained. His reasons for being there were stolen by the wind. Warmth erupted in his heart, and a smile stretched across his face. The voice inside him said something, but he merely nodded whilst his legs moved him forward. His pace slowed to a walk.

  “Home,” the Scourge hiss said as if it walked next to him.

  Canis came upon the strange little village again and wandered in. None of the Scourge milling around gave him any heed, and he fell into line, compelled to do simple yet important tasks. Joyful, smiling, familiar human faces looked at him as he walked by through the maze of ill-proportioned houses.

  “Calm.”

  He started his circuit. From the first house, he walked around the rest, moving in and out in a simple slalom, avoiding the other villagers. He stopped at a crate and moved his hands inside. It was empty. He started over.

  “Belong.”

  A pile of bloody flesh, feminine in form and minus a head, lay on the ground in the center. Everyone stepped over it.

  “Human,” the presence pressed into him. “We.”

  What are you? Canis tried, but he was losing focus, losing all sense of himself.

  “Human,” the presence persisted. “We.”

  His cheeks ached from the exaggerated grin, but he was the happiest he had ever been in his life. He wanted to stay forever and got the sense he could. The villagers began their chittering, but rather than haunt him, the sounds soothed him. It washed over his body like the fluid from Mortalo’s bath, the Scourge plague within him fixated on recreating the memory. He imagined creatures caressing his skin, eating away the dead flakes of his past, sculpting way for the future.

  His thoughts dissolved.

  * * * *

  Canis spent the night walking in a perpetual circuit, gathering nothing from the empty crate, walking back, and generally keeping the appearance of a busy, contented villager. He walked to one of the houses and stood at the door, staring at it. Cold rain spattered on his back, soaking his skin underneath his armor and cloak. Wind whipped in his face and his feet were encrusted with dirt, stones, and twigs, but he kept the idiotic grin.

  Canis turned as another villager came close. He looked at the male with one arm. The stump was smooth, healed in a day. He shook his head as he recalled the sound the man’s bone had made as it’d snapped. The Scourge plague in these devils got put into me too. The first real thought. Once I get back to Blackrose…

  He stopped walking and the smile dropped. The presence crawled through him. It felt as if someone pressed their thumb into his memories, but he fought back, his own thoughts crashing against the plague inside him. At first, the Scourge’s feelings and wants were simple, collective, but the more Canis rebelled against it, the more it developed. It burrowed into his mind, its thoughts like a garden tool digging into soft soil.

  “Blackrose. In,” it said, as if it were more friend than infection.

  The mist lifted, and he realized he was back in the fake village, surrounded by the fake villagers. His internal battle had kept him withdrawn, but he looked on the Scourge as if seeing them for the first time, their waxy skin dull and fake.

  Canis got his bearings back as the mental haze cleared and remembered the direction of the city. He started running before the thing inside him took over again. Each step tightened his muscles, compressing the internal springs. His head kept trying to turn as if to direct his body, but he needed to escape, the Scourge’s persistence unable to dissuade him of the dangers. He used the chittering to propel him away.

  He admired his pace too much and lost focus, missing a crucial turn. He tried to twist as he hurtled toward a tree. All he could do was put his arms up and hope to bounce off it. Hands first, he slammed into the trunk and thwacked onto the forest floor. A dull ringing sounded in his head, but there was no pain.

  No pain. But if there’s no pain, does this mean I’m one of them? The thought made him shudder.

  His stomach tightened. His spine jerked backward. Canis recalled all the bad things Mortalo had made him do. All the bad things Mortalo had done to him. He remembered how he used to think, how he used to despise Mortalo before he became his master. Vann had tried to make him understand Mortalo was a bad man, but Canis couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see how someone so powerful, so selfless, could be anything other than a hero.

  For a brief second, an image flashed into his mind. The old man towering over young Canis, picking him from the litter at the age of six, tearing him away from a vaguely female form as tears streamed down his face. The Scourge plague inside him fueled hatred toward a man he now idolised, but a small part of him agreed. He didn’t have a choice, though, and it dug deep into his mind. It was getting into his head, changing his way of thinking, but it started to make sense. He pictured Mortalo, his godly figure tall and powerful, but the image became contorted, a whip appearing in his master’s hand. The scars on Canis’ body burned with confusion.

  Agrim emerged from the top his head. The old spider had been reserved and calculated before, but now it moved in uncertain loops. A web covered his face, and he brushed the spider to one side. I can free Vann and the others. At sword point if I have to. I can free them and bring them to live outside. The last thought elicited no physical reaction from the Scourge presence. Canis stood and continued on his way, bounding across the forest floor, trying to find a balance between what
he wanted and what the thing inside him wanted.

  He shot out of the trees with the walls of Blackrose in sight. They stretched so high Canis couldn’t see the top, a blotch of grey stone leading to nowhere. Water had stained and eroded parts of it and yet he knew it would be there forever.

  “In,” the presence demanded.

  Get out of my head!

  “In,” it demanded again, hooks of control embedding themselves into his nervous system.

  Get out!

  It stabbed at his mind, a flow of puppet strings snaking in and out of Canis’ limbs. Okay, okay, I’ll do as you say! thought Canis and the agony subsided.

  “In,” it persisted, and Canis shook the idea of fighting.

  He looked upon the walls of Blackrose, pretending for a moment none of this was happening. It was easy to pretend he was back with Mortalo. Back in his cell, mooncap carrying him away. Canis tried to focus and searched the ground for the secret pipe he had escaped from some nights before. He took a step back and looked at the old frame the Scourge had used to scale the wall. The same bleached white skull from days before stared at him.

  Where is it? thought Canis. Agrim crawled from his hair and lowered itself to the ground with a strand of web. What’re you doing? The spider turned around as if it could hear Canis and then proceeded to a group of rocks. There, Canis saw a hole camouflaged as part of the stone. Can you hear me? Agrim climbed up the web and disappeared back into his dreadlocks. Agrim?

  “Spider. We,” the Scourge plague hissed from within.

  I wasn’t talking to you!

  He stopped breathing as he decided going into the hole would be easier headfirst. A mad rush of blood, heavy with fear, surged through him. The dark was consuming. He got into a pattern of push, grip, push, and soon he felt Blackrose’s center vibrating through the tunnel.

  In the darkness, he felt every movement inside him, every curious limb snaking between different organs. The Scourge plague seemed more like a parasite, alien and alive. Sweat poured from his body, the dirt sticking to his face. I need to get out!

  * * * *

  His head knocked against the wooden trapdoor after losing all sense of time. He braced his legs against the wall and pushed the heavy door upward. The warm air of the passage rushed out as Canis freed himself. No one greeted him as he hoisted himself out of the hole and scanned the room for Mortalo.

  He sucked in Blackrose’s filth, the moist, rotting stench glorious after struggling through the wall. He crouched and shuffled to the next room. Dim light filtered in through gaps on the boarded window opposite. He smelled blood in the air and checked his body for cuts but found none.

  He edged closer to the window and heard shouts and screams. The clock tower rang out. I’m home.

  Chapter 7

  Canis Rayne scurried to the top floor. The vantage point of the tower was much better than he’d remembered. Where do I belong? How will I fit in? Vann had told him none of their old family remained, having died of starvation, and he didn’t know anything other than Mortalo. If I can kill Mortalo, Vann and I can join one of the other Companies. We can find some kind of work. Vann will know what to do.

  “Hide,” the thing inside him beckoned.

  I have no intention of getting killed. “I have no intention of dying,” he whispered, still unsure of how to communicate with the presence inside him.

  “Hide.”

  The thing picked through his brain, pulling at his thoughts and sifting through his memories. An image of Mortalo shot through his mind, attached to every sensory experience that came with it.

  “Kill.”

  Kill Mortalo. It still didn’t feel right, but images of Mortalo’s cruelty flooded his thoughts again. Flashes of the hurt and pain inflicted upon him and his friends. The Scourge loosened the pressure around Canis’ spine.

  He hurried to the ground floor of the tower. At the bottom, he poked his head from behind the main door. The guards were gone. Sounds of battle stampeded into the clearing. Canis shot back up the stairs, looked out over the streets. Mobs of people gathered at the other end of the square. If I don’t get out now, someone’s going to see me.

  He stepped out of the building after glancing in every direction at least twice and ran to the alley opposite. He became one with the shadows as the dark accepted him with open arms. Sounds of confrontation simmered closer than they had a moment ago. The ground shook. He heard the echo of crunching metal. Without a doubt, it was a Warden. The thing inside him nurtured his curiosity, but made it clear he must remain hidden, and he crept to the edge.

  Two groups shouted at each other from opposite sides of the square. There were a few people with swords, but most wielded clubs or iron bars salvaged from the city. He saw Titus Warp, who should’ve been guarding the tower, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. A Warden stomped through the middle. It didn’t bother with the people ready to kill each other. It wasn’t their job to keep the peace. It was their job to keep people in and the Scourge out.

  Canis looked at his dirty hands. Old scars marred his skin, and he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. I’m the first person ever to return and no one knows or cares.

  “You are free,” intruded the Scourge hiss. “A slave no more.”

  I’m free, Canis replied in his mind, sure it would respond.

  “Free. Must kill Mortalo.”

  But I’m not free of you.

  “We are one,” it said, its internal hiss imprinting on his mind. “Strong. I will help.”

  Why would you help me? Your kind only wants to infect us.

  “Belong. Only belong. Be like humans.”

  Leave my body! Stop infecting my thoughts! Canis struck his head, a brief white flash crossing his vision.

  “Can’t. One. You die. I die. I helped free you. Mortalo must die.”

  Mortalo’s efforts to save Blackrose have driven me mad!

  “He will kill you and extract me.”

  I must try to free my friends. I cannot kill Mortalo alone. I don’t want to kill Mortalo!

  “Help. Make strong. I will mix my blood with yours.”

  Canis looked about as the Companies clashed in the square. He tried to remember which was which, Mortalo having taught him little of Blackrose’s divisions. The larger force was that of women, but their shaven heads and gnarled faces made it hard to tell the difference at first. They wielded barbed spears, and their spiked piercings clattered together like weapons of their own as the women threw themselves into battle.

  He observed the other people in this Company, men and women dressed in tailcoats, their hands full of clubs and daggers, but he could see more of them hidden in the shadows behind, swinging rocks from leather strips.

  The sounds of Blackrose were a mix of constant noise as the heart of the city thundered and the people butchered each other. A woman with a shaved head fell into the alley after running from the battle, a shard of wood protruding from her shoulder. She saw Canis and collapsed in front of his towering figure.

  Canis unsheathed his sword, and in the same movement, hammered the woman’s neck with it. The bluntest edge of the blade bounced off the muscle, but Canis heard the bone snap and she went limp. What have I done? Regret was fleeting, though, as the Scourge within pumped fluids into his body, mixed its blood with his, feeding a different side to him that he found hard to like. I should’ve let her escape… It wrestled for control. No, I did the right thing; she could’ve led more to me, gotten me killed.

  He pulled the body into the shadows and searched for anything of use. Nothing.

  A stone smashed against the wall to his right as he continued to watch the battle. What he had been told of the Company feuds had always been interesting, something he could prove himself in. But now, because he didn’t have a master to please, and with his considerable strength augmented by the Scourge, it all seemed so messy and primitive. There was no skill, only a mass of violence. I could kill any
one of these humans if I wanted to. He shook his head, gritted his teeth.

  A Warden, as tall as the building Canis hid beside, stopped in front of the alley. Its silver body glorious, its head moving left to right, scanning the area.

  It spotted Canis. Its gleaming beacon-eyes left nothing hidden in the dark. Canis looked away, back to the alley, but he couldn’t reach the other end in time. Someone was thrown into the Warden’s path from the battle behind. It clutched the still figure in its hand and tossed it to one side. Canis didn’t move.

  The Scourge hiss tried to make him run, but Canis refused, and for the first time, he was able to fight back against its control. It begged him to flee, but he couldn’t, pinned in place by the Warden’s neon stare.

  The Warden leaned in closer, its gaze focused on Canis’ belly. It screeched and whined, the mechanical sounds cutting through the chaos. The Scourge thing squeezed Canis’ spine. He curled into a ball on the ground. The Warden lunged in with its flat fist, but Canis rolled out of the way and forced back control.

  Stop this! You’ll get me killed! Help me. Don’t hinder me.

  Canis moved out of the way of another sweep. He hit the Warden’s arm with his sword, but the blade sparked off it. Again, he lashed out, denting the aged metal exoskeleton, the silver panels gleaming with defiance.

  Agrim launched itself at the Warden’s face and wrapped its legs around it. When it released itself and returned back to Canis, he saw it had done no damage but obscured its vision with web. Mooncap, anything, thought Canis, but the Warden continued to try to stamp on him. Agrim tried to attack again but bounced off the metal. Canis’ breaths shortened to gasps. Mooncap! The need to consume it took over.

  A buzzing in his ear caused him to lose balance, and a red haze grew in his vision, his teeth rattling. It had been a long time since he had felt the effects of his inbred rage without mooncap, but the Scourge encouraged it. Blood drained from his limbs, moving to his head and body, then back again.