A Thousand Eyes

by Christian Leese

  Green light from the main room lit his feet, but that too was cut out as Thorne blocked the last of the gaps. He bent and twisted his body to free his axe and pushed against the panel. The sides clicked, and he felt the give, the glow of his weapon giving light to Teller’s scarred face beside him.

  Sweat continued to pour. “We can’t breathe,” said Bane.

  Canis’ hand trembled. The thoughts of escape consumed him, but the surge of control didn’t catch him off guard and he ground his teeth. He didn’t offer the parasite a reply and instead turned his attention to what mattered most.

  “Are you ready, Teller?” Canis asked.

  Teller grunted, as did the others. Their simple voices strained with discomfort.

  “Thorne, can you hear me?” Canis asked a little louder. “Thorne?”

  No reply. Canis breathed in and tapped on the metal. Someone tapped back. It was time. Blood drained from his head, going cold. He gave the order for everyone to eat their mooncap, and he played with the dried fungus in his hands. The taste danced over his tongue long before it became a reality for his lips. He salivated, and his teeth ached. All he wanted was for a chance to escape reality. The others ate theirs whole, but he didn’t need it anymore and passed it to Teller.

  Teller remained silent. Part of Mortalo’s manipulation was Canis’ addiction to the drug, and Bane had helped him escape his master, and learn to control his rage. But we know you’re going to be my end. I’ll die fighting you, but I’ll die knowing I’m slave to no one.

  Chapter 32

  The gaps between the walls were filled with coughing. Heavy breathing created the illusion of war drums. The inbred rage conjured apparitions, visual manifestations from within Canis Rayne’s mind, and he knew his brothers were suffering. If they broke out too early, his plan would be ruined.

  Vibrations raged through the walls, and his teeth felt as if they were going to fall out. He felt the doors of the clock tower grinding open and the thud of Scourge swarming in.

  He gripped Teller Redmaw, but the man screamed and kicked, his own rage not yet under control. A stray fist caused Canis’ head to jerk sideways. His instinct was to bite the man, rip the skin from his face, but he pushed against the panel instead.

  “Now!” he commanded.

  They pushed against their temporary prison, the metal panels bending a little before popping out to the other side. Green light flooded in. A mass of pale, waxy flesh stopped mid-chase to turn on them. The Wardens were much deeper into the complex, chasing Beatrix Thorne.

  “Scourge-freaks!” he yowled.

  Canis’ arms and chest burned, the muscles stretching his flesh. His vision swam with red fire. Veins protruded past his body, black fluids creating a network of lines on his upper half. The new, taut skin itched and stretched to the point of ripping apart. Pressure built behind his eyes, and he jumped from the wall, diving into the horde before him.

  Fatigue gripped him, as though his energy was sucked away within an instant. His brothers charged past into battle. The red haze disappeared as his legs bowed. His momentum sent him crashing headfirst into the floor. Tired eyes spotted his men impaling the first row of Scourge.

  Canis tried to push himself up, but his arms shivered. Agrim the spider jumped onto the floor before him, its big eyes asking him “Why?” It scuttled around, back and forth, as Canis wanted to join the battle but couldn’t. Bane laughed from the untouched parts of his mind. The dead body of a Scourge landed next to him, its head cut clean off. Agrim dug its fangs into the face, but there was no life left. Blood seeped onto his hands, filling the gaps between his fingers. He pushed against the floor.

  I will have control! Canis stopped pushing. Let his face hit the floor. It bounced off. White light lashed across his vision.

  Why won’t it come!

  Tiny stabs of electric life prickled his body, and he managed to get onto one knee. Bane had somehow sapped him of his rage, his birthright. Canis’ last remaining energy came from within him, flowing through his veins. Not from mooncap. Not from anyone else, but from his own soul.

  The Butcher’s Cleaver lay next to him, and he gripped its hilt as he gathered his senses. A flicker of his reflection crossed his vision from the steel. His eyes glowed green like his axe, and he roared.

  His men were surrounded, the enemy wielding weapons of their own, broken shafts and shanks, but their clumsy swings and wild thrashings were put to shame as the Iron Hands ripped through them with swift, idiotic brutality.

  A group of Scourge detached themselves from the rest and ran at Canis.

  My turn! he thought as he got onto his feet and staggered to meet them.

  One of them leading the charge rammed him in the stomach with its shoulder. Canis held onto his axe but crashed back to the floor. Scourge after Scourge jumped on him, crushing him and Agrim.

  No light seeped through the ball of bodies clinging to him. Their waxy faces grinned wide as they squeezed. The smell of tainted, unwashed bodies hit the back of his throat and he retched.

  With his head pinned against the floor, Canis could hear and feel the battle, the clash of steel and the breaking of bones. But above all else he felt the ground jumping, the metals vibrating with the murderous stomps of a Warden. He bit and scratched, punched and kicked, to get free, clawing his way up as if in a sea of bodies. A stab of pain trickled through his face, and he pulled Agrim off. The spider had bitten him in the confusion and his vision wavered as the poison entered his body. He pulled himself away from the orgy of violence.

  At first he couldn’t see, but his body absorbed Agrim’s menace and breathed in. Fresh air tickled his lungs, and he merged back into the melee. He dragged his axe behind him and jumped from the pile of Scourge trying to keep him from the fight. Bane writhed inside, but his need to warn Teller was greater.

  “Teller! The Wardens!” Canis shouted. “Wardens!” His shout mutated into a demonic roar and their heads turned to face him.

  He pointed to where Thorne tried to lure the things, but they were on their way back, fighting against each other for room; the single-file corridor was not big enough for two.

  Scourge were still grabbing him, one curling around his leg. He hacked at its torso, blood spraying from a gashed artery. Bloodlust erupted in Teller’s eyes.

  Canis wanted to cut the Scourge off, but there were too many of them, too many to count.

  Agrim jumped from Canis’ shoulder, and his head jerked sideways as the attached web pulled. The beastie clamped on to a nearby attacker, filling their enemy’s blood with poison. Canis scratched his face before pulling Agrim back.

  The Iron Hands were competing to be the first to drive their steel into the machine. A wild elbow from Titus Warp knocked Teller into the Scourge, but the slave swung his axe, hacking through its collarbone. He kicked the corpse off the weapon and continued his charge. Canis could only watch, still half restrained.

  Get them off me!

  “I need you, Canis. You’re mine,” replied Bane.

  I need to save my people!

  “I need to save my people too. We’ve been locked outside these walls for far too long, unable to put together any plans worth chasing. Now I have you, and they have me. Why would I throw all that away? If it were the other way around, would you?”

  Canis admitted to himself that he wouldn’t do anything different. Would anyone do any different? He sliced the head off another and dragged himself toward Teller.

  Mortalo’s Iron Hands hit the Wardens, their weapons sparking off the metal. One of the Wardens struck back, the others trapped behind it. Their gauzed faces were inches below the high roof, and their mass sent people scattering for safety.

  Canis had to palm away hands covering his face, but he craned his neck and shouted. “Swarm them! Aim for the wires and cogs! Push the Wardens back!”

  The army of Scourge followed. Canis’ strength was still draining. The constant struggle to remain above his attackers
ripped his muscles farther apart, stripes emerging like claw marks on his body.

  The Warden pushed back against the attack, steam hissing from its vents. The parasite within it moved, its long limbs woven between the inner workings of the machine. Canis growled as he tried to pull himself free. With his axe still tight in his grip, he yanked himself from the Scourge. Another one came to take its place, but he hacked it down. The blade ripped the skin from its face.

  Vek Tarosh battled a group of Scourge to Canis’ right, the Company’s leader sending them to their deaths. His Paws of the Dead glowed brighter with every life taken, and the black-toothed warrior beckoned for more to come at him.

  Two Scourge clung to Canis, and he dragged his gaze from Tarosh.

  Canis, with his free hand, maneuvered his axe to stab those hanging onto him. Nails and teeth dug in deep. His body marred with cuts, he gained more room, able to move his feet. Bane thrashed within him. The thing’s pain brought about a sense of triumph, and the next Scourge he cleaved added to the whirl of emotions. He jumped from them and stumbled toward his brothers, dripping with blood.

  Teller and the men clung to the Warden like the Scourge clung to Canis, except they plunged their blades deep inside the machine and worked their edges underneath the exoskeleton, like flies clinging for space on a rotting corpse. Steam hissed from the vents and its shoulder turrets sparked, small flames popping in and out of existence.

  They’re going to burn them? “Back! Everyone get back!” Canis screamed.

  Ten warriors charged back to Canis, cutting through the horde. Flames erupted from the Warden behind them. The wave of heat blasted his face, and the men dove onto him, clawing at their backs. Smoke rose from their melted flesh, and the room burst into flames, the silver of the Warden’s panels reflecting the red light and faces of dying men.

  The Scourge were engulfed by it too, living candlewicks. But they didn’t scream. The smell of burned hair filled the room, and the rest of the Wardens fell upon them, no longer pinned back. Most of the Scourge had begun to flee the complex, stepping over the mass of others trying to get in. Bane battered the edges of his thoughts, compelling Canis to flee too. The burning misery of the makeshift crematory washed over him and tears streamed down his face.

  The warriors who had been holding the Wardens back rolled on the floor, their skin melting. Canis got free of the Scourge in the chaos and ran toward his brothers. A Warden whipped its arm out, and he ducked beneath the cumbersome blow, skidding to a halt. Don’t attack, he thought, aiming the thought at Agrim. Not yet.

  He jumped on his men, patting out the flames, spitting at the fire. The screams from the humans and Scourge vibrated. His flesh screamed from the licks of fire. He gestured for Tarosh to help, but the Company leader ran by to aid Aurora Heart escape the horde instead. A high-pitch sound filled the room, and at first, he thought it the Wardens. He soon realized it was her spear, whistling through the air and into the enemy.

  He pulled someone from the floor. He was unrecognizable, his face distorted, his eyes barely noticeable under the swollen and black lump on top of his shoulders. The armor he had been wearing fused with the melted flesh. If it weren’t for his downturned mouth, Teller would’ve remained unidentified.

  Half dead, Teller pushed Canis out of the way and flung himself at one of the Wardens. Canis froze, unable to take in what he saw. Some of his warriors were dead, smoldering on the floor, but the rest, however burned, ran back at their enemy. Canis willed his rage to return and it seeped into his smoky vision, but every time it threatened to take hold, Bane took it away.

  People were dying, and yet Canis could do nothing about it. He couldn’t fight. Bane dominated him, body and mind. He looked at his axe. Is this the time? I can’t let Bane control everything, control me. I have to stop it.

  He turned the head of the axe inward, the edge pressed against his stomach. A Warden toppled over, the room shaking as its weight crashed against the metal floor. Canis didn’t flinch, his hands trembling to slip the weapon into his gut. It bit into his abdomen, and his muscles tensed beneath it. Bane hammered at his sense of control. He squeezed the hilt until his arms cramped. Flames licked out from a burning corpse beside him and the heat blistered his skin. The axe absorbed it, the steel cauterizing Canis’ flesh as it dug in, and Agrim launched itself at the metal. No, you stupid beast! The fire set the old spider’s long hair aflame. It screeched. Like no other sound Canis had heard before. It retreated back into Canis’ hair, its body crisp and smoldering.

  “I’m in control!” he shouted. The axe cut into his body, the energy feeding the steel as he pushed it in.

  The last of the Wardens emerged as they overpowered the ghoulish warriors.

  Canis looked up, his movements labored. There was a hint of red on top of the shoulder from the last Warden maneuvering itself into battle. He was about to shout again, to plunge the axe into his body in an effort to avoid the pain he knew the others fought through, but he saw Thorne’s head appear on top of the Warden. She buried her dagger behind its neck.

  Scores of people flooded the room. The Company leaders had chosen to stay back with the old, but now they charged into battle; Aurora was at the front, her half-spear in hand, her eyes no longer moist and wide but narrow and deadly.

  Do I kill myself? Do I do it now? Bane will take over if I don’t. He’ll use me against my own, and, if I don’t do it now, will I ever do it? Bane sent as many surges and urges as it could, the mixture of feelings and wants disorienting Canis.

  He thought he saw Vann Xan running into the complex, his movements slowed, his face strong, still loyal.

  Canis blinked, but the image didn’t fade and he realized it was Vann hurtling towards him. His brother’s eyes were dilated. Blood dripped from his face and armor. One of his arms hung limp beside his body.

  Canis expected him to stop, but as he drew close, Vann flung himself at him. The axe fell from his grip, and they skidded across the floor to stop as they hit the remains of a Warden. Canis went to speak, but Vann jumped, dragging him over the chunks of metal and into cover.

  “Get back!” Vann shouted to Thorne, who bounded over. “The Herald is coming!”

  Their men were being torn apart by the Wardens and Mortalo’s slaves were dropping dead, the effects of their rage wearing off and the pain taking over. The few exhausted-looking, but otherwise uninjured, fled to Vann as he led them back down the tunnel with the remaining fighters.

  The Wardens turned to give chase. The entire building quaked as the Herald charged into the main room, ripping through the doors, its glass eyes fixated on Vann. The Herald was three times the size of the other Wardens and had to bend under the ceiling, its dark figure still covering everyone in shadow. The cylinders Vann had taken hung from tubes protruding from its chest, the soul energy half drained.

  The ceiling bent and creaked as the Herald stood and pushed against it. The metal looked as if it was bending, but bolts and joints popped, and the roof lifted. The Herald’s gears ground together, and he tipped the ceiling to one side. The fire was still spreading, and the rush of air caused it to spiral into the sky, screams rising with it.

  The Scourge flocked to the machine, climbing its green frame, covering every part of its body. Clumps of plants swung in the air, creatures emerging from holes in the Herald’s armor. The Scourge clung to its arms, its face. Little parasites spawned from their mouths, trying to dig inside it, fighting the other creatures for room. Wardens charged the Herald too, leaving Canis and his men grouped at the mouth of the corridor. Thorne ran to him and Vann, her body coated with the grime of battle.

  “You did it!” she said to Vann as she flung her arms round him.

  Canis tried to gather himself.

  Vann cradled his broken arm. “We have to help it. The Scourge will either destroy it or infect it. We have to help—now!”

  Canis nodded and picked up a rusty iron bar from the floor, his axe nowhere to be seen. V
ann led the charge, his one arm raised, his spiked gauntlet aimed at the enemy. As they drew closer, Canis struggled to run, but this time he didn’t hesitate to act. He stopped and pushed the iron bar into the gash in his stomach. He fell to his knees, his hands and body shaking.

  I’m going to kill you.

  “You’ll kill us both! You don’t want to die, do you?” replied Bane.

  If it means you can no longer lead these bottom feeders, then yes, I want to die.

  “I,” Bane hissed, “won’t let you!”

  Canis’ hands tensed. The metal clanged against the floor, and his men descended upon the enemy. The Wardens batted some of them to one side and let the rest hack into the Scourge still clambering onto the Herald.

  The Wardens headed for Canis.

  Bane contracted around his spine. He couldn’t move. The sickness and pain reminded him of Mortalo and his experiments. Nothing had made him happier than to serve his master, make him proud. Despair coursed through him as he realized he would never see Mortalo’s plan succeed. Mortalo had been a great man, but he had placed his hopes in a failure, a boy who had grown to fall at the hands of the very things he was bred to kill.

  Canis’ eyes bulged as he tried to regain control. The Wardens were halfway to Canis, and at their head was a Warden he recognized well, the Warden that had killed Mortalo. Its arm had been damaged in the fight with Mortalo, its limb a long javelin of a weapon. It skewered Aurora as she ran past, her body going limp. Her head flopped back before she slipped off the spike, her dead eyes looking back at him.

  “You can’t stop me,” said Bane.

  The ground shook as the enemy closed in on him. The Warden swiped at him with its gimped hand. The impact stole the air from his lungs and he was launched backward. He hit the far wall as if he were water slapping against rock. His body was limp, and he collapsed to the floor. Every breath sent fibers of bone into his muscles, the tiny spikes pinching off with the rise and fall of his chest. He willed his rage to return, anything to get him back onto his feet. One more Warden would die before he did. He stood.