A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes)

by Craig P Roberts

  The Skip broke his silence. “Care to tell me what the thumping is?” A spark followed and the flame dimly lit the room. All of a sudden, the rat (tackled by the king moments before) focused and his eyes locked onto his attacker. Baskie blew out the flame, plunging them back into darkness to give Romarus the advantage. The rat locked his hands around the boy king’s neck. Baskie threw himself at the large man who was choking the king. He put one hand on the blind man’s chin and one behind his head and twisted, snapping his neck. He felt the life click away between his hands as if it was insignificant. The Skip must have heard it too as the flame flicked back on to illuminate the tunnel.

  Romarus stood with bloodstains on his body, his bare chest heaving for breath. He thanked Baskie, then turned to the Skip, yelling, “Here! Your fucking door-locking thing didn’t work by the way.”

  “Here!” the Skip imitated. “They’re not my locking things! But…yes…that part of my plan has potentially fallen through. But look on the bright side…Having those mental daughters of hers on our tails will speed up our exit somewhat.” He beamed a smile, looking around for approval or a small laugh at his pathetic attempt at a joke. His smile faded.

  Romarus broke the awkward silence. “Those doors are going to be like a piece of piss for them. They look like normal girls but they’re all strong as fuck!” the boy king explained in his crude manner.

  “Strong as fuck? Well that’s pretty strong. Better get moving then,” the Skip continued to ridicule.

  Can’t you take anything seriously? You take the piss just to cover up your own mistakes! Baskie shook his head. The king seemed unaware of the Skip’s attempts at humor.

  Brick wedged the open door where the rats had come through. Owin squeezed under him, wearing only some trousers which looked far too big. After Owin was through, Brick jumped out of the doorway and the two heavy metal panels slammed together. When Owin spotted Baskie, he ran and wrapped his arms around him, then pushed him away, hard. “Well, I didn’t break!” he said, with a smile on his face.

  Shadows spun around the room as the Skip carried the flame with him. He patted Owin on the shoulder, mocking, “Yes, yes we’re all very impressed and I’m sure the Mother or whatever it is you bend your knee and sacrifice animals to, will be very pleased that you didn’t blow your load in something you weren’t supposed to. Now, we need to deliver the devastating blow to that crazy blue bitch.”

  “The red flowers are in this room,” Baskie shouted, moving down the tunnel to the double sliding doors.

  Romarus followed, wiping bloodstains off his bare arms and chest with the rat’s clothing. “What red flowers?” he asked.

  “They’re used to make the dust she uses to control her rats. You must have seen it.” Baskie tried to explain as simply as possible.

  “You mean the shit they sniff?”

  “Yes...The shit they sniff,” the Skip repeated in his usual sarcastic way.

  Romarus’s eyes widened with ideas clearly buzzing through his head. “Are we going to steal it? I fucking want to try some, it looks amazing! People would buy it in the kingdoms. Last Kingdom could be the richest in the Mortal Realm if we had that. All the people could have houses and water channels and—”

  “—And every little girl could have a baby bronco,” the Skip said, in a high-pitched voice flailing his arms around, “and every little boy could have a glowing staff and all the women could ride around on white dunebacks with manes groomed by the best groomers.” The Skip slapped Romarus around the back of the head. The boy king didn’t react the way most kings would after being struck by a common brown-eye. Wallace continued in a more serious manner, “Believe me, you don’t want that inside you or anybody you care about.” The Skip’s eyes went blank for a second, then he refocused. “We’re not stealing it. We’re destroying it.”

  King Romarus rubbed the back of his head. “Why the fuck would you destroy it?” He stopped the Skip, who was trying to pry open the door.

  The Skip turned and pushed the boy king back against a wall. Baskie took over the door opening—Owin helped.

  He heard the Skip shouting behind him, “Because she is using it to control innocent people and she’s ruined enough lives!”

  Romarus yelled back, “So why don’t you just kill the bitch then?”

  “Because I don’t kill!” Wallace snapped in a fearsome snarl.

  “Get youw hands off him now!” Brick demanded, unconvincingly.

  The door began to budge. As Baskie turned his head away from the door for a glance, he saw Brick had stepped between the arguing skip and the king. The Skip just laughed, shook his head and ducked under Baskie’s arm through the narrow gap that they wedged open, into the room with the red flowers.

  Romarus’s voice changed. “I order you not to destroy them!” he shouted in a kingly fashion. “Stand down!” He began to follow the Skip into the room.

  Baskie, still bracing the door open, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. “Don’t! There’s no point in taking the flower because you don’t know what to do with it to make the dust. She makes it in there and—” He pointed to the other room as Romarus barged past him to pursue the Skip.

  Owin took over wedging the gap in the door. Baskie followed Romarus into the room. The king seized the Skip by the collar, snatching at the flame he held in his hand. As they struggled, the fire-lighter dropped into a pile of the red flowers and the flames tore them apart. As it reached the wall, the slime—that coated the metal in Grietum’s Hive—caught light as well. Wallace grabbed his metal tool and ran out of the room. All followed, squeezing past Owin, who then let the doors slam together.

  Brick snatched the metal stick. “I’ll get the other woom, you all stawt wunning.”

  “I’ll help him too. He won’t be able to open the doors alone,” Owin piped up.

  The danger of his belief in the Mother is he thinks he’s invincible.

  The brave halfwit and the curly-haired island-boy ran back down the hall and pried open the sliding door to the room where the dust was made and stored. Baskie, Romarus and the Skip hurried in the opposite direction to the end door and forced it open. Brick and Owin were inside the other room by the time they had squeezed into the next corridor. The Skip held Baskie’s shoulders for guidance through the pitch black, as they stumbled down the dark tunnel.

  A thump echoed in the walls and the familiar hum of Grietum’s Hive filled the structure. The illumination on the walls began to light up again and the buzz from the lights fizzled back.

  “They’ve got an advantage now,” the Skip shouted, rubbing his eyes. “Move!” They picked up pace and began to run.

  As they neared the next door, it parted for them. The two metal bulks pulled apart. Baskie’s breath caught in his throat. Shock choked him. Six of Grietum’s rats blocked the way, bladed-staffs in hand. They stepped through the opening. The door behind the guards shuddered as it closed. One of the rats pressed his hand to a panel on the wall. A loud metal clunk followed. They’ve locked the door. We’re trapped! Baskie’s heart was beating like a battle-drum. His nail-less finger pulsed and his hands tingled. A chill ran through him.

  “Come on then, you dick-less bastards!” King Romarus shouted, puffing out his chest with arms wide. He walked within three footfalls of the gang of armed men.

  One of the rats thrust a bladed-staff at Romarus’s face. The boy king avoided it, turning sideways and swaying backwards, arching his back. He grabbed the shaft of the spear, drove it down and snapped it over his leg. With one flick of his hand, he launched the blade at a rat standing across the tunnel. The man clutched his own bleeding throat as the blade and shaft impaled his neck. He dropped to his knees as the other rats just stood and watched, jaws open.

  The Skip turned and ran back from where they came from. Baskie went to follow him but stopped when he saw Romarus continuing to fight. The king drove the butt of the broken spear into his attacker’s face. The next rat lunged at Romarus, who evaded the attack wi
th a jump. He flew towards the large man and landed a punch on the top of his head. The rat’s skull flattened on top with a crunch. The spear dropped to the ground. The boy king picked it up and threw it to Baskie.

  “King Romarus, we need to withdraw!” Baskie shouted to the blurry cloud of fists and legs.

  “Fucking withdraw if you want. I’m going to kick their cunts in!” the king hissed through a clenched jaw. He rounded on another of Grietum’s guards who was beginning to back away from the boy king, whose head only came up to the large man’s chest.

  Baskie launched the spear at a rat sneaking up behind King Romarus. It grazed the man’s arm but it was enough to distract him. Shit! The rat came running at Baskie. Another followed. Baskie turned and sprinted down the tunnel, back into the bowels of Grietum’s Hive. The Skip was nowhere to be seen. Baskie weaved across the narrow tunnel, launching himself from wall to wall in case the rats tried to spear him.

  He turned a corner and was confronted with Wallace the Skip running back towards him. “They’re coming! Go back!” The Skip pointed manically.

  Baskie skidded to a halt. He saw Brick and Owin further down the corridor over the Skip’s shoulder. Baskie turned and ran back the way he had come. Before the bend in the corridor, he paused and crouched, hiding from the approaching rats. He held a hand up to halt the Skip. Footsteps from the two rats were clunking closer from around the corner. He felt a breeze behind him as Owin and Brick joined them, crouching with their backs to the wall.

  Three. Two. One. Baskie dove. His shoulder hit one of the rats as they came into view. He grabbed the man’s spear and straddled him. Pinning the shaft of wood over the rat’s neck, he pushed down hard. The rat’s face reddened and his legs convulsed. The man’s hands hopelessly slapped and clawed. Baskie looked away from the veiny, purpling face, that was begging for air. When he turned his head, he saw Owin dive at the other rat. The big man swiped with his spear and caught Owin across the face. He screamed, fell and grabbed his bloody cheek.

  The writhing had stopped underneath Baskie. He didn’t dare to look at the life he had just taken away. Claiming the spear, Baskie stood and crept behind the rat approaching the cowering Owin.

  “Mother, please protect me,” Owin prayed as the large man loomed closer. “I have only ever served you my entire life. I beg you to save me.” He crawled backwards on his arse. Baskie was within four footfalls and saw the outline of the rat’s spine running down his thick, wide back. Owin stopped praying. Instead, he pleaded with his attacker, “Please, I have only had sixteen years. Please don’t kill me.”

  Baskie lunged and thrust the metal end of the bladed-staff into the man’s flesh. He had never cut another mortal before and the feeling sent a shiver down his spine. His ears went muffled. As his victim fell forward, Baskie felt the weapon grind and scrape against backbone. Stars sparkled in front of his eyes. He breathed deeply, willing himself to stay conscious.

  The Skip came out of hiding. He dragged Baskie up and towed him down the corridor. Owin scrambled to his feet as they passed. Brick staggered behind them but the pack he now lugged over his shoulders weighed him down. Ahead, Romarus stood over four bodies. His shoulders rose up and down as he stared at this work. The boy king clenched and un-clenched his hands.

  “King Romarus, are you unharmed?”

  The king didn’t answer.

  “We need to get through the door,” the Skip said, as they neared the boy king, who was still standing silently in front of the pile of dead rats by the locked doorway. Baskie walked up next to the king, who stared wide-eyed at nothing. His eyes blinking hard, face twitching.

  Baskie asked, “Are you okay, Your Grace?” He went to place a hand on the king’s blood-covered shoulder but Romarus lunged forward and began punching the metal door. Bang! Bang! Bang! His knuckles crunched and bloodied with every blow. The metal rang. Baskie grabbed the king’s arm but received an elbow to the face. “Fuck! He’s off his fucking head!” Baskie shouted through a throbbing lip.

  “Fuuuuuck!” the mad king bellowed furiously with one final strike at the immovable metal door. He walked away down the corridor with tears rolling down his cheeks and his jaw quivering. He barged past Brick, who shuffled along, following his master.

  “I think one more punch might have just done it,” the Skip jested inappropriately with a shrug. He began tapping at the panel on the wall next to the door. “I’ll have this open in a minute…I hope. Somebody go and calm our exulted leader over there. Judging by the pile of bodies, we’ll need him when those…‘dick-less bastards’…catch up with us.”

  “I’m fucking fine!” the king called from down the corridor, marching his way back. “I just get angry sometimes. I can’t help it.”

  Baskie stared at the bastard who had lashed out at him. “I was only trying to help you.” His lip was beginning to swell.

  “It’s fine, okay,” the boy king said, sucking on his bleeding and broken knuckles.

  What’s fine? I wasn’t apologizing. You’re the one that cunted me in the face for no reason!

  However, this wasn’t the time for arguing. “Get a spear,” Baskie told Owin. “You too, Brick.” He tossed King Romarus a bladed-staff as well.

  “Thanks,” the king said, with blood and the slime off the walls smeared over his chest and stomach. “I’m sorry,” he added, not making eye contact with anyone.

  Footfalls echoed from down the corridor. Baskie raised his bladed-staff. “They’re coming!” he shouted, trying to hurry the Skip’s efforts.

  Clunk! “Clever Wallace,” Wallace the Skip complimented himself as the door began to open; his tinkering with the panel seemed to have been successful. They all stepped through the doorway. Clever Wallace stopped to tap the panel on the other side. It closed and clunked, locking firmly behind them. “Let’s move!”

  All five of them ran down the tunnel. Brick lagged behind with the heavy pack on his back. The next set of doors parted for them with no sign of rats on the other side. Two more hulks of metal gave way for them with still no sign of Grietum’s guards.

  They made it to the main entrance tunnel. Owin and King Romarus reached the huge doors first, dropped their bladed-staffs and hopelessly clawed at the gap, trying to pry it open as they had with the others. The Skip ran over to a box at the side of the towering double sliding doors and ripped off the lid.

  Baskie heard pursuing footfalls getting closer. Romarus and Owin picked up their spears and walked back down the wide tunnel. Brick ran to the door and dropped the heavy sack onto the metal floor with a loud, dull thud. “Can I hewp you wiv anyfing?” he asked the Skip in his usual drawl.

  “You can help by keeping quiet,” Wallace said, as he ripped strange colored tangles of thick string from the box at the side of the door. It sparked like flint being struck.

  Two of Grietum’s rats entered the large hall and froze. They held their bladed-staffs in attack position and ran at Baskie, who was in the middle of the wide tunnel. Owin and Romarus flew past him, running up the metal walls, landing behind the two attackers. The rats stopped their attack on Baskie, turned and clashed with the king and Owin. Romarus blocked stabs from his opponent, parrying the strikes away and landed a kick to the guard’s face. The rat stumbled back in Baskie’s direction. Romarus pursued, lunged and thrust a stab which entered the rat’s gut. Baskie saw the spear poking out of the man’s back. Blood pooled on the floor as the rat collapsed to the ground.

  Owin was getting backed up deeper into the entrance hall, blocking long reaching stabs from the rat. With a leap, Owin placed a foot on the wall and landed on the other side of his attacker. He backed away, drawing closer to Baskie and King Romarus. The rat approached. All three of them readied their spears.

  The man’s body suddenly went stiff and he lurched forward, falling face-first onto the metal floor. A spear stood vertically, impaled in the back of the dead rat. Baskie saw who threw the spear. Twenty footfalls behind the dead rat was Grietum’s daughter, Gosha—naked as she
always was.

  “Blue Romarus,” she called softly. “I beg you to take me with you.”

  The boy king walked towards her, seemingly entranced.

  Owin pointed his spear at her. “Stay back, you fake bitch!” he shouted, making pathetic stabbing movements from twenty footfalls away.

  “Wait! Leave her. She killed that rat,” Romarus said, staring unblinkingly at the naked Gosha.

  “Romarus,” the Skip shouted from the box by the door, still working frantically, “think with your head for once…not with your cock!”

  Long silky legs elegantly crossed over one another with each step as Gosha got closer. Owin ran at the smooth naked body that slinked towards them. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto her attacker and with one swipe of her thin arm, Owin went crashing into the metal wall.

  “Blue Romarus, I will do anything to go with you. I want to be your woman.” She was within five footfalls of King Romarus. He closed the gap between them. She whispered in his ear and ran a finger down his bare chest.

  “Stay away from her, Your Grace. She’s dangerous,” Baskie urged. I can’t attack her and win, he assessed when he saw Owin, still dazed, struggling to his feet.

  Gosha turned Romarus sideways and backed him up against the wall. She left a clean finger-trail down Romarus’s bloodied and greasy stomach muscles as her blue lips teased his. Her hand slipped down the front of his cottons and the king raised his head and gasped. The boy king cupped one of her tits as her hand rubbed him below. Gosha ran her other hand up his chest and grasped around the front of his neck. The king’s eyes widened. He wheezed and his face flushed. Grietum’s daughter lifted the short king off the ground. She swung him round and slammed him to the floor, pinning him by the neck. Gosha’s free hand fumbled in her hair and whipped out a sharp needle the size of a finger.