The Humanarium

by CW Tickner

  He climbed down from Oscar’s shoulders and turned to the two lancers. ‘Climb up the same as you did on the outside of the tanks,’ he said. ‘The ground on the other side will be high.’

  The first lancer gripped the rope and planted his feet against the wall before starting to climb. When he reached the dagger he used it as a handhold and plunged a second blade in further up, and then began a slow climb up the side of the tank, locking each blade in place before moving on and repeating the process to climb higher and higher. He stopped when he reached about forty strides above the base and then tied a loop of rope around the top dagger. He tied the rope around his waist and then propped himself away from the tank with his legs and used the lance to cut a slow circle.

  Harl glanced at the Aylen’s midriff as the creature shuffled this way and that beyond the front glass. Why hadn’t it moved away yet? Was it working on one of the tanks above or was it a shopper looking for fresh specimens?

  When the lancer had managed to cut the hole, Harl grabbed another short sword and coil of rope from one of the soldiers and tied them together. When the lancer came down Harl scurried up and pushed the blade directly into the middle of the loose block, then turned it off to fix the short sword in place. He slid down and wrapped the rope around his wrist. Oscar and Damen joined him and together they pulled on the rope. The block slipped free and they dived away as it crashed down. To everyone’s relief no soil, mud, or sand flooded through the hole. But then the relief turned into horror.

  Blood was leaking in through the hole.

  Chapter 58

  I have found the escapees after weeks of searching. They have been living in the kitchen, stealing food from my stores. They have been returned to their original tank.

  ‘What is that smell?’ Kane asked. He held his sleeve across his nose and had one hand propped against the wall as though he was afraid to step away from it.

  Oscar sniffed the air and then knelt at a line of blood slowly trickling down from the hole. ‘Death.’

  Damen nodded ‘I fear this is a charnel house, but what kind of horror we face I dare not guess.’

  ‘We must hurry,’ Kane said, glancing to the glass front where the Aylen’s body still shifted.

  Harl was the first up. He crawled into the hole and gagged as the smell engulfed him. Light was visible on the other side of the barrier, but he couldn’t make out any details from where he was. He pushed forward on his hands and knees and poked his head out beyond the wall.

  He was a step above a landscape of reddish, wet mud. A copse of dead trees stood directly ahead. They were torn and scarred as though raked by a thousand claws. It was an ominous sign, but Harl hopped down into the mud and clambered between the trees to get a clearer picture of what lay beyond. The ground was even more slippery than he’d imagined and he slid the last few steps until he sank up to his calves in the mire.

  The land was smaller than the other tanks and it curved down to a shallow pit in the centre. The blood-red mud looked as if the Aylen had used its giant hand to scrape it to the sides to form one giant valley that filled the entire tank. To his left, on the back wall of the tank, a gigantic funnel scooped down to a huge metal building that took up a full quarter of the tank floor. The funnel was similar to the one from the cattle world, but the building was bizarre. Dozens of metal doors were lined along the front of it. Some were small and set midway up, but others were built at ground level and were wide and imposing, like barn doors.

  Scanning from the back of the tank to the front, Harl noticed huge red symbols stamped across the lower half of the sight. He couldn’t read the strange curved markings, but he was stunned by them. Was it Aylen writing? He had never considered them capable of writing even with all that he’d learned since his arrival in Delta. Now he was staring at the alien scrawl and it fascinated him. What did it say? Did they write books as well? He pictured what an Aylen book would look like. It would have to be massive. What kind of stories would they tell?

  But then cold realisation hit him. He’d seen Aylen holding books before. They would walk up to the tanks holding the massive tomes and stand there flicking through the pages as they eyed the world inside each tank. But his perceptions of the scene had changed now. He had grown. He knew more. Now, when he thought back on those memories, he saw the books for what they were. Catalogues. The Aylen were checking stock and selecting the humans they wanted to buy. The thought was horrifying. They were picking humans to lift from the tank. Were they selecting families to rip apart and lives to ruin, or were they reading a list of bare facts, like the ingredients of a pie? They had no empathy for those inside, they only had a thirst for profit and an insatiable appetite for their own entertainment.

  He had seen them as gods once. He had been a fool.

  He stared around at the alien landscape. Something was different about this cube compared to the others, something artificial. It seemed like the Aylen had played a big part in its making instead of leaving it to the inhabitants. The red writing on the wall and the blatant lack of flora made it seem unnatural.

  Movement snatched his attention away from the markings. He had been so overwhelmed he had failed to spot a battle raging in the centre of the tank. A dozen armour-clad men had surrounded a green, spindly looking creature in a crater that was pooling with blood. A collection of metal buildings were perched halfway up the crater, but the men were ignoring them as a possible defensive position.

  The monster towered over them on six stalk-like legs. It had a stubby tail and long body, with a neck that jutted out in front of it. It’s small head seemed out of proportion as it twisted left to right on the end of its neck, eyeing the attackers as they surged in to strike then retreated back. Raising its legs, the monster would spear them down at the men or sweep the front pair out in arcs to batter its enemies aside. Rows of curved spikes ran up the back of each leg. The men kept dodging in and out of its reach as it jabbed its legs down at them like a crude fisherman with a spear. Each thrust punctured the earth and sprayed blood up into the air around it.

  Every time the creature thrashed its legs at them, it forced the group to widen and contract around it as they struggled to contain it. The creature was revelling in the gore around it. Blood and mud erupted into the air whenever it moved or skewered the ground with a leg. A man already lay dead at its feet, but the others were playing a dangerous game. Spearmen would force the creature to rear up and then the men armed with sword and shield would dash in under its body and hack at its spindly legs.

  Harl watched, fascinated, from the valley rim as the men slowly gained the upper hand. They worked in rhythm, spears and swords taking it in turn to clash against the creature’s hard exoskeleton. Every now and then one would slice the soft underbelly and dart away before the spiked legs swept them up.

  Before Harl had a chance ask what the others thought of the scene below, Oscar bellowed a war cry and sprinted down to join the men in their struggle.

  ‘Come on then,’ Damen said, seeing Harl’s shocked look. ‘Let’s get down there and help them.’

  They pelted down the hill after Oscar, half running, half sliding through the sticky red mud.

  The fighting men spotted Oscar at the last moment and turned to engage, but he paid them no attention and charged through to the heart of their circle as they leapt aside.

  The creature saw the threat and turned, swiping one of its long legs at Oscar in the hope of pining him against the wet ground, but he dodged around it and rolled underneath to come up under the beast. He plunged his new weapon up into the monster’s pale underbelly and twisted it in place to open up the wound. The creature shrieked in pain and tried to side-step away so that it could strike the man who was causing it so much pain, but Oscar was too quick. He ran along underneath, jabbing the sword up again and again, leaving the creature no chance to retaliate as it skittered left and right, craning its neck to see him.

  The creature reared up in desperation. Oscar darted forward and sliced his
melting-dagger through the nearest leg, severing it completely. He rolled away from the falling body and stood to one side as the thing collapsed, screeching in agony. The strangers, realising their opportunity, swarmed around the creature and stabbed the flailing monster until it ceased twitching.

  When it was over, the men turned to Oscar, a mixture of fear and awe on their faces. They raised their weapons, hesitantly, and formed a line facing him. Every eye was locked on Oscar until one of the men caught sight of Harl’s group jogging towards them. He shouted a warning and half the men pivoted to face the new threat, levelling their spears. They were a ragged bunch. Their armour was rusted and dented but they held their ground and the spear tips didn’t waver.

  One man stepped forward and the men lowered their spears at his approving nod. He had a suspicious look in his eyes, as if trusting the newcomers was a luxury he couldn’t afford, but he sheathed his sword and stood there with his arms folded while he waited for them to approach.

  Harl ordered a halt about twenty paces away and studied the man facing him. He was short and rugged-looking, with every exposed patch of skin covered in thick scars, as if he’d been fighting since birth. Blood splattered his dented light armour and sweat had stained the red cloth band he wore around his forehead. His arms were bare and covered in the slick, blood red mud. He scratched at one of the fresher scars as Harl spoke.

  ‘My name is Harl Eriksson,’ Harl said. He raised a hand to Kane and the others beside him. ‘We’ve come from beyond the walls and are here to help you.’

  ‘No one comes from outside without being put here,’ the man said. His eyes flicked down to Harl’s sword and to each of them in turn.

  ‘What is happening here-’

  A blaring siren cut Harl off.

  Some of the shabby men scanned the ground at the rear of the tank while the others looked at each other in disbelief. The leader sighed and flexed his fingers as if to force them to keep moving. He clicked his neck left then right and his shoulders sank as he turned from Harl to face the rear of the tank.

  His men glanced around as if expecting something dreadful. One of the group, a boyish youth who seemed to have the cleanest armour, trembled as he turned towards the metal building, as if weighing up his chances of escape.

  The leader noticed the boy’s glances and placed a blood-encrusted hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Peace, Zane,’ he said. ‘If we work together we’ll survive this.’

  The boy looked up at him, confidence returning at the man’s words.

  ‘Twice so close together?’ he asked. ‘Can’t we rest? I’m so tired, Drew.’

  The helplessness in the boy’s voice was heart breaking. Harl had never seen someone so close to giving up on life.

  ‘Not yet, but there’s more of us now,’ the leader said, nodding towards Harl and his men. He placed a second hand on Zane’s shoulders and looked directly into the boy’s weary face. ‘Stay close to me this time.’

  He turned and addressed his men. ‘Stay together, live together.’

  The group raised their weapons and shouted in unison, ‘Stay together, live together!’

  ‘Will you fight with us?’ Drew asked, glancing from Harl to Oscar and then towards the line of doors at the back of the land. Without waiting for an answer, he hefted his sword and shouted orders.

  ‘Make a line! If it’s another bloody strider, then surround it and keep the circle intact.’

  His men obeyed, metal weapons clunking as they trudged to his side to form a row facing the back of the world.

  One of the smaller doors high up in the metal building opened and a group of five hivers flew out. They shot up and circled once, as if to get a better view, then spotted the humans and let out a chorus of hideous screeches before heading directly for them.

  ‘Pointed rank!’ Drew called out and Harl watched as the line of men contracted into an arrowhead formation pointed directly at the incoming hivers.

  Damen reacted as usual when dealing with the winged creatures.

  ‘Form up!’ he shouted and hefted his rifle up to eye-level.

  Their soldiers stepped into two lines, weapons pointed skywards. The front rank dropped to one knee while the second rank remained standing.

  A couple of the tank dwellers glanced to the side at the men with strange weapons.

  ‘Eyes front,’ Drew said. ‘If you’re too busy looking away and the man beside you is killed, then it’ll be your fault.’

  The hivers soared to within twenty paces and circled once overhead before darting down to attack

  ‘Fire two then two!’ Damen’s order rang out above the growing buzz of hiver wings.

  Blue light seared the air as the first volley of shots flew from the weapons. Drew’s men jumped and twisted round to see where the blasts had come from. Panic etched their faces and one even dropped his spear, but Drew barked out orders and the man snatched it up, then steadied.

  The second burst of shots exploded from the rifles and flashed through the air, hitting their targets. The hivers split apart as the lancing blue light smashed into them, raining yellow gore down into the blood-soaked mud. Even Oscar was shocked and turned to stare at the riflemen in awe.

  Damen turned and grinned at Drew.

  ‘Not bad, eh?’

  Chapter 59

  I have a competitor. Already another shop has opened but without buying direct from me they are unable to produce the same level of stock.

  ‘What was that?’ Drew asked, wide eyed. ‘Specials…’ The last word was said in a whisper as if to himself.

  Harl stepped forward as his men shouldered their weapons. They were looking smug at the display and one or two of them had sniggered at Damen’s comment.

  ‘We’ll be happy to tell you about all it,’ he said, ‘but why don’t you start by telling us what’s going on? Where did the hivers come from?’

  Drew seemed to regain his composure now that the threat was dealt with.

  ‘Don’t know what you mean by hivers, but I’m Drew,’ he said. ‘Drew Bronze. These are the men who choose to follow me.’ He gazed around at the blood-streaked and weary men with a look of pride. ‘Each of us was put here by the Watcher, naked and alone. We do not belong in this place, but it seems fate has dropped us into this nightmare. That and the Watchers. Every fifty times the light comes and goes, the Watchers place food and supplies according to whatever we’ve slain. If we do not kill these monsters-’ He kicked the nearest piece of shredded hiver. ‘-then we do not eat fresh food and have to make do with the rotting carcasses of what we’ve killed.’

  ‘Should we expect more?’ Damen asked.

  Drew shook his head and Damen nodded to his own men and they relaxed, stepping out of line to reload or drink from their waterskins.

  ‘What about your weapons and armour?’ Harl asked.

  ‘They are put inside,’ Drew said, banging his sword against his rusty armour. It was an angular breastplate, unadorned except for a line of neat scratches, like a tally around the bottom. ‘But only if we’ve piled the corpses of our foes at the front.’ He waved a hand at a large pile of rotting creatures heaped together near the front window of the tank. A trickle of yellow and red blood was seeping down from the corpses into the mud.

  There must have been dozens, Harl thought.

  ‘When do they come?’ Damen asked, eyeing the dead hivers.

  Drew shook his head. ‘We never know. They come any time, dark or light. All we know is that if we don’t want to eat beast flesh then we must kill them. Every now and then one of us will be taken and another who needs training will be placed among us.’

  He looked at the young boy and then back to Harl.

  ‘But now you must explain yourselves. How did you enter this place and where did you get these weapons?’

  Harl waved to the collection of buildings nearby.

  ‘Shall we sit, eat and talk?’ he said. ‘We’ve plenty of food and will tell you all that we know and our reason for coming her
e.’

  Drew agreed and led them towards the small metal buildings.

  The buildings were simple boxes of metal. They were scored by scratches and covered in ancient layers of dried blood. It seemed nothing in the harsh tank could escape the violence. Stepping inside the largest building, Harl found bundles of rags heaped in a circle around a dirty firepit.

  Drew noticed him looking at them. ‘They’re for sleeping on. The Watcher doesn’t grant us the luxury of beds.’

  The firepit looked as if it had barely been used. How often did they have any wood for it? Harl hadn’t got a clue, but, as he stared at the empty hearth, he began to shiver. At first he was surprised and assumed that it was a reaction to the battle, but then he noticed that most of his men were shivering as well. Oscar had even wrapped his arms around himself against the cold. Harl cursed to himself. Had the Aylen forced this cold on these people as another hardship, another test?

  His breath steamed in the air before him as he took another look around. The one thing in the building that seemed out of place was a weapons bench in the far corner. It was covered in whet stones, ball-pein hammers, and pieces of armour. It was the only thing that looked new.

  Kane spoke to Harl while Drew was praising Oscar for his efforts in the fight.

  ‘I believe these men are being bred as fighters,’ he whispered. ‘I think they’re sold to Aylens who use them for sport, although what kind of sport I can’t say.’

  ‘I thought the same,’ Harl said. ‘Whatever is happening here is barbaric and we’ll put an end to it.’

  Drew uncovered a hidden plate on the floor and pulled out a few twigs and sticks from a stash underneath. He made a mound in the fire pit and soon had a small blaze going. His men huddled around the fire as if it was a rare treat.

  As they ate, Harl told their story and repeated the information he had told Oscar of-the-well about their purpose and mission. Drew took it well, as if he knew more than those in Oscar’s tank.