For every round they fired the High Hats fired a hundred. The Turkanschoner could see that they stood little chance against the enemy whose weaponry was vastly superior. Short and metallic, the guns the black coated men bore spewed round after round without the need for reloading, unlike the musket men who struggled in vain with ramrods and powder horns.
The bemused observer watched the conflict intently. The High Hats weapons did actually run out, one of their number crouched below him and removed a magazine and replaced it with another from a bag on his shoulder and then continued to spray the Tan position with long bursts of fire.
The number of Tans had been reduced to two. They cowered below their barrier of overturned carts and shattered masonry awaiting the movement of the two High Hats who had been detailed to finish them off, whilst the main force moved down toward the river. The two High Hats seemed in no hurry to join their comrades. Behind the barricade the two Tans began to argue and eventually one threw down his musket and stood up with his hands above his head. The shooting stopped.
His would be captors called to him to walk forward from the barricade as they themselves remained hidden from view and assured him loudly of safe passage and good treatment. The Tan walked nervously forward as the Turkanschoner watched from above. When he had walked a few paces the nearest Hat High Hat leapt from his hiding place and sprayed him with bullets from point blank range and did not stop until he had emptied a full magazine into the bloody mass that slumped to the ground and twitched with the impact of the lead.
Kicking the Tan corpse, the High Hat laughed as his colleagues in arms joined him and they approached the barricade where the remaining Tan cringed, contemplating his fate.
The Turkanschoner shifted uneasily on the window ledge. He did not enjoy the conflict below him. It wasn't a fair fight he thought. He studied the swaggering High Hats as they passed below him and was tempted to enter the uneven contest. He had seen the power of the weapons which had devastated the Tans and paused for a while. Should he take the chance, he deliberated. Surprise speed and power would be enough to defeat
these cowards despite their guns.
At that moment the Tan remaining behind the barricade decide to take his chance and leapt from his position and sprinted down the street, zig zagging as he went, in an deluded attempt to avoid the bullets of the
High Hats.
The High Hats mounted the barricade and levelled their deadly weapons at the fleeing target. The Turkanschoner cringed, they could not miss he thought, but he was wrong. A single shot rang out and kicked up the cobbles at the Tans heels, the ricochet echoing around the narrow street. The second Tan scoffed at his comrade's poor marksman ship and fired himself, hitting the man in the leg and knocking him down to the ground, sprawling and screaming. He began to crawl away.
The second Tan blew across the muzzle of his weapon theatrically and gestured that the other fire again. He took aim again and this time struck the Tan in the shoulder sending a splash of blood and bone across the man's back. He slumped to the floor moaning and the High Hat whooped in triumph, waving his weapon at the other who chuckled and took aim again. The Turkanschoner was not amused by their twisted idea of sport.
The High Hat fired and missed. The Turkanschoner could take no more and leapt from the window, scrambling quickly down a drainpipe and then launched himself down onto the nearest High Hat with enough force to knock him out. The other turned in horror and stared at the beast which had appeared from nowhere and stood only yards from him, with jaws clashing wetly together. The High Hat panicked and fumbled with his weapon as he attempted to switch it back to automatic.
The Turkanschoner howled and drew two long daggers from his belt and prepared to strike down the High Hat who screamed and discarded his weapon in horror and began to scamper back down the barricade.
The purpose designed killing machine watched the escaping High Hat and grunted amusedly, his killer's instinct almost absent. The compulsion which normally overwhelmed him at times like these was now subordinated and an ancient code of honour had re- established itself. The monster which the Tallmen had created was now under control of a compassionate mind trapped in a disfigured body.
The High Hat ran and the Turkanschoner shrugged and replaced the daggers in his belt; he felt whole again, another part of his past had been returned to him. He was changing, the Tallmens' conditioning of his behaviour was disintegrating fast. He no longer had to kill, he felt good, he felt powerful. He was back in control.
The Turkanschoner picked up the discarded automatic rifle and its magazine pouch and walked over to the unconscious High Hat. He relieved him of his weapon too, as well as his ration packs. After checking the Tan, who was now dead, he climbed slowly back to his vantage point and studied his newly acquired equipment. He paused as a torrent of explosions and gunfire erupted away towards the river, and then aimed the weapon across the street and pulled the trigger to fire a few rounds into the opposite wall.
The noise brought the other High Hat back to his senses and he dragged himself to his feet and staggered back down the street. Through the guns sights the Turkanschoner watched him go, following the target as it meandered slowly away from him. A long, taloned finger wound around the trigger as something billowed inside him.
" Kill." it pleaded. "Kill."
The Turkanschoner watched the High Hat. Killing was so easy he thought, then shouldered his newly acquired weapons and descended to the empty street, before making his way back to the Castle of Lepers and the well shaft which led to the grim labyrinths below.
Chapter Thirty Three
Silus Flax paced the length of the Council of Elders' chamber as he stated his terms for the surrender of the Tallmens' city to himself, its new Emperor. The Elders sat in a nervous silence as Flax spelled out his conditions.
The Tallmen who had survived the bloody capture of the Towers would continue to run their machines in accordance with his instructions while he ran the rest of Dubh in its entirety Flax informed them. He would, by using his special talents as a Hall Engineer, increase the Hall of Machines present output and stabilise the deteriorating condition of the field walls. At the same time the Tallmen engineers would teach his High Hat technicians how to use the field expanders. Then Flax would allow the Tallmen to vacate his realm by any exit or means they chose. His terms where not long and complicated, it was a very simple choice, comply or suffer the consequences.
The leader of the Council of Elders could do no more than nod his agreement. The self-proclaimed Emperor Flax's conditions where not unreasonable in these circumstances he decided. Their conqueror had even suggested that the Tallmen might, time and co- operation permitting, be able to construct all the equipment they needed when leaving the Dubh.
Consequently the Elder agreed to a state of affairs other than his death, yet as he nodded, an alternative solution to this intolerable state of affairs began to take shape in his mind. “There is, however, one pressing matter which has to be resolved" the Elder concluded. Flax's eyes narrowed expecting objection. “The rebels have a machine which might, in conjunction with a missing energy reservoir, threaten our Field Walls. You, Emperor Flax" he almost spat,”… you, must resolve this problem before our treaty has any substance. We cannot hope to stabilise the Field Walls until both the machine and the power reservoir are retrieved."
Flax stood silent for a moment and sighed to hide the shock of the unexpected, Dubh was not yet his, someone else, and he knew who, had its destiny and his almost litterally in their hands. He felt desperately uneasy. He spoke.
"But you have a rebel prisoner do you not" he asked bemused. "Will he not disclose the position of these devices?”
“He has stated that he will co-operate" the Elder replied. “But we cannot trust him."
Flax shivered as he heard the howling from the lower city penetrate the Elders' chamber walls. He shivered involuntarily, the hairs on his neck standing on end. What was going on out there he thought, for a momen
t distracted from the task in hand.
“These rebels - are they all of your race? “he queried, a trace of concern in the question. Abruptly, he began to pace the chamber in an attempt to dissipate the nervous energy building in his body and subdue the glimmer of realisation now born in his mind.
The Tallmen Elder leaned back in his chair causally and could not hide the amusement in his voice. "I cannot see a Tallman and human alliance here being possible, no human could threaten us.” His voiced trailed off as his realised what he had foolishly said. With renewed vigour the wailing from the depths of the Lower City invaded Flax's soul as the dark spirit of corruption urging its physical partner into action to dispel its dis-ease. Flax turned his attention back to the Tallman Elder.
“But I am human!" he half laughed, half growled. The ancient Tallman trembled slightly as Flax's abyssal eyes bore into him, afraid he had insulted this crazed, yet powerful, lower form of life.
“But you are different." he responded attempting to retrieve the situation.
Flax went strangely silent, all colour and expression drained from his face. He moaned quietly, then roared with a triumphant laughter.
“And so is he!" he howled, becoming increasingly agitated, and hurled a chair at the Council of Elders' leader. “Can you not hear its unease! Can you not feel the presence! He is there, he's doing it!" Flax thought out loud as he countered the lingering disbelief, the unacceptable fear that Jonathon could be doing this despite all that he knew. His face was now twisted in a grimace of pure hatred, tears of final revelation welling up in his darkening eyes.
Now Flax was sure. The 'boy' was here, not dead, his presence starkly contrasted against the deepening tide of evil which surged from the deepest labyrinths of the Dubhian Underworld and raised its depthless shadow over the Lower City and advanced towards the Tallmens’ Towers.
He Silus Flax, was failing in his part of this alliance. Soon It would act and the consequences for him were dire. Its unfettered desire for corruption and destruction would shatter his dream also, untempered by the consensus It accepted in an alliance union with him. But he felt himself failing in this compact and now moved fuelled on the despair generated by the collapse of all order in the city.
“So close." he blubbered to himself. And Flax had both times been denied, there would be not third time. He threw back his head.
“NO,NO,NO! " he shrieked as old nightmares crept into his consciousness. He remembered the innocent waif he had beheld on the street all those years ago.
Now his imagination ran away with him. He imagined Jonathon and this 'machine' which could destroy Dubh, poised smirking, as he threatened to throw the switch which would end his ambitions.
Flax screamed in horror and confusion.
“But WHY? Why? Why? WHY!?" he snarled, not realising he was directing his questions to the Tallman in front of him who quaked with fear as the howling from the city intensified as Flax grew more distressed. “Revenge." said a soft voice as if out of thin air.
Flax became instantly silent, then burst out into an incredulous laughter. “Reeeevenge!" he guffawed, what did I ever do to him? I never even touched him." He quietened and his eyes momentarily glazed before they drfited to Ben Santiago. Santiago stodd in the dooorway grey hair in wild disarray, his handsome Latin face streaked in with dirt and blood. Yet he was
relaxed, his own lust for violence and destruction having been sated in this alien city where he felt younger and stronger and perhaps immortal.
Here in Dubh he more was at home than he ever had in his Manhattan apartments. True he had been in the midst of war and rebellion before, yet here he felt no fear. Here his conscience was silent and his eyes smouldered with the gift he had received here, the city had taken away his soul and his conscience and now the windows of that soul showed no light at all. Flax stared at him and Santiago continued his explanation. “Revenge is the most likely motive. You must have crossed him sometime in the past Silus. He seems deranged to me, no-one in their right mind contemplates the destruction of a whole world, contemplates genocide, especially if they're in it" he chortled softly and paused for a while, watching Flax scowl. “But if it is revenge, he'll have to see you suffer first or it'll take away the satisfaction. Give him time and he'll come to us before he attempts to blow this place." he finished confidently. “This thing is personal."
Flax shook his head.
“You may be right, but we don't have time! Don't you understand! This world is tottering on the brink of destruction!" he shook his head angrily and turned to Santiago." He will not deny me what is mine!"
He turned to the Elder who had watched fearfully as the mad human leader's composure had begun to disintegrate.
“Where is this rebel? He will lead me to the boy and this score will be settled forever" he growled impatiently. The Tallman Elder rose nervously to his feet and indicated that the conqueror of his world should follow him.
Chapter Thirty Four
In his darkened cell Rislo shivered uneasily, growing concerned. The harrowing wailing from the city had penetrated deep into the Tallmens’ dungeons to chill his bones. There was a tension in the air which set him at the knife edge of anxiety. The tautness in his soul seem to ebb and flow, each wave more intense than the last, as it responded to the City's demented din. It was as if it talked to him on a deep and essential level. Something was seriously wrong in the city. The sweating giant leapt to his feet as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching his cell.
he iron door's inspection plate slid noisily back, the shriek of dry iron on dry iron cutting through him. Two dark eyes peered into the cell.
Rislo recoiled and turned away from their piercing gaze. They were not the eyes of a Tallman. They were small, completely black and penetrated deep inside him causing him to shake uncontrollably.
Something evil studied him from beyond the door. Something which threatened almost toyed, with the underpinning of his already tenuous sanity. The inspection plate slowly screeched shut.
The lock to the door squeaked and creaked and protested before it flew open violently, slamming against the wall and raising a cloud of dust which intensified the shaft of dirty light cast into Rislo's cell, a shaft of light which was abruptly filled by a terrifying shadow. The apparition swept into the room, his cloak flowing behind him like a river of viscous darkness.
The High Hat studied the trembling giant briefly, his eyes riveting him to the spot. Flax stared at him in disgust and hatred, he had helped the boy! Then he smiled at the shivering, ungainly wretch, a smile which threatened pain and violence and which Rislo found unbearable.
Then Flax spoke.
“Take me to your friends rebel" he commanded. The words seemed to cut into Rislo's soul like sharp coffin nails. "… and you may go free.," he added with a false conviction.
Rislo did not even hesitate to think. He no longer cared for anyone else but himself. He staggered quickly out into the corridor to find himself surrounded by other High Hats who levelled their guns and even more menacing grins at him.
A rope coiled itself around his neck to prevent him moving forward.
Flax caught up with Rislo and laid an icy and heavy hand on his shoulder.
“I have no axe to grind with you Tallman." he said softly. "Just take me to the boy and this machine and I will honour my promise" he patted the Tallman's shoulder reassuringly and added. "Forget the Tallmen, they no longer have any power over my destiny or yours my friend. You need only to listen to me." Flax then laughed and his minions joined him in a hysterical chorus which echoed deep into the former stronghold of Rislo's race.
Rislo smiled weakly. Despite his declining mental stability he quickly re-evaluated his situation. It didn't matter that it would not be the Tallmen who escorted him into the underworld of Dubh in search of the field imploder. His plan needed no modification. The rope slackened at his throat and the procession of High Hats moved slowly up from the dungeons toward the Generating Chambers. Flax controlled th
e long striding Tallman's momentum with the rope leash when he moved too quickly, bringing him to a choking halt as the coarse fibres cut into his larynx. The physical shock was merely a minor distraction to Rislo as he was mentally too detached to feel any real pain. His treacherous plans ran through his mind continuously, the mental rehearsal engraving itself in memory.
A twinge of confusion about the Field Imploder's actual whereabouts worried him slightly. To his knowledge the Tallmen had retrieved it when they had captured him, but he shook off the minor problem, he had decided to take his new captors directly to the Power Reservoir which he had hidden beneath the broken floor in the house where the dimension gate there promised a short sprint to freedom.
During his trip to the Generating Chamber and Power Room, Rislo became dully aware of the absence of Tallmen. This, coupled with Flax's statement, made him realise that the High Hats really had taken control of the city. But it had little significance to him now. He only cared for his own survival.
He felt no pity in his heart for his former comrades and brothers, their fate was irrelevant to his own destiny. Rislo's strengthening instinct for self- preservation drove him on now, silencing his conscience. His loyalty to Jonathon and Cornelius had dissolved quickly. He did hope that Jonathon was still in the world beyond the gate as his return might cause complications if he was waiting for his own return to the prearranged rendezvous.
In the Generating Chambers Rislo was not surprised to find Tallmen still running the Field Expanders, although at gunpoint. Tallman Elders, accompanied by two in the distinctive robes of technicians was here too.
The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption Page 30