Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (43 page)

All three of the soldiers were carrying
sheathed swords and daggers, they swaggered toward G’Taklar,
snickering and jesting about him as they approached.

“
What do you think I should do?”
G’Taklar asked Jatar, keeping to thought communication.

“
It’s too late to run,”
Jatar
responded quickly
, “they would catch you anyway. It doesn’t look
like they’re coming to arrest an escaped prisoner, so they probably
don’t know about that. I think they just want to harass you; the
leader looks like the bully type, so act humble.”
Jatar
finished his advice abruptly because the soldiers had reached
G’Taklar.

“What can I do for
you,
good sirs?” G’Taklar asked before they could say
anything. At the same
time,
he
thought to Jatar,
“How’s that for humble.”

“My, this desert flower speaks as
perty
as e’ looks,” the corporal
said to his two followers and then turned and spoke to G’Taklar,
“You must be one o’ those kissy boys I heard about down south.”

G’Taklar had never had any common soldier
speak so rudely to him in his life, and his pride made him bristle
before he could even think. His head lifted and he spoke in a
haughty voice, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I prefer girls,
you’ll have to find a different boy to kiss.”

Some of the townspeople had started
gathering to watch the proceedings, though they stayed back a
respectful distance from the soldiers. A quiet ripple of laughter
swept the small crowd at G’Taklar’s response to the soldier, though
it was quickly repressed when the corporal turned to glower at the
crowd. The reaction of the crowd bolstered G’Taklar’s confidence
even further.

Jatar hollered into G’Taklar’s mind.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO
STAYING
HUMBLE?”

“
I will not allow this bully to insinuate
that I’m a feather puff, it isn’t dignified.”

Because he was busy answering Jatar,
G’Taklar didn’t hear the beginning of the corporal’s next
statement, but he caught the last part: “...and pull yer head off
if you tried to kiss me, you perfumed piece of
cekklar
crap,” the huge corporal finished,
practically leaning over G’Taklar’s body in his anger.

“I’m not wearing perfume, but you sure could
use some! Thank G’lan I’m not
downwind
. Do you know what the term ‘bath’ means?” the
young noble asked and watched how his audience accepted his
sally
. He found himself enjoying
outwitting the bully.

Jatar tried to get through to his cousin,
“Do you want to be locked up again, or worse? You don’t seem to
understand, this ogre will rip your arms off, and none of these
people will help you!”

“
He can’t touch me with these witnesses
watching, don’t you see, these people are completely on my
side,”
G’Taklar answered cockily in his mind.

Meanwhile, the corporal was standing there
speechless; his mouth opened and closed a few times as bits of
spittle and something barely resembling speech tried to explode
from his uncooperative mouth.

Jatar tried a new approach and he spoke
calmly to his cousin,
“G’Taklar, consider running at this point,
though it’s probably futile.”
Jatar believed a physical
confrontation was now inevitable.

“
Why? The townspeople are on my side, I
think they are enjoying this bully getting his due,”
G’Taklar
responded, and gestured with his hand held at waist level, palm up
as he swept it in a horizontal arc to point out everyone.

To the
corporal,
G’Taklar’s gesture looked like a kind of bow.
The furious man finally found his voice and he turned on the crowd
and bellowed with spit flying from his lips, “WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING
AT?”

The sound of people laughing and talking
shut off like a closed water sluice. As the big man spun back
around his hand rose in a blurred arc as he backhanded G’Taklar
across the face. The blow was so strong, and G’Taklar so surprised
that it knocked the youth off his feet and onto his back in the
dusty road.

The corporal jabbed a calloused finger at
the stunned and sprawled out G’Taklar as he turned to his two
fellow soldiers and barked, “Grab this primping piece of bird dung
and get him to his feet,” the corporal ordered, and then added,
“I’m going to break every bone in his body, and then castrate him,
so his body matches what his clothes are
advertis’in
.” Then he turned to the crowd and said, “The
rest of you, shove off, or you’ll get the same.”

Immediately the crowd started to disperse
and people lowered their gaze or turned their heads. They knew what
was about to happen to the young boy, and though many of them
sympathized, they knew better than to go up against the soldiers
lest they lose their own lives.

G’Taklar had managed to drag himself to his
hands and knees, shaking his head to clear away the bells that were
ringing. The two soldiers grabbed him under the armpits and lifted
him to unsteady feet.

G’Taklar called feebly to the townspeople as
they turned to go, “Aren’t you going to help me? These men are
committing a crime!”

Jatar spoke in his mind, and from the tone
of his
voice,
G’Taklar pictured
him shaking his head in resignation,
“I tried to warn you, these
soldiers are the law in a garrison town like this; no one will help
you.”

“
What do I do?”
the suddenly aghast
G’Taklar thought to his more experienced cousin.

“
You’ll have to fight, your chance to
talk yourself out of this is now past,”
Jatar informed the
confused youth as he worked on ways to assist G’Taklar in the
coming minutes.

“
I’ve never fought anyone before,”
G’Taklar nervously informed Jatar.

G’Taklar’s words shocked Jatar out of his
planning and he gave his cousin his full attention.
“What do you
mean? Your father’s swords master taught you to fight, didn’t
he?”

“
Sort of, but I haven’t been practicing
lately, my book studies took up too much time. I’ve… I’ve never
actually fought anyone for real,”
he whimpered.

Jatar’s concern for their predicament went
up another notch.

“
G’Taklar, listen,”
he said in a
pleading tone,
“These men are serious, they’re going to hurt
you, and if you don’t fight your way out of here, they might even
kill you. Let me take control of your body before it’s too late, I
can take them.”

“
I can’t Jatar, I...”
G’Taklar’s
thought to Jatar was cut off by a blow to his stomach delivered by
the corporal’s boot, “
uuooof
...!”
G’Taklar exclaimed and doubled over before falling to the dirt on
his side.

“Now, little girl, stand up and defend
yourself, if you’re a man, or lie there and we’ll beat you until
every bone is broken,” the corporal promised with a wicked
grin.

G’Taklar started to get to his feet, but the
fat soldier standing to his left clubbed his fist into the back of
the youth’s neck, knocking him sprawling back onto the ground.

“What, the poor girl-boy can’t stand up like
a real man? Come on,
rose
petal,
put up a little fight or this will get
bor
’in,” and the corporal punctuated his statement with
another kick, this one to G’Taklar’s ribs, and then he continued
talking, “and I
hates
be’in
bored.”

“
I can take him, G’Taklar,”
Jatar
said with intensity to the
pain-soaked
brain of his young cousin.

G’Taklar ignored Jatar’s thought. “Wait!” he
gasped aloud, “I’m
noblemen,
so if
I’m hurt my father will have you all beheaded.”

“Oh I see,
ye’re a
noblemen
, and from where might
yer
noble family be?” the corporal asked as if springing
a trap, he obviously didn’t believe the boy.

“I’m from... ” G’Taklar
began
but was interrupted by Jatar.

“
TELL HIM YOU’RE FROM LINDANKAR AND
THEY’LL KILL YOU FOR SURE!”
Jatar’s thoughts thundered into
G’Taklar’s pain soaked brain. Jatar believed that the Tchulians
were in on the Lindankar conspiracy, so telling them that he was
from Lindankar might be a death sentence.

G’Taklar continued after an obvious pause,
“Olsk, I’m from Olsk.”

The pause had made his answer sound like an
outright lie and the soldiers all laughed. “And I’m Lord Jatar of
Lindankar, master swordsman!” the
buck-toothed
one exclaimed.

The fat one chimed in with a laugh, “And I’m
the
Seeghe
of
Ghanter
, bow down lowly one!” Then he used his
chubby fist to club G’Taklar in the back of the head again. All
three of the Tchulians guffawed loudly at their jokes.

The men were slapping each other’s hands
congratulating their wit and superiority when G’Taklar managed to
lurch to his feet and take a staggering step toward the
buck-toothed
private. G’Taklar swung his fist
wildly at the man.

The private simply stepped back out of the
way and then stepped forward and kicked G’Taklar in the hip, which
knocked him to the dirt again. The three soldiers chortled at their
victim’s uncoordinated and inexperienced attack.

At this
point,
the mirth on the corporal’s face faded and a look
of pure malice appeared as he pulled out a large knife and held it
up to catch the sunlight
coming
between
two of the buildings that lined the street. He
tilted the blade back and forth to make it glint and watched for
the effects on his victim’s face. “Hold him down boys,” the
corporal’s soft voice promised chilling consequences for
G’Taklar.

Terror spread through G’Taklar’s mind like
fire across spilled oil and he thought to Jatar,
“They won’t
really cut off my...”

“
Yes, that’s exactly what he’s going to
do,”
Jatar answered him grimly, to help convince G’Taklar as to
the seriousness of the situation.

G’Taklar was suddenly terrified and he
called aloud so that even the soldiers heard his words. “All right,
take my body!”

“I mean to, little boy,” the corporal
responded, thinking G’Taklar was speaking to him, and he snickered
evilly to his cohorts.

Jatar suddenly felt his mind and control
flow completely into G’Taklar’s body, and he was whole again. After
his time locked away within G’Taklar’s mind movement felt like the
finest pleasure imaginable.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time
available to enjoy himself properly. Jatar got to his feet quickly
to give himself mobility, and then he outwardly cringed away from
the approaching, knife wielding, corporal. He backed swiftly toward
the
buck-toothed
soldier on his
left, rambling away in a
fear-laden
voice. “Please sirs, don’t hurt me, I’m just a
boy. I’ll do anything for you; just don’t hurt me, please! Look,
I’m not fighting you anymore,” and Jatar put his hands behind his
back, near the old dagger that was tucked in his pants, hidden
beneath his jacket.

“Look, the
smart-mouthed
girlie has suddenly
showed
his real colors,” the corporal said with a smirk
and added, “perhaps there is
someth’in
you can do
fer
us, pretty boy,” and he leered at G’Taklar’s young body.

The other two soldiers had stopped advancing
on Jatar because they thought he was submitting to their leader.
Jatar backed another step toward the
buck-toothed
Tchulian, and then spun to face the soldier
and stuck his open left palm right in front of the man’s eyes.
“Here, I have gold!” he exclaimed.

The man’s eyes bugged out as he tried to
focus on the hand in front of his eyes, searching for the promised
gold.

Jatar unceremoniously kicked him between the
legs with everything he could get out of G’Taklar’s body. The
soldier didn’t even have time to scream; he just collapsed at
Jatar’s feet.

Before his body hit the ground, Jatar had
taken two steps right and brought his right hand containing the
hidden dagger around in an up swinging arc that slashed the fat
soldier’s face through his cheek and up through the wide open eye
and into the skin of his forehead.

With a horrifying
cry,
the shocked man grabbed his destroyed face and
crashed sideways into the building wall, wailing from the pain
while blood dripped through his fingers. His fat body crashed to
the ground where he lay moaning.

Jatar turned back to face the corporal and
only three heartbeats had passed since he had last spoken. The
Tchulian was stupefied, his two soldiers were out of action and the
boy was standing there holding a knife, and grinning!

“Now it’s just you and me, care for a kiss?”
Jatar asked insolently in order to anger the man into doing
something foolish and rash.

“I’ll carve you up for that!” The corporal
roared and charged, brandishing his large knife over his head and
bellowing his challenge.

Jatar waited until it was too late for the
moving hulk’s mass to change direction and then he darted down and
to the left, leaving his knife out in his trailing right hand.
Jatar used the momentum of the man’s own body against him and let
his motion take him onto the knife.

The blade left a ragged cut along the
corporal’s stomach and ribs, but did not incapacitate the soldier;
the old dagger wasn’t as sharp as it should have been kept. The
enraged soldier managed to halt his progress and turn to face the
elusive Jatar.

Instead of the inexperienced youth he
expected, he found an expert knife fighter crouched and ready. The
knife Jatar held with a supple wrist maintained the perfect angle
as it moved continuously in flawless defense of the body it
protected. His feet
were
placed
far enough apart to give him good balance, but not far enough to
restrict movement. His weight was poised on the balls of his feet
and his eyes never left his opponent.