Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (33 page)

Brunhilde climbed higher. Less than a metre now to the top of the cliff. “You won’t when he tosses you in his dungeon. I’ve seen it. They don’t give you fancy dresses down there.”

Princess lifted her foot to the next rock, and slapped it down on the flattest spot. Then ran her cold fingers over the wet stone until she found a place she could grip. She pulled herself up with her arm, and pushed with her leg. “He won’t throw me in the dungeon. He’s crazy about me.”

“The only person he’s crazy about is himself. Like all men.”

Princess clambered onto the next rock. Thankfully, there weren’t many more above them. “Where do you think you’re going, anyway?”

“I figure we head to the coast, and follow that.”

“Couldn’t we just have followed the river?”

“That’s where they’ll expect us to go. We follow this stream upriver another klick or two, then we turn and head downhill to the coast, through the woods. I’m not going back to those assholes where we landed, I’m sure not climbing the fucking mountains, and I can’t see any other way past them.”

Princess looked up. The mountains towered above them in the distance, brown rocks turning grey above, capped with snow. She’d freeze if she tried to climb over them.

“How far’s the sea?”

Brunhilde slapped her paw down on the top of the cliff. “In this shit, a day? Two, maybe? Can’t be too far.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’re at least safe from that cocksucking King and his gang of shitheads. The further away we get, the more likely they are to give up. And the less of them I have to kill.”

Brunhilde yelled. Four dark eyes stared down at them from the top of the cliff. The wide jaws beneath the eyes were wrapped around the fingers of Brunhilde's left hand, and blood oozed out between them.

She stared into those eyes for a second, then pulled her arm back, clinging to the rocks with the other. The creature’s paws swung toward her, and she dodged their long claws. Then swung her own arm to smash the creature into the rocks. Bones cracked as she swung it again. It squealed, and her fingers slid from its mouth.

She grabbed the creature by the lower jaw, and tossed it away from the cliff. It tumbled down through the air, spinning and squealing, until it landed with a crunch on the rocks below them in the stream. Its legs twitched for a few seconds, then stopped. A dark pool spread slowly across the rocks.

Brunhilde licked blood from her fingers. “Now, how about we stop the girly chat, and get on with surviving?”

M
oses crept along the moonlit riverbank. The remaining half dozen of his lovely boys shuffled in front of him, chains rattling and clanking as they moved. That bastard Guy had murdered the rest, even if not by his own hand. He could unchain them, but he only had Butt-Clench to protect them if they split up.

Guy was gonna pay. Oh, Moses' boys would get the boat back on shore eventually, and salvage whatever they could from the remains of the cargo, but he would still be in the shit when it finally arrived at the monastery. His reputation would be in tatters for years, for not delivering as promised. And all because he was dumb enough to trust an old comrade.

Never again. But, at least, he’d have a figurehead for his boat. Guy’s head, on a spike, on the bow. The monks might cut him some slack for that one. Worth a laugh, anyway.

That fucking spider, too. He’d never forgive that creature for what it had done to his face. He’d hold the spider in front of the Brain, pull the legs off, one by one, then toss the body on the ground, and watch it twist and jerk for a while as it tried to move on the tiny stumps, before he crushed it beneath his boot.

That messy squelch would go a tiny way toward making up for the pain in his cheek. The bastard bit deep, and now his skin crawled like it was full of ants. The deep, burning sensation had faded, but the flesh was turning black.

The last he’d seen of the vicious little creature, as he tore off his helmet to try to cut away whatever poison it had injected into his face, it was floating off down the river on a chunk of one of the crates, still tapping its legs on the wood.

Little fucker must be smarter than its owner.

Guy’s rifle hung heavy over Moses’ shoulder. The boys had managed to salvage it from where the guards had chained it up inside the boat, and shooting Guy with his own fucking gun would be poetic justice. Shame it only had one bullet.

But where would the shithead go?

The tracks were obvious, so far. Too obvious. They’d raced off through the woods along the riverbank, where they could hardly avoid leaving a trail of crushed plants and deep, muddy footprints. But what if that was a trap? What if he was hiding somewhere, just up ahead on the path, waiting to attack them as soon as he saw them pass by?

It was almost as though Guy was following through with his plan, and continuing along the route that would eventually take them to the monastery on the coast. As though he had no backup plan if anything went wrong.

But he knew Moses knew he was heading that way.

He couldn’t really be that stupid, could he?

Perhaps he could. Or desperate. If he had a deal lined up at the monastery, he might hope to settle it before Moses could reach him. The rat could be gone before he got there.

He could go back and get the boat, but Guy might reach the monastery before they’d managed to get it afloat again. He’d be trading rapid travel for a slower start.

He was just going to have to push his boys to move faster. After all, Guy had already broken down the path, they just had to follow.

He twisted the whip in his hand. He’d salvaged that much from the boat, even if he’d had to leave everything else behind. Including his armour. He couldn’t swim to shore wearing what had always felt like half a ton of steel.

Oh, Guy was gonna pay.

He whipped the back of the slave in front of him.

“Faster, Rimjob. Faster, Felch.”

The slave grunted, then pushed into Felch’s back in front of him. Moses whipped again. Slowly the slaves pushed onward, dragging their chains along the riverbank.

Something pink, red and brown lay on the riverbank ahead, the water slowly lapping against it. One end dangled out into the river. Moses stepped out past the slaves, where he’d have a better view.

A body. A naked body. Shiny young flesh, glowing red with sunburn in the moonlight, the skin smeared with mud. Firm thighs. A nice ass.

Poor boy. Such a shame he’d drowned.

A man could have a lot of fun with an ass like that.

“K
ill the bear thing,” the King yelled, “however you can. Bring me the boy. Alive if you can, dead if not. Ten thousand shinies to the man who brings me the little bitch. Alive.”

Guards and traders jumped back into the shadows as the King’s clunking metal feet stomped past the gates of Kingston, leading a swarm of men ready to fight and die at his call. They followed behind, armed and armoured with whatever they could find, eager for blood, and cold hard cash. Hounds barked, and pulled against their leashes, and drones buzzed all around.

The men of the army cast long, dark shadows as the sun set behind the mountains, but the dozens of burning torches they carried burned orange circles in the gloom. The fuckers would see him coming from ten klicks away, and know the King’s wrath would be on their ass in a few hours.

This was the life. When the King was young, when he first arrived on Hades, he had led hundreds of men into battle. The shitheads of the Borderlands had trembled in fear when they heard of his approach. This scruffy rabble could hardly compare to the armies he once led, but the sight of dozens of men marching at his command still made his skin tingle. After years trapped in the castle, surrounded by those damn girls, he felt like a man once again, ready to bring terror to the Borderlands, and feed the soil with the blood of his enemies.

“Who are we?” he yelled.

The men behind him raised weapons and torches. “The King’s bastard army.”

“What do we want?”

“To fuck shit up.”

Damn right. Those shits from Over The Sea needed a harsh lesson, or others might get ideas. For all the King’s power, he was growing old. It wasn’t just the exoskeleton creaking and groaning whenever he moved. His own bones grew tired, and ached. There were plenty of assholes who might think about taking him on, if they imagined they could win. That wasn’t going to happen, while he had any say in the matter.

Andy held his torch high beside the King. “Where do you think they would go?”

“Upriver would take them to the mines. They'd be mad to go that way. West would take them to the mountains, good luck finding a pass through them, we never have.”

“East, then?”

The King's exoskeleton hissed as he strode downriver. The rotting bodies of past enemies stared back at him from their spikes. He would add a few more before the week was over. Might even mount the bear-thing’s head on a plaque for the throne room. Make fur coats for the girls with the rest of her.

“No. They're heading downriver. These bastards came from Over The Sea. No-one else would think they could get away with killing me, or kidnapping the Brain. This is all part of their plan to invade Kingston.”

Traders stared from their boats as the army marched out of Kingston. Most of the Guards would have to stay behind to protect the city. Those assholes from Over The Sea might just have set this up as a diversion, to draw him out. If they attacked Kingston while he was gone, they’d find a nice surprise waiting. Besides, the rabble were more motivated, and more dispensable.

“What are you going to do with the boy?” Liam said.

“I think I’ll start by skinning him alive. Then let the girls have their fun. The hounds can finish him off.”

“What about the girl?”

“She’ll wish she was dead.”

She’d regret it when he caught her. When he grew tired of breeding her, she’d be off to the
Cat House
. Her tits and ass would have to repay the trouble she’d caused. And, at a shiny a pop, she'd have plenty of time to repent her deeds.

They must all be part of a plot. They just had to be. The first bomb was just for the girl to ingratiate herself with him... and then... what? Why did the boy blow her up? It made no sense. But why would the bear have rescued her otherwise? They were all in on... something... together.

It might be insane, it might be stupid, but it was a plan of some kind.

And the plan was going to fail.

D
aniel lay on his chest in bed, eyes closed, and happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. He was back in the barracks at EdCamp, but the new mattress on his bunk was so soft and cool, not like the hard ones he remembered. Erica stood beside him, pouring water over his aching limbs, cooling them, soothing the cuts and scratches all over his body. Then she reached out and massaged his aching legs.

Mmm.

The mattress oozed around him as he writhed with pleasure. He glanced back at Erica. She stared at him, and smiled as she worked. Her breasts swung back and forward below her bare chest as her hands rubbed the back off his legs. Her fingers slid up his naked thigh, until they tickled his balls. Her hair brushed against his back as she leaned forward until her breasts pressed against him, and lips were only a millimetre from his ear.

“I want you,” she whispered. “I've always wanted you.”

Then the bed shook, plaster exploded from the walls, and splinters burst from the nearby bunks as they collapsed. Chunks of wood bounced from Daniel's back.. and chunks of bloody flesh splattered on what was left of the wall.

He could see the other students writhing in pools of their own blood, but couldn't hear their screams over the ringing in his ears. He rolled over on the bed.

Erica writhed naked on the floor. She raised her arms to him, but they just twitched. Her mouth opened wide. She gasped for breath, but no words came. Her body jerked. Blood matted her hair, and she smeared it across the floor as her head twisted from side to side.

He jumped from the bed to help her. What could he do? She grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him toward her. He stared into her eyes, wide open with fear.

“I'll get a doctor.”

Her other hand reached for the side of her head, where nails had punctured her skull. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft of a nail, and pulled. It scraped against bone as she dragged it out, and the sound made his skin crawl.

Then it came free. She smiled at him. Blood spurted from the hole in the side of her head. He leaned closer, pressing his palm against the hole to stop the flow.

Then screamed as she rammed the nail into his head.

Oh, hang on.

He opened his eyes, and lifted his face. A mass of stars twinkled from horizon to horizon above the trees. Running water tinkled behind him. He lay in the mud on the riverbank, and his legs floated in the water behind him. It lapped around them, still warm from the daytime sun, but cooling fast.

He glanced toward his shadow, cast onto the mud beside him by the light of a moon that hovered just above the horizon. The shadow was long and dark, stretching more than a metre across the muddy riverbank.

Then another shadow stretched past his, a long, dark, thin triangle reaching out toward the river. Something thumped against his side. A boot pushed beneath him, and pressed against his skin until it flipped him over. He lay on his back, staring into a scarred, rotting face. One cheek was dark, with a deep, bloody slash cut across it.

“Well, my dear boy,” Moses said. “We meet again.”

Thank Newton. Just when he thought everything was lost, the Revolution had found him. Daniel sighed. Perhaps he could relax for a little while.

Moses’ gaze roamed over Daniel’s body. It paused on his groin, then Moses shook his head. He leaned forward, grabbed Daniel’s hand, and pulled him to his feet.

A few days before, Daniel’s first reaction would have been to try to cover his naked body when others were around to see. But, when hundreds had seen it at the Brawl, there didn’t seem much point any more. He climbed slowly to his feet.