Clouds of Tyranny Page 7
He crawled out on his stomach and looked around before coming to his feet. He stood up as he grasped his sword. He had only been to Pan’dier once before; last time it was a peaceful town. But now it was under the rule of the empire. He had made friends before, but they could be dead now or have fled the town in attempt to hang on to their lives. He saw the wooded area to the rear of the town; a large backyard for the small house he looked at. Locke slowly strafed along the outer walls of the house and crept slowly by the window and peeked in with a single eye. He saw an elderly man standing two feet from a dining table while an imperial soldier ate. This is what I’m good at!
Locke kneeled and crawled under the view of the window so the soldier wouldn’t see him. He passed the window and stood up and approached the back door. He reached for the small throwing dagger in his belt and pulled it out; the handle was sticky with the sludge he had traveled through, yet the blade itself was shining and razor sharp. Locke took a step back, lifted his right foot and kicked the middle of the door with all his anger. The door flew open and the hinge housing the locks broke into several pieces. The soldier turned and saw Locke, then kicked back his chair and stood with his mouth full. He reached for his automatic rifle that lay on the table; his fingers wrapped around the butt and trigger. He lifted the gun and before he could aim Locke’s hand was clasped around the dagger with it behind his right ear and flung it forward. The knife sailed quickly through the air, so fast he could hear the air parting as the tip of the blade cut through the warm air of the room. The silver blade pierced through the soldier Adams apple; the imperial released the gun involuntarily and fell to his knees holding his throat. He fell to his side and his body went through violent convulsions trying to cling to his now short life. Locke casually walked to the fallen soldier and kneeled down to him. He saw the man’s eyes begin to grow dark and could hear a gurgling sound from within his throat; he was choking on his own blood. “Here,” said Locke malevolently, “Let me get that for ya.” Locke gripped the dagger and pulled it out quickly; skin peeled with the knife and blood poured out of his neck; a small puddle forming around Locke’s boot making the ground sticky. The light in his eyes went out and his hand stopped grasping his throat and fell to the floor.
The elderly man stood there looking at the two war-seasoned men. Locke looked back at him; he was shivering with fear. Obviously, this was the first death the old man had seen, thought Locke as he wiped the dagger’s blade clean. The man was upwards of eighty years old with salt and pepper colored hair. “Are you going to kill me?” asked the old man frightened. “What?” said Locke. The man looked at Locke waiting for death. “I’m with the Returners, sir,” said Locke assuring the man that his life was safe. The man’s eyes widened with a ray of hope. “Are there more outside?” asked the man as he looked out his window hoping for an entire army of Returners to take back his town. “Actually, no. I’m here to gather information so we can properly infiltrate the towns under imperial control, including this one,” said Locke as he looked around the organized and quaint house, “I need two things from you: first, an estimate of their numbers, how man soldiers and how many lieutenants and generals. And second, a bath; imperial soldiers don’t smell like dirty garbage.” Locke motioned to the dead soldier implying he intended to dress as an imperial. “I’ll get the tub ready, but it might not be very hot,” said the old man. “That’s fine,” said Locke as he kneeled down and began undressing the soldier trying not to get the sewage, which was dripping from his clothes, on the soldier’s uniform.
After stripping the soldier down to his undergarment, Locke dragged the lifeless corpse to the corner and shed his own clothing. The old man came into the room, “It’s ready…my name is March by the way,” said the man. “Locke. And thank you for your help,” said Locke as he picked up his Damascus and walked into the washroom nude, “Come with me.”
Locke eased himself into the lukewarm water and began scrubbing himself with the sponge; the harder he scrubbed the blacker the water got. The old man spoke while Locke washed himself and shaved using a straightedge blade, towel, and foam bucket laying next to the tub. “Here’s the word going around town,” began March, “There are three lieutenants, a general, and forty-three soldiers here. The majority of them positioned in the library which they’ve turned into their base, but many others including the lieutenants are under the library.” “Right, been down there before, but I went through the library last time. Any other ways in?” asked Locke as he slid the razor from his lower neck up to his chin. “Yes, actually. You get on the roof and get inside the east wall; it’s very wide and accessible. You can get to the roof of the library by jumping roofs. First, go into my attic and take the trap door onto my roof.” Locke gave March a confused look. “I redo my shingles every years so I installed a trap door so I don’t have to deal with a ladder.” “Interesting,” nodded Locke.
After Locke finished giving himself a close shave, Locke put on the soldiers uniform and placed his blue bandana in his pocket. After transferring his many knives from one outfit to the other he grabbed his Damascus and headed for the attic. March showed Locke the steps that led up into the attic, “Locke, they have a prisoner down there under the library, a woman. Or so I’ve heard,” said a nervous March. “I’ll get her somewhere safe,” said Locke.
Once inside the attic Locke saw exactly what kind of person March was; meticulous, neat, and maybe a little obsessive on cleanliness and organization; the attic looked like an organized antique shop. “Hmmm,” said Locke, “Thought I’d be climbing over junk.” Locke walked ten feet to the trapdoor and pushed it open and crawled onto the roof. He closed the door behind him and stealthily walked toward the edge and looked down for imperials; nothing. Locke took five steps back and sprinted and just before the edge approached, he leaped, his right foot hit the edge of the next house slipping back a little. He crawled to the next target; this jump was a little further. “Damn!” said Locke. Once again he peeked over the edge for threats, but this time he intended to run the whole distance of the roof before jumping seeing as how it was almost a fifteen-foot gap. Locke stretched his legs, took a deep breath and ran for his life. With each step he felt his heart beat quicker and quicker until it was time. Locke leaped, getting tremendous height, and he knew he would make this one more than he needed to and smiled. CRASH! Locke landed and felt himself sink through the roof and it got darker, Shit! I’m indoors., thought Locke as he laid on his back in an upstairs bedroom. “Ughhhh!” groaned Locke. “What the hell?” said a voice across the room. Locke picked up his head and saw an imperial soldier lying in a small bed in what was obviously a young girl’s bedroom due to the stuffed animals and pink wallpaper. Locke was ready to leap up and kill yet again, but then he remembered the uniform he now wore. “What were you doing up there? On guard?” asked the soldier. “No, I was…exercising…the elevations…makes it…more…effective,” said Locke hoping the imperial would buy it. “Hmm, I think I’ve heard that somewhere before, maybe I’ll try that one of these days. You gotta be careful though, these old houses are very fragile.” “I know from experience, can you help me up,”” said Locke raising an arm requesting assistance. The man grabbed his hand and pulled him up, “You new?” asked the soldier. “Uh, yes. Names Thomas Rakes,” said Locke thinking of a fake name at the top of his head. “Lieutenant Gary Bellum. How long ago did you join?” “Umm, a couple weeks ago.” Bellum’s eyes strayed from Locke’s face to the sword attached to his back. “That doesn’t look like standard issued.” Locke looked over his shoulder, “Uh, no. My personal blade, grew up learning swordplay. Guns are so…impersonal. Nothing like killing with the power of cold steel, right?” “Hmm, interesting. Well, you ready to go to work, soldier?” “Sure, what’s on the agenda?” “Well, let me ask you this: you have any kills under your belt?” “Sure, a couple,” said Locke as he thought Only about a million of you crooked bastards. “Well, in that case you can dispatch the traitor we have under the library.” Locke’s
eyes widened, “Love to.”
The two of them proceeded downstairs and into the living room where Locke saw a girl not more than thirteen sitting in the corner shivering waiting for instructions from the soldiers as five of them lounged around the house. Locke knew he had to blend in, so he didn’t look at her, pretending it didn’t bother him. Locke saw a puddle of blood in the center of the room, but he tried not to think about what had gone on here. If Locke thought too much about it he’d end up losing his temper and killing everyone in this room. Locke followed Lieutenant Bellum out the front door and onto the brick walkway leading down the street to the library. Locke looked around and saw the threat that faced this town; two men standing outside every building, black and brown Doberman attack dogs, and the towns people with their heads hanging down needing a savior but they would have to wait.
“First time in the town,” asked Bellum. “Second,” answered Locke, “Say, is there a man here by the name of Jameson Stable?” The man looked at Locke crooked. “Uh, he owes me money,” said Locke to counter attack any suspicion. “Well, you’ll never see a dime I’m afraid.” Locke heart stopped at Bellum’s words. “I executed him a few months ago. He had the balls to call me a chicken shit imperial bastard,” laughed Bellum at the memory of killing an innocent man. Locke’s lips tightened as he tried to hold back his anger. When they got into the library Locke saw what he had feared; a large mass of at least thirty soldiers, far too much for him. If only I had Ray and Pearl, then they’d all be dead in minutes. Locke followed his ‘commanding officer’ to the stair case in the back that led down below; there were two guards with pump action shotguns defending it’s entry. “Sir!” saluted the two men simultaneously as Bellum saluted back, “At ease, this is…hmm, what was your name again soldier?” Locke strained, Fuck, what name did I make up? “Thomas…R-rakes.” “Right, don’t be offended. I’m awful with names.” Locke laughed as he had a miniature heart attack. They began to descend the stairs into the dark corridor that housed many storage rooms for old chairs, rare books, and broken down bookshelves. After several yards they stopped at the third door on the left about halfway down this straight corridor. Bellum turned to Locke, “Guard the door, Private Rakes.” Bellum went inside and closed the door behind him: the door was a large wooden door with a barred window for viewing inside and out. Locke peeked through to see what was happening.
There were three men inside now that Bellum entered and they were all looking down at something that Locke couldn’t see. “Talk!” yelled Bellum and reached his hand back and swung downward to slap their prisoner; Locke could see blood flying to Bellum’s left. Someone’s in there…their prisoner! “If you talk, maybe we’ll just throw you in jail for the rest of your miserable lying life. Or, I can shoot your feet, then your knees, then your stomach, and finally your tits and you can bleed to death for a few days!” yelled Bellum. A girl…hitting a girl? Locke had steam generating from his head and his blood boiled with anger and contempt for the empire. Bellum shifted his body just enough so Locke could see more; a blonde girl with her face covered in blood that looked about his age; still too young to die. Locke got his Damascus from around his back and chucked the straps that bonded it to his back: he never liked his weapon being attached to him but it’s what imperials do with their melee weapons. Locke was drooling with vengeance and anticipation. He took a step back and prepared to kick in the door.
The door crashed open and Bellum turned quickly to face Locke. “Solder! I gave no order to enter-“ Bellum’s words were cut short by Locke’s fist crashing through his nose spraying his blood into his eyes and sending him back a few steps. Locke swung his sheathed sword into the air and pulled his wrist back sending the scabbard flying like a bullet at the soldier’s face that was standing to his left. He twirled his unsheathed sword backwards and did a rear stab toward the soldier to his rear right, planting it through his abdomen; so deep he could feel the resistance of the stone wall against the tip of the blade. He twirled the sword around and thrust the blade into the heart of the soldier, who was hit by the flying scabbard not two seconds earlier. Both imperial’s fell to the floor and were dead before their heads hit the stone. Bellum stepped forward, “Ahhhh!” screamed Bellum as Locke planted the flat surface of the bottom of his boot into the stomach of Lieutenant Bellum causing the imperial to drop to a single knee. Locke slammed the bottom part of the handle of his sword into his face dropping him down on his back. “You fucking traitor!” yelled Bellum maliciously. Locke looked down at him ferociously as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his blue bandana that signified the rebellious Returners, so the imperial scum could see who was taking his life. Locke raised his Damascus up to his own head in a stabbing motion ready to come down hard on the imperial. “This is for Jameson!” yelled Locke as he stabbed downward through Bellum’s right eyeball disintegrating it just before seeing his brain matter seep up through the vacant eyehole. Bellum’s head convulsed for a couple seconds before becoming lifeless. Locke threw down the sword in victory with a large CLANG! He kicked the door close and tied his bandana to his forehead, but sadly had to continue to wear the uniform of his enemy.
Locke looked down at the Empire’s would be victim and was shocked. The pretty blonde girl was wearing an imperial uniform with a patch on the left breast with the skeleton of a cobra. “A general?” said Locke to himself. She was out cold. Locke retrieved his sword along with the scabbard and put them together then sat against the closed door and stared at her for several minutes.
Finally, she awoke and looked around seeing three dead men and an uninjured soldier sitting across from her. Then she noticed the bandana and her eyes became wide, “Your…a Returner?” Locke stood up with purpose, “Yes.” “So, are you just gonna leave me here?” she asked. “Why were they beating you?” “I’m a ‘traitor’ didn’t you know?” She spit blood on the floor in front of her to show how tough she is. “They wanted you to talk?” “Yeah, they assumed that just because I want to leave the imperial army, that that means I intend to join Velxeer.” “Velxeer? The kingdom at war with the Empire?” “Correct. When, in fact, I just want to be my own person. I don’t like the Empire anymore, they have become too evil and corrupt.” “Agreed.” “So…you gonna get me out of here?” Locke looked at her closely; chain bindings clasped around her wrists as she dangled with her knees barely touching the floor as her wrists ached from the steel bindings. “Bellum has the key,” said the girl. Locke went over to Bellum and searched his pockets till he found the small bronze key and held it in his hand hoping he wouldn’t regret this, but he had a feeling about her. He went over to the girl and unlocked her right chain as her hand dropped to her side, then he did the other and she dropped all her weight to her knees. Locke caught her under her arms and brought her to her feet. She looked into his eyes. He saw that she had two different colored eyes; a green left eye and a blue right eye. “Can you walk?” asked Locke. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” As they whispered back and forth they could feel each other’s breath. The girl turned away and went to the corner where her sword sat and picked it up. The sheath had an emerald dragon sprawled across it; it was slightly curved like a fang and very narrow. “My name is Alexandria Leshea,” she said as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from her face. “Locke…Locke Clive.” Locke placed his hand on the door and looked behind him to see Alex kneeled down to the soldier with the wound through his heart. She pulled a necklace from his pocket, “Got it.” She smiled and put the necklace around her neck: a thin gold chain with a pendant housing a bright green stone. “Ready?” asked Locke. “Sure,” responded Alex waiting for Locke to lead the way, knowing what waited for them down the hall.
They exited the blood filled room of corpses and shut the door quietly behind them. They walked side-by-side down the corridor. “So, how long have you been with the Empire?” asked Locke. “Since birth. I was raised in the army. All I know is that this,” Alex gripped her pendant, “was my
birth mother’s. Been a Returner long?” “Five years. How many Returners have you killed, general?” “Hmm, I’m not sure. How many of my friends have ‘you’ killed?” asked Alex patronizingly at Locke who was giving off the assumption that he thought he was better than her because of his choice of affiliation. Locke was quiet as his nostrils flared, Smart-ass, he thought. They came to a T intersection and looked to the left corridor, “That way,” said Alex as she pointed down the hall. BANG! A bullet flew by Locke’s head and ricocheted off the wall. “Shit!” screamed Locke, “Two to the right.” Alex was looking back the way they came, “And three behind.” Locke violently turned around to see three men running toward them, thirty feet removed. “You get the right!” yelled Alex just before running toward the three men with bolt-action rifles. Locke withdrew three daggers from his side and turned the corner. The two men raised their pistols and fired as Locke knelt down and flung all three daggers in their direction; one landed in the neck of the man on the left and the other two in the other man’s chest as they both dropped down. Locke turned to see how Alex was faring and he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Alex ran to the man in front and jumped into him landing her foot into his chest and spring boarding against the wall; she walked along the wall as if there was no gravity for a few steps before leaping off and swinging her sword. The two men in the rear froze in amazement and she decapitated the one on the left, and then impaled the man on the right. She placed her hand on his face as blood oozed from his mouth and pushed him off her sword violently. She turned where the leader stood fifteen feet away and thrust her sword so it was pointed at him. Locke watched on as a bolt of lightning shot out of her sword and sizzled the soldier’s flesh and boiled his blood; portions of his skin bubbled from the heat and his inside ceased to function. All three men were lifeless as Locke walked toward her. “Not as weak as I thought. HA!” laughed Alex. Locke stared at her in amazement. “You’re a…spellcaster?” asked Locke. “Locke!” yelled Alex as she motioned her palm behind him. Locke turned to see a soldier crawling on the floor with a knife sticking out of his throat aiming a pistol at him in a final resort to take Locke’s life. The floor beneath his head puddled up with water then began to sparkle with ice just before a spear of ice shot up through the bottom of his chin and exited through the top of his head. A stray bullet hit the floor, missing Locke by several feet. “Whoa,” said Locke. “That answer your question?” asked Alex