Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 39ii

Karek edged carefully along the side of the tent wall, ducking and stepping through the web of guy ropes that laced the narrow space between it and the wall of its neighbour. Behind him, Drollo cursed and nearly stumbled into him. The tent wall beside him vibrated, and a guy rope thrummed.

"Watch those big feet of yours 'Lo!" Karek whispered.

"Sorry, sir. Can't see a thing back here, it's like sneaking through a cable crawler's arse!"

Karek pressed his finger to his lips and went on, around the corner to the back of the tent, where the space was somewhat wider, but no less choked with ropes. The night was over, and the sun had cleared the horizon to cast its orange light on the bright material of Merchant Dres' tent, but that gave Karek a problem. An errant shadow cast by the sun would raise the suspicion of the tent's occupants, so he dropped down onto his hands and knees. He motioned Drollo to do the same, and then crawled forward, the thick dew on the grass soaking his trousers and chilling his hands.

They were his best trousers, and even though a bit of dew would not ruin them, he still felt a little displeasure at their spoiling, but he knew this task had to be done. He could not simply take the word of a twelve year old girl without some corroborative evidence. And it was evidence that he found. Halfway along the back of the tent, where another narrow rope-filled alley led away, the grass had been crushed down and was mottled with some dark brown stain; dried, but part diluted by the morning dew. The tent wall beside it had a meter long slash running up and down it, though it had been neatly sewn up with fresh skin twine.

He pointed at Drollo, and motioned to the ground, then he pressed a finger once more to his lips and crawled back the way he had come. He heard Drollo give a sigh, before sitting down in the wet grass opposite the newly sewn up gash.

The rest of Karek's unit were waiting for him in the wide avenue fronting Merchant Dres' tent. They were little more than Farm-boys and Ranch-hands, all of them dressed in second hand uniforms, with unfamiliar swords on their hips, half trained and undisciplined. Most of them were standing with their mouths open, watching the drama unfolding at the tent's entrance. Karek had to suppress a smile himself when he saw the scene.

The rest of the avenue was busy with soldiers going in and out of the tents of the other merchants, but the doorway of Merchant Dres' tent was barred by the looming shape of Xerekus. The creature had raised itself up on its large hind legs, while the smaller pair extended before it, talons scratching deep furrows in the earth. It had drawn its two square ended swords, and as Karek watched, he swung one of them, and it cut the air in an arc of two metres, making the Unit-leader standing before the tent jump back a pace. He stumbled as he landed, but kept his feet. He stepped forward, tugging at the bottom of his tunic in an attempt to straighten both his uniform and his dignity.

"We have orders!" he stammered as the soldiers standing behind him tried to hide their amusement. They all wore the burgundy uniform of Sir Galder.

"You have no permission."

The words came deep throated from Xerekus, rolling like rocks.

"Your master is under the jurisdiction of the Order!" the Unit-leader almost squealed. "You have no authority to keep us out!"

Xerekus swung his other sword from over his shoulder, burying a half meter of its square end in the earth between the man's feet.

"This is our authority," Xerekus' other head replied.

"Do we have a problem her, Unit-leader?" asked Karek as he strolled up to the man's shoulder.

"Karek!"

A look of relief appeared on the soldier's face.

"This creature will not give me access to his merchant's tent."