Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 56 - Karmic entanglement
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 18:20:54 +0000 UTC“Halt! Do not approach the town!”
The Rompers, I briefly wondered if I should introduce them to the Bonkers and try to bring some sanity to Helstatian naming conventions, had erected a series of barricades between the houses around the edge of town. Crude palisades had been thrown up across the roads and paths. It barely qualified to be called a wall, but it was likely the best they could have managed in twenty-four hours.
“I’m Bob! I kind of own the Swinging Cod, the pub!” I called back as I raised my hands. A dozen glittering pinpricks of metal rested on cocked crossbows, and they were all pointed in my direction. Don’t think the word ‘pointed’, Bob. A few of them won’t kill you, but they bloody hurt! “Just want to come inside the town and see to my business and girlfriend!”
“We’ll see to her for you! What’s her name?” called one of the other soldiers. I made a careful note of his armour and face for later.
“Don’t try to take what’s mine,” I growled and stepped forward. This would have been pretty threatening under normal circumstances. Either I was too far away for their scoots to work, or this particular guard detail lacked access to the presumably expensive devices. Instead of quaking in fear at my thinly-concealed reptilian glory, some of them snickered and made rude gestures. My mood was souring rather rapidly.
“Only yours if you can protect it, boy. I’m like a little woodpecker. I like to sneak into other birds' nests and lay me own eggs.”
“Little pecker is about right,” called a female guard from down the line.
“Reg, that means you’re a female,” said the guard next to the gentleman whose future now consisted of a fang-filled maw. The last thing that prick ever saw would be my intestines; I wouldn’t even chew, just to make sure he survived long enough.
“Fuck off, Fronge.” Reg punched the erstwhile Fronge in the side of his head. An armored fist met a helmet with a clang.
“Reg, you fucking wanker! I’m gonna do you!”
“Well, he is a lady, apparently,” muttered a third guard. This one was one of the more professional members of the outfit. His crossbow hadn’t wavered from my direction once.
“You seem like a smart chap. I had a drink with Captain Longfellow last night. Any chance you could let him know that Sir Bob is having trouble at the gate, please?” Don’t burn them to death and destroy the wall, Bob. Bad dragon.
“No one comes in or out, sir. Captain Longfellow's orders. You might be a Foreverknot spy for all I know.”
“I got drunk with him less than a day ago. Well, he got drunk, he’s a lightweight, by the way! Can’t hold his liquor!” I called back in exasperation.
“Well, that does check out. Ole Johnson got that thing in his class that makes him…”
I listened to quiet muttering for another ten seconds before adjusting my ascot of not-burning-down-idiots.
“Maybe I could stand you all a round of ale when you get off shift? I’ll find Longfellow and get him to clarify everything is copasetic for you!” I offered.
“Did he just try to bribe a member of the Rompers?”
“I think he did, Reg,” replied Fronge, their former dispute seemingly forgotten. “Bribing a member of Lord Pratnip’s army is a hanging offence.” The crossbows that had wavered were once again aligned on my chest.
“Step forward slowly and keep your hands raised and your fingers spread. Any finger wiggles and you’re a dead man!” called the least stupid of the guards. Why was I trying to prevent this lot from being slaughtered again? Still, we were moving in the right direction.
I walked casually forward, hands above my head, fingers spread wide and held very still. We only had a few more days before the other human armies arrived, and maybe a week before the Orlic warband got here.
“I’ve got information on another force heading this way!” I said. I was close enough now that I could make out their eyes flicking back and forth within their visors. They were scared.
“We already know about your lot! Reg, go cuff him,” said the sensible one whom I promoted in my head to sergeant.
“Me, sarge?” I smiled broadly at the uncertain Reg. Damn I’m good. “Send Fronge?”
“Reg, shut the fuck up and go and cuff this weirdo. Fronge, go find the cap. He’ll want to ‘speak’ to this fella, I reckon.” He spat to one side, without the ping I’d come to associate with the action courtesy of Benton.
“We’ve got spittoons in the Cod, by the way, mate.”
“Lovely,” he drawled as Reg hopped down from the wall and approached me carefully. I gave him my toothiest grin.
“Hey, Reg, how’s it going, man?”
“Shut it, spy. Arms forward.” I really didn’t like his tone. I extended my arms in the classic cuff-me-officer pose, then caught his right wrist in my left hand. A blink of an eye later and he was dangling by the throat from my other hand. I fought down the urge to shape my fingertips into claws and squeeze. I carefully kept his body between myself and his comrades.
“I’d like to speak to Captain Longfellow, now,” I called. “Don’t worry, this is just a ruse to get the good captain to get his arse down here. I won’t eat you yet.” I said the last in a quieter voice to my hostage. His eyes went wide. A familiar smell filled the air, and I carefully extended my arm so he wouldn’t drip on my shoes.
“Release the moron or we will shoot you!” called the sergeant.
“I don’t think he likes you very much,” I whispered to Reg. “Just get the damn Captain!” I yelled back.
“Sevris, take him over!” I tensed at the sergeant's words. Mages.
“I can’t! He’s too strong!” a woman squeaked. Distinctly mouse-like, I felt my predatory instincts flare. Probably more than was justified by the voice. The possibility of someone who could take control of me made the draconic parts of my mind flood with rage.
“Get the fucking Captain, Sergeant! Then I’ll give you back you’re pet cretin, and Longfellow can explain to you that I’m your ally.”
“Don’t hurt him! If you do, we’ll kill you!” he yelled. Good luck with that, I thought. “Fronge, go get the Captain!”
“We’ll wait!” I called, waggling my twat-shield. “Won’t we, little woodpecker?” I hissed. He tried to nod, but I tightened my grip ever so slightly. His eyes, with tiny pupils and oversized irises, rolled wildly.
I stood there for a few minutes, glaring at my future meal, until I heard a voice I recognised coming from the other side of the ‘wall’.
“Bob? Is that you?”
“Johnson! How’s you’re head?” I yelled back.
“It was less bad before I found you dangling one of my boys by his neck!”
“If I put him down, you’re other boys aren’t going to turn me into a pincushion, are they?” I replied jovially.
“This one is being taken into my custody and not to be harmed!” he declared loudly. “Put him down, Bob.”
“I’ll be eating you later,” I told Reg as I dropped him to the ground and he scurried backward on all fours before rising and fleeing back to the defences.
“Oh, stop it, you idiots. If he wanted to, he could just walk through you. The fact you aren’t broken corpses proves he isn’t an enemy!” Longfellow snapped. “Come forward, Bob.”
The crossbows were lowered. Reg clawed his way up the barricade before I got there, then shied away as I leapt effortlessly up to the top and landed next to the Captain.
“The short version of your strategic situation is: You’re pretty fucked, mate. How’s the head?” I asked pleasantly.
“Fine, thanks! You lot, get back to your duties. Bob, maybe we could discuss this in a more private location?” He led me down the crude ramp behind the wall. I followed obediently, shooting Reg a glare and doing the two-fingers at my eyes, then pointing them at him thing. Prick.
“My head is killing me. In Karen’s sweet, authoritative name, what happened back there?”
“Reg got my goat. Esme is mine,” I snarled.
“He threatened her?” He tucked his helmet under his shoulder and ran a hand through his thinning hair.
“Not… directly. But also yes. He’s been added to the menu.”
“Well, leave it with me, please! A couple of scouts came back with news of the Foreverknot forces, which I guess is why you picked a fight with my sentries—both divisions of the Sausage Makers are coming. Your rather blunt assessment on the wall wasn’t too far off the mark. With just a third of the Rompers, we are likely to be receiving rather than giving, when it comes to kickings” he grumbled as we walked down the quiet streets.
The town reminded me of Baginton when the wind had changed and blown Jenny’s Dad’s bowel-stench into the town. They weren’t stuffing rags into the gaps in their windows this time; they were nailing boards of wood across them and building defensive positions in their gardens with what looked remarkably like sandbags to me.
He stopped and fixed me with a firm gaze. “What do you know?”
“There are three human armies approaching, all about the same size.” My voice was flat and cold.
“Another one?” he asked ruefully. “It won’t make much difference.”
“And… there’s an Orlic warband assembling in the north that’s probably twice the size of all the human troops combined.” He glared at me as I finished speaking.
“And you know this how?” An eyebrow of doubt was raised.
“I can move quickly when I need to. Johnson, this is not something I can leave dangling.”
“And what’s your interest? The money you’ve invested in the Cod is a pittance to someone like you.” I fought down the urge to douse him in acid for the inference. There was no such thing as a pittance when it came from my hoard. I silently thanked my ascot once more. It was the best piece of loot I’d ever received.
“Do I need to lay it all out?”
“The woman?” he asked. I nodded.
“Huh. People like you are usually less sentimental.”
“Well, I’m not people.” Sometimes telling the truth is fun.
“No shit. How sure are you?”
“About the armies? I’m heart attack serious. The Sausage Munchers or whatever they’re called will get here in a couple of days, you lot will kill each other and then the Orlic will steamroll in and kill anyone who’s left.” I shrugged. He looked me up and down.
“Well, thanks for the heads up. You going to help us out?”
“I’m bloody here, aren’t I?”
“How are you going to help us out?” he said slowly.
“I don’t like killing humans. Unless they’re evil, then I think it’s fine?”
“Ah crap. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
“Outremonde? Yeah.”
“Just don’t freak out, alright? Seeing people die drives the moral-crusader types like you a bit weird sometimes.” I snorted before I could stop myself.
“I’m not trying to make your world better, Johnson. I’m not that kind of dick. I just want my town left out of petty bullshit.”
“It’s your world now, too, Bob. How long?” I raised an eyebrow to ask him to clarify. “How long have you been in Helstat?”
“A few months,” I admitted reluctantly. I liked this man. Aside from his lily-liver, he seemed like a decent kind of bloke.
“You planning on dying anytime soon?”
“Not really.” He laughed at my answer, a hearty belly laugh that made the thin glass windows of the nearby houses rattle.
“So what can you do to help?” he said when he’d caught his breath.
Images of raining acid fire from the sky on the opposing troops ran through my mind. I could cut a line through their formations with a breath attack, wheel around, and swoop back down. My tails would flick out and spear fresh meat to feed into my maw as I rose back into the sky.
I sighed. It ain’t easy being scaly.
“I’ve got some troops, but you’re not going to like them.”
Comments
DeadSlime
1 battalion of Murder Wabbits
Ryan Etherton
I like this chapter. Perfect
