Chapter 60 - The Kraken Gate
Benjamin and I had gone a little way from our makeshift rocky camp to fetch water from a stream. We’d filled our water bottles, taking care to filter the water as we did so. For a change, Benjamin wasn’t being an ass, and I surprised myself by managing to keep the conversation civil. That was the best I could do, given the circumstances.
I was pretty certain Benjamin had had nothing to do with the botched sabotage attempt on the observatory, and it was absurd to suspect him of involvement in the air-train incident, especially as he and his team had plenty of better chances to do away with Lockhouse Security than that. I wanted him to be the Benjamin that I had known, back before the court-martial. Maybe that was impossible, but perhaps we could work together.
We were on our way back, exchanging small-talk when we heard Private Coleman shouting. Benjamin broke into a run. I followed close on his heels.
We skidded to an abrupt halt when we saw Coleman and Ankush, facing off. Evershed was nowhere to be seen.
‘You follow your boss around like a dog, Gully!’
Use of the derogatory term for Ankush’s kin made Coleman’s attitude towards foreigners abundantly clear. Ankush hadn’t risen to the bait. He was holding the little brass pan in one hand and the cloth that he’d just finished cleaning it with in the other. His stance was relaxed. Neither of them noticed us.
‘Do you think you could protect her if I really wanted to hurt her?’
Benjamin shouted ‘Stop, Private! Do the right thing.’ But neither of the protagonists was in a mind to listen.
‘Sir,’ replied Ankush, coolly. ‘Ms. Derringer does not need me to protect her from you. You would not trouble her in the least. It is only the unusual creatures on this planet that give me cause for concern.’
I would have called out to Ankush, told him to step away, but that would have been a humiliation to the Gulreimian. He was not the aggressor in this dispute, and he didn’t need my help. It was easy to see that Coleman was trying to provoke Ankush into a fight, and failing. He wasn’t the kind of man to stand back from the brink of violence, as I knew from his file, so I waited for him to make his move.
Coleman sneered. ‘It must be humiliating, being dismissed from the service of your king and sent away to work for a woman.’
‘My prince, not my king,’ Ankush corrected. ‘And I was not dismissed from his service.’ said Ankush. He sounded unconcerned at the affront, but I saw his stance change subtly. He was preparing for Coleman to attack. ‘I am still bound to my prince. Zhou-Anrah Drelahk declared Ms. Derringer to be as like to his kin, and so she is an extension of him. By keeping her safe, I protect his family.’
‘Oh, so your prince writes to you with thanks, does he?’
‘My prince has no time for such trifles, and I would dishonour my name by expecting such extravagance.’
‘Private Coleman, if you do not desist immediately, I will place you on report!’ bellowed Benjamin. ‘Do you understand?’
Again, Coleman ignored him. The modest fire and a scrap of purple sunset provided scant light, but still I could see the man bunching, ready to spring. Benjamin surprised me by dashing forward just as his subordinate leapt. He was fast, damned fast, managing to get himself between Ankush and Coleman, just as a blade appeared, clutched in the private’s substantial fist. The two collided with Ankush. Benjamin sprawled on the floor as Coleman crashed past them both. Ankush had pushed Benjamin down and caught Coleman’s outstretched arm, then spun, whirling his attacker on and past them. The fighter stumbled once but found his footing, rounding on the Ankush again, this time purple with rage. Unbelievably, Ankush still had hold of the pot in one hand. He pointed it at the marine.
‘Please, this fight will not end well.’
‘Damn right, Gully! Won’t end well for you.’ With that, Coleman advanced, knife held high and point down. It looked as though he knew what he was doing. I got to Benjamin. He wasn’t injured, but looked set to intervene again. This time I managed to hold him back, at the same time keeping a wary eye on him. It was still possible that he was involved somehow, and that this was the start of something organised, something bigger.
‘Gulreimians and their bloody pride!’ He muttered, as we withdrew from the fighters.
Coleman feinted with the knife then jabbed with his left fist. Ankush swayed and stepped back. Again, the marine came in with his right, but the knife was suddenly in his left hand. It was a slick move. Ankush used the pot to good effect, batting the knife hand away. Coleman roared, pressing forward. This time when Ankush went to bash at the knife with his cooking utensil, Coleman went to grab the Gulreimian’s left arm. The marine looked monstrously strong. I feared he might have the upper hand if he could only get Ankush close. With his arm caught, Ankush twisted under his own arm, nearly wrenching his attackers shoulder from its socket and forcing the man to the ground. Ankush released Coleman and stepped back.
‘Do you yield, soldier?’
Coleman’s face was poison. ‘To scum like you? Never!’
‘What would you have me do, ma’am? He will not yield?’
I looked to Benjamin, passing the buck. Thinking it might reveal something more about them both. If he was a traitor, like Coleman, his best hope of bringing us down would be in keeping this man alive.
‘Finish it, Rah Malek,’ Benjamin said coldly. ‘You have my permission.’
Ankush nodded, but waited for Coleman to rise, which he did. The marine rolled his arm in the shoulder once, twice, seeming to shrug off the injury. The knife was gone, out of the tiny arena of light cast by the guttering fire. The marine didn’t seem to care. He crouched into a boxers stance and grinned. Unwilling to retain an unfair advantage, Ankush tossed the pan aside. He raised his hands in Souficla’s classic defensive posture, just as his opponent weighed in with a flurry of jabs.
Ankush met the onslaught with a combination of weaving and parries. Whenever Coleman’s fist looked sure to connect, Ankush’s hand or forearm steered it to one side. It was too fast to follow. I saw Coleman land a blow, but Ankush got his arm between it and his ribs. Still, the air hissed from his lungs. Private Coleman could fight, that was clear, but his bulk was already beginning to tell. He was breathing hard and sweating. Ankush danced around Coleman, drawing him on again. Encouraged by the successful body-blow, the marine tried again, only this time, Ankush was ready. The punch scraped across ribs as Ankush turned away and brought his elbow around and down into Coleman’s neck, or at least the place where his head joined his shoulders. The fighter fell again, but this time he only had the use of one arm to raise himself off the floor, the other hanging nerveless. For a moment, it looked as though he might surrender, but it was a ruse.
Thrown dust caused Ankush to flinch. It wasn’t much, but Coleman followed in immediately behind it and barrelled his opponent to the ground. When they came to rest, Coleman was on top, his good hand gripping Ankush’s throat, and for the first time, I feared for my friend. Knowing that his windpipe was about to be crushed, the Gulreimian slapped the marine’s ears as hard as he could with both hands. I figured burst ear drums because Coleman went mad, bucking and jerking around, holding his head. Dark rivulets ran from his ears. Ankush kicked the marine aside and wrapped his arms around the man’s head. Then he rolled into a graceful summersault and broke Coleman’s neck.
I breathed deeply when I saw Ankush stand up. ‘Where is Evershed?’ I asked, after he assured us that he was uninjured.
Ankush gestured at the corpse beside him. ‘That is the question I put to this man when I returned from my ablutions. When he didn’t answer, I became suspicious and went to search. That’s when he insulted me and my people.’
‘He lost the element of surprise,’ said Benjamin. ‘When he realised you were onto him, he sought to goad you into a fight.’
‘He fought well,’ said Ankush, adding ‘for an outlander.’ Outlander was what Gulreimians called foreigners. Gulreimians believed they lived in the Inner Land, the place where all people originated from. He retrieved the pan. ‘Come…let us search for the man. I am well enough to help.’
We found the naturalist lying in a pool of his own blood a stone’s throw from where we’d made camp. It was impossible to tell which of the knife wounds had done for him.
‘Well, now we know why Coleman thought he needed marks on the trees.’
Benjamin cursed. ‘He reckoned he’d need a little extra guidance if none of us were going home with him.’
‘I guess he was telling the truth about having lousy navigation skills.’
‘Talking of navigation,’ said Benjamin. ‘Are we going to be able to find the old portal site without Evershed’s help?’
Ankush knelt beside the naturalist and patted his jacket pockets. In a moment, he’d found what he was looking for; a small, black notebook wrapped in an elastic band.
‘He was always looking at this, or writing in it.’ Ankush tossed the notebook to me. A strange aroma filled the air and then filled me with horror.
‘Charg!’ As I shouted the warning, two tentacles ripped out of the night and wound themselves around Ankush’s body. They pulled, and just like that, the Gulreimian was torn in half.
Comments
Post a Comment