Luke Scull - The Grim Company

‘Look at me. Look at me or I’ll tear your prick off and feed it to you.’

Cole opened one eyelid a fraction. His whole body ached from being thrown across the shoulder of the disguised goon and carried like a sack of potatoes. He appeared to be lying on a stone table in an abandoned warehouse. A small torch provided the only illumination.

The woman who had instigated his kidnapping, Goodlady Cyreena, hovered next to a table covered in evil-looking metal instruments. Her face was as passionless as death. She regarded him with those pitiless eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about them, he thought, but he couldn’t quite work out what it was.

‘Can you feel the sensation creeping back into your muscles?’ the goodlady asked. ‘It will be hours before you can so much as walk unaided. Don’t think about escaping.’

Cole tried to work his mouth and found that his tongue had loosened enough to form mangled words. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he asked. ‘I’m innocent!’

Goodlady Cyreena pushed her hair back from her face, revealing the silver stud gleaming softly in her ear. ‘Words weren’t necessary,’ she said. ‘I could tell by the way you reacted to my mummer’s show that you harbour treacherous appetites. Usually, my bondmagic’ — she tapped the glowing metal at her ear — ‘confirms the intentions of those I suspect of treason.’ She walked over to him and placed one smooth hand on his brow. ‘You, however, refused to yield anything. No thoughts at all. That should not be possible. You are going to explain to me why I cannot read your mind.’ She looked down at him expectantly.

‘I don’t know,’ slurred Cole. ‘I was drinking last night. Maybe-’

The woman looming over him grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head down onto the table.

‘You will tell me how you are immune to thought-mining,’ the Augmentor said calmly, ‘or I will cut open your skull.’ She crossed back over to the table and picked up a wicked-looking scalpel. ‘I can send part of your brain for analysis,’ she said. ‘You would not survive the process. Alternatively, you can save us both some unpleasantness and tell me the truth.’

Cole felt dazed and nauseous and his mouth was suddenly as dry as a desert. He hacked up phlegm from the back of his throat to moisten his mouth. ‘I took a soporific,’ he managed. ‘A friend gave it to me.’

Goodlady Cyreena said nothing for a time. Finally, she nodded. ‘I will require a urine sample.’

‘Yes,’ Cole hastily replied. ‘I’ll need help with…’ His voice trailed off as the woman reached down to the table and picked up a huge needle connected to a tube, which in turn was affixed to the bladder of an animal. She walked over to him and began to untie his breeches, tugging them down over his boots and ankles. For the second time in two days, Davarus Cole’s flaccid manhood was subjected to a humiliating inspection.

The Augmentor’s lips pursed. ‘Do you find me attractive?’ she asked. Her face betrayed no emotion. She simply waited for his response.

Only the spot right between your eyes , Cole thought. He wished he had Magebane to hand. Not that it would have done much good, since he couldn’t even move his hand. ‘Yes, very much so,’ he said. He licked his lips nervously.

Her face melted into a smile. His own lips twitched upwards in response. She might be an Augmentor and quite possibly a sadist, but when it came right down to it a woman was a woman and he was Davarus-

‘ Argh! ’ he bellowed as her balled fist smashed him right between the legs. An explosion of pain surged upwards through his entire body. He could hardly breathe for the agony. She hit him again, even harder, and bright lights danced in front of his eyes. He wanted to curl up and die, but his body simply wouldn’t respond. He was helpless.

The goodlady raised the unfeasibly long needle she held and positioned it just above his groin. Sudden horror filled him. ‘Wait!’ he gasped. ‘You don’t need to do that! I can-’

White piercing agony reduced his words to a whine as the Augmentor pushed the needle through his skin and deep into his bladder. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he prayed desperately for Garrett and the Shards to storm in and rescue him. Whenever he had been in trouble in the past, the fat old merchant had always been there to bail him out.

‘Does it hurt?’ Goodlady Cyreena asked in a mocking tone. She had a faint smile on her face as she steadily leached the piss from his body and listened to his shrill screams. ‘Consider yourself fortunate. You won’t die on this table. Lord Salazar has a need for healthy young men.’

To his relieved gasps, the Augmentor finally removed the needle. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘Rest now. You have a taxing voyage ahead of you.’

Her final words seem to drift towards him, as if floating from some great distance. ‘Tonight you set sail for the Swell…’

Barandas adjusted his sword one last time and surveyed the street before him. The Hook had emptied almost immediately once he and the other Augmentors arrived on the northern edge of the plaza. A horse and cart trundled away towards the east gate, heading towards one of the farms or villages dotting the fertile stretch of land beyond Dorminia. With the city under lockdown, however, the cart’s owner would not be going anywhere fast. Further down the Tyrant’s Road, small crowds stared up at them, fear and curiosity warring on the faces of young and old alike.

All in all it was a pleasant morning. The storm had broken during the night, leaving the streets smelling of damp. There was something else in the air too — something aside from the sour, slightly rotten stench that was always present when one passed the gates of the Noble Quarter. It was the smell of death.

He looked up. The gibbets in the centre of the square hung sullenly, their occupants in varying stages of desperation, madness or decay. One of the cages was empty: Admiral Kramer had been released by the Watch earlier that morning, a development with which Barandas was quietly pleased. He’d always respected the erstwhile admiral of Dorminia’s navy, who was loyal and forthright if somewhat uptight. Kramer would need all of his experience to handle a crew comprised mainly of convicted criminals, especially out on the Swell. The corpse of the god Malantis corrupted the waters of that dreaded stretch of the Broken Sea. Mining the region for magic was so fraught with peril that it had never been seriously attempted in the past. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures. Barandas supposed anything was better than dying in a gibbet.

He turned to the three men he had chosen to accompany him on this bloody assignment. In truth, there wasn’t a great deal of choice in the matter. Most of his Augmentors were still recovering from the siphoning. Goodlady Cyreena was a notable exception, but her skills did not lend themselves to the nature of the black work the four of them were about to undertake. He cleared his throat.

‘You know why we’re here. One of the most powerful merchants in the city has been secretly funding a terrorist group for the last decade or more. It is time they faced justice.’

He stared at the dilapidated old temple across the way. Whoever this rebel leader was, he had succeeded in evading discovery for longer than most. He had to admire the cunning of the man, to have chosen a base so conspicuous and yet so widely shunned that few ever gave it a second thought.

‘Our informant told us to expect a dozen rebels.’ Barandas paused for a moment. It was unpleasant, but it couldn’t be helped. ‘We are to execute them all. Including the girl.’