that bravery, adding to it a keen edge of hatred that lent purpose to the young Lord’s every command.
Yes, the Arbistrath of today was a different man entirely. And so it was that when he spoke, men obeyed without question.
Marlyn reached the end of the corridor that led to the toilets, running left to head back towards the restaurant and his slumbering comrades. He advanced a pace, then stopped, letting out a quiet sigh of exasperation. The manual to the toaster; that’s what he’d forgotten, having put it to one side as he’d taken a piss. He turned, slowly, achingly, back the way he came, then paused.
Was that a shadow he saw, vanishing down the corridor across the promenade, the corridor that led to the security office? He frowned, unsure whether it was his mind playing tricks on him, but then the tiles echoed back to him the gentle creak of the security office door.
Someone was there. But who? No-one had any business there but him…
Curious, he strode across the promenade, past the upturned wooden-effect cart that once sold bottled fragrances and beads, craning his neck as he came to the corridor, eyes straining down the dim hallway. There, the shadow, flickering and cast into ghostly hue by the blue light of the monitors. He walked down, ten, twenty paces, reaching the half-closed door. He made to speak, to call out and see who was there, then thought better of it; everyone was jumpy. And everyone had their cannons hanging from their shoulders…
He reached out, gently rapping on the wood of the door, leaping back, startled, as the door flew open and a face greeted him in the half-light.
“…Lawrence?”
The other guard stared at him, as though he hadn’t heard him.
“No,” said Lawrence, cocking his head as though listening intently to something that Marlyn couldn’t hear. “He’s a good lad, I won’t do that.”
A ripple of confusion passed over Marlyn’s face, quickly turning to alarm as the other guard raised his cannon.
“Lawrence… what?”
Eyes fixed Marlyn, eyes glimmering with a curious and terrifying mixture of hope and fear.
“I’m… sorry.”
The eruption of golden power never appeared, instead, Lawrence’s hands gripping the barrel of his cannon and swinging it like a club towards Marlyn’s unprotected head. The youth fell to the floor in a clang of metal, his skull a ringing mass of pain.
Through the encroaching blur of unconsciousness, Marlyn could just make out the form of Lawrence as he scuttled away; hunched, low and fast, as though on a mission of utmost secrecy and import. Marlyn’s head dropped back to the cold tiles, eyes closing as oblivion reached up to claim him, dragging him down into the dark.
***
Some small part of him cried out at what he had done, in anguish at this betrayal of his friend and comrade. But what must be done, must be done.
The souls of his family and loved ones were at stake.
Yes, came the whispers once more. Just a little bit further. Down, down the stairs.
He flew down the corridor and into a stairwell, boots squeaking loud on the white, tiled floor. Down the staircase he strode, lungs burning in his chest as he fought for breath. So near, so close. To see them again. To hold them, to smell them. Familiarity, comfort.
Through the door, Lawrence, through the door and across the car park.
He hit the release bar and burst through the door, out into a dimly lit, underground expanse of concrete that seemed to stretch off in all directions. Scattered throughout the space, like mechanical cows, sleeping for the night, the wheeled steel boxes found throughout the city.
Cars, Marlyn had once told him.
The other side of the car park. Please Lawrence. It’s cold out here.
A surge of fresh strength flooded his weary
Yes, the Arbistrath of today was a different man entirely. And so it was that when he spoke, men obeyed without question.
Marlyn reached the end of the corridor that led to the toilets, running left to head back towards the restaurant and his slumbering comrades. He advanced a pace, then stopped, letting out a quiet sigh of exasperation. The manual to the toaster; that’s what he’d forgotten, having put it to one side as he’d taken a piss. He turned, slowly, achingly, back the way he came, then paused.
Was that a shadow he saw, vanishing down the corridor across the promenade, the corridor that led to the security office? He frowned, unsure whether it was his mind playing tricks on him, but then the tiles echoed back to him the gentle creak of the security office door.
Someone was there. But who? No-one had any business there but him…
Curious, he strode across the promenade, past the upturned wooden-effect cart that once sold bottled fragrances and beads, craning his neck as he came to the corridor, eyes straining down the dim hallway. There, the shadow, flickering and cast into ghostly hue by the blue light of the monitors. He walked down, ten, twenty paces, reaching the half-closed door. He made to speak, to call out and see who was there, then thought better of it; everyone was jumpy. And everyone had their cannons hanging from their shoulders…
He reached out, gently rapping on the wood of the door, leaping back, startled, as the door flew open and a face greeted him in the half-light.
“…Lawrence?”
The other guard stared at him, as though he hadn’t heard him.
“No,” said Lawrence, cocking his head as though listening intently to something that Marlyn couldn’t hear. “He’s a good lad, I won’t do that.”
A ripple of confusion passed over Marlyn’s face, quickly turning to alarm as the other guard raised his cannon.
“Lawrence… what?”
Eyes fixed Marlyn, eyes glimmering with a curious and terrifying mixture of hope and fear.
“I’m… sorry.”
The eruption of golden power never appeared, instead, Lawrence’s hands gripping the barrel of his cannon and swinging it like a club towards Marlyn’s unprotected head. The youth fell to the floor in a clang of metal, his skull a ringing mass of pain.
Through the encroaching blur of unconsciousness, Marlyn could just make out the form of Lawrence as he scuttled away; hunched, low and fast, as though on a mission of utmost secrecy and import. Marlyn’s head dropped back to the cold tiles, eyes closing as oblivion reached up to claim him, dragging him down into the dark.
***
Some small part of him cried out at what he had done, in anguish at this betrayal of his friend and comrade. But what must be done, must be done.
The souls of his family and loved ones were at stake.
Yes, came the whispers once more. Just a little bit further. Down, down the stairs.
He flew down the corridor and into a stairwell, boots squeaking loud on the white, tiled floor. Down the staircase he strode, lungs burning in his chest as he fought for breath. So near, so close. To see them again. To hold them, to smell them. Familiarity, comfort.
Through the door, Lawrence, through the door and across the car park.
He hit the release bar and burst through the door, out into a dimly lit, underground expanse of concrete that seemed to stretch off in all directions. Scattered throughout the space, like mechanical cows, sleeping for the night, the wheeled steel boxes found throughout the city.
Cars, Marlyn had once told him.
The other side of the car park. Please Lawrence. It’s cold out here.
A surge of fresh strength flooded his weary
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