The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption (41 page)

“The  boy.”   he   croaked   out   loud,   his   eyes becoming unfocussed as a thin sliver of paranoia crept into his mind. "It's because of him! He's destroying my world! My dream! “he shouted at the assembled High Hats. A few looked puzzled a few repeated Flax's words, chanting them as if they were religious prayer or a profundity from a prophet.

                            The golden discharge in the field  walls  faded and Flax recovered his composure. Yet now urgency filled him. The dream hung over him like the smoke from the bloody war he had brought to Dubh. The boy was here. The problems he had blamed on the Tallmen might be something to  do  with  him  he  realised.  The boy was out there, a real threat. Now time was of the essence. He had to find him and find him soon, but he knew that he would find him, that their paths would soon cross. He been close recently, he was alive. Soon, thought Flax. Soon. was silent now, apart from the static crackle from the field walls. It  was  a  silence which slipped inside the soul, creating an atmosphere of expectation and fear.

                            On  the   Upper   City   walls   the   remaining Tans organised themselves to  face  the  onslaught  of the High Hats. They hoped that the narrow bridges, on which many of their number had been massacred, would perhaps give them some advantage as the High Hats advanced.

                            Santiago dropped his hand, signalling a barrage ofmortars  and  grenades.  The grenades  spewed smoke across the river and covered the High Hats advance on the walls of the Upper City which disintegrated under the deadly rain of fire and shrapnel. The Tan remnants died or fled.

                            Soon the High Hats literally exploded through the gates of the Upper City. There was no opposition and the frenzied minions of Silus Flax sought to fulfil murderous passion on anyone who happened to come within range.

Soon the bodies of Meks, dragged from their dwellings and killed, littered the streets. Flax ordered a halt to the attack. He needed the engineers and mechanics of the Upper City to run the Halls of Machines, without them he could not hope to sustain the realm he would tear away from the Tallmen when he conquered the Towers of the Tallmen.

                            His  orders  proved  difficult  to  enforce,  but,  after halting several berserkers in his host with a hail of bullets from his own weapon, silence fell upon a shocked and shattered Upper City.

Only the hum of the engines could be heard now, perpetual and comforting to Flax. This was his home. He smiled. At least they functioned still, he thought and by the sweet tone the halls emitted, efficiently. Now he knew that the   problem   that   threatened   the    city    was    with the  Tallmens’ technology or management of it.

                            But how could the boy have got to them? Even the blazing lights of the Sentry Towers had now almost dimmed out of existence. He ordered his men on to the roofs of the Machine Halls where they gazed through the thickening smog of battle at the City of the Tallmen.

                            The lights of the Sentry Tower were ominously dull too. The metaphorical significance caused Flax to smile. They guarded his final goal and he knew that the Tallmen would still prove to be a real test. His men were well armed, but the technology of his enemy was highly advanced and they had nowhere to run and hide.

                            Flax had seen their weaponry used on only a few occasions, but it was lethal and efficient. On the open killing ground between the halls and the Towers  they could pick off his men at will.  He looked nervously at Santiago, who grinned back at him, his face manically confidant. He assured his client that the Tallmen would collapse with the same ease that the Tans had folded before them.

                            Leaving Santiago to organise his next strategy and he moved down to the Halls to force his way in. With a few trusted captains,  they  blew  open  the   main   doors and marched inside in jubilant arrogance. Flax was relieved to find that all was indeed, as he wished it to be. He inspected all the Halls and found the lines running normally, although the Meks worked anxiously, as he and his entourage passed by.

                            Reassured by Flax, the Black Gaffer, of their safety, they continued their work in fearful concentration. They knew  of  this  man  who  now  controlled  the  Upper  and Lower Cities. They knew his reputation, his methods and now feared him more than the sadistic legend of Hall Nine. The new master of the Halls of Machines issued commands to his captains and his faithful servants ran gleefully  to  carry  them  out  as  he  climbed  the  metal stairway to his old control room. He felt good to be back amongst his beloved machines, wrapped in the bouquet of warm oil and hot metal he felt confidence build in him at the prospect of the forthcoming battle with the Tallmen.

                            As he entered the control room, he heard the sound of  gunfire  in  the  Halls.  He sniggered.  His men were executing the Council of the Halls of Machines, the lap dogs of the Tallmen. Now he had total control of the halls and the Tallmens' power supply. He had his hand at their throat,  soon  they  would  crawl  at  his  feet  one  way  or another. They could not win.

He swung open the control room door and stared at his deputy who fell on his knees at the sight of the Hall Engineer in whose absence he had taken over from. Bolster's rolls of fat quivered as Flax advanced toward him.

"MMMMMaster!" he stuttered. “They said you absent and dismissed from your post. I am your faithful servant. I did not take your job. I knew you would return master." he wheezed, unsure of his fate now Flax had returned and controlled the city almost in its entirety.

"My dear Bolster." Flax laughed. "You are a crawling liar of the lowest order. Of course you didn't want me to return you fat, slobbering wretch. I'm sure you enjoyed your new post and its advantages to the full."

                            Flax moved closer to Bolster and stuck the muzzle of his gun into his left nostril, pushing it hard until the skin nearly split. “But you are right of course. I am your master, so get off your arse and continue your tasks." Flax snarled and kicked Bolster to his feet and toward the control panels.

                            Bolster scrambled into a chair in front of the banks of trembling dials which were mounted above the glass windows which gave a view of the hall below were a few pale faces peered upwards from their work.

                            Flax looked down and the faces quickly concentrated on their work. Bolster turned and smiled tensely at Flax, sweat pouring from his pale face.

"The, the Tallmen have ordered us to increase output of all Halls to mmmmaximum." Bolster stuttered again. “Shall I master?”

Flax  paced              forward              and              leaned  over              the  trembling controller to study the dials.

"There is little left in terms of output without putting the machines at risk of overheating and seizure, what is the problem over there? Why do they need more power now?" he asked Bolster.

The fat man shrugged.

"We have heard rumours of sabotage and rebellion in their ranks, that they can no longer store energy as they used to." he smiled hoping his meagre information would please his master whose face seemed to be blackening  with every moment.

"Rebels?" he whispered. "Rebels and no energy storage?" He sighed deeply. So that was it. That explained it all. "The boy." he hissed though grinding teeth.

                            He stood upright and slapped Bolster across the head. The Tallmen were in trouble, they needed every watt of energy just to maintain the field walls. It was the boy. Somehow he had got into the city. He hit Bolster again.

"How!" he stared at Bolster who sat with his hands over his head. "It is only rumour master! I know nothing more."

Flax was growing angry. Was it the boy? Was it the Tallmens’ incompetence? He punched Bolster in the back of the neck. "Tell me now!" he screamed to a higher spirit than that of the terrified Bolster, a spirit which had given him enough to motivate and guide him in the past. Visions of the golden gate and the boy flickered into his memory, but no prophecy, no guidance, only laughter that seemed to echo through his own soul.

                            It tormented him with visions of  the  boy,  the boy who stood before him and his prize. And this talk of rebels. He was not alone. He was destroying the city, ruining his  dream before his very own eyes. Flax growled and laughed to himself. He  began  to  fume and  his  face  reddened.

                            Bolster could hear Flax grinding his teeth together, slowly boiling up a terrible anger. He retreated slowly as Flax's face began to redden and saliva frothed at the corners of his twitching lips. He whimpered quietly to himself, repenting his sins to a forgotten god.

                            Now his master began to rant and swear unintelligible threats, sweat poured from Flax's brow as he began to pace the control room and hit out at the nearest objects, he no longer seemed aware of his blubbering deputy at all. He was lost in a world of pure rage as he smashed his bony fists into the walls as his fury intensified and blood and scraped skin fell onto Bolster as he waited for Flax's destructive passion to focus on him again.

                            Flax turned to the shivering mound of flesh in the corner and, to Bolster, his dark, bottomless pits of eyes seemed to ignite into glowing embers. Flax's deputy closed his eyes in silent terror and flattened himself in preparation for his death.

                            As quickly as Flax's rage had risen it subsided. The fire in his eyes faded and he stood erect, staring in space as blood dripped from his battered knuckles onto the cold tiles of the control room floor.

His emotions under control again, he lifted his bleeding hands and stared at them. He breathed deeply and then spoke softly.

"These 'rebels', what are the Tallmen doing about them?” he asked while he examined the exposed knucklebones of his fists.

Bolster gaped and sobbed. Had he been spared? He felt a dull ache in his chest. He tried to reply, but the words jammed in his larynx. Flax slapped him out of his shocked state and repeated the question. Bolster sobbed and sniffled.

"They say that they have one of them and...." Bolster took in a deep breath that was not deep enough. He began to pant. "They say.....he will lead them....to the others..." he spluttered.

Flax nodded.

"Good." he said and then smiled at Bolster as he left the room.

                            The faltering and long abused heart of Bolster could take no more. The years of terror at the hands of Flax and the abuse of Bolster himself had taken their toll and, as Flax left, it ground to a halt, leaving its owners lips

to turn slowly blue as he collapsed face first into the blood splattered floor, his nose breaking with a loud crack.

Chapter Thirty

                            On the rooftops, amongst the great domes of the Engine Halls, Flax's eager army prepared for their sternest test. They darted across the roofs in small groups, clinging to the shadows, aware of the Tallmen and their searchlights and searing weaponry.

                            But the searchlights remained off and the Towers dim, starved as they were, of the energy they needed to function effectively.               It was the same  throughout  the  Tallmens’  city, all  non-essential  power  had  been  diverted  to  the field expanders in an effort to sustain the  field  walls which flickered and flashed threatened to collapse. The Tallmen had observed what had happened in the city and prepared as well as they could, and sat and waited watching the scuttling targets on  their  infrared  screens in the Sentry targets, but knowing that the automatic laser turrets would remain still and useless.

                            The Tallmen warriors had moved down to ground level to meet the High Hats attack. Their hand weapons were all they had to fight off the human advance. They would be able to, they estimated, manage a dozen or so shots from their weapons before their power cells were discharged, then they would rely on ceremonial swords and shields to attempt in an attempt turn back the insane tide of High Hats burning with the desire to shed their blood for Flax's gold bounty for every severed Tallman head they brought to his feet.

                            The mirror armoured warriors, feared the worst. They had seen the effectiveness of their enemy’s projectile weapons and knew that they were also outnumbered, but stood silent and still hidden in the shadows of their City preparing for their final hour.

                            A brooding silence had descended upon the city of Dubh, broken only by the crackle of electrical static from the shifting field walls and the rustling of clothing and  rope  as  the  High  Hats  descended  cautiously onto the great paved area surrounding the Sentry Towers . They gathered close to the walls of the Halls of Machines, a hissing murmuring puddle, awaiting a signal from above. Fingers  trembled  on  triggers, knives and machetes slid,  singing  from  oiled  sheaths as  their  eager  eyes surveyed the shadows beneath the towers.