In a few moments, the soldier emerged, whipped off his mask and saluted. “The area is pacified, Sir! There doesn't seem to be anyone else in residence."
Shakkar felt impressed: the Sergeant's action had been swift and decisive. He began to realise that the human's occasional juvenile inanity might be a nervous reaction, born of inactivity.
"Well done, Sergeant!"
"It's my job, Sir. Everything else is just training and waiting. I live for this kind of action. If you don't mind, I'd like to deal with these fellows in my own way."
Shakkar shrugged. “You do seem to know what you are doing, Sergeant. Please carry on."
Erik turned to a uniformed man, and attracted his attention with a none-too-gentle boot to the ribs.
"That wasn't too friendly,” he said. “Stupid, too. All we wanted to do was to ask about some friends of ours, but you had to up the ante, didn't you? That was really amateurish, opening fire like that."
The sentry gasped and grimaced as the leather boot struck home. “We never meant you no harm, sodjer-boy; we fought you was the wizard an’ his frien's, come back to finish us off. Mister Chudel, ‘ere, ‘e's the man in charge.” He indicated the prone figure in black with a resentful nod.
"Thanks,” Erik said.
As far as Shakkar could tell, the human seemed to be enjoying himself and obtaining useful results, so he remained silent. The soldier turned to the rotund, red-faced man.
"You: Chudel!"
The round man groaned and turned his head. “What do you… what the hell's that!” The pained expression was washed away by one of pure terror, as Chudel's gaze fell upon the towering form of Shakkar.
"This is Lord Seneschal Shakkar,” Erik said. “He's not quite as forgiving or friendly as me, so I suggest you don't do or say anything to annoy him. He doesn't like humans all that much."
Shakkar rewarded the corpulent mortal with a generous display of fangs, and all colour fled from Chudel's face.
"What do you want?” the black-clad man babbled. “I'll tell you whatever you want to hear. Just don't set your monster on me!"
Erik ground the open end of his weapon into Chudel's fleshy gut, provoking an anguished squeal. “That's ‘Lord Shakkar’ to you, worm,” he said. “Now, why don't we start with what happened here?"
"It was a party we had staying here: three mages and four warriors. The young mage did most of this. Most of the others ran off when he burnt down the Mansion House, but I had nowhere else to go."
Chudel groaned. “I'm getting a cramp. Can't I at least sit up?"
"I don't think so,” Erik said. “I don't want you getting too comfortable just yet. Don't worry; if you're nice and co-operative and tell us just what we want to know, we'll be on our way in a few minutes. Of course, if I have to use any extra persuasion, it'll last a little longer. I'm sure you wouldn't want that."
"What more do you want?” the bound man asked. “One of the warriors was a renowned fist-fighter called Tordun. I didn't recognise the others."
"We know who they are, fat man; we don't need to know anything else about them. We just need to know where they went when they left."
"I don't know,” Chudel said, his voice wheedling and pleading. “You've got to believe me!"
Erik shot a glance at Shakkar, his eyebrows raised in question. The demon shook his head; he could see and interpret human auras, and he knew the mortal was lying.
The Sergeant nodded in reply, as if a suspicion had been confirmed.
"I thought not,” he muttered. In a louder voice, he said, “That wasn't the most convincing lie I've ever heard. Which bone do you want broken first, fat boy?
"No preference? Very well, I think we'll start with your fingers, then move to the toes, then the kneecaps… I'll leave your balls ‘til last, I think."
Erik removed the long blade from the end of his metal weapon. “Or I could take ‘em off right now, if you prefer. Get it over with, as it were."
Chudel's eyes bulged, his face suffused with terror. “I can't tell you what I don't know, man!"
Erik sighed and took a firm, even brutal hold of the man's pudgy right hand. “I think we'll try the right index finger first. By all means, scream if you want to."
The soldier grabbed the digit and began to bend it backwards.
"Ready to talk yet, Mister Chudel?"
"I can't!” Chudel yelled, his cherry-red face streaming with sweat. “I swear I can't!"
"Sorry, Chudel. Here goes the finger…"
"Rendale Priory! They went to Rendale Priory!” the fat man screamed as Erik bent the finger almost at right angles to the plane of the back of his hand. “It's about eighty miles south of here! It's the truth, I swear!"
Erik snorted. He released the finger and took out a glittering knife with a broad blade. “Perhaps we'll start on your balls after all, big man.” He began to cut the buttons from Chudel's trousers with the large blade. “Your voice is pretty high as it is, so I reckon you'd make a sensational soprano."
"It's Rendale! I swear on my life-I swear on my mother's life…"
"He's tellin’ the truth, mate,” one of the prostrate guards said. “That old bitch Prioress is there. Thass where they went, orright? I don't have much time fer the old sod, but ‘e does pay me wages. Go about forty miles due south to Brianston, then it's south-east to Anjar, then south-west to Rendale. Not sure of the distances, though."
Erik paused for a moment, his knife poised over Chudel's privities, but he sheathed the weapon and stood.
"I reckon you're a soprano already, Chudel,” he said. “If your voice goes any higher, only the dogs'll hear you, and I don't see why they should have to suffer alone.
"Shall we leave, Lord Seneschal? There's plenty of daylight left, and it's nice flying weather."
Shakkar grimaced. His back muscles, so long unaccustomed to flight, blazed as if red-hot wires were piercing them. However, he was not about to admit as much in front of these wretched prisoners.
"Very well, Sergeant,” the demon said."Let us depart. We can walk down to the gates; I will take my bearings from there."
"Wait a minute!” one of the trussed guards yelled as the demon and the soldier walked away. “Aren't you goin’ ter let us go first?"
"I'll let you work that out for yourselves, friends,” Erik called over his left shoulder. “Consider it a challenge."
The protests of the prone men faded as Shakkar and Erik neared the gateway.
"Sergeant Erik,” Shakkar said, feeling hot and embarrassed. “I am afraid I do not feel in any condition to fly again today. We will start again tomorrow. For now, we walk."
"That's all right, Lord Seneschal. I know the drilclass="underline" bums and backpacks.” The soldier adjusted his webbing and assumed a steady, mile-eating gait. “Let me know when you want to stop."
Several minutes of silence ensued as the pair marched together, but Shakkar felt the need to ask a question. He felt no especial brief for the odious Chudel, but he found the concept of torture, even the torture of a mere human, distasteful.
"Sergeant?"
"Yes, Lord Seneschal?"
"You would not truly have emasculated that man, would you?"
"Let's just say I called his bluff, Lord Shakkar. If he'd held out, I don't know if I'd have done it or not. I'm just glad he didn't push me far enough to find out."
Shakkar nodded, wordless. Although he would never have admitted as much, he also felt glad that the soldier had not needed to carry out his threat.
As the afternoon wore on, the Sergeant's pace was easy for the demon to match, but Shakkar felt an unaccustomed torpor seeping into his bones. He had not slept for many years, but he thought he might well do so tonight.
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Chapter 13: ‘Just A Dream'
I've got to stop waking up like this, Grimm thought, as his consciousness bloomed into the bright awareness of a sharp pain in his head.
He opened his eyes and found himself hanging from chains on a rough-cast wall. The metal manacles holding his hands and feet were thick and heavy, but he was surprised to see they were lined with soft, yielding leather. The purpose of the strange, gleaming gauntlets on his hands was beyond him.