A Town Called Dust: The Territory 1 (18 page)

It was late afternoon and the fiery sun was just behind the horizon, setting the sky alight with a red as raw as the ground. Squid sat beside Max on the wheel arch of the wagon carrying Lieutenant Walter’s supplies. He looked out toward the setting sun. He’d always thought the world was one of endless possibility, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just dry red dust. Up ahead of them, growing progressively bigger like a pimple on the red face of the land, was the town of Dust. Squid could see the water tower. He had traveled so far from home, and yet here he was, heading straight back toward it.

The army stopped just outside town. If the town of Dust had limbs it would have lifted itself out of the dirt, run to the approaching army and hugged it in a way that would have deteriorated into awkwardness quite quickly. The town, its residents huddled in buildings with boarded windows, was afraid. The ghouls were coming and they knew it.

Lieutenant Walter approached the wagon as Squid and Max jumped down.

“Lieutenant,” Max said.

“Squid, Max,” Lieutenant Walter said, “I’ve been asked to ride into town with the commanding officers. I’d like you to accompany me.”

“Why?” Squid asked.

Lieutenant Walter looked at him and for a moment and Squid thought he was going to get a scalding. Instead, the Digger shook his head and smiled slightly.

“Come,” he said, “it is proper for First Apprentices to attend the Diggers they serve. Besides, this is your home.”

“Not anymore,” Squid said.

Squid and Max followed Lieutenant Walter to the horses, where they were given hastily saddled mounts. Squid, who had little experience with actually riding horses, did his best to keep up with the others as they rode to join the commanding officers, including General Connor and Major Tungsten, who had joined the army with a number of patrolling Rangers only a few days earlier. Squid had never seen the general before but Max pointed him out as they approached. When the man turned to watch them, Squid saw that one of his eyes was disfigured by a long scar.

Apparently Major Tungsten had considered it important that his First Apprentice join them as well. Squid was dismayed to see Darius sitting much more comfortably than he atop a large mottled-brown horse. Darius eyed him and Max before following Major Tungsten along the road.

Despite the prayers of the residents having been answered by the arrival of the Diggers, there were no trumpets or streamers or crowds of giddy welcomers as the general and the other high-ranking officers rode into town. The huddle of dusty houses and shops along the street were silent, as quiet as the oppressive endlessness of the flat red earth.

“It could be an ambush,” said Lieutenant Kenneth, a young Digger who had recently joined the General’s Guard.

“Ghouls do not ambush,” the general said without looking at him. “They do not plan their attacks. They win simply by their unstoppable advance.”

“There are no ghouls here,” said Major Tungsten. “It’s fear that’s taken this place.”

“Indeed,” said General Connor.

Movement came from one of the buildings ahead, the church. The door swung open and an old woman emerged. She was wearing a dress that may once have been white. She was a Sister, but not as Squid had ever seen them. She was dirty and walked bent-backed, supporting herself on a walking cane of twisted and rusted metal. She moved in small jerky steps down the wooden stairs that led from the church’s heavy door. Once on the road she moved toward them with slow, foot-dragging progress. She stopped and lifted her neck to look at them, as if she could either look up or move, but not both at once.

“The end of times is upon us,” she said in a voice thinned by the years, “the Ancestors’ curse will finally crush the world of men.”

“Priestess,” called a voice from the church. The voice was followed out into the street by a younger woman of perhaps thirty years, another Sister, who rushed to take the old lady by the arm. She threw a fleeting glance at the Diggers in the road as she led the woman away. “Pardon the Priestess,” she said, “she’s old and has not been sound of mind lately.”

The younger Sister led the Priestess with as much speed as she could back toward the church.

“The end of times,” the old woman moaned as she was led away.

“The old crone speaks ill words, General,” said Major Tungsten. “If the Sisters are driven into madness, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

The general looked sideways at Major Tungsten but didn’t speak. Squid wondered what he was thinking; he couldn’t tell from his expression. The general raised his voice to address the town. “I am General Wentworth Connor. I am in command of the Army of the Central Territory. Whomever is in charge here, please come forward.”

For a moment there was a silence that stretched to the ends of the earth, broken only by a wind that rocked signs on rusty hinges. Then a man came stumbling, as if forcefully pushed, out of the door of a large building some way down the street. He gathered himself and turned toward the Diggers.

“Your Honor,” he said as he hurried toward them, waddling in the way of a wombat. By the time he reached them he was so out of breath that he could barely speak. “Your Honor.”

“‘Your Honor’ is the title of the Administrator,” General Connor said. “You may address me as ‘General.’”

“Yes, of course,” said the slightly portly gentlemen. “I apologize profusely, General, I was, of course, slightly flustered by your arrival.”

Squid had seen the man before. He’d noticed him wandering through the square on market day, trying to look important. He wore a white shirt, though it was flecked with stains of long-ago spilled food and drink. Around his neck was a necklace, a thick piece of leather wide enough that it hung off his shoulders. Small pieces of metal were sewn over it, each having been shined to within an inch of its life. Hanging from the necklace so that it sat in the middle of his chest was a shining badge, some creature with hair around its neck roaring fiercely, its foot on a metallic circle.

“Who are you?” asked Lieutenant Kenneth.

“Of course,” said the man, “how terribly rude of me. I am, of course, Ferdinand Rust, Mayor of Dust.”

“You’re the mayor?” said Major Tungsten.

“Yes, sir,” said Ferdinand Rust, tripping over his words as they tried to escape his mouth. “I am mayor of the town of Dust and its surrounds.”

“Well then,” said the general, “where is your town, Mayor Rust?”

“You’re standing in it, General.”

General Connor looked down the street. You could have said the town was asleep but it was more like every building, with their boarded-up windows and locked doors, was hiding under their sheets waiting for the monster under the bed to leave.

“He means, where are all the people?” Major Tungsten said bluntly, his tongue lashing the man like a whip.

“They are here,” said the mayor. “I thought it’d be best if they were kept safe. I told them to stay inside. They have shifts coming and collecting food and water from the supplies in the pub.”

“Wise enough,” said the general. “Do you know how far away the main horde is? We are yet to sight them.”

“Perhaps it is best if you see for yourself.”

The mayor led the Diggers down the main street to where it split in two, parting around the base of the water tower. Squid looked up at the tall steel legs. He’d once thought this was the biggest structure in the world but now, after seeing the Rock, it seemed pitiful. The trusses that formed the legs were almost rusted through in places and had been reinforced with a haphazard collection of wooden slats and scraps of discolored metal. The tower straddled a small wooden hut which the mayor unlocked and entered.

The inside of the hut was bare but for a small table and a ladder that ran up through the roof. On the table was a map of the surrounding desert. It too was old, the paper dry and curling, the black ink faded, and it had been amended so many times that it was difficult to comprehend. It had been marked recently with red ink. Large crosses had been drawn through towns and farms to the south and east, small notes scribbled next to them.

It was then that Squid’s eyes fell on a familiar name. He hadn’t been looking for it but there it was, he had found it almost instinctively, the small town called Dust. Not far away a large red cross was drawn, right through the town of Cameron. Darius, it appeared, had also noticed it. All across the map the largest and most prestigious properties were marked and next to Cameron, covered by that same red cross, was the name “Canum.”

“We’ve been keeping track of the movement of the ghouls since we were made aware of the horde. They are going slowly through the desert and have wandered randomly, but they are certainly heading for us now,” said the mayor.

“What does this mean?” asked Darius, pointing to the red cross over his family name.

“Hold your tongue, Apprentice,” said Major Tungsten. “You are not to speak here unless addressed.”

Apparently impervious to the major’s words, Darius spoke again, this time much more fiercely. He tapped his finger hard on the red cross.

“What does this mean?”

“Darius,” said Major Tungsten, grabbing him roughly under the arm. “I gave you an order.”

While holding his Apprentice’s arm, Major Tungsten looked down to where it pointed. “Canum,” he said, turning to General Connor. “That’s the boy’s family name, sir.”

Squid couldn’t see the look that passed between the two men but he didn’t imagine it conveyed anything good.

“Most famous of the dirt-farming families,” said the mayor. “Gone now, though.”

“No,” Darius said as he struggled forcefully against Major Tungsten, surprising him enough that he pulled free. “No!”

Darius ran from the small hut. Major Tungsten looked quickly at the general with what Squid thought was embarrassment, but this faded quickly into a mask of rage as he prepared to storm after his insubordinate young Apprentice. He was stopped by the hand of the general against his chest.

“No,” General Connor said. “Give the boy a moment.”

The general moved to inspect the map more closely, running his finger over the hatching of red crosses.

“All these?”

“Yes, General,” said the mayor. “All gone now, overrun by the ghouls. Dust will be next. Many of our outer farms are already gone.”

Squid looked again at that small marking labeled Dust. Uncle’s farm wasn’t prominent enough to be labeled, but it was there somewhere, on the other side of town. It was one of Dust’s outer farms and if what the mayor was saying was true then, he supposed, it would be gone like the Canum farm. Then it struck him—harder than a blow from his Uncle, harder than a punch from Darius, harder than a wooden training sword to the skull—a thought that nearly leveled him to the ground. Uncle and Aunt would be gone forever. He felt Max’s hand slip inside his. Squid’s insides, from his mind down to his stomach, were a swirl of cold.

General Wentworth Connor’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the map. “They’ve already reached here? Our information is that they were still at least a week from reaching any population centers at all.” He looked up at the mayor. “Can you see them from town?”

The mayor pointed to the ladder. “That is, of course, why I brought you here. Best if only you come, General,” the mayor said.

The ladder that ran upward through the roof of the hut continued to the top of the water tower. The mayor began to climb, quite deftly for a plump man, his ornamental necklace tapping gently against the rungs of the ladder as he went. He passed through the hole in the roof and moved out of sight.

Major Tungsten looked at the general. “Sir, I’m not sure …”

“Just a bit fragile up here,” called the voice of the mayor. “I’m not sure how much weight it will hold.”

“Stay here,” said the general as he gripped the first rungs of the ladder and began to climb.

Squid felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Squid,” Lieutenant Walter said, “I know your uncle and aunt are your only family. Perhaps they have survived. They may be in town, or perhaps the horde missed them.”

“Maybe,” Squid said, though he wasn’t sure he believed it.

As they climbed the ladder, moving higher above the roofs of the surrounding buildings, General Connor felt his shirt flapping, whipping back and forward as if it were some thrashing wild animal. Far-away sand, picked up by the wind, caught in his beard. It took several minutes to reach the top of the ladder and as the general climbed onto the water tank he had to bend, keeping low as the wind whistled past unrestrained. The mayor had moved toward a large telescope that had been positioned on the top of the tower and was held in place with bolts down into the top of the tank.

“We set this up, of course,” the mayor called into the wind, “so we could see the horde approaching.”

The mayor looked into the eyepiece of the telescope and adjusted it slightly.

“Here, General,” he said.

The telescope had been constructed from a tarnished metal, maybe brass. At one end it had a small eyepiece connected at right angles to the main body and at the other end the tube opened into a wide lens. General Connor moved over and with his one good eye looked into the eyepiece. He had seen far better telescopes in his time—this one had no delicate engraving and the cuts and joins in the metal were clearly visible—but it gave a clear view that was magnified well. It took a fraction of a moment to realize what he was seeing. The first noticeable thing was the rising dust; a great cloud disturbed from the desert ground floated up into the air. And there, among the veil of dirt, was the horde. Ghouls, tens of thousands of them, the exact number difficult to tell through the red fog, were moving like a trudging swarm through the desert.

“Ancestors’ sin,” whispered the general as he pulled away from the scope. They had been told there were fewer than five thousand ghouls, a number they could ride against as one force and easily overcome, but whoever had sent that information had been wrong. The Diggers had used that information to plan their attack. There should have been fewer ghouls. They should have been further away. Something somewhere had gone very wrong.