“Move.” A yokel shoved the boy’s back.
Despite everything, terrorized, Askjell resisted when the men pushed him forward through the doorway.
“Where are you taking me? No, please!” He wiggled in their grip.
The door slammed on his cries. Lissandro covered his face with his hands. What have I done? He hit the bars with ire and yelled. He regretted his behavior towards Askjell and the blows he had given him. Guilt devoured him.
“Did you mean it?” Folc asked low. He was still curled up against Selen. On the threshold of death, the boy who had tried hard to show bravery and determination since their departure now just looked like the freckled-face child he was—a child not older than Askjell. “Am I family?”
Selen caressed the side of his head. Louis joined them and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Yes, Folc. You are.” Louis lowered his head against Selen’s and laid his lips on Folc’s head. His friend looked devastated. Lissandro wasn’t the only one to bear Askjell’s fate on his conscience.
Hours passed. Lissandro sat against the bars when he heard the first screams of the tormented. His hair bristled, and his heart clutched in his chest. He exchanged looks with his companions. Kilda rose and looked through the window.
“I don’t see him,” she whispered, answering the question they all bore on their faces.
The torture was long. The men’s shrieks contorted Lissandro’s nerves to the bones. Though the bandits had tried to kill them, Lissandro pitied the men too.
“I don’t want to endure that,” Kilda said. Her eyes shone with tears and dread.
Folc sobbed against Selen’s chest. Louis tugged them closer in his arms. “You have to be strong tomorrow, Folc. Don’t let them see your fear. Death comes quicker than you think.”
The howls outside intensified. Lissandro’s eyes swelled with tears of compassion at the thought that it could be Askjell. No, Louis, cremation takes time. This couldn’t be. He hadn’t survived two hundred years and dimension travel to be burned by rednecks in this bumfuck nowhere. Should they drag him to the stake, he would use all his capacities to escape. The smell of burned flesh spread in the cabin. Eliot bent over and puked. Eyes closed, Ahanu mumbled a litany.
“I won’t die here,” Lissandro said. “I won’t die here.”
The door opened. A villager came in, carrying a large bowl. “Bringing your last meal,” the man sneered.
He knelt near the bars and lifted a hatch at the ground level that Lissandro hadn’t noticed before. Holding the hatch open, he spat in the bowl of groats and shoved it to their side.
“Enjoy it.”
The man rose and left the room with a snigger.
Eliot dragged the bowl to the side of the jail. Lissandro stared at the hatch, gaping. How could I miss that? He looked at their bags and at the hatch again. A glimpse of hope invigorated him. He got up, removed his tunic and tore his linen into pieces. His companions stared at him, puzzled.
“Does one of you have a metal piece? Something I could use as a hook?” Lissandro said. They kept on staring at him as if he had hit his head against a wall.
“I have my brooch,” Folc said. “But it’s not exactly solid.”
“It will work.” Lissandro knotted the pieces of his linen into a rope, took the brooch Folc handed to him, and tied it on the extremity. He moved to the corner of the jail and spun his improvised grapple. On the third try, the brooch fastened on the bag. Lissandro dragged it towards him. He opened it. “Yes! It was mine.”
His companions had gathered around him and fixed him with eyes full of hope. Lissandro plunged his hand into his bag and pulled out a sausage as if it had been the Grail.
“Really?” Louis exclaimed. “All you think about is food?” He threw himself at him. Lissandro raised his arms.
Before Louis could strangle him to death, Lissandro got up. “I have an idea,” he exclaimed. “We’re going out through the hatch.”
“Through the serving hatch,” Kilda pointed out. “With a sausage.” Now they did look at him as if he were cuckoo.
“With a bag full of sausages,” Lissandro insisted. He moved closer to the hatch. “Look at me and the hatch. The difference is not that big. And this is earth. We can dig the ground a little deeper.”
“We only have our nails to dig, and you should dig a lot to have half of me under that,” Kilda said.
“Yes. You and the others are too athletic to pass under it, but Louis and I are bags of bones. We can do it,” Lissandro said. Maybe Eliot could have too, but he didn’t trust the monk to be brave once outside.
“I’m not leaving him behind,” Louis said at once, nodding towards Selen.
“We’ll get them out,” Lissandro insisted. “You have no choice. Blame it on your twink body.”
“Tell me first what you plan to do with the sausage,” Louis asked.
“We need to grease our bodies if we hope to squeeze ourselves through that,” Lissandro said. Hesitant, Louis looked around.
“I’m in,” Selen said. “Should I dig?”
“We need a team to dig and a team to cover us in grease. I suggest Kilda and Ahanu work on the hatch,” Lissandro said.
“Agreed. I don’t really wish to see any of you two in the nude, much less rub you in grease,” Kilda mumbled.
Ahanu got up, unlaced his pants, and pissed on the earth under the hatch. Stupefied, Kilda looked at him with disgust. Ahanu looked at her. “It will be a lot easier to dig.”
Selen took the sausages out of the bag. “You have a preference for the taste?” he asked with a smirk.
“If I can avoid garlic,” Lissandro said.
He removed his boots and pants. In front of him, Louis undressed. Eliot fetched a few sausages, bit in one and rubbed it over Lissandro’s arms and chest. Selen and Folc did the same and covered Louis’s body in fat. Lissandro couldn’t help but glance at Louis’s lower parts. His friend wasn’t as impressive as he had fantasised and, as his armpits had suggested, was unshaved. Oh, so far away is my sanitized, superficial world of tanned models, waxed porn stars, and gym addicts. Yet, Louis’s natural body was undeniably good-looking, and Lissandro felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he watched Selen rub generously Louis’s torso and hips. Though it must have been the most awkward vision ever, Lissandro forced himself to look away. He didn’t want his loins to react in front of all his companions. The room filled with aromas of nuts, cheese, and strong game odors.
“It’s certainly the most embarrassing moment of my life,” Louis said. “If we make it, I will personally chasten whoever spreads words about this.”
“I support that,” Kilda grumbled, her hands covered with mud. The hole under the hatch was getting deeper.
Once slippery and stinky like an old cheese, Lissandro stepped towards the hatch. Louis joined him.
“Will you go first?” Louis asked. Lissandro turned to him and noticed that his friend looked at him, his gaze down. “With all you eat, I thought you would be larger.”
You should stare at my stomach instead to make such a comment, Lissandro thought. “I can go first.”
Lissandro knelt and crept onto the ground, his butt up. Eliot had oiled the sides of his head. Yet, he dreaded to stay stuck in the most humiliating position. Carefully, he put his cheek on the mud. It reeked of piss. It was my idea. He pushed his head under the hatch. It pressed hard against his ears. For a moment, he felt like a child on the verge of being born. His head popped on the other side. Now, the shoulders would have to pass. Lissandro realized that he should have passed his arms first. He wiggled and used his knees and feet to push. “Louis. I think you have to push me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Louis said.
“I have no grip. The others could, but it would take the oil off my body.”
Louis sighed and grabbed his arms. “Do you know how much I hate you right now?”
I have an idea. His friend held his wrists and pushed. Lissandro felt the stabbing pain in his shoulders. The bar
s on both sides squeezed his flesh. They rubbed against his bones. Folc passed over him and rubbed the bars and his shoulders with a sausage. It helped a bit, but his muscles blocked him. Panic grew in him. His breathing hastened, and he wanted to scream. He sensed someone’s touch on his feet.
“Bend your legs,” Selen said. Lissandro complied. “Now, put your feet on my thighs and push.”
Selen held his ankles and placed Lissandro’s feet on his thighs. Lissandro pushed as hard as he could.
“Push,” Selen encouraged him. “Harder.”
The vise on his shoulders tightened. Lissandro groaned. “It fucking hurts,” he mumbled.
“Shut up and push,” Louis said above him.
Lissandro pushed and growled. The pressure around his shoulders loosened. He felt himself slip forward. His torso went free. He stretched his arms forward and crawled. The bar scraped his bottom, and he pulled himself from under the hatch. He was a mess of oil and mud, but he was on the side of freedom.
“Congratulations!” Kilda exclaimed. “It’s a boy.”
“Ha. How clever,” Lissandro grumbled. “Now it’s time for my twin. I suggest you pass your arms first.”
Louis crouched down, wincing with disgust. “Kilda, please look away. Better. Everyone but Selen look away.”
Slowly, Louis lay flat on the ground and stretched out his arms. Lissandro grabbed his hands. Pressing with his feet against the gate, he pulled his friend. Lissandro’s body had dug the mud a little deeper, thus making it easier for Louis’s head to pass under the hatch. Selen pressed hard on Louis’s shoulders, but their friend stayed as fast as Lissandro had been. Despite that Lissandro dragged him with all his strength, Louis didn’t complain. If I pull harder, I will dislocate his shoulders.
“Harder, Lilo,” Selen compelled him. “I prefer him out in pieces than burnt.”
Holding Louis’s wrists, Lissandro hauled. Louis groaned with pain. His skin scraped against the bars and scratched. Eventually, he made it through, sliding at his side. Selen tossed their clothes through the bars. Though he wouldn’t have minded a shower, Lissandro put his clothes on. Louis scraped the mud off his smudged body with a rag and got dressed. He turned to Selen, who waited with his hands clenched around the bars.
“We come back as soon as we’ve found a way to free you,” Louis said, taking Selen’s hands in his.
“If you don’t find one, run away. Save yourself,” Selen said.
“You know it won’t happen.” Louis kissed Selen through the bars before following Lissandro.
Outside, the village was silent and pitch black. “I can’t see a thing,” Louis whispered at his side.
“I do.”
Lissandro concentrated. He saw the shapes of the houses, felt the warmth of the hearths. The lingering stench of the pyres made it impossible for him to detect the smell of the closest villagers. It would ask him too much effort anyway. Moreover, the smallest houses shouldn’t have more than a few inhabitants. They could start with them. He took Louis’s hand in his.
“Follow me.”
They hurried to a house not larger than a shack and stopped against its front wall. Lissandro spotted an interstice between the wooden planks. He crouched and looked through it. In a corner, two bodies lay in a bed. He rose.
“Let me take care of it,” he whispered.
“Are we searching for the key?” Louis asked.
Lissandro shook his head. He laid his hand on the doorknob and rotated it slowly. The door opened without a sound. Lissandro sneaked inside and towards the bed. The couple was deeply asleep. He put his hands on the woman’s mouth and on the back of her head, and, with one quick twist, broke her neck. Her husband’s eyes opened. The man barely twitched when Lissandro repeated his move. Once he had made sure there was no one else in the room, he went back to the door, grabbed Louis’s hand, and pulled him inside.
“How did you manage that?” Louis asked.
“They didn’t move.”
“No. How can you see?”
“I have good eyes,” Lissandro answered as a vague reply.
They lit an oil lamp and searched the house for something their friends could use. Lissandro found a hatchet in the bottom of a chest. He picked it up and rose, proud of his discovery. Louis turned towards him with a grin on his face. In his hand, his friend held a sledgehammer.
They returned to the cabin. No explanation was needed. Louis shoved the hammer through the hatch. Selen took hold of it and turned towards the back of the cabin. Hopefully, the sound of the blows should be fainter when coming from the inside. Selen gave the first blow. The plank shattered in a cloud of dust and wood particles. Satisfied, Selen passed the hammer to Ahanu. The two men kept taking turns while Kilda, Folc, and Eliot pushed and held the planks as they dislocated from the structure. In a short time, they had made a gap wide enough for anyone to slip through. Lissandro and Louis picked up their bags and waited outside until their friends appeared from behind the corner of the cabin. Selen rushed into Louis’s arms.
“Let’s go,” Ahanu whispered.
“No. We won’t go anywhere,” Selen said. His eyes met Lissandro’s. “We need to know.”
Lissandro approved Selen’s attitude and nodded. “Choose your weapon.”
As their swords had been taken away, Selen took the hatchet. Louis pulled a dagger from out of their bags. Folc pulled out his misericorde. Lissandro looked at Kilda. His friend swung the sledgehammer’s handle between her hands. He gave her a grin and took one of their knives.
“We act in silence. At least, as long as possible,” Lissandro said.
“Should we show mercy?” Eliot said.
“They believe in the gods,” Louis said. “Give absolution to their corpses.”
They spread between the houses. Lissandro knew he shouldn’t use his capacities. But after what they had done, he couldn’t stop himself, and it was still pitch black. He went inside the first house, approached the bed, held the knife high, and stabbed. Red as wine, the vital fluid spilled on the sheets. Lissandro raised the soiled blade to his mouth. The taste made his head spin. His heart raced in his chest. He heard his heartbeat throb. Around him, all turned into a red mist. It went fast.
The knife slashed, cut, and plunged. Then, he didn’t need it anymore. His feet danced and swirled. He felt the cold air of the night; dived into the warmth of a home. Warm liquid squirted over his face. His tongue skimmed his lips. Screams resounded in the distance. He heard the breaking of bones and ripped cartilages. The frozen wind hissed in his face. He reached another home. Again and again, it repeated. He felt good, like carried by a cotton wave on a calm sea.
“Lilo! Lissandro!”
Lissandro regained consciousness. He knelt on the ground. Selen stared at him. Kilda stood by his side.
“Lilo, are you all right?” Selen asked.
“Yes,” Lissandro answered, feeling slightly dizzy. “Why do you ask?”
He looked around him. He knelt in the middle of an alley. The snow between the houses was stained here and there in a dark tone. Voices shouted somewhere. His eyes fell on Kilda’s sledgehammer. Hair still stuck onto it. He remembered now. The houses, the villagers.
“Askjell?” he asked.
“We didn’t find him,” Selen said. “Come. Let’s join the others.”
At the edge of the village was a small square. Cold, charred stakes rose amidst piles of dark ashes. Three stakes. Three. Lissandro lowered his head and put a hand over his eyes. He felt an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Selen whispered with a thick voice.
Lissandro raised his head again. On the side, a group of villagers stood, their way blocked by his companions. Among them, Lissandro saw the reverend and his daughter. Louis approached the old man.
“Did you kill our friend?” Louis asked. His voice was heavy with dolor. In his hand, he held a sword. He raised it towards the reverend.
The leader stepped forward. “I didn’t. The beast did when it took
his soul.” Louis twisted his hand, ready to strike. The daughter stepped in front of her father.
“Wait!” Barefoot and dressed in a white sleeping dress, she stared at Louis with defiance. “You have slaughtered our people! Our village! Will you spill more blood? Will you raise your hand on a man’s daughter in front of his eyes?”
Louis shrank. He lowered his blade…before raising it again and slicing the girl’s neck. Her head fell onto the snow, her eyes wide open and her mouth gaping with disbelief. Behind her, her father let out a shrill. Her body collapsed. The blood spread over the snow in a beautiful fractal.
“The enemies of Trevalden have neither sex nor faces,” Louis said, solemn. “Kilda, Folc, Ahanu, tie them up.”
The villagers protested, but his friends were armed and resolute. They gathered the captured villagers in a circle. Folc fetched hay. When Lissandro understood what was going on, he gave a light smile. In a short time, the reverend and his men sat on bales in the center of the stakes. The leader wasn’t so proud anymore and wailed, begging for his life.
“I’m the mouth of the gods. You can’t do this! Free me, or your soul will be damned for eternity!”
Lissandro and his companions couldn’t care less. Folc handed him one of the torches he held. Lissandro took it and walked to the side of the bales. When Folc nodded and lowered his torch, Lissandro lit the hay.
“He was my friend,” Folc said.
“He was a good boy,” Lissandro added.
Louis stepped forward, holding Selen’s hand. “The earth belongs to the men. We let the gods give you a warm welcome.”
The reverend stared at Louis with rage. Your soul will burn out before your body, Lissandro thought. Louis turned towards Selen and put his lips on his. The heat rose from the pyre. The fire lit the whole square with a pleasant, orange glow. Only when the howls stopped did his friends break their kiss. Louis and Selen walked away. The rest of his companions followed them progressively.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 31
