by Amy Cross
No reply.
Is she gone?
Did I offend her?
Or was she never really here at all?
I step forward through the darkness. After a moment I feel my feet brushing against another pile of bones, although I have no idea which pile belonged to Doreen. Still, I crouch down and reach to touch the bones, and my fingertips quickly brush against the edge of a skull. I feel the empty eye-sockets and the teeth, and then I find a patch of skin with wispy hair still attached. I run my hand around to the skull's side, but then I feel something wet leaking from a small hole and I pull my hands back.
There were so many skulls here, I have no idea which of them belonged to Doreen.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper, getting to my feet and stepping forward again. I hold my hands out, so that I don't want into one of the walls. “Can you hear me? Are you here? Please, even if you can't help me, can you at least let me know that you're here?”
Again, there's no reply.
“Please,” I whimper, with fresh tears starting to run down my face, “just let me hear your voice one more time. I'm sorry I was mean earlier but -”
Suddenly I hear footsteps in the distance, and I turn to look back across the pitch-black chamber. My heart is racing, and a moment later I hear the sound of a bolt being slid across. I don't know how long it has been since that horrible wart-faced man was here with that man who kept appearing and disappearing, but someone has finally come back. Despite everything I've been telling myself for the past few hours, I immediately feel a rush of hope at the thought that somehow – against all the odds – Matilda might have changed her mind and come back for me after all.
The door starts to open, allowing a crack of light into the chamber, but then there's a pause and I hear voices outside.
A moment later I hear a faint creaking sound over my shoulder.
I turn, not expecting to see anything, and then I let out a gasp of horror as I'm just about able to make out the sight of one of the dead, rotten girls standing right behind me and staring straight into my eyes.
Before I can say anything, however, she crumples to the ground and lands at my feet.
“There she is!” the wart-faced man calls out. “I warned you she's not got much muscle on her frame.”
Gasping again, I turn to see a tall, hooded figure standing in the doorway. Immediately feeling a flash of fear, I take a step back, and in the process I bump against the bones on the ground.
“I'm sorry,” I stammer, looking down at the skull for a moment before looking back at the doorway just as the tall hooded figure steps through.
I don't know who or what that things is, but the sight of him – or rather, the sight of his black robes – sends a shudder through my chest.
“She's fit and healthy enough,” the wart-faced man says, still standing just outside the chamber and watching me with a smile. “She's been here a little under a day so far, so she's in good condition.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but then I hear a low, guttural growl emanating from somewhere beneath the hooded figure's shawl. And then, spotting movement lower down, I watch with a growing sense of horror as a thin, gray hand slips out from the robes, revealing sharp, blood-stained talons at the end of each finger. At the same time, I realize there's a foul stench in the air.
The growl becomes louder, and for a moment I actually think I might be about to faint.
“Do you want her, then?” the wart-faced man asks, and now he's starting to sound slightly bored. “I don't mean to hurry you, but it's getting toward feeding time and I don't want to be late to the table.”
The hooded figure growls again, and then a second gray hand slips out from beneath the robes.
“I don't want to go with him!” I stammer, taking another step back. “You can't make me!”
The figure lets out yet another growl, and then slowly the hands reach out further until...
Staring, I realize the two arms are severed at their elbows, and that two normal-looking hands are holding each elbow and using the talon-ended arms like they're part of a puppet. Just as I'm starting to wonder what's happening, the robes fall open slightly and I find myself staring up into a familiar, smiling face.
It's Duncan!
I step toward him, filled with relief.
“Quiet!” he whispers. “Play along, or you'll get us both killed.”
Before I can respond, he closes the robes again and turns, and I watch as he starts shuffling back toward the door.
“So what's the decision, then?” the wart-faced man asks. “Are you taking her, or not?”
Duncan, still disguised under the robes, stops and turns to him. He hesitates for a few seconds, and then he lets out a low, rumbling growl as he nods very slowly.
“You are?” the man replies, clearly surprised. “You know the price, right?”
Duncan growls and nods again.
“Well, it's your money,” the man says, before gesturing for me to go over and join them. “Come on, girl, get moving. It's your lucky day.” He glances at the robes. “Well, until this fellow gets you to wherever he's taking you, anyway. After that, all bets are off. It's not often we get Fleshweavers passing through these parts, but it doesn't take a genius to understand why they might want some fresh human skin.”
Duncan growls yet again.
“Move it!” the man yells.
I hurry forward, desperate to get out of here, and finally I step out into the corridor. After being in the darkness for so long, the light is blinding, but then I hear the door starting to swing shut behind me.
“Wait!” I yell, turning and putting my foot in the way so that the door can't close all the way.
“What's wrong?” the ward-faced man asks. “You don't actually want to stay, do you?”
I stare into the chamber, at the bones on the floor and in particular at the bones that I think belonged to Doreen, and then I turn and look up at the robed figure. Although he looks terrifying and smells even worse, I know now that Duncan is in there somewhere. He came back to fetch me, and I'm grateful, but there's one more thing that I think we need to do before we leave.
“It's about my friends,” I tell him, my voice trembling with fear. “Can you help my friends too?”
I wait, and after a moment he tilts his head beneath the robes and lets out a low, quizzical growl.
Chapter Ten
“Do you think this'll do?” I ask, as I drop the bag of bones on the grass near the top of the hill. “I mean, if you don't, we can keep going. We can carry them further.”
I think.
My arms are burning from the weight, but as I look down into the bag I see several skulls staring out at me.
“This'll do!” Duncan gasps, dropping his much larger bag with such force that I hear several cracking sounds. “Anything's better than being down in that dungeon.”
With that, he tears the side of the bag and lets the bones tumble out across the grass, and then he does the same with that bag that I've been carrying.
“You can't bring them back to life, can you?” I ask cautiously.
“No,” he replies, “I can't. But if they're going to haunt anywhere, it might as well be a nice sunny hillside rather than a cold, dark pit in some rundown little shanty town. At least here they can play.”
“I don't know which one's Doreen,” I say, stepping around the pile and then crouching down to take a closer look. I hate seeing so many dead bodies, but at the same time I feel relieved that Duncan agreed to bring them with us. Even if he kept sighing as he handed over all the gold that the dungeon-master demanded. “Thank you,” I add, looking up at him. “I didn't want to leave them there.”
“Whatever,” he mutters, holding up the two rotten gray arms for a moment before tossing them aside. “You're a very lucky young girl, Milly. After the way you acted, not many people would have stuck with you and come to the rescue. I could have got you out sooner, of course, but I thought you deserved to stew in your own juic
es for a while.”
“I'm sorry I went with Matilda instead of you,” I say, getting to my feet. “I thought... I mean, she seemed nicer. At the time.”
I wait for him to reply, but he simply stares at me.
“Not that you don't seem nice,” I add hurriedly, worried that I've offended him. “She just seemed... nicer.”
“She has that effect on people sometimes,” he replies.
“Have you known her for a long time?” I ask.
“For longer than I'd care to admit,” he says with a sigh. “I knew she'd sell you out at the first possible chance, but I also knew there was no point arguing with you. Most people would have left you to deal with the consequences of that mistake, but you're fortunate that I don't have any particular plans for the next few days. To be honest, I'm sick of clearing up after Matilda's antics.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” I ask.
“My -”
He stares at me for a moment, as if he's shocked by the suggestion.
“If you ask me that again,” he says dourly, “I might just take you back to that chamber and drop you in myself.”
“I just want to go home,” I tell him. “I don't want to go anywhere else, I don't want to take any detours, I just want to get home and forget about all of this. If I could wake up right now and find that it's a dream, I'd be fine with that. I just want to go home.”
“Reading between the lines,” he says, stepping past me and staring out across the vast rolling landscape, as the sun continues to set in the distance, “I get the impression that you want to go home.”
“Everyone's going to be missing me,” I point out. “They'll probably be terrified that something bad might have happened to me.” I pause for a moment. “Well, I suppose something bad has happened to me, but you know what I mean. I want to get home so I can tell them that I'm okay and that there's no need to be worried. If it's any help, I promise I won't tell them about this place.”
I wait for him to reply, but he's still staring off into the distance. Following his gaze, I realize I can just about make out some kind of bright light right on the horizon line.
“What's that?” I ask, stepping over to join him.
“The light?” Duncan hesitates. “That's the soul auction, or at least it's the start of the camp being set up. It's one of the biggest events to hit this place for decades, and anyone who's anyone is already well on their way. There'll be demons lining up to bid on trinkets that allow them to make a connection with innocent souls in your world, Milly. It's one part marketplace, one part campsite, and one part giant party. It's the kind of place where anything goes, especially when you get right into the heart of the auction house.”
“What do you mean... auction house?” I ask.
“Soul auctions don't happen every day,” he continues. “When they do, demons and hangers-on tend to go a little wild. The actual auction itself only takes a few hours, although there's a lot of buying and selling on the sidelines. The real reason people go, at least those who lack the means to bid for the big prizes, is that the parties there tend to be spectacular. This particular soul auction is being sponsored by the Shan of Aluton, one of the richest and most disgusting creatures in all the seven worlds.” He glances at me. “Honestly, it's a vile place. You're a child, Milly. You can't even begin to imagine the horrific things that go on during a soul auction celebration.”
“Like what?”
“Huge parties. Massive, endless displays of greed and desire. Dancing. Drinking. So much light, so much jewelry, so many costumes. Processions of people who've exchanged their rags for riches, for one night only. And that's only on the outer edges. The deeper you get toward the core of a soul auction, the closer you come to the true wealth. There are people there who eat dragon eggs for breakfast, and people made of fire who go bathing in people made of water. Sunsets in jars. Ghosts for sale. But there's one thing I've never seen at a soul auction, Milly. There's one thing that just never seems to creep into those places. I've never seen a surprise there. Everything is so depressingly familiar.”
He falls silent, simply staring at the distant light.
“I don't know,” I say finally. “You kind of make it sound almost... fun.”
He turns to me with a disgusted look on his face.
“Only almost,” I add quickly, aware that I've done something wrong but not really sure what. “I mean, a bit. Just a little bit.”
“That's how they lure people in,” he says bitterly. “They offer fun in exchange for...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“People who trade in human souls,” he continues after a few seconds, “are bad enough. People who enable the whole sorry charade are somehow worse.”
“Okay,” I reply, even though I don't know what he means. “Are we... Are we going there?”
“To the soul auction?” He shakes his head. “Of course not. We're keeping as far from that place as possible. Fortunately, the door back to your world is much closer, so we won't even need to make a detour.” He hesitates for a moment. “Even at this distance, though, we'll probably run into some dregs. After all, everyone within a couple thousand miles is getting all gussied up and heading to the soul auction.”
***
“See what I mean?” Duncan asks several hours later, as we make our way down a dusty slope that leads to the bottom of a deep trench running through the dry red rocks. “Up ahead.”
I struggle for a moment, almost slipping, but finally I catch up to him at the bottom of the trench. As I regain my balance, I look ahead and see that there's some kind of large white caravan being dragged along, kicking up clouds of dust.
“What is it?” I ask warily.
“Travelers. And they're heading in the right direction for the soul auction.”
“Are they rich?”
He lets out a wry laugh. “Are you joking?” he says. “They're just ordinary people, drawn to the soul auction by lights and by promises of feeding on whatever scraps fall from the table. The saddest part is, they probably see this as the highlight of their lives so far.”
“You don't like the soul auction very much, do you?” I point out.
“Come on. We have to go this way.”
“Shouldn't we avoid them?” I ask, suddenly panicking at the thought of bumping into people again.
“Why? They're harmless enough.”
With that, he sets off along the trench, although I hesitate for a moment. I trusted Matilda and ended up shivering in a pit, surrounded by dead bodies. I want to trust Duncan, but there's something really dark about him and I don't like how he's always making everything sound bad. Then again, he did come back and rescue me, and he seems like he has some idea of how to get me home. I suppose I just need to -
Suddenly something growls behind me.
Startled, I turn and look over my shoulder. At first I don't see anything, but a moment later the growl returns. Finally I spot a tiny lizard crawling across the rocky wall. Covered in blue scales, the lizard stops for a moment and flicks its tongue, and then it opens its mouth and lets out another roar that sounds far too loud for its little body. I don't stick around to see what else might be close. Instead, I turn and hurry along the trench.
“Hey!” I shout, calling after Duncan. “Wait for me!”
***
Oh wow, this thing is loud.
So loud, it hurts my ears.
The closer Duncan and I get to the rattling white caravan, the more I'm struck by the sheer noise of its wheels as they bump and skitter across the rocky ground. The whole caravan looks completely top-heavy, and when I look up I see at least two clear levels of boxes and bags roped to the roof. It's like these people have put their entire lives on the road, and I take extra care to avoid going anywhere near the caravan's big wooden wheels. If those things break – and they look pretty unstable – the whole caravan could come toppling over and squash us flat.
“Hello there!” a voice calls out from the front of the ca
ravan. “It's been a while since we saw fellow travelers!”
“We're not going where you're going!” Duncan barks, sounding distinctly unfriendly.
“You're not?” As I get closer, I see that there's a smiling man sitting on a seat, holding the reins of a large, bulky horse that's pulling the entire caravan along. “Well that is a surprise. Where are you going, friend?”
“That's none of your business,” Duncan replies. “And I'm not your friend.”
The man glances down at me, and now his smile seems a little less certain.
“Well, you're walking,” he says after a moment. “My horse is strong and sturdy. We'd be glad to give you a ride if you'd prefer to -”
“No!” Duncan says firmly. “We'd rather go on foot.”
“Actually,” I say as I hurry to catch up to him, “my feet are -”
“Perfectly adequate for the purpose,” he snarls, interrupting me. We're walking so fast now, we're easily overtaking the caravan. “We're not accepting anything from these people.”
“We're not?”
“We're not.”
Although my feet and my legs are aching, I force myself to keep up with Duncan. Glancing over my shoulder, however, I see that the big horse is still pulling the caravan along. When I look at the smiling man, he waves at me, and then I see two other faces peering out from inside the caravan. There's a middle-aged woman, about the same age as my mother, and a little boy who looks about my age. They're both smiling, and I wave tentatively before turning to see that Duncan has sped up and is getting much further ahead.
“Hey, wait up!” I yell, running after him. “What's wrong? Are you scared of those people?”
“Scared?” He smiles. “There's nothing to be scared of.”
“Then why are -”
“They're a distraction. They're nothing. They're idiots.”
“Why are they idiots?” He doesn't reply, so I think about it for a moment. “Because they're going to the soul auction?”
“It's a waste of their time and money and resources,” he replies, “and it's only going to end badly for them. I have nothing but contempt for anyone who goes near the auction.”
