Soultaker

by Duperre, Robert J. ;

His fit over, Asaph sat back up and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. His eyelids drooped, the purple bags under his eyes looked twice the size they were before. “Sorry,” he said, voice weak.

  “It’s more than fine,” Abe said. “You’ve had quite the ordeal.”

  “Yes,” he moaned. “I suppose I have.”

  Shade tossed one of the blankets atop the puddle of vomit and said, “Do you wish to tell us what happened next?”

  “Not much to tell,” Asaph said. “The room I was in lost power some time later, and I was trapped. Then the shuffling outside the door disappeared. It could’ve been a few hours later, or maybe a week… hard to tell when you’re stuck in the dark.”

  “Do you remember anything more?”

  “N-no,” he replied. “Everything just… ran together after that.” It looked like he might puke again.

  Shade moved to the back of the room to retrieve an old clay planter and handed it to the sick man. Asaph held it beneath his chin. “This cloaked man,” Shade said to him, “did you happen to see his face? Was he anyone you recognized?”

  Asaph shook his head slowly, as if dreaming. “I saw… nothing. Just blackness. Like he had… no face at all.” The man gazed up at him, then the other knights, with pleading eyes. “I think I need to lie down now,” he said.

  Abe touched the man’s face, felt his tacky flesh, and handed over the jug of water again. “First you need to take a drink,” he said. “You’re dehydrated.”

  Reluctantly, Asaph complied, taking a small sip, then waiting and taking another when Abe directed.

  When he was finished, he dropped to his side gradually, like a tree falling in slow motion. His eyes were closed by the time his head hit the floor, though his body still shivered. Abe layered a couple of the musty blankets atop him and rejoined his brothers by the fire. Shade was staring at the sleeping man while Meesh sat with the Crone’s riddle held between his fingers.

  “What’re you thinking?” Abe asked Meesh.

  “Not sure. I’ll get back to ya.”

  He turned to Shade. “And you?”

  The bearded brother grimaced. “I’m not sure either.”

  “You buy his story?” asked Meesh.

  “I do,” Abe replied with a nod. “If for no other reason than he believes it.”

  “Yeah, but dead walking? Some hooded puppet master?”

  Abe shrugged. “Maybe it’s a new type of demon we haven’t encountered yet.”

  “Or maybe it was Cooper in disguise,” Shade murmured.

  Meesh laughed aloud. “Right, because somehow a man who was nothing but a glorified lumberjack fourteen months ago developed mastery over the dead. Sounds perfectly feasible.”

  Shade grimaced. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “N-not… H-Herr Cooper,” stated a weak, faraway voice.

  Abe glanced over. Asaph’s eyes were barely open, but his throat slowly worked up and down. “What was that?” Abe asked.

  “It… w-wasn’t… Ronan Cooper,” the man repeated. “H-he’d been here… a w-week… before. He… he w-warned us…”

  “So Cooper was here,” Shade said. “You know where he went afterward?”

  Asaph nodded, slowly, absentmindedly. “H-he told us… told us h-he’d be waiting… in L-Lambswool… if w-we wished for… s-salvation…”

  The poor man’s eyes squeezed shut once more and heavy snores blew from his nostrils. Shade appeared strangely conflicted; Abe half expected his brother to demand they move on immediately, that night even, and run Cooper down in Lambswool before he had a chance to ride on again, but he did no such thing.

  “What do we do?” Shade asked instead.

  “We get some rest,” Abe replied. “Everything else we can figure out when the sun comes up.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Meesh tucked the Crone’s riddle back into his vest, bunched up on one of the musty blankets, rested his head on it, and took out one of his revolvers and held it against his chest. He lifted his chin ever so slightly and said, “Hey, don’t judge. With all this talk of dead walking, I’ll feel safer this way.”

  As Abe fluffed up his own makeshift pillow and sprawled out on the floor, he couldn’t have agreed more.

  10

  “THIS CAN’T BE ALL THERE IS.”

  —MESHACH THE 17TH

  22 SECONDS BEFORE DEMISE

  The day’s brightness did little to help the headache raging just behind Meesh’s eyes. He leaned forward in his saddle to let his long hair shield his eyes, but it did no good. Why don’t I own a hat? he asked himself, but the answer was obvious: he was blessed with a lustrous head of hair, and he wanted everyone to see it.

  So vain.

  Not that wearing a hat seemed to be helping his brothers any, since they were grimacing too. Shade was the worst, walking in a stilted way, as if it hurt just to move. He had to be missing his horse. Hangovers. Gyah. The liquor Meesh had found in the tower in Breighton the night before must’ve been really strong. Wait, that can’t be it. He and Shade hadn’t drunk very much, and Abe hadn’t even taken a sip. Meesh looked at his miserable older brother, and saw that Asaph, sitting behind him, was smiling. The man seemed much perkier than the night before; he had actual color, the bags under his eyes were smaller, and he wasn’t even sweating very much.

  Bully for him, Meesh thought, clenching his fists to see if he could distract the headache away. No good. Shit.

  At least now he had something interesting to look at. A few miles northeast of Breighton, the topography of the Wasteland shifted. Instead of barren desert there was now mile upon mile of swaying brown grasses where the remnants of the Old World before the Rising hadn’t been swallowed by constantly shifting sands. Ruins dotted the landscape in vast stretches; crumbling concrete foundations surrounded by heaps of petrified wood formed even rows. Occasionally there were even clusters of giant mallets made from rusting black steel, their wedged heads hovering at differing heights above the ground like hammers of the gods frozen mid-swing.

  Meesh chuckled. The Ancients were nutters. All of ’em. A spike of pain speared his sinuses, and he groaned. At least it wasn’t as agonizing this time.

  The Wayward Pass cut sharply to the right and curled around an old red-brick building—a waystation of some sort. Shade came to a halt at the side of the crumbling edifice and leaned against it, his duster snapping gently in the soft breeze. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and fanned himself. Meesh pulled back on Pam’s reins, bringing the horse to an abrupt, snorting halt. Abe and Asaph glanced back at him from atop Greenie, but Meesh waved them on.

  “It’s okay, brah,” he said. “We’ll catch up.”

  The two men nodded and went on their way.

  Meesh dismounted a few feet away from where Shade stood, ran his fingers through Pam’s mane, and tramped toward his brother.

  “What do you want?” Shade asked, annoyed.

  “I ain’t leaving you behind, brah,” he said.

  Shade turned ever so slightly, stared at him through narrowed slits. “I’m fine.”

  “Nah, you look as shitty as I feel.”

  Mercifully, Shade chortled. “You too, huh?”

  “Yeppers. It’s like there’s a mouse in my head gnawing on my eyes.”

  “Something like that.” Shade leaned even harder against the wall. “Honestly, I just wanna curl up in a ball and die.”

  “Eh, it ain’t that bad,” Meesh said. “Just think—it’s only midday, and Danville’s only an hour or so ahead.”

  “Danville? That hole?”

  “Hey, they got an inn. And we haven’t pissed anyone off there… at least I don’t think we have. We put our feet up, throw back some hair o’ the dog, you pluck the strings a bit, and we’ll send ol’ Asaph on his way.”

  Shade nodded absentmindedly, like he wasn’t even listening.

  “Yo, brah, what’s going on in that head of yours?” asked Meesh. “You’re moodier than a prego chick with hemorrhoids.”

  With a
sigh, Shade squatted, lifted a pebble, and tossed it back into the grass. “This whole thing’s wrong,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “It don’t make sense. I thought for sure Cooper was the man we were after. I was certain.”

  “And you’re not anymore?”

  When he shook his head, it seemed to take a lot of effort.

  “What the hell went on between you two anyway? I mean, Lemsberg was his territory, and you spent months there brokering the lumber deal without slitting his throat. What changed?”

  Shade opened his mouth, and for a moment Meesh thought he just might answer. Alas, he zipped his trap, shadows passing over steely eyes. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Of course.

  Shade slapped his hat back atop his head and placed his palm against the left breast pocket of Meesh’s vest where the Crone’s riddle hid. “We’re no closer to figuring it out,” Shade said. “We don’t know where we’re going. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “In what way?” asked Meesh as he gently guided his brother’s hand off his chest.

  “The riddle talks about a sterile valley at the edge of the world, but we’re moving away from the Unknown Lands. It talks about Heartcubes, and we have them. The last two lines are nonsensical. It doesn’t say anything about how we’re supposed to fix whatever mess we’re trying to find.”

  “Okay. We’ve gone over this before, brah. Maybe it’s talking about some other place we haven’t found yet.”

  He nodded. “I know. But there’s one line in the riddle that’s bothering me.”

  “Which one?”

  “The second. ‘Find the collector at Cooper’s command.’ I was sure that referenced Cooper himself. Y’know, the man who collects both followers and Heartcubes like some grimy messiah. But now that I think about it, I’m not sure that’s what the line even means.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, let’s say Asaph is telling the truth about what happened in Breighton. What if that mysterious cloaked man is the actual collector? What if we’re not supposed to be chasing after Ronan Cooper, but joining him in his quest?”

  It was a shocking suggestion, but it made sense. “Never thought of that,” Meesh said. “Surprised you did, considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “The fact you’ve wanted to kill Cooper for weeks.”

  “Things change.” Shade tugged on his beard. “That’s how I know this is a test.”

  “Well, they’re all tests. That’s what the Holy Book says.”

  “Not this way. This… this is a trial all my own.”

  “How?”

  When next Shade looked at him, his expression was grave. “In the way that, if we really do have to team up with Cooper to defeat whatever menace has arrived, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do so. I might just have to kill him anyway.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “It’s personal,” Shade said, pulling his wide-brimmed hat down low and shoving off the wall. “And sorry, Meesh, but that’s all the answer I got.”

  With that, he walked back toward the Wayward Pass, where the shadow of Abe’s stallion could be seen on the horizon. Meesh sighed; he wanted to laugh it all off, but couldn’t. He felt tense, and Meesh hated feeling tense. Even Pam felt it, for she snorted as he swung into the saddle. “I know, girl,” he said. “I know.”

  Shade used to be his partner in crime. There’d been tons of nights where the two of them spent hours singing and drinking and cavorting while Abe looked on in disapproval. That had gone on for the first four years of their lives.

  Until Shade went off to Lemsberg.

  Since then, it was angry Shade, followed by numb Shade, followed still by morose Shade, and now this depressingly pessimistic, resigned Shade. Meesh didn’t know how much more he could take of it, himself.

  “You need to get laid, brah,” he whispered, then snapped the reigns and hurried after his brothers.

  When it came to towns, there were few more ramshackled than Danville, which had risen from the ruins the Ancients left behind. Most of the homes and businesses were built right on top of those old, crumbing foundations. There was no Sacred Tree providing power, and the place stunk of shit and mold. That, coupled with the fact that the locals worshipped as gods the giant metal hammers the Ancients left behind, made Shade hate the place with a passion.

  People scattered to either side of the matted dirt street as the knights entered town. Countless suspicious eyes gazed out from faces caked with dust and grime. Many folks held field tools like hammers and scythes, and with everyone appearing so openly hostile, Shade kept his hand on his Eldersword, feeling the trickle of the Rush in his veins.

  Danville’s lone inn was a place called Loretta’s, a downtrodden three-story wooden behemoth. It was the oldest building in town, supposedly built during the time of the Elders as a rest stop along the Wayward Pass. The rest of the town had haphazardly sprung up around it. Everyone who journeyed the Wasteland stayed here at one time or another out of sheer necessity.

  Abe and Meesh tied their horses to the thick posts in front of the inn, where another four horses, scrawny sick beasts covered with mange, were already tethered. When his brothers finished their knots and Meesh had grabbed the bag of Heartcubes, Shade helped Asaph down from atop Abe’s stallion. The man smiled at him warmly, leaning on Shade as they climbed the stairs into Loretta’s. It was slow going, especially when he had to lug the cases for his guitar and Rosetta in the other arm, but Vera had brought him to this man, which made Asaph his responsibility.

  Along with being Danville’s only inn, Loretta’s was also the only eatery and only tavern. It was pretty much the only anything in town, meaning it was always packed. Now was no different. Just like those on the streets, many of the patrons carried tools, but Shade spotted some wearing swords here as well, and even a man with a hand cannon propped against his chair. Numerous gazes turned their way; not only did the four of them stick out like sore thumbs due to their abundance of supplies and relative lack of filth, but the bag of Heartcubes Meesh had draped over his shoulder faintly glowed. They had to be careful.

  The brothers chose a squared table at the far end of the room and dumped their bags around it. Shade aided Asaph in sitting down, the man’s bones creaking as he stooped. Shade chose the seat next to him, while Abe and Meesh sat on the bench against the wall. Facing away from the room made Shade nervous, and he needed the Rush to help fight it down. Even though his brothers were the most capable killers in all the Wasteland, it only took a second to end a life with a blade to the back.

  The young server came over and stood beside the table, not saying a word. She was a relatively pretty girl, even if there were streaks of soot on her cheeks. Her top was too small for her, and her breasts threatened to burst through. A confident grin stretched across Meesh’s face. The girl asked what they wanted, and in doing so exposed a toothless mouth. Meesh’s smile quickly vanished.

  “Four whiskies, straight up,” Shade said.

  “Anything to eat?” the server asked in a squeaky voice.

  “From this shithole?” Meesh said. “No thanks.”

  The girl quickly left their table, and Meesh’s eyes followed the sway of her hips. “Such a waste,” the long-haired brother muttered.

  Abe rolled his eyes and turned to Asaph. “So, my friend, we’re here as promised.”

  “I cannot thank you enough,” Asaph said. “It felt good to feel… safe. And being with you—there’s no safer feeling in all the world. I’m forever in your debt.”

  “It was our duty and pleasure.” Abe glanced toward the bar, where a hefty woman was busy serving the establishment’s swill to the many customers. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go ask the lady of the house—and I use that term loosely—if there’s a place for you here.”

  “A place for me? Here?” Asaph said, head slightly cocked.

  “Well, yes,” said Abe. “Loretta likes gold, and we have enough of that to pay your
way for at least a month, until you regain your strength.”

  “Er, I’d rather not,” the man said. “What would someone like me do in a place like this?”

  “Do you have any family you can go to?” asked Shade, and he immediately clammed up when he remembered the harrowing tale Asaph had told them. Stupid, Shade.

  Asaph looked at him, not unkindly. “No family. Long dead. You can’t leave me here. I have nothing left. I need to go with you.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s out of the question.”

  “Why?” the older man asked. “I can help you.”

  Meesh leaned forward, his expression playful. “Help us? How old are you?”

  Asaph seemed to think on it a moment before saying, “Sixty-two.”

  Shade drew back, more than a bit surprised. He’d taken the man for fifty at most. Even with his emaciated frame, he didn’t look his age.

  “Sixty-two?” Meesh laughed. “That’s priceless.”

  “I’m useful,” Asaph mumbled.

  Abe leaned toward him. “Do you know who we are?” he whispered.

  “Of course,” Asaph said. “You’re the Knights Eternal, servants of the Pentus. You hail from Sal Yaddo, the little island kingdom in the Western Sea.”

  “So you knew,” said Shade.

  The man leaned over and patted Shade’s guitar case, grimacing as he did so. “Of course. Who else but the famed and feared Knights Eternal would carry musical instruments and weapons of the Elders?” He pointed to the hilt poking out of Shade’s duster. “Why do you think I trusted you without question? There are no more honorable men in this Godforsaken place than you three.”

  “And with that knowledge,” Abe said, “you must understand why you can’t come with us. Our lives are dangerous, and we can’t willingly put an innocent at risk. You need to make your own way. I’m sorry.”

  Silence fell as the server came back with their drinks. Shade took his drink and stared at the man next to him while he sipped the bitter brew.

  Asaph took a sip as well, and once he swallowed he closed his eyes and lifted his chin. “I’ll give you people this much,” he said softy. “You make great whiskey here. Not much good liquor where I come from. Ours was horrible. And too much mead.”