Knight of Gehenna (Hellsong Book 2)

by Shaun O. McCoy

  Aaron let out a deep breath. “You’re right.”

  Kyle’s face hardened, his grip tightening on the barrel of his rifle.

  “Yeah,” Johnny said. “If the devils stay out like they have been, you might even be able to heal enough to walk. You’ll probably be back in Harpsborough before we will.”

  “The devils haven’t been coming because of Galen, Johnny.” Kyle said. “He’s been protecting us, patrolling the wilds like we did for Harpsborough.”

  Johnny Huang grimaced and looked towards Galen. “Well maybe, then . . .”

  Aaron let the silence hang in the room for a moment before speaking to the group. “Get your gear. We’re gone in five.”

  Arturus didn’t have much to get ready. He had a single pistol, four bullets, a blanket and a pouch of bent silver spider legs—and the blanket wasn’t even his. He held it for a moment, wondering whose it was. Avery answered his question by snatching it out of his hands.

  Arturus allowed himself a smile. Avery seemed too harsh a man to be sharing blankets, but perhaps he had a soft heart after all.

  However, Avery had also killed Patrick, slitting the man’s throat so that his cries of pain would not draw the devils to them.

  Suddenly the hunters were all standing together, and Kyle was sitting apart in the corner.

  Galen knelt beside him, handing over three bullets. “My guns don’t use ‘em.”

  But the rest of the hunters were using 700 Remingtons, and their ammunition was the same type as Kyle’s M-24 used. Each of them passed by him, making an offering.

  “Don’t waste this shit,” Avery said as he walked towards the wounded hunter. Then he knelt, grabbed Kyle by the head, touching their foreheads together. “You hear me? You put this shit in a dyitzu. Right in its heart.”

  Avery let go and leaned back. He held out a handful of bullets.

  Kyle accepted the ammunition with both hands. He closed his eyes, his lips moving as if in prayer.

  “Alright,” Aaron said. “Move out.”

  Galen led them out of the room. Arturus tarried, unable to make himself leave. Kyle started loading some of his bullets into an empty clip. He slapped it into his rifle and looked up.

  This was exactly what had happened to Patrick. Surely leaving Kyle alone in the Carrion was no different than taking a knife to his throat.

  Galen ordered me not to make that mistake again.

  “I’m sorry,” Arturus mouthed.

  Kyle nodded. “Happy hunting,” he said aloud.

  “Happy hunting,” Arturus answered.

  Arturus stood there for a long moment more before turning away.

  Galen led while Arturus and Aaron carried the door they were going to use as a raft. The rest of the hunters filed after them as best they could. Arturus could tell from their ginger steps that their feet were tender, but everyone managed. They had to, after what they’d just done to Kyle. No one wanted to be left behind.

  We should go back and get him. Then we could put him on the raft, maybe give him to one of Maab’s people. Being a slave might be better than being dead.

  The priestess’ gorgeous face broke into a grotesque mask of pain while she followed them. She seemed unable to either bend over all the way or keep her posture completely straight. Her breathing was quick and shallow, as if she dared not inhale too deeply. Arturus couldn’t help but respect her stoicism because she did not complain or whimper.

  The river chamber they entered was dark, and the water was lit only by a distant illuminated cubbyhole. They lowered their newfound raft into the black river. Aaron sat on the bank, putting his feet, boots and all, into the water. He reached out and held the raft still.

  Arturus looked longingly at the depressions the hinges had left in the wood. They reminded him of Rick’s table back home. The door itself was about four feet wide and seven feet tall. It had been bound together with thin strips of iron.

  “Our provisions are still going to get wet,” Johnny noted.

  “Provisions?” Avery asked as he tossed his pack onto the floating wooden door. “Shit, Johnny, we’ve got a handful of bullets and some blankets. What could you be worried about?”

  “It’ll be drier than with no raft at all,” Aaron said. “Now stay quiet, people.”

  Galen set his pack and his MP5 Heckler and Koch down by the bank before lowering himself into the river. It was deep enough to make him tread water.

  “Pass me your packs,” Galen said, “and I’ll tie them down.”

  “Make sure you have rounds in your chambers,” Aaron ordered. “Rivers are busy places, and even busier here. We may need to shoot fast.”

  Johnny Huang complied, chambering a round in his rifle as he entered the water.

  Arturus drew his pistol and joined them, putting a hand on the raft in order to keep himself steady.

  Galen came out of the water in one swift motion. “You ready, Turi?”

  “No,” Arturus said. “We should go back and get Kyle.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Aaron answered.

  Galen nodded. “Aaron, Turi, push the raft to the edge.”

  “It’s not too late,” Arturus insisted. “We can go back and get him. We can give him to Maab’s people. Maybe he’d be better as a slave.”

  “Turi,” Aaron’s voice didn’t hide his agitation. “Kyle wouldn’t want to be a slave.”

  “But he wouldn’t want to be dead either.”

  Aaron looked about the chamber, perhaps searching for enemies. “We don’t know what he’d want.”

  “Then we should ask him!”

  “Turi,” Galen said, “drop the issue.”

  Arturus imagined Kyle, sitting alone, waiting for death. “But you’re the one who told me not to make the mistake again! This is the same as what we did to Patrick. We’re killing him.”

  Aaron grabbed hold of the raft and shoved it towards Arturus, sending river water splashing up on the bank as he did so. “We’re all going to die, Turi! All of us.” Aaron swam up to him. “It’s not just Kyle. None of us are going to make it home. We’re still trying because we have to keep trying, because we’ve got nothing left to do. But we’re dead men already. Dead men walking.”

  For a moment there was only the sound of the river. The priestess shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other, her arms cradling her hurt ribs. Arturus furiously tread water.

  Johnny reached out and touched his shoulder. “He’s right, man. Your dad said that the guide is just as likely to betray us as help us, you know that. And the path that guide is going to take us down includes an offshoot of the Lethe. The Lethe, Turi. I wasn’t with Michael and Klein and the Harpsborough people who fled the Carrion, but even I’ve heard of that river.”

  Arturus thought he heard the sound of a dyitzu claw.

  “Aaron, Turi,” Galen said softly, “gentleman, will you please push the raft to the edge.”

  Aaron and Arturus did so. The door rocked back and forth, causing the black water to slide across the wood and splash over their packs.

  “God damn,” Avery muttered. “I hope our shit will still fire. I’ve got a clip in there.”

  “Now you worry.” Johnny shook his head.

  “It’s the best we can do right now,” Galen said.

  “I cannot swim,” the priestess told them, “not with my ribs.”

  “On the raft,” Galen suggested.

  She nodded, dropping to all fours.

  Galen gave her a hand from where he stood, still dripping, on the bank. “Quickly, milady. Quickly.”

  The priestess grabbed his hand and crawled backwards onto the door. It shifted under her weight, causing more water to run back over the boards.

  The sounds of the devils kept coming. Turi could pick out the call of a distant hound and the hisses of nearby dyitzu.

  Galen returned to the water and stayed at the front of the raft, guiding it away from the bank. Duncan and Turi took the right while Aaron and Avery took the left. They each held o
n to the raft with one hand while trying to keep their guns in the air with the other.

  The priestess sputtered a bit, coughing up some water. Her face reddened with pain.

  “Ready?” Aaron asked.

  Arturus nodded.

  “Yes,” Avery whispered.

  “Let’s go.” Aaron let go of the river bank. “Galen, this guide of yours better be good.”

  The raft began to drift down the river.

  “Just an hour or so,” Galen told them. “Then we’ll find out.”

  Rick was fond of saying that a river keeps its own house, and as far as Arturus could tell, this river was no exception. The arching brick structures and vaulted ceilings reminded him of the Thames chambers—indeed, Galen had pointed out to him earlier that much of the water here had actually flowed through the Thames river—however, the dark nature of the Carrion had warped that familiar and comforting architecture into something more foreboding. The red bricks of his home were replaced by dark grey ones, the color of ash, and their shape was periodically elongated so that every third one resembled a human skull. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the mass of those skull stones, all grinning teeth and hollow eye sockets, but when he turned to look at them directly, he saw only pitted grey bricks.

  As always in the Carrion, the lighting was minimal. Distant yellow or white cubbyholes only illuminated them dimly and, even though he was neck deep in the water, Arturus could barely see his own body beneath the surface. Anything could be swimming below him.

  The chambers were equally ominous—their floors uneven and covered in darkness. Who knew what demons could be lying in wait behind each jut of stone or in each pool of blackness?

  Johnny inhaled some water and began to cough. His cough echoed throughout the chamber. Arturus strained his eyes, waving his pistol about, but nothing out there appeared to be moving.

  Thank you.

  “Tunnel ahead,” Galen warned.

  The river flowed out of their current room through an arched passageway. The dim light reflected off the water, undulating across the arch and into the darkness beyond. More of those dark skull-like stones lined the tunnel. The river filled the passage from wall to wall so that in there, at least, they wouldn’t have to worry about dyitzu on the banks.

  They entered the tunnel.

  “Ain’t no demons in the water,” Arturus heard Avery whisper, who was presumably answering someone else’s whispered question.

  “You lie,” the priestess said. “There are sirens and devils made betwixt an alligator and a man. They frequent the deep.”

  “Bullshit. You’re the one with the damn fish stories,” Avery whispered back.

  “She’s right,” Galen said, “but we’d not see them in this water.”

  “They don’t travel here?” Avery asked.

  “No, I meant that you wouldn’t see them, since the water is so dark.”

  Arturus caught a glance of Avery’s horrified face from across the raft.

  “Fuck me,” Avery looked down at the water, his voice echoing oddly in tight confines.

  The ceiling might get lower until there is no room to breathe. We’d be forced to try and swim back to survive.

  As dark as the Carrion was, the tunnel was even darker. At first the skulls seemed to be grinning at him from the edges of his vision, but eventually even they faded away into the blackness. Arturus looked behind him, seeing only a receding grey blot.

  “Fuck,” Avery’s echoed whisper reached Arturus’ ears.

  “Turn ahead,” Galen warned.

  Arturus had no idea how his father had seen the turn, but the man was right. The raft bumped into a stone wall, the impact echoing down the corridor, and then it bobbed a bit as its momentum shifted. Soon they were floating again. Arturus wasn’t sure, but it seemed like they were picking up speed.

  He cast another glance behind him. This time he could see nothing at all.

  Damn.

  “Are we going faster?” Johnny’s nasal voice asked.

  “A little,” Galen responded.

  “How can you tell?” That was Avery. “I can’t see shit.”

  “I can’t either,” Galen said. “I’m trying to listen.”

  “Trying?”

  “Harder to do when you’re talking.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Arturus stopped attempting to use his eyes and let the sounds around him fill his ears. He heard the ripples of the water where they touched his raft. He knew the shape of the thing, but for a moment he imagined that he didn’t and tried to guess its form with his ears alone.

  I would not have guessed it was square, but I would have guessed its size.

  He could tell just how wide the tunnel was from the water’s ripples as they lapped against the stones. He could hear the echoes of those waves as they filled the empty air beneath the ceiling. Suddenly he felt as if he knew where everyone was in the darkness. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine the shape of the stone ceiling as it descended on either side of him.

  This is why Galen isn’t afraid of devils in the water. He listens for them.

  It struck him as important that this auditory information was always around him, all the time. He just usually ignored it while he concentrated on his vision. Surely this was some great lesson to have learned.

  Another grey blot appeared, this time ahead of them. It grew in size with their approach, until the skulls returned, and then the walls opened up into a huge chamber. A long shadow crossed over the water in this room. Arturus looked towards its source.

  A dyitzu.

  “Stay quiet,” Galen whispered. “Don’t shoot, it may not notice us.”

  The dyitzu leaned down to the water to drink. Its pupil-less black eyes looked directly at them. It stood quickly, forming a fireball. By that dancing firelight, Arturus could see the chamber. It was crawling with devils.

  Aaron’s bullet struck the dyitzu in the side of its face, sending it spinning to the floor. The fireball it had been forming floated lazily away from the river, heading towards one edge of the corridor. The room lit up with flames as the dyitzu came alive en masse, hurling their fire, not at the river, but all around the chamber.

  They haven’t seen us.

  The priestess shifted slightly, coming into contact with Arturus’ hand. He could feel her shaking. She turned her head, and Arturus saw her face.

  She was in agony.

  The shivering, it must be hurting her ribs.

  The raft drifted farther. The dyitzu had stopped throwing fire and were looking towards the room’s exits. One gave out a long hiss as it spotted them. Aaron chambered another round and fired, cutting the hiss short—but its warning was enough. The chamber lit up again with fireballs.

  “Let loose!” Galen shouted.

  Galen wielded his Heckler and Koch one handed, firing with horrid form but surprising accuracy. The rest of the hunters followed suit, treading water to reload. Few of those bullets found their targets, but they did force the dyitzu to take cover and helped to disturb their aim. A fireball shot into the water beside Arturus, turning to steam as it did so. More followed. Arturus ducked his head beneath the surface to dodge under one, his pistol getting wet for a moment.

  Please still work.

  But he dared not shoot. He only had four bullets left and did not know when he might need them most.

  “Tunnel ahead!” Avery shouted.

  Galen let off a few more bullets as the current dragged them closer to the next tunnel. One fireball impacted with the stone above the tunnel’s arch, its fiery liquid dripping down, raining on the priestess as they entered. The priestess, driven beyond her limit, finally let out a scream of pain. Arturus pushed down on one side of the raft, covering her with water and quickly dousing the part of her robe that had caught fire. As the raft evened back out, the river washed the flammable liquid of the fireball away.

  “This tunnel’s not as long as the last one,” Galen warned.

  “I saw them running t
owards the exit,” Aaron shouted. “If there’s another way around, I think they’ll be waiting for us on the other side.”

  “Everyone still got bullets?” Avery asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You got it.”

  “I’m good,” Arturus responded.

  “Everyone reloaded?” Aaron asked.

  There was a similar round of affirmatives.

  “How much farther to your friend, Galen?” the priestess asked.

  “I’m sorry, milady. But we have some ways yet.”

  She nodded grimly. “Do you have a gun for me?”

  “Oh fuck no!” Avery said.

  “We have very few bullets, milady,” Galen answered.

  “I understand.”

  The grey blot at the end of their tunnel gave way to another room. There was no sign of dyitzu.

  “Thank God!” Johnny exclaimed.

  “Not many entrances here,” Galen said, “but stay on guard. They can show up at any time.”

  The next chamber was much larger than the last. Its ceiling arched upwards, appearing to be over one hundred feet tall in the center. Near the middle of the room was a giant stone protrusion, reaching up from the ground until it nearly touched the ceiling. It looked more like a stalagmite than a tower. Near its base was a series of thinner stalagmite-like structures, though many reached just as high. Some were as thick as several men standing side by side, others as thin as a hungerleaf tree.

  In the river, there was a sharp left bend near the base of that tower. At that point the grade increased and the speed of the water became fast enough for some of it to wash over its banks. A vein of skystone ran through the river, filling the room with an oscillating muted blue light.

  Arturus peered into the chamber, looking for the enemy.

  A shadow passed over them quickly.

  “The hell was that?” Avery whispered harshly.

  “I saw it,” the priestess said. “Wings. Above us.”

  “You’re not even looking up.”

  “Its shadow.”

  Arturus spotted it. The thing flitted from one stalagmite to another, staying near the edge of a wall.