Knight of Gehenna (Hellsong Book 2)

by Shaun O. McCoy

  The bloated hand grabbed the lip of the canoe only inches away from where Ellen sat. Swollen black veins stood out from its puffy blue grey skin. The force of its grip caused pus to spew out from lesions along its knuckles. More leaked out from under its fingernails. The canoe began to tip with the corpse’s weight. Its head rose up out of the river, water pouring down over its face. Its rotten, waterlogged stench hit Ellen like a blow. One of its eyes was nearly bloated shut, the other only an empty socket.

  The blast of Alice’s gun so close to Ellen’s head nearly deafened her. The corpse fell back, but its hand still clung to the craft, its body trailing along with them. Massan used the butt of his paddle to lever the hand off of the canoe. Frenzied strokes from Molly kept them moving.

  “Keep the corpses from grabbing hold!” She heard Rick yell over the ringing in her right ear.

  Ellen saw another hand emerging from the water and she batted at it with her paddle. It managed to touch the canoe, but her blow made it fall just short of being able to get a grip. It tried anyway, its fingernails digging into the woodstone lip of their craft. The fingernails gave way, ripping off of the hand as the canoe was sped forward.

  Ellen gritted her teeth, swinging out even harder, keeping the next offending limb clear from the craft altogether. Alice fell into her suddenly, and Ellen saw a corpse’s hand rise out of the river just a little ahead. She struggled past Alice to try and bat the thing’s hands away, but she wasn’t going to make it.

  The canoe rushed forward and turned just slightly from one of Rick’s paddle strokes. The front of the craft met the corpse head on. Black blood and water fountained up from the impact.

  “Row, Massan!” Rick ordered. “I need more speed so we can beach her. Molly, take the right side.”

  Ellen swung her paddle back and forth, never able to guess quite where the next limb would rise.

  “Wrong way!” Massan shouted. “Wrong way!”

  The boat turned suddenly and Ellen looked up from the water. The banks of the river were packed with the undead, massing together, knocking each other into the river in places.

  “Where are we going?” Molly shouted.

  “Keep swinging, Ellen!” Rick ordered.

  Ellen saw another hand rise from the river and swatted it down, surprised at her own strength.

  “Where are we going?” Molly shouted again.

  “I don’t know,” Rick answered.

  “You have to fucking know!”

  The hands kept coming. Ellen continued, swinging with abandon. Swollen limbs broke at times before her blows, filling the air with the sound of cracking bones. Elbows popped out of joint, and fingers were splayed by her crushing downward strikes.

  She missed a hand, which clutched firmly onto the canoe. Alice fired again, and this time the corpse let go with the blast.

  Rick steered them down a fork. The river here was only ten or so feet wide. The mist was so thick that Ellen couldn’t see the walls of the chamber. Here and there she saw silhouettes of the corpses walking through the fog. The river current was dying away. Massan was sweating badly and breathing hard.

  Arms had stopped coming up from the deep, but Ellen kept a close eye on the water and kept her paddle at the ready.

  “Stop for a sec, Massan,” Rick ordered.

  Massan did so. His dark face flushed with the effort. She couldn’t smell him through the stench of the waterlogged undead.

  Ellen looked to Rick, who had his head cocked to one side.

  He’s listening.

  The canoe was still moving slightly, but most of that was their momentum. The water here was almost still. She could hear the wake of their canoe splashing against the sides of the river and echoing down this chamber. There were other sounds in the mists, though. Scuffs of shoes, and dried skin rubbing against rotten cloth. The corpses were all around them.

  “Massan, take a break,” Rick said. “Molly, your turn at the oars.”

  The canoe rocked a bit as they switched places. Molly grunted as she sat down. From the center of the canoe she could place her paddles between sets of notches and use two at once.

  “Nice and easy, Molly,” Rick said. “Nice and easy.”

  The air seemed unnaturally warm. Water began to condense on Ellen’s skin, and she started to feel almost like she was breathing water.

  Molly’s even strokes pushed them forward.

  The stone banks were uneven, seeming natural in places. She saw what she thought was a hand, maybe thirty feet downstream, rising up from the water. But it wasn’t moving, and as they drew closer, she could tell that the limb had no digits. There was a tree just beyond it.

  Ellen thought it must not have been a corpse’s limb at all. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a root, a cypress knee,” Rick answered. “I think I know where this fork goes.”

  “Is that to a good place or a bad place?” Massan asked.

  “That I don’t know.”

  Ellen wished Rick would just lie.

  “I can’t see the bank,” Molly said aloud, “or the walls.”

  It was true. Trees, cypress trees if Rick was correct, were all that Ellen could see, and most of those appeared only as shadows in the thick air. The branches which hung directly over their heads drooped low over their canoe. Their leaves, arranged almost like a fern’s, dragged across her face.

  There was the sound of wood scraping on wood, and their boat vibrated.

  “What was that?” Ellen asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Rick assured her.

  The cypress knees were thicker now, some almost five feet high, and Rick had to work to avoid them. They were taller and more numerous near their tree trunks, thinning and shortening as they radiated out in circles.

  It must have been a knee that scraped the bottom of our boat.

  Alice inhaled quickly and aimed her pistol. A corpse was standing between two trees. It wasn’t moving towards them. Some of the knees had grown up about it, spiraling around its legs and torso.

  The corpse was trying to come towards them, but it couldn’t move.

  “Oh God,” Molly breathed.

  “Slow and steady,” Rick said.

  He steered them closer to the corpse in order to get around a root cluster. Here some of the knees had grown back down into the water, making a series of small arches. A few of those arches were large enough for their canoe to fit under.

  The trapped corpse extended its arms and leaned forward, struggling to escape its wooden prison. Its head was oddly misshapen, its skull caved in on the right side. That eye socket was empty. As it struggled, water poured out of its missing eye.

  It receded into the fog as Molly rowed.

  Ellen could hear the waters rippling around them. It was far too much noise to just be the wake of their canoe. The forest must be full of corpses. She looked up, but there was no sign of any ceiling through the mist.

  “Does this end, Rick?” Massan asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Rick answered.

  Jesus, can you please lie?

  Their boat bumped into a cypress arch.

  “Back up, Molly.” Rick whispered. “Then move ahead slower.”

  Ellen didn’t want to go slower. She wanted to go faster. There was more scraping as they negotiated their way through the roots. The trees were much thicker now.

  But the mist is thinning.

  She still couldn’t see an end to the chamber they were in, either left or right, or even up. All she could see was the lake and the trees.

  “Hold your fire,” Rick said.

  Ellen turned to Alice, who was looking out across the water. There was corpse picking its way towards them.

  “Only shoot when they get close.”

  The canoe vibrated again as it scraped its way through more knees.

  “It’s getting tough to row,” Molly said.

  She was right, the roots kept getting in her way as she swung the oars. The canoe stopped after only a few more strokes.r />
  Rick jumped into the lake. The water came up to his mid-thigh. “Everyone out. Quickly.”

  There were more corpses, maybe five or six, in various places at the edge of the mist. Frightened, Ellen crawled out of the boat. The water came up to her waist.

  Rick hooked his rifle strap around the horn at the head of the canoe and then put the strap around his shoulder.

  “Surround me,” he ordered. “Keep pace. Massan, lift up the back of the canoe if I need it, okay?”

  “Okay,” Massan answered.

  Just three feet away from Ellen, immersed completely in water, was the torso of a corpse. It was waving its hands at her. Like the previous corpse, it seemed stuck—locked in by cypress roots.

  They can be anywhere in the water.

  Rick began tugging the canoe over the knees. The sound of the wood scraping on wood was horrendously loud, echoing throughout the forest. Ellen did her best to stay focused on the horizon, trying to see if there were a pack of corpses headed their way, but it was no use. To step through the knees without tripping, she had to keep her eyes on her feet—particularly in case there were any more submerged corpses.

  “Stay with me, Ellen.” Rick’s voice hit her ears. “Don’t fall behind.”

  She didn’t dare fall behind.

  The mist continued to thin. Massan began cursing, stopped, and beat at the water with the butt of his rifle. Black blood welled up around him. He rushed to catch up.

  “They’re caught in the roots,” he said. “Some of them are completely below the surface.”

  “Why don’t they float?” Molly asked, panic in her voice.

  “Undead don’t float.” Rick looked up. “Straight ahead,” he warned.

  “I’ve got him,” Alice’s voice was high pitched, but calm.

  Her pistol cried out amongst the trees. There was a splash of water. Ellen didn’t want to see, so she kept her eyes on her feet.

  “Good shootin’,” Massan congratulated her.

  The roots almost seemed to be trying to grab her. She was stepping on them in places where they grew into the floor of the lake. Her jeans clung to her legs, rubbing her skin raw. Her thigh muscles were burning from the effort.

  Massan was also struggling badly, wheezing as he breathed.

  She saw another arm, reaching out at her . . . but it was just a root.

  Even her shoulders felt tired now. She looked at Rick. The weight of the canoe was wearing him down, badly. His chest was heaving with deep, gasping breaths.

  “How much farther?” Massan managed between his own gulps for air.

  “I don’t know,” Rick admitted.

  Just fucking lie.

  The mist had cleared greatly, but she could still only see trees around them. Ellen craned her neck backwards, hoping again to see the ceiling. She lost her balance and fell. One root hitting her in the stomach while another caught on her pants leg.

  She saw stars.

  A slender hand cupped her elbow and helped drag her to her feet. She looked up to see Alice’s tired smile. Ellen tried to breathe, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even stand up straight, and when she tried to step forward her left ankle buckled. She dropped again.

  “Are you okay,” Alice asked.

  No.

  Ellen fought for breath as she struggled back to her feet. “My ankle.”

  “Can you walk?” Rick asked.

  Ellen didn’t know.

  “Ellen, I need you to walk right now, okay. I need you to do that for me. I don’t care how much it hurts.”

  Ellen tried again. Her ankle stung badly as she put her weight on it, but it held her. She was starting to get her breath back, too. Another step, and another. Then her foot landed on a root, bending her ankle. Ellen almost shouted out in pain and tears formed behind her eyes.

  The others were moving, so she had to keep up. Massan was lifting the back of the canoe, helping Rick make his way forward.

  There was still no end in sight. She looked to the right and the left, feeling like a trapped animal. With the mists gone, she could see farther into the woods behind her.

  The corpses were there, a wall of them, shoulder to shoulder, advancing slowly through the woods.

  “Rick!” Ellen called, hearing her tears in her own voice.

  Rick spun around and looked. They all did.

  “Keep our pace the same,” Rick ordered. “You’re going to want to speed up, but you can’t.”

  Ellen put her hands on a cypress knee to ease some of her weight off of her left ankle. The next few steps were torture. She heard someone sloshing forward quickly. It was Massan.

  “Keep your pace!” Rick yelled.

  “They’re behind us, Rick!” Alice warned.

  “You can’t go much faster.” Molly was saying. “You’ll leave Ellen behind.”

  “I can keep up,” Ellen lied.

  “It doesn’t matter, Rick answered. “Massan, stay steady.”

  “Why?” Massan was shouting, his eyes wild, his wheezy breathing erratic.

  “Listen to me,” Rick grunted as he pulled the canoe over more roots.

  Massan did not appear to be listening. “I’m going to run.”

  “Slow down.” Alice’s voice was soft, but desperate.

  Molly grabbed Massan by one shoulder as he tried to pass her. “Listen to him!”

  “Why?” Massan asked again.

  “Because we get tired,” Rick said.

  Ellen’s vision was blurred, but she didn’t dare stop walking. The pain was getting intolerable. She could see her ankle swelling through the water when she lifted her left foot.

  “And they don’t,” Alice finished.

  Behind Ellen, the woods creaked and the waters rippled with the passage of the legion of corpses.

  A second of Calimay’s priestesses arrived, her robe adorned with golden trim. She seemed similar to Calimay’s other priestess in her broad build and square face, but her hair and eyes were a much lighter color.

  She was followed by nearly a score of guards.

  “Tamara, see Calimay,” she said, dismissing the first priestess. “Calimay wants them imprisoned in pairs. The angel’s get is to not to be placed with Maab’s priestess.”

  She looked at the nude men, her gaze stopping on Galen. “Put the angel child with the big one. And this one,” she said, pointing at Avery. “Put him with the priestess. The other two go with each other. Double shifts on guard duty. No breaks.”

  She turned on her heel and left the chamber. The soldiers hastened to obey. Avery managed to stay next to Arturus as the iron gate was rising slowly. Arturus guessed they were using a counterweight system similar to their battery back home.

  Arturus’ heart was in his throat.

  “You can put your clothes back on,” A guard told them.

  Gratefully, Arturus obeyed. For some reason his clothes made him feel more human.

  “Guess I get the room with the lady,” Avery joked as he pulled on his pants.

  Arturus nodded.

  “I can’t wait to spend some quality time with that bitch.”

  Arturus felt stunned and looked over at Avery past the guards which held him. “You don’t mean you’ll . . .”

  Avery grinned. “No one’s going to stop me. Nobody here gives a damn about Maab’s people.” Avery turned to one of the guards who held him. “Do ya?”

  Calimay’s guard grinned back and shook his head.

  Arturus was struck with the memory of Maab breaking the bullman. “Don’t!”

  Avery seemed surprised by the emotion in his voice.

  “Promise me you won’t,” Arturus demanded.

  “Okay, okay,” Avery said. “You’ve got my word.”

  After the gate had receded into the ceiling, they were dragged into a dark corridor. The doors on the right and left were rusted somewhat, so they must have been exposed to corpsedust after they were installed. Still, they were thick, and iron, and would probably be strong enough to hold a Minotaur.
Some of the doors had barred openings in them. Through the bars, Arturus could tell that the cells were occupied, often with half a dozen or more people crammed into the tiny rooms.

  “Jesus,” Aaron muttered. “They’ve got a lot of prisoners.”

  “Not prisoners,” Galen said. “This is how they treat their own people. This is where the serfs stay.”

  Two soldiers tossed Arturus into the first open cell. They tried to push Galen in too, but the man’s massive frame remained still while the guard shoved at him. Calimay’s man only managed to push himself away. Galen strolled into the chamber.

  Arturus set his jaw, trying to feel a bit of pride for his father’s dignity.

  The door closed behind Galen, its echo filling the chamber. After a moment, the sound died away. It was almost completely black. Arturus could only make out the barest shadow of Galen while his father moved to explore the room.

  Kelly promised she’d keep me safe, but she’ll probably be killed first.

  “I guess Rick was right, huh?” Arturus asked. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  “I’m sorry, Turi.” Galen’s shadow moved along the edge of the chamber, searching for weaknesses in the rock.

  Arturus knew he would find none.

  This is my life now. No Alice. No Rick. Just slavery. My only hope is that Kelly gets power, and that my slavery is bearable. Galen can’t protect me against this. He’s not strong enough. He’s failed me.

  “If you find a weakness in the rock, where would we escape to, father?”

  Galen grunted noncommittally, but did not stop his search.

  “I’m tired of fighting.”

  “I raised you better than that, son. You won’t be tired for long.”

  You’re wrong. I’m tired. I’m dead tired. I’ve found out that I’m ten times as strong as I thought I was. But I also found out the Carrion is ten times stronger than that. We’ve lost.

  Arturus moved so that Galen could search the wall where he’d been sitting. “What did they mean when they called me an angel’s get?”

  “For some reason they appear to think that your mother is an angel.”

  “Is she?”