“No, it’s the same as the one I had Cecil supply you with.”
“Okay, good. I have come up with an acronym to help you remember the order of these keys. Don’t forget it, or you’ll waste a lot of time on the locks.”
“Alright,” agreed Merle. He felt uneasy as he watched the boy adding key after key.
“You start on this end where the key ring locks together. The first key is ‘G” for get started. This opens your cell. Next you have ‘O’ for Oldtimer’s station. This unlocks the door that will take you to the lower level. ‘A’ for Atrium, and then ‘T’ for The other side. This key opens both of the doors on the courtyard. Got it?”
“Yes.” Merle nodded vigorously.
“‘S’ is for the stairwell, and ‘U’ is for Upper stairwell. See? Here it was two different keys. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” assured Merle.
“Now when you get to the end of the hall, ‘C’ will open the Corridor door. Further down you will need ‘K’ for the Kitchen. When you get in there, ‘E’ will open the Elevator shaft, so you can take the dumbwaiter up to ‘R’, the latch on the Roof. There you have it, GOATSUCKER. It can’t be any easier than that!”
“No, not much.” Merle looked worried.
Clicking the lock ring into place, the boy handed the keys to Merle. “You may want to take these now, so you can explore your route. If something changes, let me know, and I can exchange keys if the need arises.”
Merle pocketed the key ring as Artero thrust the crate of goods into his hands. “There you have it. Everything you could possibly need for a good old fashioned escape.”
“What about my rations?”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Artero in surprise. “Right over here, my good man. I have all kinds of delights, everything from dried fruits to pickled eggs.”
“I don’t think glass jars are a good idea,” said Merle thoughtfully.
“Well here!” exclaimed Artero, “Try this jerky. Pavao the ogre makes it himself. It’s delicious.”
Merle shuddered. “I know Pavao and I don’t think he has access to any beef.”
Artero dug into a bag and removed a stick of jerky, clamping his teeth onto the rubbery meat, he closed his eyes in delight. “I never asked him,” he mumbled around his snack.
“I have an idea where he gets that meat,” said Merle. “I’ll stick with the dried fruit.”
“Suit yourself.”
“How do you propose I get this crate out of here without McGibbons seeing?” asked the dragon, while Artero added two bags of dried rations.
“I usually charge extra for delivery,” said the kid thoughtfully. “But seeing as you don’t have any extra and you promised me a position at the brewery, I can see it gets dropped off piecemeal.” He stared hard at Merle. “You’re sure I’ll get the job, right?”
“You’d better,” agreed Merle. “Vic owes me one after a little misunderstanding we had in the tunnels below the brewery.
“If you say so,” muttered Artero. “If you’re wrong, though, your bearded comrades aren’t going to be too happy with you. You know what they say about mobsters.”
“They have a long reach and an even longer memory.”
“Well that, too,” agreed the boy.
* * * *
Merle tossed and turned on the floor by the writing desk. The pillow and blanket he had confiscated from Stoneman were forgotten as he groaned in his sleep. In his dream, he was walking down a cell block with shouting inmates on either side of the aisle. The convicts clawed at their cages and howled in fury as he headed for the set of doors at the end of the hallway. Bright sunlight filtered into the jail, and Merle knew he would soon be free. He had all of his equipment with him, and he hugged his crossbow to his belly. On his back, a giant packsack with the rest of his goods threatened to weigh him down. Awkwardly, he struggled onward. Sweat covered him and the packsack was dragging at his neck. It felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Dropping to his knees, he struggled to remove himself from his possessions. Across the hall in the adjacent cell, the monarchs were beating on Johnny again. The man’s horrible wails echoed down the hall. Leaving the pack where it lay, Merle ran for the door, but it was closing and the sunlight was fleeting. “No,” he screamed, and he tried to fly, but his wings were restricted in his tight prison jumper. He fell flat on his face. Behind him, a loud bang notified him that Marcus had escaped his cell. Something jumped on his pant leg, and Merle cried out as several rats raced over and around him. The hallway was filled with their shrieking bodies.
“I’m gonna make you squeal!” called Marcus, and Merle sobbed as he crawled down the hall. He was up and running again, but he could hear Marcus’ shank swishing through the air at his back. Miraculously, he arrived at the double doors ahead of Marcus and was able to squeeze through the gap before it closed. He was now in the courtyard, but the sunlight was gone, and it was raining heavily. Behind him, Marcus beat upon the door, and it threatened to open. Pushing his back against its surface, Merle struggled to keep the crazed inmate from reaching him.
Across the courtyard, Cecil and Troy walked toward him as it began to rain fish from the sky. Cecil caught one of the mackerel and bit deeply into its flesh. Troy slapped the flopping specimen from his friend’s hands, but it was too late. “Why?” screamed the younger man as his friend dropped to his knees, pawing at his throat. Cecil’s face swelled, and his eyes bulged. He frothed at the mouth, but it was no longer Cecil. Old Man Potty had replaced the Bearded Bandit. “Why would you do that to yourself?” screamed Troy. Without answering, Potty toppled lifeless to the cobbles.
Merle jolted awake, the sweat thick in his jumper. It took him a minute to realise where he was. Outside their cell, the hall was brightening with the light of predawn. Merle swallowed and could feel his heart racing. For several seconds, he lay there, listening to Johnny’s light snoring. Abruptly, he sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. ‘She said he ate the shrimp!’
16
Where’s Willie?
Roget shuddered in the cold. He had spent a dreadful night in the beech tree, listening in fear to the howls of the monster filling the valley. At one point, the creature had snuffled along Roget’s trail and circled the tree he had chosen for refuge. It screamed into the branches. Roget had huddled against the trunk, his axe in one hand his knife in the other. The beast had eventually disappeared into the underbrush, and he heard it growl from the direction of the cave.
Now, sitting in the morning drizzle and looking out over the cave, Roget scowled. One of the men moved at the edge of the fissure, but the smoke from their fire obscured the finer details of his prey. ‘It has to be done now. I will wait for Avros above the cave, and then I will find Willie. It’s either him or me, today.’
He pushed himself back from his ledge, his stomach reminding him that he needed to eat. He didn’t bother reaching for his pack. He knew it was empty. There was nothing to be done about it, but to get into position. Once he’d cleared the cave, he would recover his possessions and Willie’s bow.
The thought of spending one more night in this damnable forest set his blood to boiling, and he forced himself to calm down. Lack of food and lack of sleep were making him irrational. ‘Take the cave, and you will have shelter and a spot to defend,’ he thought as he crept through the woods on a path that would circle the fissure and its occupants. The small voice in his head cried out, reminding him that it was still a three day walk out of these hills, but he pushed it from his mind, unwilling to think about the nightmarish journey he would have to undertake. ‘It won’t be so bad,’ he reminded himself ‘I’ll have the legendary Impaler, to protect me.’
* * * *
Raindrops splashed onto the ledge at the front of the cave as Garrett threw more wood on the fire. He searched the foggy woods for signs of the beast, but it had disappeared with the night. You couldn’t tell by any sign in the grey sky outside, but Garrett knew it was midday. Avros rolled over on h
is bedroll, and it wasn’t long before his snores started up, again. They were both exhausted. The night had been spent stoking their fire and jumping at every noise from the woods. The beast had come twice, almost right up to the lip of the cave, at one point. Avros had shouted in fear and hurled stones at it. Although he had only glimpsed its silver fur as it bounded back into the blackness of the night, Garrett knew the creature was massive. He had fallen asleep, at some point before dawn, and Avros had let him rest while the woodsman tended their fire. Now, Garrett allowed the other man the same courtesy.
Garrett grabbed a water pot and the axe, and he made his way onto the ledge. He scanned the forest for a number of minutes, inhaling the scents of the misty woods. A squirrel scampered across a log by the creek, and numerous birds were picking at a bush further down. Easing himself onto the scree covered slope, he made for the watering hole. Half way to his goal, he froze, his eyes drawn to a bloody mass of meat and fur. His heartbeat was up as he approached the carcass, his axe at the ready.
Carefully, he circled the remains, his eyes on the surrounding woods. It only took a minute to determine it was the hind quarter of one their horses. There were teeth marks in the meat, and it was covered in dirt and leaves. The lower leg remained attached, with the hoof and shoe intact. Garrett used his axe to cut into the meat, removing a sizeable portion. Their supplies were exhausted, and neither he nor Avros were in any condition to hunt. Hoisting his prize, he returned to the cave and set the meat down. Three more trips to the carcass saw the rest of the meat stored in the cave.
He was returning with a load of firewood, when he noticed Avros was awake and inspecting the meat. “Where did you find this?” inquired the woodsman.
“That thing caught up with one of the horses. It must have lain out there, eating its fill, last night.” Avros remained silent as he gazed at the remains. “We have no choice, but to cook it. We need the strength. Now that Willie is awake, and your knee is getting better, I think we should walk out of here tomorrow. Your Brother will meet us on the trail with the fresh horses.”
Avros was quiet, but nodded. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, anyway. I really don’t want to spend one more night here.”
“Willie is in bad shape. I’ll have to build a travois to pull him down the trail, but if I get some food in me and some rest, I’ll be up for the challenge. We’ll build up our strength today and head out tomorrow, at dawn.”
“It’s going to be another long night,” said Avros, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, “but it’s as good a plan as any.” He pulled his skinning knife from his belt and took up a hunk of meat.
From the back of the cave, a cough alerted the men to Willie’s awakening. Garrett piled his wood beside the fire and went to his friend. Willie sat up with difficulty and groaned. Hugging his ribs, he rocked back and forth. “Where are we?” he asked weakly.
“We’re safe in a cave in the hills above Alvy’s farm. We were hunting the Devil. Do you remember?
“How long have I been out?” whispered Willie.
“You fell from the rock projection three nights ago. Lie back, and have some water. The man by the fire is Avros. He’s a friend, and he’s going to cook us some lunch.” Garrett helped settle Willie down and then filled Minx’s tin mug with water. Willie accepted the drink and attempted a mouthful. The look on his face said everything Garrett needed to know.
“I’m sorry,” said Willie, slurping at his water. He exhaled loudly, sighing in discomfort.
“Don’t worry about it,” replied Garrett. “I knew your vision was limited, I should never have left you alone on that watch. Even I could have fallen in the dark.”
“No,” sighed Willie. “It’s my fault. Those men were after me. I should never have listened to Azilda and got you involved in this.”
Garrett was silent. “What did Azilda have to do with those men?” he asked, at length. His voice was unintentionally harsh.
“Nothing,” said Willie, with a shake of his head and another groan of pain. “She didn’t know they were after me. All she wanted was for me to get you out of town for a couple of weeks. She knew I had gambling debts, and she paid me a fair sum to bring you on this trip.”
Garrett’s mind recalled the letter he had received from his sister, and he shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense, Willie. She sent me a letter, asking me to meet her in Deep Cove. Why would she want me out of the city?”
“I don’t know,” breathed Willie, his voice weak and barely above a whisper. “She said she had business in Deep Cove that she knew you wouldn’t approve of. She needed you out of her way. The letter was only a cover. She told me that she was certain that if I showed up and asked you to come on a trip with me that you would choose me over her.”
“No,” Garret shook his head, unwilling to believe it. “What is going on?” he said more to himself than to Willie. “She played me? But why?” At the front of the cave, Avros was adding a steak to the now heated frying pan. He pretended to be busy with his knife.
“Don’t be mad, Garrett” said Willie. His eyes were sad. “You kids are like my niece and nephew. I’d never do anything to hurt you guys. Hunting the Devil was my stupid idea. I saw the article in the paper and thought it would be a fun way to spend a couple of weeks, camping with my friend. I never thought we’d find it!” From the front of the cave, Avros snorted and flipped the steak.
“Why were those men hunting you?” asked Garrett.
“I have debts, Garrett. More than you could possibly know. My credit as a friend of the king was extensive. I made bad choices.” He was silent for many breaths. “I had to sell my shop, but even that didn’t begin to cover it. I thought if I took Azilda’s money I could use it to buy them off for another month. I was wrong, Garrett. They sent one of their collection guys to put me six feet under, and to retrieve the Impaler.” At mention of the bow, he struggled to sit up again.
Seeing Willie’s sudden anxiety, Garrett put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to hold him down. “Your bow is here,” he said, lifting the weapon from beside him and laying it across his friend. Willie sighed in relief.
“If I don’t make it, chum, I want you to have her.”
Garret squeezed the older man’s knee as Avros approached with a plate of meat. “You’re going to be fine, Willie. Do you think you can manage a bite or two? It will build up your strength.”
“No,” said Willie, with a weak shake of his head. “I don’t feel good.”
Avros said nothing as he passed the plate and his knife to Garrett. Garrett held the meat with a finger while slicing off a bite. His stomach grumbled loudly. Spearing the morsel with the knife, he realised his mouth was watering. Despite its origin, the meat was as succulent a bite as he could recall. “Man, that’s good,” said Garrett with a nod at Avros. Avros smiled, returning to the fire and his own steak. “I think you should try some of this,” said Garrett, holding the plate out.
Willie turned away. “You haven’t seen my brown jug, have you?” he asked.
* * * *
Roget sat with his back to the uprooted canvas of dirt and roots. The earthen barrier protected him from sight, but did little to shield him from the autumn drizzle. He wiped the water from his face, his teeth clenched in anger and his body wracked with shivers. He had been sitting here for hours, with no sign of Avros. Earlier in the day, the smell of roasting meat had drifted up to him, and he thought the aroma might drive him mad. ‘Ten more minutes,’ he told himself, for at least the fourth time. He needed to get the blood flowing again, but was loath to leave his hiding spot. The wind felled tree was mere feet from the log Avros had used the previous day. If the woodsman came within range, Roget would have the element of surprise. ‘Catch him with his pants down,’ he sneered. Another thirty minutes stole by, and Roget could take it, no more. He pushed himself up and peered around the edge of the windfall. He froze as movement caught his eye. Not thirty paces down the trail, Avros was trudging through the rain.
Rushing from cover, Roget flew at his victim, his knife held out. Avros turned at the sound of his attacker’s footfalls on the wet leaves, but by the time he registered what was happening, it was too late. Roget fell upon the woodsman, his knife pumping in and out of his target. The woodsman tried to cry out, but Roget’s free arm had circled Avros’ neck, muffling his shouts. Like his brother, two days before, Avros fell silent and unmoving to the forest floor.
Roget wiped the rain from his face. He stood over his victim, his body heaving with adrenaline. His eyes were drawn to the blood on the back of his quivering hand. He knelt and used the wet leaves to clean himself and his knife. Sheathing his blade, he left the body where it had fallen, behind the log. He judged from the dying light of the afternoon that dusk was upon him. There was no time to hide the body, and nothing to do but face the other men in the cave.
* * * *
“I don’t understand?” admitted Garret. He used a rope Avros had given him to fasten two poles together for his travois. “She met with you in Cassadia?”
Willie was propped up on his bedding, a second bedroll tucked in behind him and supporting his weight. “No,” he said. “She sent me a letter, and then we met over the global view.” He adjusted himself on the bedding. “It’s becoming quite the fashion in Cassadia.”
“Communicating through the G.V.?” asked Garrett. He tied several knots in the rope, struggling with his sore wrist. Testing the strength of the binding, he seemed satisfied with his work. Rubbing the stress from his aching arm, he began work on the opposite side of his apparatus.
Something Stinks in Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 4) Page 21
