by Steve McHugh
"Sheriff Bourne, he runs Kilnhurst."
"A corrupt sheriff," I rubbed my temples. "What a damn shock."
The deputy shook his head. "He's not corrupt. He doesn't take bribes or hurt the inhabitants of the town. He protects us from those who would do us harm. Like them." He motioned toward the nearest warrior.
"So he protects you all, and you just ignore when he has people murdered. Is he human?"
"Yes."
"I assume you've seen the ghouls."
"They protect us too. They help the sheriff in his work, but he doesn't control them. I don't know who does."
I needed to go to the town even more so, if only to check the sheriff out for myself. And hopefully to figure out if the deputy was lying or if there really was someone else out there controlling the ghouls.
"Take him back to his cell," I said to the Chief who motioned for one of the warriors to take the deputy away.
The warrior who had argued with the Chief earlier drew a knife and stepped forward.
I intercepted the attack before it even happened, knocking the knife aside and pushing the young warrior back. "Deputy, you will not be harmed," I said, my back toward him, as I watched the warrior glare at me.
Behind me, the deputy calmed and I heard him being led away toward his cell. "One thing, before you go," I said, and the deputy stopped again. "If anyone goes against my word, I will kill them." I did not take my eyes off the young warrior as I spoke.
"Thank you, sir," the deputy said from behind me.
I hadn't finished. "But if you lied to me about anything," I told him, "or if you try to escape from this place, your life is forfeit. And I will let these men do whatever they wish to ensure their anger is sated."
The prisoner was led away in silence, and the second I turned my eyes away from the young warrior, he pounced on me, exactly as I'd known he would. A second knife was in his hand and he swiped it up toward me. I dodged aside, kicked out his knee and smashed his face into the wooden table before locking his elbow at the joint until he released the blade.
"Are you satisfied now?" the Chief asked the young man. "Your behaviour was rash and stupid. A superior warrior handled you as if you were a baby. You will apologise, and then you will leave my sight until I summon you for whatever punishment I deem necessary."
Chief Blacktail looked up at me. "You may release my son."
Well, that was a shock, but I did as I was asked, and moved away just enough to ensure that any further ideas of retribution would require him to step toward me. I really hoped he wasn't that foolish. Was I that stupid when I was young? Probably.
The warrior nodded slightly to his father before turning to me. "I'm sorry," he said, and quickly left the room.
"He is rash and impulsive," Chief Blacktail said. "Like myself at his age. Hopefully, he will grow out of it."
"I understand his need for vengeance. You're being set up to take the blame for what would be described as a massacre. I suggest you leave this place at first light and take your son with you."
"I agree. Have you told Sam you will not be taking him with you to Kilnhurst?"
I shook my head. "It's on my list of things to do before I go."
The Chief stood. "I wish you luck, Nathan Garrett. I see a rage in your eyes, and I'm not sure I would wish to be around when it is unleashed.”
“You’re not surprised about my magic?”
“You are not the first sorcerer I’ve met,” he said with a slight grin. “We will take Sam and Sky as far as our camp, they will be protected. Although I doubt Sky needs it, she is a capable woman. You should beware."
"I'm always wary of beautiful women who carry knives."
The Chief laughed. "The wise words of someone who has experienced the wrath of one such lady and a story I would like to hear."
"I promise when this is over, the story is all yours." So long as I wasn't dead first.
As much as I wanted to leave immediately, and make it to the town of Kilnhurst before dark the following day, I had to speak to Sam first. I'd grown to like him during the past few days together, and didn't want him to think that I was going to take away whatever justice or vengeance he thought he deserved.
I found him sitting on top of the wall, shrouded in the darkness from the watchtower above. "Someone mentioned you're off to Kilnhurst," he said, his voice hard but composed. As if waiting to spring from zero to anger in a second.
"I need to go and check out this sheriff; he's involved in all of this."
Sam moved forward and the torch light touched his face. "He killed my dad. Murdered him."
"What was your dad investigating?"
"Me and Dad lived in North Dakota; we moved there after Mum died. But he would take jobs to track people down. He was still a U.S. Marshall, and that held sway with many. And then some government people turned up about six months ago, asking for his help."
He paused for a moment. I got the feeling that Sam hadn't told any of this to a soul since it happened and I didn't want to interrupt.
"He never came home. It took me a few months to track down where he'd gone, but I eventually discovered that he went into that town, Kilnhurst, and never left." Tears began to fall steadily, but he didn't stop to wipe them away.
"I asked the sheriff for help, but instead, he got his thugs to give me a beating to keep me away. That was three weeks ago. I healed up and went back, determined to find out what happened to my dad. I waited until dusk and broke into one of the abandoned shops on the main street. I watched the sheriff walk to the cat house every night at the same time and stay for exactly the same amount of time.
"I did that for three nights until one night when a boy about my age broke into the same shop. His name was Lee and he was on the run from the law. He told me that he'd stolen some food, and had assaulted the army captain who had tried to capture him. He'd been following the sheriff, too, and wanted to break into his house at the edge of town to steal some of the things he'd seen there." Sam removed the silver revolver from his holster and cradled it in his hands. "Lee told me that he'd seen my dad's guns. That the sheriff normally wore them all the time, but that at night he removed them. He said if I helped, the guns were mine, but he wanted anything else we found. I agreed and we started to plan.
"It took us a few days more of planning and going out during the night to scout the house. It was a big property with a lot of places to hide and watch without drawing any undue attention. And then after nearly a week, we watched as the sheriff left to see his whores and put the plan in motion."
Sam had stopped crying and just looked angry. "We broke into the house, and searched it as we'd planned, but we couldn't find the guns. Lee was irate when I wouldn't stop looking, and refused to help me search further. Instead, he went room to room looking for anything of value. I went to leave the house, but heard the shouts when they found him and panicked. I hid in a wardrobe, and was forced to listen to them torture him. He told them everything, but didn't give me up. And then he arrived. I heard his voice. It was deep and filled with amusement as Lee screamed. Lee told them everything. About me, where I was, and what was happening. I bolted, but they caught me and dragged me to a large living room where Sam was tied to a chair. His face was just blood. Nothing else. I can remember seeing fingers on the floor. They'd cut off his fingers, Nathan."
Sam took a deep breath before continuing. "They tied me up and made me watch as this… thing started working on Lee. He was still alive, and they made me watch as they hurt him. Sometimes, that monster didn't even touch Lee with more than a hand, but it made him scream in pain. All night they continued, until all that was left of Lee was a whimpering mess. But by then the sun had risen, and the monster who had tortured Lee had to leave.
"They left me tied to a chair for the day, alone to watch the final moments of Lee's life ebb away. I didn't even understand how he was still alive. I knew that would be me the next night, and I knew I had to get away. The deputies who grabbed me, the same ones yo
u met in the woods, hadn't searched me, and I managed to get a knife out of my back pocket and use it to start cutting through the ropes. It was awkward and painful, but it was the only hope I had.
"The sheriff arrived that night, with a deputy, and told me he'd killed my dad. That he'd taken his time and tortured him until my dad had given up the information they needed. And then he killed him with his own gun. He showed me the gun, right under my nose and pulled back the hammer. I snapped the rest of the rope and plunged the small dagger into the side of his face. He fell back, but the gun went off and caught the deputy in the head. The sheriff cracked his skull on the floor hard enough that he remained still. I took my dad's revolver, the other was still in the holster the sheriff wore, and I wanted to kill him."
Tears fell again, this time in great big sobs. "I couldn't do it," Sam cried. "He was right there. I pressed the barrel against his temple, but I couldn't kill him. I saw the body of the deputy, saw the hole in his head, and felt sick. The sheriff murdered my dad, had tortured Lee right in front of me. But I couldn't kill him. Why couldn't I do that?"
"You're not that person," I said softly. "Don't ever be that person."
"Why? You are." He flinched at his own words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Yes, you did. And you're right. I would have put two in his head and called it a day. Whatever part of my soul would once have once stopped me doing that is long gone. I'm not the passive guy who lets things go, I came to terms with what I am a long time ago."
"There's more," Sam said. "Lee was whimpering. They'd cut out his tongue and removed his lips, but I could still hear his words… Kill me. It took me… I don't know how long, but eventually I placed the barrel against his head. I couldn't pull the trigger, couldn't kill him. He reached up, his hand was missing three fingers, but he placed his bloody hand against mine and I positioned his finger to pull the trigger. He said thank you and then he killed himself."
Sam wept for a long time — for himself, his dad and his friend. I sat beside him and he buried his face in my shoulder. I didn't know what to say, sorry wasn't enough, so I just sat there stoic and unyielding as Sam's emotions ran out of him.
"I couldn't get the second gun of my dad's," he said eventually. "The deputies came back, and I was forced to flee. I grabbed the nearest horse and rode toward the forest, but they shot the horse and I had to abandon it and go on foot. Then you met me."
"Thank you for telling me that, and I don't want to do this to you, but I have some questions, is that okay?"
Sam nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me that the sheriff was the killer? You asked me to help you find your dad's killer."
"I wasn't sure if I could trust you. And even if you weren't involved, who would want to help me kill a sheriff?"
He had a point. "What can you tell me about the man who tortured Lee?"
"He was tall, but he wore a hood, so I couldn't see his face. I could see his eyes though. They were bright red. And he was in charge. Even the sheriff was wary of him."
"Did you see any other… things around? Any kind of odd creatures for example."
Sam shook his head. "Just the sheriff, his deputies and that monster."
"Sky knows what your monster is," I said. "I think that's why she's really here."
"Are you going to kill him, the monster I mean?"
"I get the feeling that's Sky's job."
"She's scary."
We both watched as Sky walked around the yard below avoiding any of the Crow tribe warriors, who in turn wanted little to do with her. "She's something," I agreed. "You're going with her to a fort close to here."
"You going to be okay down in that town alone?"
I stood. "I think I can take care of myself."
"I want to kill the sheriff. I need to do it."
"You sure? You can't undo something like that."
Sam stared off into the distance. "I feel like it's something I have to do."
"Then I'm sure you'll get your chance," I said, but my thoughts continued. And then we'll see if you're the kind of man who can walk away from that. Or if you're more like me than you ever want to be.
Chapter 21
The conversation with Sam had not been an easy one… for either of us. Hopefully he realised that running into a town, guns blazing, where there were a thousand people, many of them armed, would be a very short mission of vengeance.
There was also the fact that Sam had never killed anyone, I doubted he'd ever hurt anyone in anger before. If it were up to me that wouldn't change, but he would have to decide his own path. At some point, I was certain that he would get his chance for retribution.
I wished everyone a safe journey and spent the rest of the day riding toward Kilnhurst, with only Valour for company. It started raining after a few hours and I was grateful for the long coat that at least allowed me to stay mostly dry. The occasional use of fire magic kept me warm as a cold wind swept in.
The weather didn't appear to bother Valour who kept a steady pace the entire journey, only stopping in five minute bursts every hour to rest and have a drink of water.
By the time I'd reached the outskirts of the town of Kilnhurst, darkness was once again closing in for the night and the inhabitants were few and far between, with many making their way into houses and shops with a slam of the door as I rode past.
I stopped Valour outside what was easily the largest building in town, a three story monstrosity that loomed over me as I hitched Valour to the post and left her to drink her fill of the full trough.
The raucous atmosphere inside the establishment hit me well before I'd stepped inside the entrance where the cacophony of noise continued as dozens of men watched several attractive women dance on a stage at the end of the huge room. They wore bright, billowy dresses that showed off their bodies perfectly, driving the men who watched them crazy with need.
The stage was next to a set of stairs which led to the floor above, a few women walked up or down the stairs, some with men in tow — having either conducted or about to conduct their business. They wore even less clothing than the dancers and they were all very attractive, a rarity that I was sure men paid extra for.
I ignored the crowd of baying, drunken men and walked to the bar, tapping my knuckles on the deeply varnished and sticky wooden bar. A middle-aged man noticed me and made his way over.
"Can I help you?" he asked and stroked his long dark beard, which was the only hair on his entire head. His southern drawl was well-hidden in his voice, but I still managed to pick up on it.
"Whiskey," I said and placed ten dollars on the counter.
He eyed it nervously for only the briefest of moments before it vanished — snatched up and stuffed into his trouser pocket. The bartender fetched a clean whiskey glass, something I was actually a little shocked about, filling it the top.
I knocked back the burning liquid. I've had very good whiskey in my life; what I'd just thrown down my throat was not even close. Hell, it was barely considered a whiskey. "You got anything even slightly nice to drink?
The bartender grabbed a hidden bottle from under the bar and placed it in front of me. I stared at the deep amber liquid it contained. "Scotch," he said. "Got it from a traveller who traded it for a night’s sleep."
He uncorked it and poured me a glass.
Unlike the horse piss I'd drunk earlier, this stuff went down smoothly. It was the real deal. I fished out three tens and placed them on the counter. "Leave the bottle," I said and he did as he was told.
I placed another ten on the bar. Once more it vanished. "I want a hot bath and a comfortable bed for the night. Will that be enough?"
"I reckon it will, yes. Will you want any company?" he asked.
"Not right now, but I'll let you know if I change my mind. I've got another ten for you, after you answer some questions."
That made him nervous, but the idea of keeping ten dollars for a few questions wasn't one to be passed up. That much money was probably more than he
made in a week. I put enough tens on the counter to make it a hundred dollars that he'd earned in under five minutes. "Feel better about answering now?"
The money went the same way as all the others had, but he nodded acquiescence and I followed him to the empty end of the bar. "I won't even ask your name," I told him. "See, you have complete deniability."
"Who are you?"
"Not important, just a man passing through who needs a good night. You may want to arrange that bed and bath now."
He walked away and waved one of the girls over, a stunning blonde who stared at me as he told her what I wanted. A little air magic, the glyphs barely visible, carried the words invisibly toward my waiting ears. "Hot bath and comfortable bed," the bartender said. "Get them both ready, soon."
The girl glanced at me. "Will he want one of the girls?" she smiled slyly.
"No idea, but make sure they're ready. Hopefully we can get him out of here before anyone shows up."
The girl's expression flickered over to fear. "I will." She moved off toward the stairs. I watched her ascend them, her half bare ass wiggling as she made her way up to the floor above.
"Everything will be ready soon," the bartender said to me, re-gaining my attention. "So, what do you need to ask?"
"Just a few things. I'm a great believer in getting to the point, so my main question is have you had any recent trouble around here? Any bad blood with the tribes?"
He shook his head. "Can't say we do. I don't trust them, don't trust anyone who isn't-"
"White," I finished for him. "That's the word you're looking for, I assume."
"I won't apologise. Never said I hated them and I don't wish them harm, unlike those lynching madmen back home. But it don't mean I have to trust them."
I changed topics quickly. "You seem to do well here, even if your town is in the middle of nowhere."
"The sheriff looks out for us; he has powerful friends. And there was gems found in the hills to the north of here a few years back. Means money flows through town fairly regular."
"Gems?"
"Stones, expensive ones, so the sheriff says. Diamonds and the like. Don't know much about it, don't want to neither. I just take their money when they want a fuck, sleep or drink. Sometimes all three."
