“Inn-keep, you’d be wise to lower that shotgun. Those men attacked me. I was within my rights to defend myself.”
“I don’t want no trouble in here.”
“And you won’t get any. You’ve got yourself a mess upstairs, not gonna lie. But I had no choice. There’s no walking that back. We’ve got to deal with the situation we’re in now. We’ve got to deal with the options available to us at this moment. The way I see it, you’ve got two. You put down the shotgun and back away from that man and I promise you’ll see the sun rise tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll put you down.”
The innkeeper didn’t take long reaching his decision. The shotgun clattered to the floor and he exited the counter space, disappearing out the back door.
“Me and you,” Dominic said, coming off the final step, aiming the pistol with one hand.
“You kill them?”
“I did. And if you don’t put that rifle down, I’ll kill you too.”
“Silas wants to see you,” the Reb stuttered as he tried to roll the tension out of his shoulders.
“He’s gonna see me, don’t you worry about that. But you don’t need to die in the process. How many more of you are there?”
The Reb shook his head. “Just me. Rest of the crew is marching on Genesis.”
“Good. That’s real good. Now, go on, drop the gun.”
“I put it down and you let me go?”
“That’s the deal.”
He gulped once, looked back towards the front door, and lowered the rifle, dropping it once it was at his waist. He backed away from Dominic, hands in the air, turning his back as he neared the door.
“Wait! I’ve got a question for you, Reb.”
“Wha…what is it?” he shrank up as Dominic approached.
“What’s her name?”
“What’s whose name?”
“The Union girl you raped, what’s her name?”
“The blonde bitch? Can’t say I remember. Laura, I think?”
Dominic shot him above the right eye. “Close enough.”
***
Dominic found a dark alley where he could huddle down and treat his wound. The bullet had gone through-and-through. The only thing to do was patch it and hope it hadn’t caused an internal bleed. He cleaned up and slipped his shirt on. The smart move would be to get the hell out of Skarwood while he had an opening. But he couldn’t just walk away, not with Merrick’s betrayal hanging over him. He wouldn’t rest easy till he looked him in the eye.
With good sense buried, Dominic made his way towards the saloon. Candles and lanterns burned brightly in the windows, creating a mote of yellow light around the exterior of the two-story building. Drunken revelers stumbled across the wraparound porch. Dominic kept his eyes forward and locked on the swinging, old-west style double doors as he approached. He didn’t need the conflict or the attention. He’d dodged his allotment of bullets for the day. Get Merrick out the door, nice and quiet. No fuss. That was the plan.
The saloon was bustling. Drooling outlanders pounded the bar with empty beer bottles, demanding refills. Men fell out of their chairs, laughing and rolling on the ground as their fellow boozers drenched them in drink. Women stumbled around on tabletops, shaking their asses and jiggling their tits to the raucous delight of the mob. Dominic stood by the doorway, scanning the crowd, pistol concealed behind his right leg. It didn’t take long to find Merrick. He was chatting up a whore near the bar. Dominic slid between the tables, shoving aside those that refused to step aside on their own. Merrick had his back turned. Getting the drop on him was easy.
“You scream. You signal. You do anything I don’t like and I’ll put you down right here.” Dominic jammed the muzzle against his spine. “Nod if you believe me.”
Merrick nodded. Twice. Paused. Then nodded a third time.
“Good. Tell the whore bye.”
“Listen, my friend traveled a long way to see me. I need to talk to him real quick and then I’ll be right back. Wait for me, please?” his voice cracked.
“It’s going to cost you extra if I have to wait. Yours isn’t the only dick I could be sucking,” the leathery harlot said.
“So charge me extra. I’ll be right back.”
“You shouldn’t have lied to her like that,” Dominic said as he urged Merrick towards the door, pressing the gun harder against his spine.
“What are you talking about?”
“Telling her you’ll be right back. That’s very inconsiderate of you. The girl is trying to run a business and now she’s going to be standing around waiting for a dead man.”
“Dominic, listen to me. I can explain. Let’s just talk about this.”
“We’re going to do plenty of talking, don’t you worry about that. But not here.”
Merrick continued to babble away, attempting to excuse his betrayal as they walked deeper into the night. Once they were beyond the edge of town, the panic began to rise in his voice. “What are you planning to do? You just going to shoot me? You just going to kill a fellow soldier?”
“Isn’t that what you tried to do when you sold me out?”
“You sold yourself out, the way I heard it. Turned your back on the Rebs, embraced the Union with open arms and a smile.”
“Save it, Merrick. You didn’t hand me over out of some deeply held conviction. You were perfectly willing to hide me away so long as I kept your belly full of drink. How much coin did they give you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.”
The town of Skarwood soon became a cloud of blurry lights behind them.
“You can stop here.” Dominic took two steps back. He kept his right arm bent, aiming the pistol casually from the waist. “Anything you wanna say?”
“You’re really doing this? Are you just gonna execute me? Kill me in cold blood?”
“Nothing cold about it. I’m downright boiling inside. It’s taking everything in me not to cave your head in with the butt of this pistol.”
Merrick turned. “It wasn’t personal, you’ve gotta know that.”
“I tried to put you off this whole rotten deal. But you had to keep trying to stick your nose in. There’s a very important woman waiting for me on the other side of those mountains. The only advantage I’ve got is that the bastards holding her don’t know I’m coming. But now you’ve poked your head in. You’ve seen something you weren’t supposed to see. I warned you, Merrick, you go poking your head in places it ain’t supposed to be and you’re likely to get it chopped off.”
Merrick gulped and fidgeted. “I just…I’m trying to survive, you know?” He looked at the pistol, still leveled at his belly, unwavering in its intent. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise you. I’ll even give you the coin they gave me, plea—”
“Merrick, don’t. You know I can’t take the risk. Go out like a soldier. Say your peace.”
His eyes were wet, his head tilted to one side as if he could feel the breath of the reaper on his neck. “Just…don’t let it hurt, okay?”
“You have my word.”
If Dominic was anything, he was a man of his word.
27
Silas stepped from his tent and stretched, yawning towards the sky. He felt the weight of the dagger on his hip; pulsating, thirsty for blood. Today was the day he would finally rid himself of that defiant Union cunt. Today was the day he avenged his brother.
Make it quick or make it slow?
That was the only question that remained, and it would all depend on her. Whether she bowed her knee or puffed her chest would determine the expediency of her fate. And even then, he still might decide to make her squeal a bit. What was an execution without a bit of squirming and pleading?
“Hey, boss.”
“Morning, sir.”
Two of Silas’ men joined him in front of his tent, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
“You boys ready to bleed this bitch?” Silas wrapped his arms around their shoulders and bared his teeth.
“Been ready.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Silas emerged from the cluster of tents and saw Hawthorne sitting in the middle of the beach, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap. Behind him was the post, where Lerah was supposed to be tied. It stood empty, the ropes cut.
“What did you do?” Silas screamed as he marched towards the little bastard.
Hawthorne didn’t try to escape. He remained still, head down. “I did the right thing.”
“The right thing?” Silas was looming over him now, fists balled up tight.
“Couldn’t let you hurt her anymore.”
“Let me? Did you just say you couldn’t let me? You little fucker!” Silas drove a knee into the center of Hawthorne’s face. Hawthorne fell to his back. The bridge of his nose had cracked wide open. “Put him on the post!”
Silas’ men each grabbed a handful of the boy’s hair and began dragging him back towards the post as he kicked and screamed.
“I did the right thing, Uncle! I did the right thing!”
“And you’re about to be greatly rewarded for it! Pull the little bastard up!”
They ripped Hawthorne to his feet and held him against the post, each man taking an arm.
“I tried to teach you, boy! I tried to toughen you up! I tried to keep my word to your daddy!” Silas was gripping the bottom of Hawthorne’s face; the boy’s blood and drool were flowing down across his hand. “This is on you!”
“Uncle…please…”
Silas punched him in the stomach and Hawthorne doubled over and puked on his boots. This only served to fuel Silas’ rage.
“Weak little fuck!” He held Hawthorne’s head down and rammed his knee into his face over and over again. Each blow was harder than the last. The final blow sent Hawthorne’s head smashing back against the post. His face was broken, his features all distorted. His eyes rolled and his head lolled from shoulder to shoulder. He sounded like a baby trying to form its first words, blowing thick bubbles of blood and mucus.
“What do you want to do with him, boss?”
Silas brought a hand down to the knife on his hip. “I should carve out his intestines and strangle him to death with them.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Silas rested his hand on the hilt of the blade, tapping his fingers against the well-worn wood. “Not yet. First, we get the girl. Then I’ll decide what to do with this coward. Tie him up and then gather the rest of the men; we have a Union bitch to catch.”
***
The sun never really rose in the Glass Mountains. It glowed behind a thick cloud cover, appearing as a neon blue orb, its rays shooting between the spires of jagged rock. It played games with Lerah’s mind. It reminded her of those nightmares she used to have as a kid, the ones where she was running in slow motion while being chased. A piece of rock stabbed her through the heel. She grunted and fell down onto her hip, clutching her wounded foot, and sucking air through gritted teeth. As she extracted the opaque devil, Hawthorne crossed her mind. Surely Silas knew by now that she’d escaped and it probably hadn’t taken him long to figure out that Hawthorne was behind it.
Had they broken him, yet?
Probably.
It wouldn’t take much.
He was a good kid, but he was weak.
She stood and steadied herself, holding her arms out to either side in order to achieve balance. She walked on the ball of her right foot, keeping her wounded heel a few inches above the unforgiving terrain. Her stomach started to growl as she hobbled along. The food and drink Hawthorne had provided her with hadn’t lasted long. Her body was so broken down, so deprived of nourishment, that it had been like pouring water into a cup without a bottom. She knew her chances of finding anything to satiate herself with were slim. The Glass Mountains were lacking in all natural resources. They were unnatural phenomena, a product of a war that had scorched the sky so many hundreds of years ago.
She trekked on for close to an hour before she fell again, skinning her knees. She was unable to hold in the cries of pain and frustration. She punched the ground, cracking open her knuckles.
Dizzy. Thirsty. Hungry.
What was the point?
Escape had been such a stupid notion. At least, on the beach, she’d had a view of the sea and pleasant company in Hawthorne. Silas would have killed her. But so would the Glass Mountains. They were just going to take their time about it. She rolled to her back and closed her eyes. Her arms were splayed out and her ankles were crossed as if she were being crucified.
Let death come. Stop trying to fight it, silly girl.
She heard a bell. It was flat and out of time. The type of bell caravan riders kept strung around the necks of their mules. Her eyes fluttered open and the old man appeared above her like a dream. The world around him was a mirage; blurry, undefined. His face was as clear as the sun: black hood, wispy beard that seemed to hover around his face without touching it, eyes framed by wrinkled leather, and deep bronze skin—not darkened by the sun, but by some exotic lineage. He was probably a pawn of the Rebels. No matter. She was ready to go back. Ready to face her fate and be done with it all.
“Looks like you been through it, girl.”
“Take me back…take…I’m…don’t care.” Exhaustion was sealing her eyelids shut from the inside and holding them there. She was being sucked towards the blackness and was too tired to hang on. She let go and fell towards the abyss.
***
When she opened her eyes again the old man was gone. He’d been replaced with a female counterpart; leathery and donning a few whiskers of her own. She was hovered over Lerah, wearing a faded smile.
“Drink this, my dear. You need fluids. Your lips are cracked.”
“What is it?” she rasped.
“It’s water. Good, clean water.”
Lerah reached for the stone cup and the old woman met her halfway. “How…how’d you—”
“Get clean water out here? My husband is quite the craftsman. A little wood, some rocks and sand, and you got yourself a filter.”
Lerah didn’t know how much she trusted the old woman’s vote of confidence. It hardly mattered. She was so thirsty she’d drink a bucket of piss, smack her lips, and ask for more. “Tastes…delicious,” Lerah said as the cool liquid washed the gravel out of her throat.
“I’ll get you some more in a minute, we gotta take it slow.”
Lerah started to push herself up in bed, eager to get a look at her surroundings.
“Easy, my dear. You’re not in the best shape to be moving around like that.” The old woman helped prop her up against the wall. “They sure did a number on you.”
Lerah felt a sudden dread and tried to push back further, but the wall wasn’t budging. “They?”
“Didn’t Silas and his band do this to you?”
“Why would you think that? Are you working with them?”
The front door blew open and bounced off the wall as a howling wind laid siege to the small space. The old man wrestled with the rickety piece of wood and latched it back in place. He leaned against the door for a few moments, head down, breathing heavy. “It’s kicking up out there. Almost took me off my feet.” He looked around and quickly synced up with the mood in the room. “Everything okay in here?”
“You said his name! You said Silas! Is that why I’m here? Is he coming for me?”
“Oh,” the old man came off the door, “I see what’s happening here. Let me assure you that we mean you no harm.”
“She said his name!” Lerah saw no escape. No windows. Just the door. The old couple was standing between her and freedom. If she was at full strength, with her senses intact, she could have gone right through them. But she was broken, barely able to stand. “Do what you’re going to do. Don’t torture me with kindness.”
“Honey,” the woman stood next to her husband, “Silas and his tribe, they’re the only ones around these parts.”
“And they’re definitely the only ones that would work so
meone over the way you’ve been worked over.”
“So you’re not with them? You’re not going to bring me back?” she was ashamed by the amount of fear rattling around in her voice, at how helpless she’d become; a withered leaf entirely dependent upon the winds of fate.
The old man walked over and gestured to the edge of the bed. “May I?”
She hesitated, as if offering any kindness would somehow permanently tip the scales against her. “It’s your bed.”
He lowered himself slowly, sighing as the wooden frame settled beneath him. His shell was brittle and worn by the elements, but his core was strong. There was resilience in his eyes. Warmth. Integrity. Like Dominic. “What’s your name?”
“Lerah.”
“Well, Lerah, I’m Amar and this is my wife Nishi.”
“Married for forty-five years.” Nishi smiled the radiant smile of a woman half her age. She had the same warm, stalwart eyes as her husband. Lerah’s intuition told her that these were good people, people she could trust.
“It’s nice to meet you both. You’ll have to excuse my behavior. I’ve been through a lot these past few days.”
“That much we can see. I don’t know much about Silas, but I know enough to know that he is not a man you want to fall afoul of,” Amar spoke as if he were teaching a child. As if it was a lesson she hadn’t already learned the hard way.
“Why would you live in such close proximity to a monster? Of all the places you could have chosen, why this place?”
Amar nodded and smiled as she spoke, taming a bushy eyebrow with a thumb and index finger. “There are days I question that as well, let me tell ya.”
“How long have you been here?” Lerah gestured for the stone cup of water and Nishi happily handed it over.
“Since the war,” Amar replied. “When Silas was still floating around in the great beyond, waiting for time and chance to spit him upon the shores of humanity.”
Silas wasn’t spit. He was coughed up from the bowels of hell. A cosmic accident. An abomination of the highest order. The penance humanity had to pay for scorching the earth. Lerah drank eagerly from the cup, choking as Silas’ face flashed in front of her eyes.
The Glass Mountains: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 2 Page 21
