Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong)

by Shaun O. McCoy

  The infidel did not seem angry, but curiously intense. The man’s gaze was hypnotizing.

  “I am wounded, soldier,” the infidel said.

  He can tell. He can see that I’m a hunter. He knows, somehow.

  Martin nodded, not saying anything.

  “Perhaps,” the infidel went on, “if you want me to go faster, you would be so kind as to help me walk.”

  The request stunned Martin. He took a step back. The infidel was still staring, and he had no idea whether this was an honest plea for help, or some kind of challenge. He looked around. The whole village was watching.

  Martin nodded, undid his pistol belt, and held it out to Kylie. “Hold this.”

  “Don’t help him,” she whispered in his ear.

  “He’s still a man, Kylie. God damned all of us, remember?”

  Martin walked forward and took the infidel’s right arm over his shoulder. Aaron seemed to be leading them towards the exit of Harpsborough.

  It’s silent.

  No one was speaking. They were all just staring. Kara even forgot to get out of the way until the last second, when Massan had to reach out and grab her so that they didn’t run her over.

  They’re judging me.

  Some of those eyes were angry. How dare he help the enemy? Others seemed ambivalent, as if they had expected him to help. Others were nodding. Father Klein even gave him a grim smile.

  Let them judge.

  He saw Molly, but the girl’s eyes were only for the Infidel Friend. She seemed sad and terrified all at the same time.

  He could feel the infidel’s warmth on his side. He was supporting the man with his right arm, which he had hooked under the Infidel Friend’s shoulder and around his back since he couldn’t grab with that hand. The friction of the cloth against his regrowing skin was killing him, but he refused to show it. He wasn’t sure why he had to fight back tears. Were they coming from his own pain, or from the empathy he felt for the man he helped support?

  Halfway to the entranceway, and he hasn’t killed me yet.

  He could feel the eyes of his friends on his back. He could sense their fear and hatred. It was the same fear and hatred that he had felt, but it was almost impossible to hate a man you were helping.

  Maybe when the other infidels come and slaughter us all, he’ll let them know that I was kind.

  He saw the hunters at the entranceway. Their rifles were ready, but at least the weapons weren’t pointed straight at them. Martin hoped Duncan had safetied his weapon. A stray round in his back would be a terrible way to die.

  The weight of the Infidel Friend lessened.

  “Thank you, soldier,” the man said.

  Martin nodded.

  Without aid, the Infidel Friend walked through the entranceway, his two guards and Aaron in tow.

  He’s still a man.

  Aaron followed his hunters and the infidel into the river room. The sounds of the water usually calmed him, but not now. Not with the devil himself standing before them.

  “We give our water over there,” Duncan said, pointing.

  The bed the river flowed through was about ten feet wide and ten feet deep. The chamber’s side walls closed over the top of the river, which Michael Baker swore meant that no devil would come floating downstream. Aaron had his doubts about that, but he’d never seen anything come out of these clear waters so far.

  He wondered if the Infidel Friend knew if that were true or not.

  “No,” Aaron ordered. “You piss in the center of the room. We don’t want you jumping in and trying to escape downriver. Not that it will do you any good, mind you. You’d drown long before the next chamber.”

  “So you say,” the infidel said.

  Does he know I’m lying? What is downstream from here?

  The infidel let his pants drop away and walked, half nude, towards the river.

  “Have you no shame?” Aaron was disgusted.

  His initial instinct was to look away, but he could not. The man could escape if he wasn’t careful. He looked to Duncan and Fitch. Both were still on their guard.

  The Infidel Friend squatted down on his left knee, kicking his wounded right leg out straight, supporting himself with his right arm. He tucked his penis between his legs so that his piss would join with the river.

  When he was finished, he sat up, leaned back and shat.

  Aaron had never watched a human defecate before. It wasn’t too dissimilar to watching a dog do it, except that the infidel was so brazen that Aaron figured a dog might actually have been more abashed.

  Blood began to seep through the man’s shirt at his shoulder. Aaron looked at the wound on the infidel’s leg. Someone, maybe the Infidel Friend himself, had re-bandaged it. The dressing didn’t cover all of the burns, however. They were fresh, and sported pus-filled sores around their edges.

  The man stood in that odd way of his, using his right arm as support to help get his right leg beneath him. “I would bathe, if you would be so kind as to allow me. My treatment, as fine as it has been, has given me no opportunity to lance my boils or wash off my dried blood.”

  “He could swim off,” Fitch warned.

  “You could shoot him,” Aaron shot back.

  “If it is of any help to you,” the infidel said, “I could remain right by this edge. I will not stray from the stone.”

  Duncan shot Aaron a worried glance.

  “Go ahead,” Aaron said, and then turned to his men. “If he lets go of the edge, shoot him.”

  The Infidel Friend took off his shirt, again shamelessly. The wounds were horrid. Aaron shook his head, but kept his eyes on the man. Blood was seeping from the bullet hole in the infidel’s shoulder. Purple bruises lined the man’s torso. Aaron knew that kind of bruise, having had them himself. They were from taking a bullet while wearing body armor.

  Aaron wandered over to the river to make sure he would have a good shot in case the infidel decided to try and swim for freedom.

  The infidel did not enter the water immediately, but instead unwound his bandages; first the one on his shoulder, then the one around his chest, and finally the one about his leg.

  Aaron, despite his best effort, did look away as the last of the man’s wounds were revealed. The infidel had been bitten mid-thigh, and the jaws of whatever beast had gotten to him had ripped through the muscle there. The burns covered the bite thoroughly, and the skin had healed over the lacerations in loose, scabbing chunks.

  Resolutely, Aaron looked back. “Was it a hound that got you?”

  “There, yes,” the man replied, pointing to his leg. “A big one, nearly five feet tall.”

  Duncan whistled.

  “Rare to find beasts that big, even when the devils are thick,” Aaron said.

  “I’m a lucky man.”

  “You are,” Aaron said. “You should have bled to death, it’s a blessing that you got burnt in the same place.”

  “Dyitzu fire. And again, I’m a lucky man.”

  He dipped the bandages into the stream and kneaded them with his hands. The blood colored the water just slightly, before becoming invisible in the light current. He did the same with his pants and shirt before wringing them out and laying them across the stone floor to dry. Only then did he descend into the water.

  Aaron wondered if it hurt him to feel the cold water on his wounds.

  “It’s Turi,” the boy’s voice came from the hallway behind him.

  Aaron jumped. Duncan’s gun went off, and water shot up from behind the infidel.

  “Damn it,” Aaron shouted. “Duncan, I told you to safety that rifle.”

  Duncan did so.

  “Everything’s fine,” Aaron shouted. “You can come in.”

  “Martin told us you had the infidel here,” Turi’s voice was getting closer as he spoke, “and Ellen wanted to talk to him.”

  “What on Earth for?”

  Turi and a young girl entered.

  Ellen.

  “I’m the one who saved him,”
Ellen said, “so I need to talk to him.”

  Turi began to whisper in her ear.

  “She’s new,” Aaron explained to Duncan. “And keep your rifle trained on him.”

  Duncan, who had let his rifle dip, brought it back up.

  The infidel had settled into the water and was keeping himself afloat by resting his crossed arms on the shore.

  The bloody trails coming from his body took longer to disappear into the river than did those that came from his bandages. Aaron shook his head. Somehow it seemed wrong to imprison someone injured so badly.

  If he were healthy, he’d have killed you already.

  “I do remember you, miss,” the infidel said to her. “I am fortunate that you were there to pull me from the river.”

  Though the words seemed sincere to Aaron, they struck her like a blow.

  “I need to talk to him,” the girl pleaded. “Can I speak with him in private?”

  Duncan’s eyes widened in alarm.

  “No,” Aaron said. “Say your peace, and leave quickly. You shouldn’t have been let in here.”

  She rushed forward, pushing off of Turi and running to the infidel. She knelt on the bank next to him.

  Duncan flipped off his safety.

  “Jesus,” Aaron shouted, grabbing Duncan’s barrel and forcing it upwards.

  “I’m sorry,” Ellen was saying to the Infidel Friend, nearly in tears. “I didn’t know. I went to get help. I didn’t know they were going to kill you. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have told them. I would have kept you secret.”

  Aaron grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the bank. “Jesus, girl! Don’t you get it?”

  She caught her balance as he let her go and looked at him. She rubbed at her shoulder where he’d grabbed her, looking like a beaten innocent.

  “This man is a killer,” Aaron said. “A killer. We aren’t keeping him prisoner because we feel like it. We’re keeping him because if we don’t, he’ll hurt people. People like you. You can’t get that close to him. He can use you against us.”

  Aaron noticed Duncan’s rifle was still pointed towards the girl.

  “Duncan.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Eyes and gun on the infidel.”

  Duncan snapped his rifle back in line.

  “There’s a story, miss,” the infidel said, “about a scorpion and a turtle. Have you heard it?”

  Turi stepped back, his mouth open.

  What? Why is he surprised?

  Ellen shook her head.

  “The scorpion comes to the turtle and says, ‘Can you take me across the river.’ The turtle says, ‘No, why would I? You’ll sting me.’ ‘Of course I won’t,’ says the scorpion, ‘If I do we’ll both drown.’ Satisfied, the turtle carries the scorpion across the river. Midway through, the scorpion stings the turtle. The turtle feels its body numb as the poison enters its blood, and asks, ‘Why? Why would you kill us both?’ The scorpion replies, ‘It’s my nature.’”

  “Is it?” Ellen asked. “Is it your nature?”

  “Not mine.”

  The Infidel Friend pulled himself out of the water and came to his feet. Ellen gasped, and stepped back.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  Damn, I forgot.

  Even in the presence of a lady, the man showed no shame.

  “Ellen,” Aaron told her, “you should avert your eyes.”

  She blushed and did so.

  Aaron turned back to the Infidel Friend. “Get your clothes on.”

  “They’re wet,” the infidel pointed out.

  “Now.”

  The Infidel Friend wrapped his bandages with laborious care, tying them off expertly with his teeth as if he had done this a thousand times before.

  “Where’d you hear that story?” Arturus asked.

  “Why, have you heard it?” the prisoner asked as he gingerly pulled on his pants.

  “No.” There was a catch in the boy’s voice.

  “You want to know if the Infidel told it to me, don’t you, boy? You wonder if I’m just quoting some ancient Sanskrit tablet, or if it’s one of the stories from the book of Gehennic Law.”

  “Is it?”

  “No, I saw it on an episode of Star Trek.”

  Ellen burst out laughing.

  “We go now.” Aaron said, not amused.

  Michael Baker ascended the church steps. He felt as if he was carrying a pack full of lead. He tugged at the huge church door, which opened easily on greased hinges.

  Dyitzu fat. The doors to the house of God are greased with the fat of devils.

  He walked into the church.

  Father Klein was sitting in one of the pews.

  “Are you always praying?” Michael asked.

  Klein stirred and stood. “No, I just sleep with my hands like that,” he said, cracking a smile, “makes me look more pious.”

  Michael snorted. “Funny.”

  “So, First Citizen, leader of Harpsborough and protector of her people, it has been some time since we have talked, just the two of us.”

  “I came for advice,” Michael admitted. “I need to know what to do with the Infidel Friend.”

  “You’ve already spoken with Mancini about this?”

  Michael nodded and took a seat on the front pew.

  Father Klein sat back down beside him. “And what did he say?”

  “Kill him.”

  “Sounds like Mancini. Well, you wouldn’t be here if you had no doubts about doing so.”

  Michael shook his head and looked up at the pillars. One of the church’s crosses cast its shadow upon him, covering his face as he looked up. “Tell me, Father, what would you do?”

  “Mercy is a beautiful thing, Mike. The way we treat our prisoners speaks volumes about us. Remember though, that mercy is by definition the suspension of justice. It would not be just of us to let him go that he might terrorize or kill other people.”

  “Does it even matter? I mean, we’re all damned anyway.”

  “That’s an excuse and you know it. We have all been good at times, not because we wanted to, but because we knew God was watching. God could tell, Mike. That’s why we’re here. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just a spit in the cosmic bucket, but I want to be a good man. I may not be able to be redeemed in Hell, but I want to try. Part of that trying is minimizing suffering. The sooner we die here, the sooner we suffer. So yes, it matters.”

  “So he dies?”

  “I can’t give you a good answer, Mike. Maybe this one’s different than the rest of the Infidel Friend, but it’s a gamble you take if you set him free. I wish we could afford to keep him locked up forever somewhere. Somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone.

  “Now this shouldn’t change your decision, and I’m sure Davel told you this, but I feel I must too. If you kill one, the rest may come. Our old village was taken, Mike, after we left the Carrion, and you and the others had gone upriver to live. It was taken by three people, they slaughtered almost the entire village. Just three Infidel Friend.”

  “There may not be any others.”

  Father Klein closed his eyes, and dug at his eyes with his fingers. “Remember Benson?”

  “Yeah,” Mike answered, “Corpsedust. . .”

  “I know you thought that it was someone in the Fore, maybe in conjunction with someone in the village. Someone intent on stealing from you, perhaps. But that isn’t the only possibility, Mike. Even the Infidel Friend would have a hard time attacking this place. There’s only one entrance. It would be hard to break through. They’d need a distraction.”

  Mike leaned back in the pew and looked up to the large cross on the far wall. “I hadn’t thought of that. But that was before we found the infidel.”

  “You’re assuming he wasn’t here to scout us out. They might be coming anyway, Mike, no matter what you do.”

  The infidel moved more quickly, enlivened, perhaps, by his brief immersion in the river. Aaron could hear the ruckus just a few turns awa
y from the entryway chamber. The buzz of the village had an anxious tone.

  The guards had worried expressions on their faces.

  “Johnny,” Aaron said to one of the hunters. “What’s going on?”

  “Julian is missing.”

  Damn.

  Aaron drew his pistol and leveled it at the infidel. “Are your people responsible for this?”

  “Can’t be.” The infidel shook his head. “I’ll not say others aren’t coming, but they aren’t here yet.”

  Can I trust anything he says?

  “You’re in this village too, now,” Aaron told him. “If we starve, you starve.”

  “I swear it, on the Infidel himself. I came this far south to check on the settling. I was scouting on my own.”

  Jesus.

  “Turi,” Aaron asked, “do you know if Galen’s home?”

  “He should be.”

  “Good, we’re going to need his help.”

  Arturus found it odd to see Aaron sitting in their home. He felt that the Lead Hunter’s presence signified something important. Rick had pulled up an extra barrel for Aaron to sit on and was nice enough to provide everyone with wooden cups—whose water, of course, Arturus had been asked to fetch. He had been in such a hurry to hear the conversation that he had almost pulled himself into the Thames while he was filling the urn. He was still panting a little bit, even now, which seemed unbecoming at the dinner table. Fortunately, none of the adults seemed to notice or care.

  “How much food does Julian pull in for you?” Rick was asking.

  “That gets right to it, doesn’t it?” Aaron said. “It’s true, we are worried about the food. Michael’s orders to me are that this mission can be finished without Julian, but it can’t be finished without finding his devilwheat cache. There’s no urgency for the food since Harpsborough is fat on spider eggs right now, and I didn’t jog all the way here because I thought the devilwheat was going to go somewhere. I’m after Julian. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anything else right now, no matter what Michael ordered me to do.”