Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong)

by Shaun O. McCoy

  Michael picked up some of the blankets and covered the orb. The light dimmed to normal. “Send in Mancini.” He collapsed into his chair. “I’ll consider what you said. Send him in.”

  Michael took the steps to the church three at a time. He ripped open the right of the church’s huge double doors and entered. He stopped between the back pews, his feet spread apart, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  Father Klein looked up from where he sat near the front of the church. The three women he had been speaking to were staring at the First Citizen.

  “I need to talk to you,” Michael said.

  Klein stood. The women didn’t move.

  “Alone,” Michael clarified.

  “Go on,” Klein told the women. “We’ll speak of this later.”

  Michael did not move until the last woman left and then it was only to slam the door. The thud of woodstone on hellstone echoed through the church.

  “You know why I’m here?” Michael all but shouted.

  Father Klein nodded and walked towards the pulpit. He had a stone chalice in his hands. The man had been giving communion, Michael realized. It was an empty ritual here, where Christ’s body and blood could not be.

  “Aaron told me,” Klein said.

  “Aaron wants to go in after him,” Michael said, staring at the Father.

  Klein picked up a white cloth from the pulpit and used it to clean around the mouth of the stone chalice. Then he drank its remaining contents.

  “It’s an empty ritual, Father,” Michael told him.

  “It’s not. It’s comforting.”

  “It was comforting on Earth. Here it’s blasphemy. Pretending God would send his essence into Hell to bless Mancini’s bloodwater. It’s an empty ritual. And if it wasn’t, what right have you to pull Christ back into Hell?”

  “He was here for three days, Mike. He may come again.”

  “Fool.”

  “So what if I am? So what if I preach false hope? Who cares if I just make it up? No one has a full copy of the Bible down here. No one knows. What’s wrong with giving someone just an inch of hope? Huh, Michael? Or is that your job.”

  Michael bit his lip. “Lies, Father. You’re sinning.”

  “We’ve already sinned. It’s done for us. We’re just shadows, waiting to be swallowed by darkness as the last of God’s light fades around us. Who gives a damn if this fucking cup has no blood in it?”

  They stayed silent awhile. It was Klein who finally broke it. “Besides, even if it is an empty ritual, the cup still has Mancini’s brew in it. That’d make almost anyone feel better.”

  Michael shook his head and forced himself to laugh.

  Klein nodded and sat down in a pew. Michael followed suit, sitting beside the Father.

  “I won’t let them go back in there,” Michael said. “Aaron is an idiot. He’s never been in the Carrion.”

  “Mike, at this point, very few of the Citizens ever have. All those people are dead. Hell’s been picking us off, one by one.”

  Michael frowned, and looked up to the cross that hung on the far wall, then above the crucifix to the church’s ceiling. He imagined looking even higher than that. Through the millions of tons of stone that separated him from Earth. And then through all that air between Earth and Heaven. He thought he would look all the way up until he saw God.

  “I don’t deserve this, Father.”

  “Of course you deserve it,” Klein whispered. “Never doubt that. Never start doubting that. It’s a terrible place to let your mind go. It comes with pride, Mike. I don’t know what you did in your life. I can’t tell you. But I do deserve this. I did something so despicable, well, I would have sent myself here. I don’t know how I tricked myself into thinking I wouldn’t be damned. I told myself that I had asked for forgiveness and that that had to be enough. But I do deserve this. God’s a fair God, Mike. He’s the ultimate Justice. And if He judged that we belong here, then here we belong. Don’t let pride tell you otherwise. Self-delusion is what got us here. The one thing we can do is use this last chance at existence to accomplish this second time what we were supposed to do in the first.”

  Michael looked to the Father. His eyes were closed, tightly, as if he was engaged in his own terrible battle inside his own head. And of course he was. The Carrion brought that to people. It was their shared past. The Egypt of their own exodus.

  “They should listen to me, Father. They never were in the Carrion. All they know is the hunger of the villagers. They think I don’t know that, too? Why can’t they listen to me since I’ve been through it?”

  “Skepticism. It’s rampant on Earth. It sends us here. They’ll have to see it for themselves. It’s a useful weapon against the Devil but too often we use it against ourselves. That’s what makes the infidels, Mike. They take it one step further. They use skepticism against God. But they’re fools. This place is death incarnate. By the time they learn that they’re wrong, it’ll already be too late.”

  Michael could feel the weight of the stone above him. It was blocking his sight. There was just too much Hell between himself and God.

  “What should I do?” Michael asked.

  “Follow your heart,” Klein said. “It’s the only thing here that wasn’t made by Satan.”

  “My heart is a mystery.”

  “There’s no Holy Spirit to guide it here. You’ll have to make this decision on your own. We’re in a place with no shepherds. Some of the sheep have to lead.”

  “What would the villagers do, if Julian’s food stopped coming.”

  “They’d starve.”

  “Would they come after us, in the Fore?”

  “Yes. You’d have to do something terrible. Fight them off. Send some of them away. Grant them food from your stores. The balance of power would never be the same. Even I can’t protect you from that, Mike. I can preach to them all day long, but they won’t be able to hear me when they’re hungry.”

  Mike grabbed Klein around the wrist and locked eyes with the Father. “If you tell me, I’ll do it. You were in the Carrion. You know what it was like. You know far better than I. You were the slave of that blonde haired bitch woman who lived there. I never was. I never even saw her. If you tell me that the food is worth it, I’ll send them.”

  Klein didn’t blink. “I can’t Mike. I just can’t. No one can make that decision for you. This is a devil you must wrestle yourself.”

  Aaron watched his door blanket fall closed behind Chelsea. She was wearing a red robe, the same color as the braid of her hair whose end she was fiddling with. Her eyes were on him, astonishingly blue, interested—and anything but vulnerable.

  “Who’d you tell?” Aaron asked.

  Chelsea cocked her head, unfazed. “No one. Believe me—”

  “Well somebody told her.”

  “Aaron, sweetheart, this is the Fore. There aren’t any secrets.”

  “You think I wanted this? You knew for months that I wanted Alice, and you kept fucking me!” Aaron pointed a finger towards her chest. “I didn’t want this relationship, but you kept pushing it—”

  Chelsea stepped forward, forcing him to pull his finger back to avoid touching her. “Aaron, baby, hold out your hands.”

  “What?”

  “Hold out your hands.”

  The hell is this about?

  But he held out his hands anyway, palms up.

  She took another step forward and put her hands in his. “Now look into my eyes.”

  Aaron looked away.

  “Look, Aaron.”

  Her blue eyes were almost entirely drowned out by her black pupils. A sad smile came to her lips. He could not help but imagine kissing them. For some reason, the fact that he was about to deny her made her charms all the more powerful.

  She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Then she whispered, “Aaron, I know that you are used to fighting when you break it off with a girl. It’s natural. I’m sure it helps enforce a separation you and that girl might sorely need. But we can�
��t separate. We’re stuck here together in the Fore. I like you. You’re a wonderful man, and you’re a really great fuck, but I don’t love you. Not like Alice loves you, and not like you love her. I’m still your friend, and I’d be a shitty one if I didn’t step out of the way. It’s okay, Aaron. You don’t have to fight with me. We can just stop sleeping together.”

  “Oh no you don’t. You can’t just pretend we did nothing wrong.”

  “We didn’t.”

  “Yeah? Well you may not understand this, but there’s something sacred about the relationship between a man and a woman, and we abused it, Chelsea. We did.”

  “Nothing’s sacred in Hell.”

  “Don’t spit blaspheme—”

  “Who made it sacred?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s still a sacred thing. We weren’t—”

  She would not relent. “Who made it sacred, Aaron?”

  “God did. But it’s still a sacred thing. We can’t. . .”

  Her gaze was too much. Aaron looked down. But she did not let him, reaching out and touching his chin. “Who makes it sacred now?”

  “I don’t know.” Aaron wanted to shake her.

  “Who?”

  He couldn’t believe that she could stay so calm. “We do.”

  She stepped even closer to him, chest to chest. He felt her small, soft breasts pushing into him. She tilted her head up ever so slightly. “Are you going to hurt me, Aaron, to avoid offending a God who isn’t even here?”

  Aaron’s lips parted, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “This is damnation, Aaron, dearest of my friends. You and I, we strangled some happiness out of it, all for ourselves. You and Alice are going to strangle out even more. You have no reason to feel shame. We did nothing wrong.”

  Aaron could not believe how beautiful she looked. “I wish that were true. We could have brought a child into this Hell. No one deserves to be born into such a place.”

  “You aren’t going to sleep with Alice then? And I know my cycle. It’s not like on earth. You know we don’t sleep together when—”

  “That one time—”

  “Then that one time was the mistake, not what you did with me. Now I’m your friend, so I’m going to talk to Alice for you. I’m going to tell her how you love her. I’m going to tell her how you came to me to end us.”

  Aaron was surprised at how hard he was breathing. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

  “Of course.” Her finger left his chin, and ran slowly down his chest. Aaron was surprised by how much his body was responding to her. She looked down, noticed, and smiled. “And I can’t say I’ll miss sleeping on your ridiculously hard mattress.”

  Aaron laughed. “Thank you for talking some sense into me.”

  She winked at him. “I’m not going to lie, it’s going to be hard to replace you. Only, can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  Chelsea’s hand dropped to her side, moving her robe a little and outlining her figure. “Kiss me goodbye.”

  She was right there, only inches away from him. Her eyes looked so sad.

  Aaron nodded. “Of course.”

  He leaned forward, and their lips touched. Suddenly her hands were all over him. Aaron could not remember her ever being so passionate.

  She wanted a goodbye something, but it sure as hell wasn’t a kiss.

  The door curtain opened without anyone having knocked on it. Chelsea shot up from the sheets, shouting. Aaron rolled over to his side, reaching for his gun.

  Michael stood in the doorway.

  “Sir?” Aaron asked.

  “You’re going.”

  “Sir?”

  “To the Carrion. Gather your men. You’re going.”

  “Thank you, sir! Thank you! The villagers need this.”

  But Michael hadn’t waited to hear the praise. The door curtain fell shut. In the quiet of the Harpsborough night, Aaron could hear the man’s heavy footsteps on the stairs.

  “No,” Chelsea said. “Baby, don’t go there. You can say no.”

  He realized then, for the first time, what exactly it was that he was trying to do. A chill passed down Aaron’s spine.

  Oh fucking God. I’m going into the Carrion.

  “No!” Rick shouted. “Why? Why would you want him to go with you?”

  Arturus cringed in his room. Rick and Galen had been arguing about something, but now their voices were loud enough to carry through the home.

  “It’s his decision,” Galen responded.

  “Is it? Should it be? What good can he do you in there? He’s hardly more than a boy. Don’t you feel anything?”

  “La’Ferve will be out there, Rick. I can’t fight him with a horde of Maab’s men nipping at my heels. I’ll die without help. I need a gun I can trust out there. Plus, I’ll have the hunters in tow. There’s too many of them for me to take care of.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  “He’s already better than you. You know that.”

  “In a crisis? Are you sure about that? Is this a rational decision? When you come back with Turi dead, what are you going to say?”

  “We don’t have all the time in the world, Rick. An Infidel Friend came down the Thames the other day, remember? Pyle’s back, sniffing around. We can’t hide here forever. I’m going to make sure he’s ready for when the time comes.”

  “Or you’ll make him dead.”

  “Or dead,” Galen agreed.

  Arturus didn’t feel guilty for overhearing this conversation. Their voices had become so raised that he couldn’t have helped it. Their words sent his mind spinning.

  At first he felt pride.

  Galen wants me to come.

  But Arturus was confused as well. Why would he be of any help in the Carrion? Why would Galen say he was better than Rick? Could that be true? What were they getting him ready for?

  But one question stuck in his mind, drowning the others out.

  Who is La’Ferve?

  “You’re leaving,” the Infidel Friend told Aaron.

  Now how in the Hell did he know that?

  The man accepted his bowl of spider guts and eggs with two hands. He was sitting cross-legged in a corner. The man’s posture reminded Aaron of the way Japanese people sat in old samurai movies. “You’re too kind.”

  Aaron watched the man eat with his fingers in that practiced way of his. The Infidel Friend ate slowly, as he had the last time Aaron had watched him.

  Like a Citizen, not like a villager.

  “I am,” Aaron admitted. “I’m going to a very dangerous place.”

  “For a purpose?”

  “Rescue.”

  “The boy, Julian.” The infidel intuited. “The one you were afraid my people had captured.”

  Aaron rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much last night, so he was surprised to find sleep in them.

  Don’t forget, he’s dangerous.

  Aaron let his hand fall to his side, closer to his pistol. The infidel took no notice.

  “That’s right,” Aaron told the man. “Julian. I’m going after him.”

  The Infidel Friend stared straight into his eyes. Aaron didn’t let himself back down from the gaze.

  “Dangerous. Like near the Pole?” the infidel asked.

  Aaron shook his head.

  “The Carrion then.”

  Aaron nodded and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

  “That is dangerous,” the Infidel Friend said. “And perhaps only slightly less so, with the demons being so thin. Even an infidel takes care when entering that place.”

  “But you do go?”

  “Not often, but my people have been there. Perhaps I could make you a deal. I’ll escort you through the Carrion and help you find this boy. If I find Julian, then set me free.”

  “Never.”

  “There is a saying in the East, and it goes like this: ‘It’
s okay to hold hands with a devil for a mile, when crossing a bridge.’ And to boot, I’m not even a devil.”

  “You’re close enough. What can you tell me of that place?”

  The Infidel Friend stood up from the floor in that funny way of his, and then sat down in Staunten’s chair. “It’s dark. You’ll need to bring torches. Huge veins of whetstone run through that place. Light can’t flow through whetstone, and you’ll find even skystone without illumination. The ancients, who knew the secrets of mining the substance, used to live there long before the Carrion’s current devils showed up. You’ll find their signs, their words of warning written in Latin. You won’t know what it means, of course, but you’ll wish you did.

  Hell’s architect was busy there. There are many traps. Stone floors that fall away into pits. Ceilings that fall to crush you. And worse.”

  “I think you’re trying to scare me so that I will take you.”

  “I have no need, Aaron. You’re terrified already.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “A hound can smell fear, you know. Not that it matters very much. They’ll try to kill you even if you smell like a daisy, but you can tell they know. Except for the angle, a hound’s eyes are so much like a human’s.”

  “I’m not afraid of hounds.”

  Fitch said the hound sign was almost five feet high.

  The Infidel Friend leaned back in his chair. He was healing a little too quickly for Aaron’s taste. His movements were more fluid now. He didn’t seem as stiff, or as fearful of pain.

  “You’re healing well.” Aaron said aloud.

  “I am. Your village has been kind to me, considering that you hold me to be your foe. I have appreciated your rations very much.”

  “You’re only getting half of what the villagers are.”

  “And they, only half of what you get.”

  “Not everyone deserves the same treatment,” Aaron said.

  “I cannot help but agree with you. But it is important to note that many men have given their lives fighting against that principle.”

  “You’re just saying that because we’ve got you locked up.”

  “I am.”