Alice felt out of place in the Fore without Aaron to escort her. Copperfield looked a bit aloof as she passed him on the stairwell. She knew the building well, a claim that very few villagers could make. With Aaron courting her, many of the Harpsborough people had taken to asking her about the Fore’s interior. They used to ask Molly, but no one really believed what she said.
Poor girl.
Graham, the hunter who had let her in, was walking up behind her. Only John, the serving boy, gave her a sweet smile. He also blushed. Alice shook her head.
A few Citizens were spread about the parlor room, talking and laughing. Staunten was eating some hound cheese. Hell knew where he had found it. The man ruled the stores, she supposed, so he could get about anything he wanted. Massan had probably brought it in from the Pole.
They live with all this, while I live below.
Worse, Aaron had been helping her stay alive. If he never returned, she would have to spend far more time in the wilds trying to find food.
Michael Baker was leaning over the chess board, his hand absently rubbing the back of his head. Mancini was sitting back in his chair, relaxed, drinking some of his own bloodwater.
Turi made that board.
On the board was a pair of crystal cups. At first she thought it was odd that they would put their drinks there, but then she realized that they must be standing in for pieces.
He never finished.
The thought made her feel horribly sad, because now he might not ever get the chance.
“You wanted to talk to me?” Michael said, not looking up from the board.
“I came about Aaron,”
The conversation in the room stopped. Michael made his next move in silence. Mancini hovered over the board, his face suddenly worried. Then he looked up at the ceiling, as if thinking about something.
The Citizens were all looking at Michael. He gave one of them a nod, and they began to pile out of the room. Only Mancini stayed.
Of all the people not to go.
“Go on, Alice.” Michael said.
“You’re going to wall him in.”
Michael didn’t look up from the board. “You’re damn right I am.”
She felt her blood rising. The back of her neck felt warm.
“Why?” the harshness of her voice surprised her, so she composed herself and repeated it more softly. “Why?”
“That was the understanding. They had five days. Now they’ve two.”
“If they’re not back by now—”
“Yes, you’re right. And I have been strongly counseled to wall up the Carrion early. If some have been captured, then even a single day is a long time for them to hold out against torture. Some of them might lead the enemies back to us. Then again, they could be dead already.”
“Or they could be in need of our help. You know the Carrion. Take some hunters and go save them.”
Mancini looked over to her.
Michael stood, bumping the board and jostling the pieces. Mancini reached out and stabilized one of the wine glasses to prevent it from falling.
Oh God, I’ve crossed some kind of line.
“Aaron volunteered to go.” Michael pointed a finger at her. “He knew he might not be coming back, and he knew no one was coming after him. Now I know why you’re mad, woman. I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other Citizen who will help you weasel your way into the Fore.”
How could he?
“How dare you. I love him, Mike.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Then go in there and save him yourself. I’ve lost almost everyone I’ve ever known to the Carrion, and I’m not about to lose anyone else. Let alone myself. Now you can get the fuck out of the Fore or I’ll have Graham drag you out.”
I’ll kill him. Molly was right.
“You’re scared,” she said suddenly. “You’re afraid of the Carrion. That’s why you won’t go, because Molly’s right. You’re just scared.”
“Graham, get her out of here.”
She felt Graham’s touch on her shoulder, but she shook him off.
“Sir?” Graham’s voice was pleading.
“You’re intimidated by Aaron,” Alice said. “You’re probably glad that he’s gone. You were afraid he would replace you. Well, there’s going to be another Lead Hunter soon, and you’ll be afraid of him replacing you too. But you can get rid of him just as easy, right?”
Michael shook his head. “Now, Graham.”
“Sir, I can’t just grab her.”
“Now!”
Graham grabbed her.
“No! Graham, let go. Let go!” She shook herself free and turned her back on Michael. “I can walk myself out.”
Father Klein was a little shocked by the condition of Molly’s hovel. She didn’t have many possessions with which to make a mess, but what little she did have was strewn about for maximum effect.
“I know why you’re here,” Molly said.
Her eyes were black and puffy. Either she’d managed to get a man to beat her, or she’d been crying.
“Oh?”
“You’re here because I gave the infidel all that information. Well, I’m sorry.”
“Molly, I’m here because we’re worried about you.”
“Please.”
“You’ve been cooped up in this place awhile,” Klein said. “Almost the entire time since you spoke to the infidel. What time you haven’t spent in here you’ve spent in the wilds. Higgins said he saw you as far out as Riverbend. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Molly wouldn’t look at him. She scratched one of her breasts, so he looked away.
“I’m just trying to find some food. Make sure I’ll be okay when your stores run out.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. He could feel wetness on the front of her shirt, probably from her tears.
“I think you’re just trying to protect yourself,” he said. “You’re trying to stay away from the village. You’re afraid we think badly of you. But this is dangerous, Molly. You can’t keep going that deep.”
“Why not? Who’s going to care?”
“Well, we are, Molly. There’s no shame in getting tricked by that Infidel Friend. No shame at all. Sure, he fooled you into giving away secrets, and of course it was tough for you to go in there and try and do what you did, but you were brave, Molly. Brave. You tried to help.”
“Aaron was just using me. Like everybody else has.”
“Not everybody.”
“Yes everybody. Especially Aaron. I thought we were lovers. He just wanted a lay. He was just using me one more time. I’m glad it didn’t work out for him.”
Klein knelt down behind her. “I don’t think you’re mad at him. I think you’re afraid for him. I think you’re worried that he might be dead.”
“Go back to your church, Father.”
“What’s wrong, child. What did the infidel say to you?”
“Nothing, alright? He didn’t tell me a damn thing. I just went in there at the wrong time. Just had a breakdown.” She was crying again. “Damn,” she said, wiping snot away.
“It’s okay, Molly. They’re vile people. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to hurt you very deeply. You may be afraid, or even ashamed, to tell me what happened in there, but that’s part of his trap. Whenever you’re ready, you can come to the church, and tell me. I’ve been in Hell a long time, child. I know how to take out the barbs that an infidel’s tongue leave in the souls of the faithful.”
“Fuck off, Father.”
“God bless you, child.”
He had lain down next to Johnny. The man had to be rolled over every once and a while because he had a tendency to snore. The noise was more than they were willing to risk. Johnny didn’t seem to mind too much. Arturus found that if he could keep the hunter off of his back, the chances of him snoring were smaller.
Patrick’s breathing was erratic. Sometimes it seemed as if he was holding his breath. His face would darken, but t
hen he would pass out and start breathing again. It seemed like Galen and Duncan were taking a long time, but was it too long?
Arturus used the top corner of his straight razor to bore holes into his boots, lining them up on both sides of the incisions Galen had made. Then he laced the boots up with a few strips of cloth that had been too thin to use for bandages.
There.
He started to put one foot into a boot, but after feeling a moment of pain, thought better of it.
“Lucky bastard, your father,” Johnny said.
Arturus jumped, having thought them man was asleep. “How do you mean?”
“No spikes through his feet.”
“His boots,” Arturus said, holding one of his own up. “I wish mine were as tough.”
“You would have thought I would have been okay, too.”
“Oh, why?”
“I’m so close to the ground. Could see the spiders better.”
Arturus chuckled softly again. “But you’re about an inch taller than me.”
Johnny didn’t say anything back. He snored instead.
Arturus shook his head and then rolled the man over.
“Were we gone this long?” Arturus asked Avery.
He nodded. “Sure were. Should be back soon, though.”
If they don’t come back?
He tried not to think too much about that.
Patrick’s breathing became intense again. He was trying to scream. For a second he managed to, but his voice quickly became horse again.
“Quiet,” Avery said. “You’ll bring the devils down on us. Be a man Patrick.”
Patrick seemed to be getting worse, though. His chest was heaving up and down. His eyes were wide and wild.
“Get him quiet,” Johnny said.
Avery crawled over to him. “Patrick, you can’t do this, man. You can’t keep shouting.”
Arturus leaned back against the stone, trying to ignore the noise.
In the distance, he heard a hound howl. He shot up straight, hand on his gun.
“They heard him,” Johnny said.
Kyle was beginning to stir. His eyes looked cloudy.
“So help me God, Patrick,” Avery was saying, “you had better keep your mouth shut. That hound will come in and kill us all. You have got to stay quiet.”
“He’s panicking, man,” Johnny said.
Patrick broke down into a fit of coughs. Blood mixed with burnt flesh came pouring out of his mouth. Arturus couldn’t imagine the extent of the man’s pain. It was intense enough to knock him back unconscious, but Patrick didn’t stay out long. He awoke quickly, breathing faster and faster. He arched his back and tried to scream.
“Keep him quiet!” Johnny sounded panicked himself.
Avery tried to smother him with a blanket.
Arturus stood on his weakened feet, faced the exit and drew his pistol.
Won’t be much against a hound. I’ll have to empty the clip straight into its head.
Johnny had made it to his knees and was checking to make sure his rifle was loaded.
It has to be alone.
The room wasn’t very defensible. Nothing to hide behind, but at least there was only one way in.
Nowhere to run to, though.
He could hear the hound again.
“Was that closer?” Johnny asked.
“Quiet,” Avery said. “You have got to stay quiet.”
Patrick arched up again. Avery shoved him back down and then let out a yelp. Patrick had bit his fingers.
“You’ll kill us all Patrick! Keep your damn self silent.”
Patrick tried to scream again.
Johnny was shaking his head. “You’ve got to stop him, man.”
Patrick began thrashing against Avery, maddened by the pain. Arturus had never seen a man’s eyes look so much like a hound’s. Arturus turned away. Somehow, through all the blood and burns, Patrick found his voice.
This time the shout was silenced with a gurgle.
Arturus looked back.
Avery had slit the man’s throat.
Arturus bit his lip fiercely. He didn’t want to be here in the Carrion. He should never have let himself come. Did he think he was going to be a hero? Had he truly let himself fantasize about returning home, the hunters singing his praises? Did he really think that Alice was going to look at him differently after this?
Home. I want to go home.
He tasted blood in his mouth, and stopped biting his lip. Galen wouldn’t approve of that, he knew. It was just giving the hound one more drop to smell.
Galen’s gaze narrowed when he saw Patrick’s corpse. He looked at Arturus accusingly.
As if I was in charge. As if I could have stopped it.
“We’re going to have to leave here soon,” Galen said.
“How?” Johnny asked. “Most of us can’t even walk. Kyle’s hopeless.”
“It doesn’t matter. A hound heard us.”
“We could move downstream,” Arturus suggested.
“Nope,” Duncan answered. “That’s where the hound is.”
Galen nodded. “I went looking for it, but I didn’t spend too much time. I couldn’t find it.”
“Upstream then,” Aaron said. “That’s our only chance.”
Galen shook his head. “That current’s swift. If we were healthy we could do it, but as we are. . .”
Arturus struggled to find a plan. There didn’t seem to be one. “Anywhere we go, we’ll leave a trail.”
Galen nodded.
“What are we going to do?” Johnny asked. “Hold our asses and pray?”
“I’ll carry Kyle,” Galen said. “There’s another room like this one nearby.”
“And what about us?” Johnny looked angry.
Aaron struggled to his feet. “You crawl.”
“Come,” Galen said. “I’ll show you the place. It’s not far.”
Galen collected some of their remaining shirts in order to wrap Kyle’s legs. He reset the wounded hunter’s tourniquets, too. Kyle passed out, either from the pain, the lack of blood, or both.
“I hope he doesn’t start screaming,” Avery said.
He better not.
Arturus tied his boots’ laces together and hung them around his neck.
Better to be barefoot for now.
Arturus and Aaron leaned on each other for support again after they had made it down the stairs. Behind them, the rest crawled.
“Try not to bleed too much,” Galen warned.
Avery gave him an angry look, but Galen had moved on.
The purple walls passed by, and again Arturus couldn’t hold them in his mind. He tried to remember at least one room in five so that he might find his way back. The attempt was futile.
I’m lost.
After about ten minutes, Galen laid down Kyle and let them rest. The shirts on the wounded hunter’s legs were soaked with blood.
Aaron and Arturus sank to the ground together. Aaron produced the blonde braid and ran his fingers over it. They were all out of breath.
Galen moved to watch the exits.
Arturus looked to him. His father seemed different somehow. Arturus had always taken him for granted. Now he felt he could see the man as the hunters might. He was comforted by how Galen was so well respected. Part of him had always felt that Galen was the greatest fighter in all Hell, but he had always assumed that was his own bias. It felt good to have the notion confirmed.
Everything he taught me is right. Everything he taught me is precious. I want to be like him.
He heard the hound’s howl again, though it was very distant. When the last of the howl had passed, Arturus shuddered.
“Is that Alice’s?” he asked Aaron.
Aaron looked up from the braid. “Yeah. You like her, don’t you?”
The question seemed abnormally bold, as if they were supposed to know such things, but not say them. “Of course, she’s the prettiest girl in Harpsborough,” Arturus answered. “It’s a shame I’m too young f
or her.”
Let him think I’m mature. Let him think I don’t dream about her every night. Let him think that it won’t break my heart and soul when he takes her.
Aaron nodded. “She made me promise to take care of you.”
“Really?”
“She did. But you carry your own weight.”
“We carry each other’s.”
As they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, Arturus felt his silent laugh.
“That’s really true,” Aaron said.
Arturus gave his own silent chuckle.
Literally.
The hound burst into the room.
Arturus found himself standing, his gun in his hand. Galen was already firing Mabe’s silenced pistol. He dropped it after it was unloaded. There had only been four bullets left. The hound leapt at him. Galen pivoted away on his left foot, batting at the hound’s paws with his arm. As the hound landed, Galen gave it a soccer style kick to its ribs. The impact was enough to lift the monstrous animal.
It struck out again, leaping at him and snapping with its jaws. Galen kept his hands high and stopped the beast’s momentum by slamming both of his arms into its right shoulder. With his right hand, the warrior grabbed the thing’s ear and used that as leverage to push his forearm into its neck. The hound tried uselessly to bite at him. Galen overhooked its foreleg with his left arm. The hound must have weighed nearly four hundred pounds, but Galen was able to keep it half standing.
Galen turned to the side suddenly, as if he were going to try one of the hip throws he had taught Arturus, but instead he planted his leg next to the hound’s and dropped. They tumbled to the ground, Galen’s momentum rolling the thing as he kept a hold of its foreleg and ear.
A suicide throw. He showed me that. Everything he taught me works.
The hound struggled, feet clawing at the air, coming up on its side. It tried to regain its footing, but the throw had landed it next to the chamber’s wall. Galen kept the thing’s back legs from clawing him by putting his knee on its belly. He let go of the hellhound’s ear and clutched for the knife at his belt. The hound bit at him, but the warrior’s blade slashed its throat. Galen held it there, pinned against the stone, as it bled out.
Arturus holstered his weapon.
Aaron’s mouth hung open. “How?”
Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) Page 33
