Beyond These Walls (Book 6): Three Days

by Robertson, Michael

  “No, but at least I can take this one down. We’ll deal with the others when it comes to it. We can use this narrow path to our advantage.”

  “This damp and slippery path, you mean? This path they know infinitely better than we do?”

  Cyrus had already started to scale the wall with the gentler gradient. The craggy surface gave him places for his feet and hands, offering a similar escape to the one they’d made from the diseased pit.

  “Now’s not the time, William,” Artan said. He slipped the handle of his war hammer down the back of his shirt, freeing his hands for the climb.

  “Come on, Hawk,” one of the hunters called. “Come back, man. You’ll get soaked.”

  “I need a minute.”

  Hawk drew closer to the bend, and William held firm for a second longer. But Cyrus and Artan were right. If he fought them now, they might never get to Matilda and Olga. This would be playing into Grandfather Jacks’ hands. Like Artan had done, he slid Jezebel’s handle down the back of his sodden shirt before jogging back and joining his friends in their climb out of there.

  Cyrus reached the top first, Artan a few seconds later. William finally climbed up, rolling onto the ledge and out of sight. Hawk hadn’t yet reached the bend.

  Max took up the rear, scrambling up the side of the wall to get away before Hawk appeared. He slipped. William’s heart spiked and he gasped.

  But Max had only made a small slip from where he struggled to find purchase on the slick walls. The toes of his right boot found another tiny ledge, his fingers turning white from where he gripped on. He felt the wall with his left boot and regained his footing before continuing his climb. Until he slipped again. This time both of his feet went.

  William lurched forwards and caught the back of Max’s sodden wrists. The rain came down so hard it stung, his clothes clinging to him.

  Max desperately tried to find purchase on the wet wall, his feet slipping and sliding. His weight dragged William gradually down with him. Max then froze when one of the hunters called after Hawk for a second time. “Come back. Jack wasn’t thinking. You know what he’s like.”

  “I’m fine,” Hawk said. In just a few more steps, he’d round the bend. “I just need a moment.”

  Max slipped by several inches at once, dragging William over the side. Were it not for Artan catching his ankles, they would have both fallen back down to the path. Hawk’s steps drew closer. They didn’t have time to hide. “Just let us go,” William said. “We have no choice but to fight.”

  Chapter 19

  Barp!

  The sound, accompanied by another sharp blow to the back of her head, roused Olga. The swish of her clothes dragged over the stone floor. Two guards pulled her along by her ankles down a long and dark corridor like every corridor she’d travelled in this place. The shadows closed in from all sides, the slight glow from the small suns on the walls ineffective against the swamping darkness.

  A throbbing headache pulsed through Olga’s eyes. If the rhythmic pain surged any harder, her eyeballs would burst. The rough ground tore into her shoulder blades, but she kept her head raised so she didn’t slam it against the stone again. Another two guards dragged Matilda beside her.

  Barp!

  Olga kicked her feet, both guards gripping on tighter. “Where are you taking us?”

  The bright blue glow from one of the poles dazzled her. A guard at her side held it inches from her face. It fizzed and crackled, spitting a restrained fury that craved release.

  The guards halted. Olga kicked her legs again, twisting and turning. The person with the pole moved into the light. Another woman, this one with short black hair. She pulled the pole away, walked close to Olga, gritted her teeth, and pressed the sole of her dirty boot into her neck.

  Barp!

  Gasping for breath, Olga clamped a grip on the woman’s ankle and tried to push her away. But the woman leaned in, pressing incrementally harder, the grit on her boot cutting into Olga’s skin.

  Stars swam in Olga’s vision, and the echo of her ragged pants mocked her struggle. Her heart raced, her world fading. But before she blacked out, a door opened on her right, and the woman lifted her boot. Much like the prison cell, the large wooden door had a small window. Hung on strong steel hinges, it would take a team of people with a battering ram to knock it down.

  After dragging her into the cell, the man and woman dropped Olga’s feet, her ankles slamming against the ground. The two guards who’d dragged Matilda did the same. Olga stood on wobbly legs, her breathing still tight. The guard who’d crushed her throat close by, Olga kicked the pole from her hands. The long bar spun away from her and clattered into a far wall. The short-haired woman lunged forward, driving a hard blow into Olga’s stomach.

  Barp!

  Olga’s diaphragm spasmed and she went down onto one knee. The woman took a two-step run-up, but before she could stick the boot in, several guards caught her and dragged her away. A metallic taste when she coughed, Olga spat blood on the floor.

  The two guards who’d dragged Olga along the corridor lifted her by grabbing under her arms. Another two already had Matilda on her feet. The man leaned so close to Olga she smelled his rotten breath, the hot press of his words against her skin. “We own you. You will learn to yield.”

  “I’ll die before I do that.”

  “Careful what you wish for.” The guards dragged her over to a line of racks against the far wall.

  Barp!

  Olga twisted in an attempt to break free. The man kept a hold of her and drove his forehead into her nose, a burst of white light blinding her. When he pulled back, a splash of her blood decorated his forehead.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Olga said, her eyes watering, blood running over her lips and dripping from her chin.

  The man yanked her arm up by her left wrist. He tied it to a bar above her head. The rope he’d used to bind her bit into the cuts already there. The woman on the other side did the same to her other wrist, the same burn of her reopening wounds on that side.

  “You think this will stop me?” Olga said, her wrists on fire.

  Barp!

  The man shoved a cloth into her mouth, his fingers driving it so deep she gagged. He blindfolded her with another strip of fabric, which he tied with a tight knot at the back of her head. “He likes them small and feisty,” the man said before gently stroking her face. “I’ll make sure I give him my personal recommendation for you.”

  Olga shook against the bonds at her wrists, her feet now bound at the ankles.

  A woman announced, “Praise be to the High Father.”

  The room responded. At least six guards, the echo of the collective chant swirled around the small and damp dungeon. “Praise be.”

  The guards left the room and one person entered. The gentle steps of their soft gait, they drew closer to Olga.

  Barp!

  A sniffing in Olga’s ear. The back of her neck clenched. Another sniff sent a spasm twisting along her spine. The man let out a low and aroused groan that melted into words. “Mmmmmmm—I like this one.”

  Olga snapped forward, but the man caught her brow and shoved her head against the wall. He shook from the force, driving her back against the cold stone, pressing like he wanted to crack her skull. Ten to fifteen seconds passed as he held her in place. A display of his complete control.

  Tears streamed from Olga’s eyes and she finally yielded.

  Grandfather Jacks let her go and stepped back. He laughed, a deep bass note of mirth that came from his toes. “She’s feisty. I like the challenge.”

  A wet tongue ran from the bottom of Olga’s chin, up across her lips, and to her nose. The man remained just inches from her. His words shuddered as he pressed into her, his crotch swelling against her thigh. “I love the taste of fresh blood. I like to drink your essence.”

  Barp!

  The echo from the loud tone died out as Grandfather Jacks’ gentle steps left the room.

  Olga blinked to clear he
r tears. A swollen lump clogged her throat. A man removed her blindfold and pulled out her gag. Just him alone with them in the cell, he wore a black executioner’s hood and long black leather gloves. Other than that, he stood naked from the waist up. Broad shoulders, thick pecs, and a muscly back, he crossed the room to Matilda and removed her blindfold and gag. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot.

  The man might have worn a hood, but it didn’t hide the scars around his neck. Similar to Hawk’s and Carl’s, it looked like someone had tried to decapitate him. What had been done to him? To all three of them?

  The glint of a blade at least six inches long in his right hand, the semi-naked man returned to Olga. “You come anywhere near me with that thing,” she said, “and I’m going to take it off you and shove it up your arse.”

  The man halted and tilted his head to one side. His dark eyes glistened as they stared from the depths of his hood.

  “You’re a really big man, aren’t you?” Olga said. “It must take some minerals to be able to dominate bound girls.”

  The man turned away. Matilda’s breaths quickened when he walked over to her, waving his blade in her direction.

  Barp!

  “What are you doing?” Olga said.

  The man swiped his blade through the air and Matilda screamed.

  “What are you doing to her?” Olga shook against her bonds, the cuts on her wrists stinging. “Come over here, you coward. Take a piece of me.”

  Another swipe and Matilda screamed again.

  Barp!

  “I said come here.”

  Matilda hung limp and whimpered. Olga fought against her restraints, but they were tied too tight, every tug running a nauseating fiery streak down her forearms. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just leave her alone.”

  The man approached Olga with slow and deliberate steps. Blood dripped from the end of his sharp knife. Olga winced in anticipation of his attack.

  The man breathed heavily and spoke with a high-pitched lisp. “I think you misunderstand me, little girl. I don’t want anything from you. We don’t need to know anything. The whole purpose of this is to make you pliable enough to receive the High Father’s wisdom. And time is of the essence because he would like you compliant for tomorrow night’s ceremony.”

  Barp!

  Olga cried when the torturer lifted his blade again. But instead of coming for her, he crossed the room and headed back to Matilda.

  Chapter 20

  William’s forearms ached from holding onto Max. It must have been twice as bad for Artan gripping onto his ankles behind him, supporting the weight of both of them. Jezebel’s axe head rested against the back of William’s skull, daring him to go down and fight. Maybe she had a point. What good did it do anyone hanging there waiting to be taken out with a spear? “Artan,” he said, “let us go.”

  If anything, Artan’s grip tightened, and all of them remained frozen as they lay down the slope. In a few more steps, Hawk would appear around the bend.

  William shook, his muscles aching. Artan might not let him go, but he couldn’t hold Max for much longer.

  “Hawk!”

  Max turned sharply towards where they expected Hawk to appear. He pulled William a little farther down the slope.

  “Will you be long, Hawk?”

  The hunter waited for a few seconds before he replied, “No. Come on.” His voice grew quieter as he returned to his tribe. “Let’s get moving. We have some deer to catch.”

  About thirty seconds later, Max said, “Can I climb up now?”

  While biting his bottom lip, William breathed through his nose and nodded. Another few useless attempts to find his footing, Max scraped the toes of his boots against the wall before he finally found a small ledge. One toe on it and then the other, his legs shook like William’s arms, his entire weight balanced on the very edge of his boots. Another step, a little higher this time. Slower than when he’d been trying to get away in the first place, he made steady progress up the wall.

  As if to reassure William, Artan clamped a tighter grip on his ankles. He had him.

  Max climbed over William, grabbing the sides of his body first. He reached over his back and grabbed his belt. He gripped the fabric of his trousers on the back of his thighs before moving up to Artan as he continued his climb.

  Artan tugged William’s ankles, pulling him up the wall. Although William tried to help by pushing off the hard steel, the others worked together, moving him quicker than he could keep up, his stomach scraping as they pulled him clear.

  The others moved on as William took the time to shake his arms in an attempt to encourage the life back into them. But it would take longer than a few seconds for the fatigue to ease. Even Jezebel’s weight had become a burden.

  William joined Cyrus and the others. They stood on a ledge overlooking the hunters. They were gathered around the mouth of the cave they’d used to seek shelter from the rain. Close to twenty fit boys and young men, if they’d been drawn into combat, they would have wiped the floor with William and his friends.

  The group of hunters waited for the broad-shouldered Hawk to pass them. He moved with heavy steps and a wide strut unique to someone with thighs as thick as his.

  Although the hunters had gathered around idly waiting, when Hawk got to the front, they fell into single file, raised their spears, and followed their leader. They might not have looked like it seconds before, but now they were on the move, this lot were ready to fight.

  The wind even stronger now they were higher up, it hammered against William, who stepped back from the edge.

  “Do you think the girls have given up on us?” Max said once they’d all pulled back. “From what those hunters were just saying about Grandfather Jacks, they have a lot of other things to deal with.”

  “I’m not sure it matters whether they’re thinking about us or not,” Cyrus said. He reached across and clapped a hand on Max’s sodden shoulder. Max shrugged it off and pulled away from him, but Cyrus continued anyway. “We’re going to find them and get them away from that man and his community before it’s too late. And don’t worry about Olga. Not only can she look after herself, but she will have worked out by now why you pushed her away. I’m sure she’s had plenty of time to think.”

  “Maybe you should keep your thoughts to yourself,” Max said. “How about you focus on what you can do to help us in this moment rather than speculating on my relationships?”

  Had William had more to offer, he would have said it, but Cyrus was right and Max was angry. He wouldn’t calm down until they found Olga. They did need to keep moving, and to some extent it didn’t matter what the girls thought. Or what the boys thought they thought. After all, they could only guess what went through the girls’ minds at that moment. And the fact remained, they had to get to the community before the full moon. As long as they did that, they stood a chance of getting them away from there. He flicked his head in the direction they needed to go. “Come on, let’s keep moving. If we stay away from the edge, the hunters won’t see us up here.”

  From a distance, the top of the wall had looked flat, but now they were on it, it had as many hills and valleys as any other terrain. Although William had encouraged them to move on, he allowed the others to go ahead of him, taking up the rear while Artan led.

  Many of the birds in the sky above them were new to William. Some of them were larger than he’d thought possible. In Edin, he’d seen robins, crows, and pigeons. Once or twice a month, a sparrowhawk would streak through the sky, but they never stopped long enough to allow him a good look. The wingspans of some of the birds now overhead stretched at least a metre wide. They showed off their impressive silhouettes while riding the currents, some of them flapping to remain still as they hovered. They watched the ground, ready to dive.

  Artan stopped, but William couldn’t see why until he caught up to him and recognised the man. “He’s one of the retired hunters.” All four of them gathered around the corpse in
their path. “I recognise him from Umbriel. Although I can’t remember his name. I want to say Carl. He was a miserable bastard.”

  “Weren’t they all?” Artan said.

  “You think he was one of the hunters who took the girls?” Max said.

  Artan shrugged. “His wounds are fresh.”

  One of the larger birds hovered above them. William gripped Jezebel tighter. No matter how magnificent the creature, if that sharp beak and talons dived on them right now, he’d have no problem swinging for it.

  Cyrus said, “But who did that to him? I don’t believe this has anything to do with the girls.”

  The corpse had a swollen and bloody face from where he’d clearly been beaten to death or very close to it. Grim, but maybe necessary in a fight. But the cuts on his eyes … they were something else. Two deep crosses as if whoever attacked him wanted to make sure he’d never see again. Or maybe to prevent him from witnessing what they were about to do to him. The gashes were at least an inch long. They were so deep, flashes of white bone glistened in the crimson.

  The man’s shirt had been ripped open. A strong body, but flabby with age, the word sinner had been scored across his fleshy chest. As with the cuts on his eyes, they ran deep enough to reveal glimpses of the bone beneath.

  “And whoever did that to him,” William said, “what does it mean for the girls?”

  Several snapping heaves took over Cyrus, who walked away from the corpse. Artan and Max followed a few seconds later, Max shaking his head at Cyrus’ weak stomach. About six feet away, Artan halted. “Come on, William. There’s nothing more to see here.”

  But what did it mean for the girls? Could they have done this? Matilda, no, but maybe Olga. Rage could do strange things to people. And if she had done it to him, what had the man done to her to warrant such an extreme response?

  “Artan!” Cyrus had now walked at least twenty feet away from the others. He pointed down. “There’s a hole. It might be a way out of here.”

  After staring at the bloody crosses for a second or two longer, William moved off to be with his friends. Where were the girls right now, and what had happened to them since leaving Umbriel?