Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) (27 page)

He stood dizzily, flexing his arm. His elbow was sore, but didn’t seem to be seriously damaged. He heard the sound of his own gun being cocked. The infidel stood before him, pointing the pistol at his head. Outside he could hear the guards shouting.

He incited me. He used my anger against me. These men are devils.

“Well,” Aaron said, “I guess you can call me Susan now.”

“Sadly. I cannot,” the infidel replied. “For you, in your prudence, neglected to load your weapon.”

Thank God I follow my own orders.

The infidel reversed his grip on the gun and offered it to Aaron.

Aaron accepted the weapon. Then he slammed it into the man’s head. “I was just starting to like you, too.”

The infidel had fallen into the corner, bleeding from his brow line where the gun’s sighting had hit him.

“Everything okay in there?” Aaron recognized Patrick’s deep voice.

“Fucking great. Thanks for asking.”

Aaron touched a finger to his own brow. The cut didn’t seem bad. “I’m sure you’ll miss me.”

The man stirred, rolling over and touching the wrappings on his thigh. “In all honesty, I will.”

“Oh?”

“When you’re gone, Duncan feeds me.”

“I wish I could go with them,” Martin lied to ole Bense.

Martin was leaning back against the stone wall of the Fore. It was shaping up to be another busy Harpsborough day, and that made Benson an even better companion than usual. The still man’s eternal, unblinking stare and perfect silence had a tendency to put people off. Privacy, in these times, was a gift Martin would take gladly. Ole Bense also didn’t have anything to say, which made him a perfect listener.

He saw two people, Aleck and Sarah, chasing each other. Aleck had somehow gotten a hold of her hair tie and was attempting to keep it away. They ran through the village, jumping over other people, disturbing belongings and tearing down door curtains.

“Even with all these people, it’s kind of quiet. Except for them,” Martin observed.

Benson’s stare did not follow the pair as they ran by.

“Because of the expedition, you know. They’re all waiting to see them off. Probably no big deal, though. I mean, how far into the Carrion could Julian have gone? He’s probably right on the other side of the barrier, sleeping on a pillow of devilwheat.”

Smoke began billowing up from the stone floor above the still. Martin watched it swirl upwards towards the Harpsborough ceiling.

“That’s good news for us, eh? Mancini’s a brewin’. People will be sad tonight, with the hunters gone. He’ll be making us some comfort. We’ll have to get comforted ourselves.”

It was definitely quieter than it should have been, Martin decided. People were waking up later and later as well. All their routines had been changed. Usually, the villagers would try and head out into the wilds in the morning, traveling to whatever secret caches they had to gather a living. Afterwards they would keep searching, hoping to stumble upon another find. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they’d discover one like Julian’s. Martin had always hated that rat race. He had done it himself, before he became a Hunter. Once he had found a hungerleaf tree growing in a cavern by the Kingsriver. It had been enough to keep him fed for a
while. He hadn’t claimed it with the Fore though, and he hadn’t the will to shoot the poor girl who had found it after him. She swore she’d found it first.

Hell, maybe she was right.

A man named Dooley saw to it now. The girl had gone missing a couple of years ago.

“It’d be like the old days, Bense. Like when Baker was still Lead Hunter. I miss camping out in the wilds. Dangerous as shit, you know, but the camaraderi
e
. .
.
We don’t have that anymore. That’s what’s wrong with hunters these days. We don’t camp out in the wilds, so we turn against each other. I think Kyle would probably shoot somebody for the killer’s lot. Hardly enough for us to eat, anymore.”

The smoke was beginning to coalesce on the ceiling. If Mancini was making a particularly big batch, the smoke would become thick enough to look like clouds. Martin would pretend that there was no stone above him, just the empty sky, stretched out forever above the haze.

“Going to be cloudy, Bense. This is the first time I’ve been mad about the hand thing, you know. I don’t mind when the girls look at it funny, they look at me funny anyway. And the food’s been great. But my fellow hunters are going out into the Carrion without me. I wish I could go. I ain’t afraid of that place. Why would I be?”

Benson’s eyes seemed to glaze over.

It was just from the smoke, Martin realized.

He looked above him to the clouds. The smoke on the far edge of the chamber began to descend upon the church. It was as if he could see the air behind the steeple.

“It’ll be a damn good brew.”

The smoky fog increased in thickness until all the villagers of Harpsborough looked like two dimensional cut outs, moving amidst the haze.

“Hunting’s probably real thick in the Carrion. It ain’t devoid of devils like we are here, that’s for sure. Probably a ton of food in there. I can’t believe I ain’t going, Bense. I should be out there with them. All because I was smuggling shells. Shit, everybody was doing it. I’m just the only one who got caught, you know?”

He coughed a little, but the smoke was starting to lessen. “I’ll share some with you, Bense, though God only knows why. You get all that sinfruit juice for free. You’re a damn lucky man, Bense, a damn lucky man.”

The village came alive as Aaron exited the Fore, clustering around him and the men who followed. The Lead Hunter seemed angry, and had a cut on his brow.

“Look at him! He’s all business,” he told Benson. “Wouldn’t want to get on his bad side today.”

The last of the hunters Aaron had chosen came out of the Fore.

“He would have chosen me, Benson. You know he would have.”

Duncan and Fitch were there, of course. They were an inseparable pair now, and famous for backing up Michael on his hunt. Avery had been chosen, too. They’d assigned him the AK-47. They’d picked Kyle, their best shot, who had his M-24 strapped across his back. Kyle was slow to aim, but if you gave the man enough time, he would not miss. Patrick and Johnny Huang had also been invited.

“I wouldn’t have chosen them. They were probably picked just because they were out looking for Julian earlier. And they didn’t take Graham. I’d have taken Graham.”

Wistan and Mabe were the last to leave the Fore. They were great runners, and Mabe had a peculiarly good sense of direction.

The group had all assembled. Martin could not help but feel a sense of pride while looking at his fellow hunters.

“Those are some bad motherfuckers,” Martin told Benson. “The Carrion better watch itself. They’re going to fuck that place up. Just you wait, Bense. And Galen’s coming too. Whew! Be lucky if a demon is left alive in there.”

He heard some announcements at the entranceway. It was hard to make out their figures through the smoke, but Martin could recognize them as they came closer.

He saw Galen, Rick, Arturus, and that mouthy girl he had met in front of the Fore.

Water was dripping down Benson’s cheek.

“You okay there?”

It was the smoke, Martin realized. It had irritated Benson’s eyes until the water in them had turned into tears.

“I feel you, Bense. I feel you. I’m scared for them, too. Don’t you worry. Our boys will come back. You’ll see.”

He saw Galen and Arturus join the group of hunters. They began shaking hands in greeting. The villagers’ voices began to pick up, making Harpsborough sound like it was humming. Citizens began to appear on the street as well, coming out of the Fore to help see off the hunters.

“You’ll see.”

The villagers surrounded Aaron on all sides. His men were being showered with goodbyes and good lucks.

Is this how Michael felt, when he went out to hunt?

As the leader, he was afforded a special kind of consideration. It was as if people believed that his survival was assured.

“Take care of Mabe for me? Okay? Make sure he comes back?”

“Don’t let the Carrion take Julian.”

“Keep their heads on straight, out there.”

He nodded seriously to each person’s requests. Their hands reached out to touch him as they spoke.

“Let’s start heading towards the entranceway,” Aaron ordered his hunters.

Together the hunters tried to move. Each step was a battle. The villagers’ hands clung to him, holding him back. Their wishes weighed on him. Each person he was told to safeguard served only to further his worry about their death. The hunters’ movement ceased. One of his men near the front had stopped to speak to someone. A loved one, perhaps.

He found himself looking through the throng for a single face.

Alice.

She came to him, pushing through the masses.

“Alice!”

She smiled and put her arms around him. “Come back soon. Don’t let them take you.”

Finally. Someone cares about me.

“I will. I promise. If we’re even able to live through this.”

She smiled sweetly. He could smell her when she was this close. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply. “Go get Julian,” she whispered into his ear. “Be a good tiger and get him.”

There was something very right about her telling him this. He closed his eyes.

I’m her warrior. I have to fight for her.

He opened his eyes and looked ahead. No one was moving yet. He caught sight of Duncan, shaking hands with Copperfield. He saw Fitch and Michael, shouting into each other’s ears. Galen seemed to be enjoying it all, smiling and shaking people’s hands. His actions reminded Aaron of a politician. Arturus was beset as well. He had that young girl, Ellen, from the wilds. She was kissing him on the cheek.

“He’s not going, is he?” Alice said suddenly.

“Who?”

“Turi? You’re taking Turi into the Carrion?”

“It was Galen’s decision.”

“Why? You can’t let him go! He’ll get killed out there. Aaron, you have to put your foot down. You can’t let this happen.”

Her blue eyes narrowed, focusing on the boy. Aaron admired her profile, her sharp nose and angular jaw.

“He’s our tunnel rat. We have to have someone small enough to go where Julian goes.”

“He’s nearly full grown.”

“Would you rather we take someone younger?”

She shook her head. Then she reached into her pocket and produced a thin braid of hair. “It’s supposed to bring you luck. Massan told me that this is what people used to do.”

Aaron nodded. He was sure he’d heard of that in one story or another.

He saw Chelsea out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly felt dizzy.

I’m sorry, Chelsea. This is the woman I love.

“Let’s keep it moving,” Aaron shouted to his hunters, doing his best to avoid making eye contact with Chelsea. “Julian’s out there and he needs our help.”

Slowly, the hunters began to walk again. The people’s hopes and prayers melded together into one congruous hum.

It’s only a place. We’ll be fine.

The villagers were worried, Aaron realized. Without this food they would starve. He was their hope. The Citizens didn’t care nearly as much, but he figured they should. If the people got too hungry, they wouldn’t go into the wilds of Hell to gather. Why would they, when there was plenty right there in the Fore?

It’s only a place in Hell.

Finally, they made it to the entranceway, and the hunters entered into the wilds. Aaron looked behind him. The people were there, waiting. Graham and a couple of the remaining hunters began moving them back into the village. They didn’t touch Alice, though.

She’ll watch us till we’re gone.

He saw Chelsea, too. The guards wouldn’t harass her either, as she was a Citizen. The last image of Harpsborough Aaron saw before he left was that of Chelsea and Alice holding hands.

Arturus moved with the hunters and their silent procession. His pack was heavier than usual. He had brought with him some woodstone torches of the type that Rick made because they lasted longer than Copperfield’s. He had also brought enough food and water for three days along with a medical kit. Galen had said his razor could double as a knife, so he kept that in his pocket. He thought bringing all of this was a bit much, but he had been warned that they might not be able to return from the Carrion at will.

He counted the missing rivets of rustrock as they followed along the old road.

One day, I could repair this road. There is a quarry of rustrock towards the Pole. I could dig out some and put the rivets back in.

He wondered if that had been done already. Maybe if he studied the rustrock road markers he could find subtle differences between those made by the builders of the road, and those who repaired it.

Who were the people who built this road, anyway? Was it the King on the River who had ordered it built? Someone else? Someone older?