The Collector of Remarkable Stories (19 page)

Mons Morsus

It was noon the following day when The Giant awoke from his coma and found himself squeezed into a rather uncomfortable bed of twigs and leaves. Ignoring the festering wounds which were eating away at his arms and legs, he swiftly launched himself into a standing position. In the half light he could see that he was in a small cave-like chamber furnished with crude wooden and stone furniture; a table, bench and bookcase. In the far corner near a large crudely-made wooden door he could see Margie curled up in a small ball. She appeared to be sleeping. From outside he could hear the sound of talking and shuffling and then, unnervingly, the sound of grunting and groaning. For a moment The Giant stood listening but then the searing agony hit him and he collapsed to his knees.

"Giant?" cried Margie, "Is that you?"

Margie didn’t wait for The Giant to answer. It took her half a second to reach him whereupon she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed.

"Oh Giant, I thought I’d lost you."

"Where are we?" he croaked.

"We’re in Mons Morsus. It’s okay. We’re safe for now."

"The creatures ..?"

"Gone."

The Giant studied his wounds vacantly as Margie explained exactly what had happened after he collapsed. "Your wounds are infected; we need to travel further up the mountain to a place where you can be healed."

The Giant tried to shake the fog out of his head.

"You don't have to worry about anything," said Margie softly, "the Luggers will carry you. They're very strong."

The Giant looked pale and clammy and his whole body was shaking. It was clear he was very sick. "I ain't going nowhere with no Luggs," he said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"All things considered, you really are in no fit state to make those kind of decisions," said an unfamiliar voice.

"Archie!" beamed Margie, jumping to her feet. "Look. He’s awake!"

"I can see that," said Archie warily. He could sense The Giant’s agitation. "You can choose to trust me or not. I don't care. But we don't have time to discuss it if we're going to make it through Mons Morsus before dark."

"I feel fine," muttered The Giant shakily heaving himself off the ground.

"I’ve seen these kind of wounds before," continued Archie. "These creatures have a poison in their bites that will make your skin putrefy. Believe me, it's not a pretty sight. If you want to continue your journey to the Darkest of All Places then you have to trust me. I actually think you owe it to your friend here since you’re already several days behind."

The Giant stood up and fixed Archie with a determined stare. Margie stepped in front of The Giant and placed her hands in his. "I don't want to lose you, Giant. You have to trust me. And you have to trust my new friend Archie too."

The Giant remained silent and motionless.

"You gotta promise me Giant. This is the only way you're going to find your twins."

The Giant nodded almost imperceptibly then sat down wearily, too weak to argue any further.

"Tomorrow morning I will take you and your friend to a cave which leads to a place deep underground. You must take The Giant as far as you can go and then you must leave him alone with the creature you find."

"What kind of creature?" asked Margie, her forehead suddenly creased.

""I’ve never seen it. Some people have described it as a giant hairless mole; others a great lump or maggot. It has no eyes; in the darkness it has no need for them. And it can smell decay for many miles so they say."

"It sounds hideous," said Margie. "What will it do to The Giant?"

"It will eat his rotting flesh."

Margie's face crumpled in disgust.

"It sounds worse than it is," replied Archie. "The creature's name is Phagge the Greedy; it eats all the bad stuff and leaves behind the good stuff. Unless of course it takes a dislike to your friend in which case he's doomed."

Margie's eyes widened. "You don't meant that!"

"Is that a question or a threat?" asked Archie.

"What would happen to him if we didn't take him?"

"He won't make it to the Darkest of All Places."

Margie's stared at Archie. Her brain was tied up in so many knots that she simply couldn't put into words the questions she so desperately needed to ask.

Archie inched closer to The Giant, nervously studying his wounds. "It's not like you think," he said to Margie. "Death isn't permanent here. You either wake up like nothing has happened. Or you get reassigned. If that happened it would be nearly impossible to see him again and ..." Archie shrugged uncomfortably. "You never know
where
he might end up. It's not always for the better if you know what I mean."

Margie turned to The Giant and placed her arms around his head. She didn't need to say anything more.

"You mustn't worry," said Archie walking towards the door. "It's a dangerous journey but a necessary one if you want him to survive."

It was early the following morning when Archie ushered The Giant and Margie out of the cave-like dwelling and asked them to follow him closely as they made their way towards the mountain.

The weary Giant, supported either side by two Luggers, looked out through the doorway. Before him lay a dark and troubled landscape littered with jagged rocks and swamp-like waters. Beyond the wasteland was a tall mountain, which pierced the dark, heavy clouds like a weapon of war.

The Giant turned his attention to the festering bite wounds that riddled his body. He could feel each one like a bullet with waves of burning, throbbing pain.

"Are you ready?" asked Archie.

The Giant nodded wearily and so their journey through Mons Morsus began.

For several hours the group followed a faint trail which took them through a gloomy valley of ashen sand and rock. It felt to Margie like all the colour had been stripped away; stolen and never replaced. Even Archie and The Giant were devoid of colour; their skin and clothes just various hues of grey. A heavy cloud hung low in the sky while desiccated trees reached up out of the ground like great angry shards.

"It's so quiet," whispered Margie, her voice sounding muffled.

"Be careful," shouted Archie.

Margie was confused for although he was standing right next to her, his voice sounded much further away.

"It's the mountain", continued Archie. "It has so little, it will take anything it can. Even our voices." He stopped for a moment to gather his bearings. "We have to be careful it doesn't take more than that."

"What do you mean?" shouted Margie, her voice barely audible.

"It will take your thoughts, your energy and your emotions. Everything. You must try to stay calm and quiet and strong or you will become a ghost of yourself, like the moulted skin of a snake."

Together they trudged onwards through the lifeless terrain. It was as though they were trapped in an old faded black-and-white photo; nothing moving, nothing changing. One foot in front of the other, hour after hour, minute after minute, second after second. Margie no longer looked ahead, only the ground on which she trod, one heavy footstep after another. She tried to think about one thing or another, but her thoughts disappeared like shadows in the night. Eventually Archie stopped walking and motioned, by tugging on his ear, for everyone to listen. Somewhere in the distance, Margie thought she heard the sound of someone wailing.

"We're nearly there!" shouted Archie. "We've nearly reached Mons Morsus."

Looking up, Margie could only see the same desolate landscape stretching out as far as the eye could see. No mountains. No caves. No giant mole-like creatures. "We're not!" she snapped bitterly. "We're not nearly anywhere at all!" But her words never reached Archie's ears; they were too quickly devoured by the hungry silence that had been their companion since the start of their journey.

Oblivious to Margie's outburst, Archie set off again. This time at a pace with Eddie circling slowly over head.

Margie paused. She was in no mood to continue. The journey felt torturous to her; lonely and oppressive. She felt empty and would have laid down to rest had the Luggers not - at that moment -trouped past - steadily - dutifully - with her desperately ill friend. They looked so cumbersome and clumsy with their heavy, overgrown features yet they carried The Giant on a stretcher between them like he was made of the finest glass.

Suddenly, Margie heard the wailing noise again. Where was it coming from? No matter which way she tilted her head, she couldn't figure it out. What she
could
fathom, however, was that it sounded different. Not muffled. It didn't sound like her voice did. No, this voice was as sharp and as clear as any sound she had ever heard. Perhaps, she thought, it had been brought in on the wind, out of the reach of those greedy desert hands.

Margie felt buoyed. The sound of that voice was like a key which freed her from her solitary confinement. It imbued her with just enough hope to see her through the remainder of the journey. Not, I imagine, that Margie would have made any concerted effort to hurry-up had she known what lay just around the corner.

It was late in the evening when they eventually came to a small makeshift town of crudely built tents and huts. The wailing sound that Margie had heard faintly earlier in the day had grown steadily louder. Now, as they entered the town, the noise almost deafened them. Margie was the only one able to gain some kind of respite from the noise by pressing her hands to her ears. For Archie and the Luggers, the noise was like shards of glass being shot into their ears. Only now did Margie realise how the noise had reached her in the desert.

Margie was still unable to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. It was a disorientating cacophony of noise which seemed to be coming from all around her. Yet, despite the air being thick with anger, pain and sadness, she could see no one. The town appeared to be abandoned.

Unnerved by the disembodied sounds, she shuffled up closer to Archie. "There's nothing to be frightened of," he shouted over the din, "nothing can hurt you here! I promise!"

No sooner had Archie spoken these words than the entire town fell quiet. The pitiful laments stopped. The wailing and crying stopped. In the deafening silence that followed Margie and her new friends suddenly felt very exposed.

Inching together they became aware of people emerging from the shadows. Margie could see that every one of them, men and women alike, appeared to be injured with broken arms and legs, bloody noses, black eyes, busted lips ...

She took a sharp intake of breath, horrified by what she was seeing. What tragedy had befallen these people? Was this the result of some kind of battle? Some natural disaster?
She looked around her but couldn't see any evidence of a cataclysmic event. She simply couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.

"We have to help them," she cried, stepping away from the group.

"No," hissed Archie. "They're the Pain Bearers. There's nothing we can do. Believe me!"

He fixed Margie with a determined stare. Begrudgingly, Margie rejoined the group and watched with growing horror as the people of the town gingerly made their way out of the shadows. It quickly became apparent to Margie that, instead of seeking help, the injured townsfolk looked irritated.

"Eff off!" shouted one fractious old man, whose fists looked bloodied and swollen.

"Yea, bugger off and don't come back!" shouted another throwing a rock in their direction.

As the light of day illuminated their faces, Margie could see only anger in their eyes.

What's more, the more she looked, and the more angry they became, the worse their injuries seemed to get.

Margie noticed one man in particular whose body was so broken and contorted it resembled nothing but a mangled spider. His eyes bulged out of their sockets in pain and horror yet, fuelled by hate and rage, he continued to try to claw his way across the ground towards them.

Archie and the Luggers retreated slightly but Margie stood rooted to the spot, aghast at what she was seeing. Then, before the man could reach her, Margie heard a loud crack. Then another. And another. And that's when Margie noticed the man's body clicking back together until eventually he was standing up straight, as though nothing had ever been wrong.

Margie’s hand flew up to her mouth as the man marched angrily towards her.

Archie rushed forward and hooked Margie's arm with one of the armoured gloves. "Whatever you do," he hissed, dragging Margie away, "don’t look
anyone
in the eye. And don’t get caught up in any discussion. If they ask you a question just ignore them, no matter what. Do you understand?"

Margie nodded, trying to keep pace with Archie. In fact, she had little choice in the matter as whatever he had used to hook her was still caught in her sleeve. Worse still, he seemed eager to catch up with the Luggers, who were already some way ahead with The Giant.

"I thought you said they couldn't hurt us," shouted Margie as they ran.

"They can't," shouted Archie breathlessly, "it's just-"

His reply was interrupted by a loud, angry voice shouting the word "oy" somewhere to their left. Margie and Archie stopped and turned. It was the same man whom Margie had just witnessed rejuvenating himself.