Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) Read online

  “An infidel. Turi sent me for help. We found an infidel wounded on the river.”

  “What?” Fitch shouted back.

  “An infidel!”

  “God damn. Get Aaron.”

  Arturus finished bandaging the man’s leg, and as quickly as he could, redrew his pistol. Normally he would have done a tourniquet on that limb, but it had stopped bleeding already. There were some burn marks there, too, which must have helped cauterize the wound. The burns were too sporadic to have been carefully applied. They appeared to have been caused by dyitzu fire.

  Could this be deliberate? Could he have meant to burn these wounds closed?

  He leaned back against the wall of Ellen’s chamber. She had chalked something into the hellstone. It read: “Remember.”

  Don’t look away.

  The Infidel Friend was breathing deeply, as if sleeping.

  “I know you’re awake,” Arturus tried.

  If the Infidel Friend wasn’t unconscious, he was calling Arturus’ bluff.

  Arturus had left his safety on. Galen had taught him to do that so he wouldn’t accidentally take another person’s life, but he didn’t know if that applied to an infidel.

  It would only be a little longer. If he could just hold on until Ellen returned. What if she hadn’t made it? What if she’d been killed on the way? What if she’d gotten so lost that he’d never see her again?

  The man took a sudden breath, and his eyes shot open.

  Arturus jumped, his left hand flying to the safety.

  The Infidel Friend’s head lolled over towards Arturus. One of his eyes was as bloodshot as a still man’s. The other was clear. His voice was hardly a whisper.

  “Safe?”

  Arturus nodded.

  The man’s eyes closed again. Arturus waited, but he showed no more signs of life.

  Come on, Ellen, don’t leave me alone in here.

  She’d only been to Harpsborough a couple of times, but surely she would have run into the road. Maybe not at the right spot, but she would have run into it.

  Arturus jumped again when he heard voices from the river room outside. One of them was Galen’s. The rest seemed like they were Harpsborough hunters.

  He must have seen my note.

  “Turi, you in there?” Aaron shouted.

  The shouting didn’t seem to disturb the Infidel Friend.

  “Yes, everything’s fine,” Arturus reported.

  They came in with weapons raised anyway, except for Ellen, whose gun was holstered. Aaron sent his two hunters to the corners of the room. They trained their rifles at the wounded man as Galen and Aaron moved towards him.

  Arturus showed them the mark on the man’s palm.

  “Should we kill him?” One hunter asked.

  Aaron shook his head. “Death comes from the Fore.”

  “You dressed the wounds well, Turi,” Galen commented, looking at the bandages. “Is that a bullet wound in his shoulder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you remove the bullet?”

  “No.”

  “Do so now.” Galen turned to the hunters. “He’s stable enough not to die.”

  Arturus went back into his pack. He had no forceps, but he found some large tweezers in his kit.

  Well, this isn’t going to be easy.

  “The other infidels wouldn’t know we killed him,” one hunter pointed out. “Maybe we should finish him off now.”

  “Maybe,” Galen answered. “How many in Harpsborough know of this?”

  Aaron looked at Ellen. “She shouted it in front of the entire city. No way we’d keep it a secret from the hermits and traders.”

  Galen nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Ellen said.

  “You did nothing wrong,” Galen assured her.

  Galen knelt by the Infidel Friend while Arturus removed the bandage around the man’s shoulder. Arturus pushed at the wound with the tweezers, finding the bullet quickly. He was able to work the bullet out with surprising ease, and began to re-apply the bandage.

  “You’re good at that, Turi,” Aaron said.

  “Galen makes me practice getting the bullets out of dyitzu.”

  “Smart.”

  The Infidel Friend’s eyes opened.

  Galen bent over him, getting closer than any other dared. “Easy, we’re healing you.”

  “Ares?” the man asked, “is that you?”

  “You’ve mistaken me for someone else, friend,” Galen replied. “You are in the lands of Harpsborough, and your kind are not welcome here.”

  “Harm me not.”

  Aaron bent down to meet the man’s gaze. “You will be treated fairly.”

  The infidel’s head lolled again.

  Arturus finished the bandage and quickly checked the man’s pulse. It was harder to find than normal, and slow, but it was still there. “He’s lost consciousness again.”

  Galen and Aaron stood up together.

  “We can’t leave him here,” Aaron said.

  “Undoubtedly, but moving him might be dangerous. Best not to get him killed unless we mean to.”

  “I want him in Harpsborough,” Aaron said.

  Galen nodded. “Agreed. We’ll need a stretcher to take him there.”

  Aaron looked over to the two guards. “Go back to Harpsborough. Talk to Chelsea and get something to carry him on. Be back as soon as you can.”

  The hunters nodded and left.

  “What’s he doing all the way out here?” Aaron asked.

  Galen shrugged and moved to the man’s equipment.

  “Ellen found him in the river,” Arturus said. “Who knows how far upstream he fell in.”

  Galen grunted. “It’s not like one of them to get caught in an ambush. It happens, but not often. There must be some conglomeration of devils upstream.”

  “Should we check it out?” Aaron asked.

  “You may find more devils, surely, and if your city is starving, it might be worth it. But you may come back with more than you bargained for. Infidel Friend often move in packs.”

  “Can we afford just to sit by?”

  Galen shook his head. “When he awakens we need to find out what he knows. He may just be ranging. He could be lost. But he could also be a scout. He might know where the devils have gone.”

  Arturus heard Aaron’s swallow.

  He looked at the Infidel Friend. It was hard not to sympathize with this figure.

  He’s barely human. A monster. You can’t nurse a dyitzu to health and expect its thanks.

  “Will we kill him?” Arturus asked.

  “I don’t know, Turi,” Aaron said. “I just don’t know.”

  The hunters returned with a flat piece of woodstone. It was barely wide enough to hold the infidel. Galen grabbed the man’s shoulders and Aaron held his feet. They moved him as carefully as they could onto the stretcher. The man awoke again at being lifted but didn’t stay conscious for long.

  It’s the pain, it wakes him. But he doesn’t show it, even from sleep.

  “We move, guns drawn,” Aaron ordered. “There could be other infidels about. Stay sharp.”

  Arturus complied, drawing his pistol. He wished he had brought his rifle, but he figured there wouldn’t be too many rooms between here and Harpsborough where he’d need to worry about having any range. He felt unarmed somehow, as if the bulk of the weapon would add some protection.

  He watched the corridors as they moved towards Harpsborough. Galen moved amongst them, taking his customary care in looking down passages. He seemed remarkably unconcerned. Arturus envied him. It seemed an attitude impossible to emulate. Simpler for him to master was Aaron’s manner. Aaron was also alert, on edge, even. Unlike his men, however, he didn’t appear fearful. More hunter than prey.

  Arturus thought there were shadows in the corridors, some of them even appeared to move, but when he focused he never saw anything. His heart beat so loudly and quickly in his chest that he feared the others might hear it.

  If there
are any hounds around, they will smell my fear.

  “I need a break, Aaron,” one of the hunters said. “I can’t carry this shit anymore.”

  “Spell him, Turi,” Galen ordered.

  Arturus dutifully holstered his gun and took up one end of the stretcher. He looked at the fallen man’s boots. They were still wet from the river.

  It must be safe since Galen’s willing to put me here.

  But he didn’t know if Galen would make a decision like that for his own safety. Would Galen be more concerned for the group as a whole? Did his father make the decision simply to help these men?

  I’m the least experienced gun here. He can afford to lose me.

  But that didn’t seem right. There was another reason Galen might assign him to the stretcher. Arturus was much less likely to drop the infidel.

  He can tell I care.

  The Harpsborough man obviously didn’t. He kept looking back over his shoulder, as if worried that the Infidel Friend would rise up and strike at him. Each time he did so Arturus had to struggle to keep the stretcher steady.

  “If it’s easier, I’ll take the lead,” Arturus offered.

  The hunter gratefully accepted.

  Galen grunted.

  He’s proud of me.

  “Good timing? Davel, you’re insane.” Michael fumed as he paced about the parlor. “No one’s going out into the wilds. Aaron’s got his hunters working half shifts. All of Harpsborough is going to explode with gossip. They’ll want his head.”

  “Don’t we?” Mancini asked. “There have been troubles in Harpsborough. Unrest. We need a common enemy to pull us together, and the devils have been doing a poor job of it lately. Let the Infidel Friend take their place.”

  Michael moved to the balcony curtain, looking through its crack onto his city. “I don’t want this to be some kind of lynch mob justice.”

  “Aaron helped you out with that,” Mancini said. “Your Lead Hunter dragged the man all the way back here for judgment.”

  “And what, I summarily kill him?”

  “Why not, Mike? You summarily killed Charlie to take the Fore, and this is something that came with it. You’ve ordered hermits slaughtered before for less grievous crimes.”

  “But that’s just it, they did something. We’re going to kill this poor bastard for who he is.”

  Mancini shook his head. “I don’t see the difference.”

  “The difference is that the others did bad things.”

  “Mike, they did bad things because they were bad people. This Infidel Friend is a bad person. Besides, what else are you going to do to him? Let him go? He’ll be back with more of them. Those things are monsters. You’ve heard Father Klein’s stories.”

  “Just stories. If Molly said—”

  “Molly’s a whore, Mike. This is Father Klein. He has no reason to lie.”

  “We’ll have his trial in the church.”

  Mancini shook his head again. “I don’t think that this is necessary.”

  “You’re the one who wanted a common enemy. What good would he be if we didn’t prop him up in front of everybody?”

  “Ask Klein about it. They’re all trained in sophistry. You let that man heal and represent himself, and he’ll talk circles around you.”

  “I doubt that, Davel.”

  “He’ll appeal to the baser amongst us. The villagers may not be smart enough to see their way through his arguments.”

  “Just the Citizens, then. They’ll vote him guilty or not guilty. I’ll decide the punishment.”

  Finally Mancini nodded. “Okay. Just the Citizens, but—”

  He stopped as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Young John’s face appeared through the tapestry. “Aaron would like to see you, sir.”

  Michael nodded. “Bring him up.”

  Michael could hear the unrest of his city while he waited for Aaron to appear. So many people were talking that it sounded as if Harpsborough itself were a hive of angry bees.

  “Smart,” Michael lauded Aaron as the man entered the room. “You made the right decision in bringing the Infidel Friend here.”

  “I appreciate that, First Citizen.”

  Mancini snorted. “‘First Citizen?’ You’re being awfully polite. You must want something.”

  Aaron laughed. “I posted two hunters at the church.”

  “And?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t think they’ll be enough.”

  Michael pushed through the tapestry and walked out onto the balcony. He moved to the edge, leaned against the railing and looked out towards the church. Half of the villagers, perhaps, were gathered around the steps.

  “Fine, post more. No, better yet, get Klein to kick them off his steps.”

  “We better get him to trial fast,” Mancini said.

  “He must heal first. You know what? Even better. Aaron, move him to the Fore. Give him to Staunten. The villagers go into the church all the time. They never go into the Fore. Then your two guards will be enough.”

  “Sir,” Aaron said, “if they raid the Fore. . .”

  “He’s right, Mike,” Mancini said, “we’d be forced to shoot at villagers.”

  “They’re more curious than anything else. He’ll have to wake up before they get angry. Aaron, do it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Arturus sat on the church steps watching Galen help move the Infidel Friend into the Fore. He marveled at how easily his father fit in amongst the hunters.

  He helps them a lot. Maybe I can help them someday.

  The rest of the villagers began to mill about. A few moved towards the Fore, standing outside the man’s new resting place.

  Behind him, the church doors opened.

  “Arturus,” Father Klein greeted him as he fastened one of the great double doors to the wall. “How nice of you to visit. Have you come to pray?”

  “But you say that God can’t hear.”

  “Of course he can’t. God cannot look on sin, and we are in Hell. But prayer is a powerful thing. You cannot discount it just because there is no one there to answer. How much can you learn about a person by listening to his wants?”

  “A lot, I guess.”

  “Then think how much you could learn about yourself from your own wants?”

  Arturus mulled this over. “But I’m me, shouldn’t I know me anyway?”

  “You should indeed,” Klein said. “But sometimes it helps to talk these things out. Sometimes we lie to ourselves, and praying helps you find out. Besides, imagine how God might think of your requests. He would frown upon you if you wished harm on someone, so through prayer you can try and put things into perspective.”

  “Okay,” Arturus said. “I’ll try.”

  He followed Father Klein up the steps and walked through the one open double door. The inside of the church was lit by windows set high in the walls. The ceiling itself was over four stories tall, and Arturus gazed up at it. All around the top edge, and in the windows themselves, were woodstone crosses. They were irregularly sized, and cast shadows of themselves across the marble stone floor and woodstone pews.

  Klein walked all the way up to the steps before the pulpit and knelt. Arturus did likewise, closed his eyes, and prayed.

  Can you hear me, God?

  He listened for a reply. He could hear the soft whispers of Klein’s own murmured prayer. He could hear the angry buzz of the village outside. He could hear his own breathing, but nothing else.

  I’ve never prayed to You before. I wish You could hear me.

  Wait. This is stupid. God can’t hear me. I’m talking to myself. I should try, though.

  I’ll pretend You can hear me.

  If I had been born on Earth, maybe then we could have really spoken. You and I. You could have watched me grow up. I was pretty bad when I was younger. Hopefully You would have found that funny. We could have been friends. Maybe You could have helped me. You could have made sure I was safe on my way to Harpsborough the first time I went alone. You could
have protected me during my first firefight. You could have stopped me from killing that man who surprised me when I was eight. Galen beat me for that. Maybe You could have helped me through that, too.

  I guess what I want to pray for is that infidel. I don’t want him to be hurt, God. I want him to be okay. Will you make it so he’s okay? I don’t want him to hurt anyone else, but I want him to be fine, too.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  “Who’s Ares?” he asked Father Klein on an impulse.

  The world seemed brighter somehow, and he had to adjust to the light. He felt a great sadness in his heart. He imagined it was from the prayer.

  Father Klein also opened his eyes.

  He swallowed, and Arturus watched the man’s Adam’s apple move up and down.

  “In the old world,” Klein said, “Ares was a false god. His symbols were the hound and the vulture. He was a God of war.”

  Arturus knew all that. Galen had told him stories of the Greek gods.

  “In Hell,” Father Klein went on, “there’s a man with that same name. He’s a follower of the Infidel. One of the most vicious and feared in all of the labyrinth, next to Archades, Kent, Endymion, Past and Present.”

  “Why is he so feared?”

  “They say he wields a sword of bone, carved from the femur of a man he’s slain. They say he wears armor made of men’s ribcages, and a helmet like might be worn by an ancient Greek knight—a hoplite helm. He doesn’t use bullets, preferring to feel the blood of his victims. Of all the Infidel’s men, he is perhaps the most godless. He is a monarch to those who serve him and slays those who question him. Where did you hear of him?”

  “The Infidel Friend we captured. He was coming in and out of consciousness. He spoke the name.”

  Father Klein swallowed again. “Let us hope that he simply knows Ares in passing. If this Infidel Friend that we have is under Ares’ command, then we are surely in grave danger.”

  “Do you think he’d come for us?”

  “Turi, you may be afraid of shadows.”

  There are better things to worry about than the falling of the sky.

  The young man nodded. “Are all the Infidel Friend evil?”

  “They are all godless. They go through Hell making wolves of men. We came to Hell because we were evil, Turi. It’s hard for you to understand that, since they say you were born here. We were ordered to be sheep, to be obedient and follow the Lord’s will. Instead we wandered. Some of us, those who are mature enough to admit our mistakes, try and continue to follow His teachings. The Infidel’s men think differently. They are angry at God and blame Him for their damnation. They refuse to take any responsibility for their failures on Earth. They continue to ignore His teachings. By ignoring those teachings they hurt people. They are inglorious murderers who take no pleasure in helping humankind. It is difficult to tell them apart from the devils.”