The Painted Man d-1

by Peter V. Brett

  Leesha returned the embrace warmly. 'Has anyone seen my father?' she asked.

  'He's home, where you should be,' came a voice, and Leesha turned to see her mother approach, Gared at her heel. Leesha did not know whether to feel relief or dread at the sight.

  'You come to check on everyone but your own family?' Elona demanded.

  'Mum, I only just…' Leesha began, but her mother cut her off.

  'Only this and only that!' Elona barked. 'Always a reason to turn your back on your blood when it suits you! Your poor father is finding death's succour, and I find you here…!'

  'Who's with him?' Leesha interrupted.

  'His apprentices,' Elona said.

  Leesha nodded. 'Have them bring him here with the others,' she said.

  'I'll do no such thing!' Elona cried. 'Take him from the comfort of a feathered bed for an infested straw pallet in a room rife with plague?' She grabbed Leesha's arm. 'You'll come see him now! You're his daughter!'

  'Don't you think I know that?!' Leesha demanded, snatching her arm away. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she made no effort to brush them aside. 'Do you think I thought of anything else as I dropped everything and left Angiers? But he's not the only person in town, mother! I can't abandon everyone to tend one man, even if he is my father!'

  'You're a fool if you think these people aren't dead already,' Elona said, drawing gasps from the crowd. She pointed to the stone walls of the Holy House. 'Will those wards hold back the corelings tonight?' she asked, drawing everyone's attention to the stone, blackened by smoke and ash. Indeed, there was barely a ward visible.

  She drew close to Leesha, her voice lowering. 'Our house is far from the others,' she whispered. 'It may be the last warded home in all of Cutter's Hollow. It can't hold everyone, but it can save us, if you come home!'

  Leesha slapped her full in the face. Elona was knocked into the mud, and sat there dumbfounded, pressing her hand to her reddening cheek. Gared looked ready to rush Leesha and carry her off, but she checked him with a cold glare.

  'I'm not going to hide away and leave my friends to the corelings!' she shouted. 'We'll find a way to ward the Holy House, and make our stand here. Together! And if demons should dare come and try to take my children, I have secrets of fire that will burn them from this world!'

  My children, Leesha thought, in the sudden silence that followed. Am I Bruna now, to think of them so? She looked around, taking in the scared and sooty faces, not a one taking charge, and realized for the first time that as far as everyone was concerned, she was Bruna. She was Herb Gatherer for Cutter's Hollow now. Sometimes that meant bringing healing, and sometimes…

  Sometimes it meant a dash of pepper in the eyes, or burning a wood demon in your yard.

  The Painted Man came forward. People whispered at the sight of him, a robed and hooded spectre hardly noticed a moment before.

  'Wood demons won't be all you face,' he said. 'Flame demons will delight in your fire, and wind demons soar above it. The razing of your town might even have called rock demons down from the hills. They will be waiting when the sun sets.'

  'We're all going to die!' Ande cried, and Leesha felt panic building in the crowd.

  'What do you care?!' she demanded of the Painted Man. 'You've kept your promise and seen us here! Get on your damned scary horse and be on your way! Leave us to our fate!'

  But the Painted Man shook his head. 'I swore an oath to give the corelings nothing, and I won't break it again. I'll be damned to the Core myself before I give them Cutter's Hollow.'

  He turned to the crowd, and pulled back his hood. There were gasps of shock and fear, and for a moment, the rising panic was arrested. The Painted Man seized on that moment. 'When the corelings come to the Holy House tonight, I will stand and fight!' he declared. There was a collective gasp, and a flare of recognition in many of the villagers' eyes. Even here, they had heard the tales of the tattooed man who killed demons.

  'Will any of you stand with me?' he asked.

  The men looked at each other doubtfully. Women took their arms, imploring them with their eyes not to say anything foolish.

  'What can we do, 'cept get cored?' Ande called. 'Ent nothing that can kill a demon!'

  'You're wrong,' the Painted Man said, and strode over to Twilight Dancer, pulling free a wrapped bundle. 'Even a rock demon can be killed,' he said, unwrapping a long, curved object and throwing it into the mud in front of the villagers.

  It was three feet long from its wide broken base to its sharp point, smooth and coloured an ugly yellow-brown, like a rotten tooth. As the villagers stared open-mouthed, a weak ray of sun broke from the overcast sky, striking it. Even in the mud, the length began to smoke, sizzling away the fresh droplets of drizzle that struck it.

  In a moment, the rock demon's horn burst into flame. 'Every demon can be killed!' the Painted Man cried, pulling a warded spear from Twilight Dancer and throwing it to stick in the burning horn. There wash a flash, and the horn exploded in a burst of sparks like a festival flamework.

  'Merciful Creator,' Jona said, drawing a ward in the air. Many of the villagers followed suit.

  The Painted Man crossed his arms. 'I can make weapons that bite the corelings,' he said, 'but they are worthless without arms to wield them, so I ask again, who will stand with me?'

  There was a long moment of silence. Then, 'I will.' The Painted Man turned, surprised to see Rojer come and stand by his side.

  'And I,' Yon Gray said, stepping forward. He leaned heavily on his cane, but there was hard determination in his eyes. 'More'n seventy years I've watched 'em come and take us, one by one. If tonight's t'be my last, then I'll spit in a coreling's eye 'afore the end.'

  The other Hollowers stood dumbfounded, but then Gared stepped forward.

  'Gared you idiot, what are you doing?' Elona demanded, grabbing his arm, but the giant cutter shrugged off her grip. He reached out tentatively and pulled the warded spear free from the ground. He looked, looking hard at the wards running along its surface.

  'My da was cored last night,' he said in a low, angry tone. He clutched the weapon and looked up at the Painted Man, showing his teeth. 'I aim t'take his due.'

  His words spurred others. One by one and in groups, some of them in fear, some in anger, and many more in despair, the people of Cutter's Hollow rose up to meet the coming night.

  'Fools,' Elona spat, and stormed off.

  'You didn't need to do that,' Leesha said, her arms wrapped around the Painted Man's waist as Twilight Dancer raced up the road to Bruna's hut.

  'What good is a mad obsession, if it doesn't help people?' he replied.

  'I was angry this morning,' Leesha said. 'I didn't mean that.'

  'You meant it,' the Painted Man assured her. 'And you weren't wrong. 'I've been so occupied with what I was fighting against, I'd forgotten what I was fighting for. All my life I've dreamed of nothing but killing demons, but what good is it to kill corelings out in the wild, and ignore the ones that hunt men every night?'

  They pulled up at the hut, and the Painted Man leapt down and held a hand out to her. Leesha smiled, and let him assist her dismount. 'The house is still intact,' she said. 'Everything we need should be inside.'

  They went into the hut Leesha meant to head straight for Bruna's stores, but the familiarity of the place struck her hard, and she realized she was never going to see Bruna again, never hear her cursing or scold her for spitting on the floor, never again tap her wisdom or laugh at her ribaldry. That part of her life was over.

  But there was no time for tears, so Leesha shoved the feelings aside and strode to the pharmacy, picking jars and bottles and shoving some into her apron, handing others to the Painted Man, who packed them quickly and loaded them on Twilight Dancer.

  'I don't see why you needed me for this,' he said. 'I should be warding weapons. We only have a few hours.'

  She handed him the last of the herbs, and when they were safely stowed, led him to the centre of the room, pulling up the carpe
t, revealing a trapdoor. The Painted Man opened it for her, revealing wooden steps leading down into darkness. 'Should I fetch a candle?' he asked. 'Absolutely not!' Leesha barked.

  The Painted Man shrugged. 'I can see well enough,' he said. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to snap,' she said. She reached into the many pockets of her apron, producing two small stoppered vials. She poured the contents of one into the other and shook it, producing a soft glow. Holding the vial aloft, she led them down the musty steps into a dusty cellar. The walls were packed soil, wards painted onto the support beams. The small space was filled with storage crates, shelves of bottles and jars, and large barrels.

  Leesha went to a shelf and lifted a box of flamesticks. 'Wood demons can be hurt by fire,' she mused. 'What about a strong dissolvent?'

  'I don't know,' the Painted Man said. Leesha tossed him the box and got down on her knees, rummaging through some bottles on a low shelf.

  'We'll find out,' she said, passing back a large glass bottle full of clear liquid. The stopper was glass as well, held tightly in place with a twisted net of thin wire.

  'Grease and oil will steal their footing,' Leesha muttered, still rummaging. 'And burn hot and bright, even in the rain…' she handed him a pair of cured clay jugs, sealed in wax.

  More items followed. Thundersticks, normally used to blow free unruly tree stumps, and a box of Bruna's celebration flamework: festival crackers, flame whistles, and toss bangs.

  Finally, at the back of the cellar, she brought them to a large water barrel.

  'Open it,' Leesha told the Painted Man. 'Gently.'

  He did so, finding four ceramic jugs bobbing softly in the water. He turned to Leesha and looked at her curiously.

  'That,' she said, 'is liquid demonfire.'

  Twilight Dancer's swift warded hooves had them down to Leesha's father's house in minutes. Again, Leesha was struck hard by nostalgia, and again, she shoved the sentiment aside. How many hours until sunset? Not enough. That was sure.

  The children and the elderly had begun to arrive, gathering in the yard. Brianne and Mairy had already put them to work collecting tools. Mairy's eyes were hollow as she watched the children. It had not been easy to convince her to leave her two children at the Holy House, but at last reason prevailed. Their father was staying, and if things went badly, the other children would need their mother.

  Elona stormed out of the house as they arrived.

  'Is this your idea?' she demanded. 'Turning my house into a barn?'

  Leesha pushed right past, the Painted Man at her side. Elona had no choice but to fall in behind her them as they entered the house. 'Yes, mother,' she said. 'It was my idea. We may not have space for everyone, but the children and elderly who have avoided the flux thus far should be safe here, whatever else happens.'

  'I won't have it!' Elona barked.

  Leesha whirled on her. 'You have no choice!' she shouted. 'You were right that we have the only strong wards left in town, so you can either suffer here in a crowded house, or stand and fight with the others. But Creator help me, the young and the old are staying behind father's wards tonight.'

  Elona glared at her. 'You wouldn't speak to me so, if your father were well.'

  'If he were well, he would have invited the folk himself,' Leesha said, not backing down an inch.

  She turned her attention to the Painted Man. 'The paper shop is through those doors,' she told him, pointing. 'You should have space to work, and my father's warding tools. The children are collecting every weapon in town, and will bring them to you.'

  The Painted Man nodded, vanishing into the shop without a word.

  'Where in the world did you find that one?' Elona asked. 'He saved us from demons on the road,' Leesha said, going to her father's room.

  'I don't know if it will do any good,' Elona warned, putting a hand on the door. 'Midwife Darsy says it's in the Creator's hands now.'

  'Nonsense,' Leesha said, entering the room and immediately going to her father's side. He was pale and damp with sweat, but she did not recoil. She placed a hand to his forehead, and then ran her sensitive fingers over his throat, wrists, and chest. While she worked, she asked her mother questions about his symptoms, how long they had been manifest, and what she and midwife Darsy had tried so far.

  Elona wrung her hands, but answered as best she could.

  'Many of the others are worse,' Leesha said. 'Da is stronger than you give him credit.'

  For once, Elona had no belittling retort.

  'I'll brew a potion for him,' Leesha said. 'He'll need to be dosed regularly, at least every three hours.' She took a parchment and began writing instructions in a swift hand.

  'You're not staying with him?' Elona asked.

  Leesha shook her head. 'There's near to two hundred people in the Holy House that need me, mum,' she said, 'many of them worse off than da.'

  'They have Darsy to look after them,' Elona argued.

  'Darsy looks as if she hasn't slept since the flux started,' Leesha said. 'She's dead on her feet, and even at her best, I wouldn't trust her cures against this sickness. If you stay with da and follow my instructions, he'll be more likely to see the dawn than most in Cutter's Hollow.'

  'Leesha?' her father moaned. 'S'that you?'

  Leesha rushed to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. 'Yes, da,' she said, her eyes watering, 'it's me.'

  'You came,' Erny whispered, his lips curling into a slow smile. His fingers squeezed Leesha's hand weakly. 'I knew you would.'

  'Of course I came,' Leesha said.

  'But you have to go,' Erny sighed. When Leesha gave no reply, he patted her hand. 'Heard what you said. Go do what needs be done. Just seeing you has given me new strength.'

  Leesha half-sobbed, but tried to mask it as a laugh. She kissed his forehead.

  'Is it bad as all that?' Erny whispered.

  'A lot of folk are going to die tonight,' Leesha said.

  Erny's hand tightened on hers, and he sat up a bit. 'Then you see to it that it's no more than need be,' he said. 'I'm proud of you and I love you.'

  'I love you, da,' Leesha said, hugging him tightly. She wiped her eyes and left the room.

  Rojer tumbled about the tiny aisle of the makeshift hospit as he pantomimed the daring rescue the Painted Man had performed a few nights earlier.

  'But then,' he went on, 'standing between us and the camp, was the biggest rock demon I've ever seen.' He leapt on top of a table and reached his arms his into the air, waving them to show they were still not high enough to do the creature justice.

  'Fifteen feet tall, it was,' Rojer said, 'with teeth like spears and a horned tail that could smash a horse. Leesha and I stopped up short, but did the Painted Man hesitate? No! He walked on, calm as Seventhday morning, and looked the monster right in the eyes.' Rojer enjoyed the wide eyes surrounding him, and hesitated, letting the tense silence build before shouting, 'BAM!' and clapping his hands together. Everyone jumped. 'Just like that,' Rojer said, 'the Painted Man's horse, black as night and seeming like a demon itself, slammed its horns through the demon's back.' 'The horse had horns?' an old man asked, raising a grey eyebrow as thick and bushy as a squirrel tail. Propped up in his pallet, the stump of his right leg soaked his bandages in blood.

  'Oh, yes,' Rojer confirmed, sticking fingers up behind his ears and getting coughing laughs. 'Great ones of shining bright metal, strapped on by its bridle and sharply pointed, etched with wards of power! The most magnificent beast you have ever seen, it is! Its hooves struck the beast like thunderbolts.

  'So, while the horse attacked, we ran for the circle, and were safe.' Rojer concluded.

  'What about the horse?' one child asked. 'The Painted Man gave a whistle,' Rojer said, putting his fingers to his lips and emitting a shrill sound, 'and his horse came galloping through the corelings, leaping over the wards and into the circle.' He clapped his hands against his thighs in a galloping sound and leapt to illustrate the point.

  The patients were riveted by
his tale, taking their minds off their sickness and the impending night. More, Rojer knew he was giving them hope. Hope that Leesha could cure them. Hope that the Painted Man could protect them.

  He wished he could give himself hope, as well. And wished they would hurry back.

  Leesha had the children scrub out the big vats her father used to make paper slurry, using them to brew potions on a larger scale than she had ever attempted. Even Bruna's stores quickly ran out, and she passed word to Brianne, who had the children ranging far and wide for hogroot and other herbs.

  Frequently, her eyes flicked to the sunlight filtering through the window, watching it crawl across the shop's floor. The day was waning.

  Not far off, the Painted Man worked with similar speed, his hand moving with delicate precision as he painted wards onto axes, picks, hammers, spears, arrows, and sling stones. The children brought him anything that might possibly be used as a weapon, and collected the results as soon as the paint dried, piling them in carts outside.

  Every so often, someone came running in to relay a message to Leesha or the Painted Man. They gave instructions quickly, sending the runner off and turning back to their work.

  With only a pair of hours before sunset, they drove the carts back through the steady rain to the Holy House. The villagers stopped work at the sight of them, coming quickly to help Leesha unload her cures. A few approached the Painted Man to assist unloading his cart, but a look from him turned them away.

  Leesha went to him, carrying a heavy stone jug. 'Tampweed and skyflower,' she said, handing it to him. 'Mix it with the feed of three cows, and see that they eat it all.' The Painted Man took the jug and nodded.

  As she turned to go into the Holy House, he caught her arm. 'Take this,' he said, handing her one of his personal spears. It was five feet long, made from light ash wood. Wards of power were etched into the metal tip, sharpened to a wicked edge. The shaft, too, was carved with defensive wards, lacquered hard and smooth, the butt capped in warded steel.

  Leesha looked at it dubiously, making no move to take it. 'Just what do you expect me to do with that?' she asked. 'I'm an Herb…'