Dying Is My Business

by Nicholas Kaufmann

  The Black Knight rose from his throne and approached the cage. The old gargoyle’s walking stick tapped the floor as it hobbled forward. The Black Knight reached one gauntlet through the bars, grabbed my wrist, and pulled my arm toward him.

  “What are you—?” I started to say, but I was cut off by the sudden, freezing darkness that filled me up inside. He was sucking the life force out of my body. He’d tried to kill me this way once before. It seemed he was determined to try again.

  I gritted my teeth and tried to pull my arm back, but his grip was too strong and I was already too weak. I was freezing from the inside out, faltering, and then, just like before, the bluish-white light burst out of my arm. It was too bright for the gargoyles. They shielded their eyes with their wings and hissed angrily. It crackled like lightning across the Black Knight’s armor. He released me, stepping back from the cage quickly, and the light dissipated. The gargoyles folded their wings back and chittered among themselves, confused and alarmed. The only gargoyle that didn’t seem fazed was the old one. It leaned on its walking stick and narrowed its black eyes thoughtfully.

  I doubled over against the bars, catching my breath as the freezing darkness ebbed from my body. I glared at the Black Knight. “Don’t blame me, you knew what would happen.”

  The Black Knight’s only reply was to motion for the gargoyles to lift the cage once more and follow him. I was carried through tunnels that led deeper into the cavern. There was less of the glowing lichen in these depths, and I couldn’t see much through the cage’s bars except the wings of the gargoyles carrying me and the long, forked stag horns of the Black Knight’s helmet. We passed chambers hewn into the stone walls, and passages that branched off in other directions. We crossed what appeared to be a natural stone bridge, and though I couldn’t see what it spanned or how far down the drop was, I could smell what was down there. It was like the stench of a Dumpster behind a butcher shop, the stink of rotting meat.

  Finally, the Black Knight entered a chamber off the side of the tunnel. The gargoyles carried me in after him and set the cage down against one wall. The room was hot and dry, in stark contrast to the cool dampness of the rest of the cavern. A pungent, sulfurous smell clung to the walls. Across from me, on the far side of the chamber, was a long table cluttered with what looked like laboratory equipment, if the lab happened to be from the Dark Ages. There were ceramic vessels connected by looping glass tubes, a brass balance scale, a collection of mortars and pestles of various sizes, and numerous earthen pots and crucibles nestled in a sand-filled box. Suspended from hooks above the table were glass globes filled with liquids and powders of all different colors. Beside the table sat a stone furnace, a fire roaring in its belly and a small, controlled flame gouting from a hole in its top.

  The Black Knight waved the gargoyles away. They filed out, shutting a thick steel door behind them and leaving us alone in the chamber.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

  The Black Knight didn’t answer. He removed one of the glass globes from its hook, and poured out a fine yellow powder into one of the crucibles. Then he moved the crucible onto the furnace, above the spurting flame. While his back was to me, I quickly inspected the cage door, looking for a weakness in the latch or hinges. I rattled it, put my shoulder into it, but it was no good, the thing was too solid. It was the same with the joints where the bars were lashed to the frame. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Even with all the noise I made trying to bash through the cage door, the Black Knight didn’t turn around. Instead, he watched intently as the powder in the crucible began to smoke.

  “So you are an alchemist,” I said. “The one from the history books, the one who vanished, just like Ingrid thought. Only you didn’t disappear for long, did you? You came back to Fort Verhulst to kill everyone you knew. Why? Was it because they knew something about you? It must have been something big, something dangerous. That’s what Ingrid thought. She thought they’d discovered your weakness, a way to kill you. Of course you couldn’t allow that, could you?”

  The Black Knight kept his back to me, showing no sign that he heard me or cared what I had to say.

  “The name Ingrid doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?” I said. “Let me refresh your memory. Older woman with a penchant for white gloves and fire magic. Forty years ago, you murdered the man she loved, and if she were here she’d kill you for it herself.”

  The Black Knight took the crucible off the flame and carried it to the cage. I wished I could see more through the visor of his helmet than just an empty darkness, if only to know if I’d gotten through to him on some level, but he was as unreadable as a blank wall. He put the steaming crucible on the floor in front of the cage, then grabbed my arm again and pulled it toward him.

  “Really, this again? You’re like a dumb kid who keeps touching a hot stove.”

  This time, the Black Knight pried open my hand. I didn’t notice the long, thin dagger until he was already bringing it toward my palm. I sucked in my breath as he drew the blade painfully across my palm, leaving a red line of blood along the skin.

  He picked up the crucible and squeezed my fist over it until the blood dripped onto the hot, yellow powder. As soon as the blood touched it, the powder began to sizzle and smoke. Then he let me go and brought the crucible back to the furnace.

  I cradled my bleeding hand to my chest. “What did you do that for?”

  The Black Knight put the crucible over the flame again and watched it steam.

  “Damn it, what do you want from me?”

  It was pointless. The Black Knight only continued to ignore me, focusing his attention on his work. My palm was throbbing where he’d cut it, but the bleeding slowed as the blood began to clot. Frustrated, I sank down against the cage bars and watched the Black Knight work. What was he doing? What did he want with my blood?

  He lifted a glass globe filled with an ice-blue liquid off its hook and poured a few drops into the steaming crucible. It flared like flashpaper, then sputtered and died. The Black Knight balled his gauntlets into angry fists. With a sweep of his arm he knocked the crucible off the furnace and onto floor. The experiment must have failed. The Black Knight spun quickly, his tattered black cape billowing out behind him. He stormed out the steel door, slamming it closed again behind him. I heard a heavy clank as the door’s lock slid into place.

  It was tempting to think the experiment’s failure was a good thing, but I knew that was shortsighted. Given my situation, the only thing more dangerous than the Black Knight was an angry Black Knight, with me as the cause of his frustration. What would he do when he came back? Drain the rest of my blood? Dissect me like a frog?

  I stood up and tried to get the cage door open again. I kicked it, slammed my shoulder into it, but the damn thing still didn’t budge. Finally, I hit the door at the wrong angle and a jagged bolt of pain shot through my arm. Wincing, I wiggled my fingers and bent my elbow until I was satisfied I hadn’t broken anything. Then I sighed and slumped to the floor again. I had to face facts, there was no way out. I was at the Black Knight’s mercy, and something told me the cut on my palm wasn’t the worst of what he had in store.

  I hoped the others had found what they were looking for. I pictured Bethany bent over a book, scouring it for clues. The image put a pang of regret in my chest. It was likely the Black Knight would keep me here as his prisoner-slash-guinea pig for … well, forever, I supposed, considering neither one of us was exactly mortal. I’d never see Bethany again. At least I’d managed to keep Reve Azrael and the Black Knight distracted so the others would be safe, even if only for a while. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t make up for everything I’d done, but maybe it was some small bit of redemption. Or maybe there was no redemption for someone like me. There was a string of bodies in my wake, and maybe this was what I deserved, my punishment, to be dissected and studied by the Black Knight until there wasn’t enough of me left to come back from the dead. And then the world could breathe a sigh of re
lief, finally wash its hands of me, and say good riddance.

  I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the guttering furnace fire through the bars of the cage and feeling sorry for myself. Hours, maybe. The blood on my palm had dried when I heard the chamber door unlock. I stood, my heart in my throat as I watched it swing open, but it wasn’t the Black Knight. It was the wizened old gargoyle I’d seen standing beside him in the throne room. The gargoyle limped into the room, its walking stick tapping the floor quietly. The long, saliva-wet snaggletooth that hung from its mouth glistened in the firelight.

  I stepped back from the cage door, but it wasn’t like there was any place I could run if Snaggletooth decided to turn me into a meal. “What do you want?”

  Surprisingly, the gargoyle answered in English. “Be fearless. I bring you liberation.” I frowned. Not only did the words not make sense, they sounded wrong coming from a mouth that wasn’t meant to speak them. It was like listening to a dog trying to talk. The gargoyle shook its head and tried again. “Please forgive. Your language is difficult and I have not spoken it in many years. Do not be afraid. I have come to free you.” Snaggletooth unlocked the cage and held the door open for me.

  I stepped out of the cage hesitantly. I didn’t know if I could trust a gargoyle, but I wasn’t going to let an open door go to waste. “Why would you help me?”

  “For the good of my kind,” Snaggletooth replied, leading me toward the chamber door. “We are an ancient race, old before yours was even born. Yet there are so few of us left who remember the old days, before the usurper came.” Snaggletooth opened the door carefully, and peered into the tunnel outside. The gargoyle stepped out and motioned for me to follow.

  I still didn’t know if trusting Snaggletooth was a safe thing to do, but I didn’t see much choice. It was either that or wait for the Black Knight to return for a new game of Operation. I followed the old gargoyle into the tunnel, making sure to tread lightly. The tunnel was empty, but I doubted it would stay that way for long. The whole cavern was crawling with gargoyles, and the Black Knight could already be on his way back. As we walked, I whispered, “Who’s the usurper? Are you talking about the Black Knight?”

  Ahead of me, in the dim light of the glowing lichen, Snaggletooth nodded. “Bad enough he is not of our kind, but his cruelty is unbridled, his tyranny unmatched. He rules through fear and intimidation. Those who fail him are publicly executed as a warning to the rest of us, to keep us meek and obedient.”

  I cringed, remembering the gargoyle skulls cemented into the Black Knight’s throne. Failure and disobedience got you the best seat in the house, only in the worst way. It reminded me of some of the crime bosses I knew. Anger them, don’t follow their orders, and you got two in the back of the head. The Black Knight would have felt right at home in the Brooklyn underworld.

  “Many are too young to remember the time before the usurper,” Snaggletooth continued. “Many remain loyal to him. But not all. There are others like me who would be free of him. Our numbers grow by the day. The time will soon come when we will rise up, but still we are not enough. We need … I do not know the word. We do not have our own word for it. We have need of you. That is why I have done this.”

  The words were garbled but the meaning was clear enough. In return for freeing me, Snaggletooth was asking for my help.

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  Another chamber opened off the corridor. Snaggletooth paused by the doorway and peeked inside. The gargoyle turned back to me, put a long, clawed finger to its jaws, and waved for me to follow. Snaggletooth crept silently past the doorway. I did the same, risking a quick glance through the opening. Inside, a throng of gargoyles surrounded something wounded and bleeding on the floor. I heard the sounds of gnashing teeth and the bleating of an animal, and caught a glimpse of blood-tinged fur. Dinnertime. I hurried past.

  “The usurper must not be allowed to wake Stryge from his slumber,” Snaggletooth said as we continued through the cave tunnels.

  “Wait a minute. I thought you said you liked it better under Stryge’s rule, before the Black Knight came along.”

  “You misunderstand. Stryge was as cruel a tyrant as the usurper. We do not wish his return. But that is not the usurper’s intention anyway. He would never allow Stryge to reclaim the throne. All the usurper craves is power. It is all he has ever craved. He plans to steal Stryge’s power for himself, just as he planned to steal yours.”

  Damn, was there anyone who didn’t want a piece of Stryge? Still, what Snaggletooth said gave me pause. “He wants to steal my power?”

  The tunnel bent around a corner. Snaggletooth motioned for me to wait before we turned. A cluster of gargoyles flew down an intersecting tunnel. Then it was safe to move again.

  Snaggletooth continued, “He tasted your power when you bested him last night. After that, he grew obsessed. He yearns to take that power for himself, and he surely would have had I not freed you.”

  That explained why the Black Knight had tried to drain the life out of me a second time. Alchemists were scientists, after all, and like a scientist he’d tested me to see if the same results would occur again. After that, he’d tried to figure out why, testing my blood to find the answer. The test had failed, but what if it hadn’t? What would he have done then? Distilled it out of me like salt from water? Cut it out like a tumor?

  “I didn’t think it was possible to steal someone’s power,” I said.

  “Oh yes, power can be stolen, provided you have the right spell and equipment—” Snaggletooth stopped suddenly and waved me back, eyes wide with sudden terror. We had come to another chamber doorway off the tunnel. I was too far back to see inside, but whatever was in there had set Snaggletooth’s nerves on edge. The old gargoyle motioned for silence, then darted past the doorway. Snaggletooth stopped me with a raised claw, then a moment later gave me the all clear. I ran past the chamber, risking a quick glance inside. My chest squeezed tight.

  It was the Black Knight. He was surrounded by old wooden chests, their lids flung open, and their contents rummaged through. His back was to me as he bent over one of the chests and searched through the objects inside it. I saw him pull out a long steel blade like a bone saw, and then I was past the doorway and hurrying after Snaggletooth. The old gargoyle was running remarkably quickly, the walking stick now tucked under one arm.

  The tunnel forked in three different directions. I followed Snaggletooth down one, and when we turned the corner, we stopped to catch our breath.

  “You’re faster than you look,” I said. “Do you even need that walking stick?”

  Snaggletooth’s face twisted hideously in what I could only assume was the gargoyle equivalent of a grin. “It is better if the usurper believes I am weak. No one would suspect rebellion from one so feeble.” The gargoyle looked up at me then, its black eyes hard and serious. “We wish only to be free. Not to be ruled, but to rule ourselves in peace, without fear, and without constant strife with the outside world. Surely that is the right of every living thing.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. I had to admit, Snaggletooth had surprised me. I’d thought the gargoyles were senseless killing machines, mindless servants of the Black Knight that reveled in carnage. Everyone had said as much. Yet there was so much more to them.

  Snaggletooth continued, “Long ago, the oracles spoke a prophecy, one that claimed we would be granted our freedom by an immortal storm. For a time, many of us believed this was a reference to the usurper himself, but now we know better. The usurper did not bring us freedom, and the prophecy remains unfulfilled. These old eyes of mine have seen centuries born and die, but there is a limit to even my patience. The time has come to stop waiting for freedom to be granted to us, and claim it for ourselves.”

  The immortal storm again. It seemed to be on everyone’s lips today. Gregor had called it a danger to all existence. Snaggletooth thought it would bring the gargoyles their long overdue freedom. Two completely different interpretations of the s
ame prophecy. Just another reason not to believe in prophecies, as far as I was concerned.

  “I think it’s best not to put too much stock in these things,” I said.

  The gargoyle nodded. “I agree. I have lost faith that the immortal storm will ever come.”

  That wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, but it was close enough.

  We came out of the tunnel at the foot of the natural stone bridge. Now I could see where the overpowering stench of rotting meat came from. Far below was a wide crevasse filled with bones and what looked at first like mud, though the smell told me otherwise. It was liquefying flesh, rotting off the bones with the help of the maggots and beetles that crawled through the muck. This was the gargoyles’ garbage bin, I realized, the place where they threw the bones of their prey when they were finished eating.

  Snaggletooth dashed across the bridge, once again tucking the walking stick under one arm. When I joined the old gargoyle on the other side of the bridge, I said, “Look, I’d help you if I could, but I don’t know what I can do.”

  “You have already shown you are immune to the usurper’s magic, and you have caused him pain in a way no one else has. You are our best chance. Our only chance.”

  “Best chance to do what?” I pressed.

  “To kill him,” Snaggletooth said.

  I paused, surprised. A gargoyle asking me to kill its king didn’t make sense. It also didn’t seem doable. “No one’s been able to kill the Black Knight in four centuries,” I pointed out.

  “They simply did not know how.”

  “And you do?”

  “I do, though the opportunity has never come to me. His heart is his lone vulnerable point. Destroy his heart and you destroy him.” Using the walking stick again, Snaggletooth led me down another tunnel.

  “His heart?” I scoffed. “That’s his big secret? That’s the information he killed those Dutch settlers in Fort Verhulst over? It hardly seems worth it. Everyone’s heart is their vulnerable point.”