by Bill McCurry
Six
We rode from noon until evening, as hard as the horses and my buttocks could bear. The road to Crossoak had lamed my horse two months earlier, and nobody in the little town had owned a single horse fit for riding. My ass had since endured nothing rougher than a barrel and a bar chair, so when this pursuit began, I prepared myself for discomfort.
Ella, Desh, and four soldiers rode far ahead of me. I had suggested to Ella, who seemed to be our general, that we assume a cautious posture. I explained the horrors of an ambush, complete with appalling images that didn’t appear to bother her at all. She shooed me off like I was a goose. Now everyone but me trotted down the road in a raggedy, almost indefensible clump. I trailed them, and since ambushers would want to kill the biggest number of us as quickly as possible, I prepared to employ the oft-proven tactic of fleeing while my companions were getting slaughtered.
One of the soldiers had stayed in Crossoak to bury his comrade and march back north to report the disaster. I rode that man’s horse, and Desh took the dead man’s mount. Before leaving Crossoak, Desh and Ella had engaged in a quiet but considerably animated conversation. Whatever she said, it must have impressed the boy, because now he rode near enough to her that they could converse. It was understandable. She had a sweet face , and while she wasn’t young like Desh, she was closer to his age than mine.
I dwelt on ways to undercut Desh and make him look foolish in Ella’s eyes. It would be a challenge to make her think less of him than she thought of me. But I’d be damned if I let the puppy take her away from me, even if the idea of having her was imaginary.
Nighttime fell softly in the southlands, unlike the desert where dark hit like a slamming door. Tonight, it swung down with an oiled, lazy dusk, distressing me more every moment. I cantered to catch Ella and matched her pace, forcing my horse between hers and Desh’s. “I recommend we halt for a while, boss.”
She ignored my jab at humor, although I thought it wasn’t bad considering she was about to get us all killed. “We shall not,” she said. “The criminals have already drawn far ahead, and I intend to close that gap as swiftly as we may.”
“That won’t be swift at all if we’re dead. Although I do commend your vigor.”
Ella sat higher, which I hadn’t believed possible. Her posture in the saddle was sublime, like a genteel fencepost. She scanned the road ahead and the woods on each side. “Do you see an ambush?”
“That is the charm of ambushes. You don’t see them. Really, if you see one, then it’s not an ambush at all.”
“Don’t be flip.”
“Oh, I’m serious.” I pointed into the woods. “When it gets dark, you could put ten elephants right behind those trees, and we’d never see them while we rode past. We might as well have a traveling picnic and sing songs as we go. Either way, those elephants could rush out and stomp us.”
Desh leaned in the saddle and talked across me. “Ella, Bib’s a real expert on these kinds of things. He’s probably killed a hundred men. Maybe we should listen to him.”
“Why, thank you ever so much, Desh,” I said. “Next, you’ll be writing ballads about me. Krak’s guts, I have never been favored with such ardent hero worship before.”
“No,” Ella said. “Bib, I refuse to tarry and allow Vintan to extend his lead just because you fear the dark.” Before I could speak, she added, “That was unfair, and I apologize. I understand you’re not timid. You just fail to grasp the criticality of recovering the prince.”
“I bet I don’t grasp it as thoroughly as you. But I do understand that the moon rises in just a few hours, and moonlight will help us spot two or three of those elephants. We can ride on once the moon comes out.”
She gazed at the ground for a few moments, scratching her forehead. “No. We must assume the risk and persevere.”
It hurt my feelings a little that she hadn’t found my argument persuasive. But mainly, I wanted to shove her off her horse and tie her to a tree for three hours. I hadn’t brought a rope, however, and she was well-splashed with what I assumed was the blood of her enemies. Shoving her might not be such a dead-easy task.
I sure as hell wasn’t turning back. Denzmen were down the road somewhere waiting for me to kill them. If we were going to ride down a path as dark as the inside of a dog, maybe I’d just keep trailing my companions. On the other hand, if I rode point, I could give us all a poor chance to survive an ambush, but at least a chance. Having Ella’s misfits with me when it came time to kill Denzmen would improve my odds of living through that escapade. In the end, I decided to preserve as many of them as possible.
“I’m riding up front,” I said to Ralt and Stan as I passed them going forward.
“Hell, we may live after all,” Ralt said. He held his hand out to his friend. “Give back my hanky.”
“You gave it to me, you drowsy turd!”
“I thought we was both going to die, so give it back.”
“Boys, I’ll buy you each a dozen hankies if you hang halfway back and ride up quick if some Denzmen jump out at me.” I didn’t hear what they said as I pulled ahead, but when I looked back later, they were riding smack between Ella and me.
Darkness brought wet air, green smells, soft whumps of my horse trotting, and far-off shrieks of animals hunting and killing one another. A smidge of starlight gave me glimpses of the trail as we traveled through the heart of nature. Some call the southern forests the most beautiful territory in the world. I call it one of the places they don’t serve beer.
I needn’t have had my ass puckered those next few hours. At last, the moon showed through the trees and then lifted above them, and nobody had tried to slaughter us. I felt a little silly, but I’d seen too many men killed for fear of looking silly. I kept riding point, though. If I dropped all the way back after bleating like a calf about ambushes, I’d feel too silly to live.
Before the moon was overhead, I heard a horse trotting fast from behind me. Vin caught up a few seconds later.
“Up ahead is where we caught them,” he said. “I don’t think they’d stop and wait there just to kill anyone else following them, but I don’t know that much about Denzmen. Killing the survivors might be their favorite thing to do—maybe they even teach their children to do it as a game. Who knows?”
Vin’s voice had gone higher and faster as he talked, so I reached over and slapped him on the shoulder. “Breathe, son. They’re no more likely to be here than anywhere else. Hell, if we tried to run away from them, we might run straight into the biggest bunch around.” Actually, I figured the battle site was the last place we’d see any live Denzmen. But I made sure my sword was loose in the scabbard, just in case.
“This is it,” Vin said a bit later.
No bodies lay on the trail. “Really? This is as clean as my aunt Salli’s kitchen table.”
“It is. I won’t ever forget it.”
I rode closer and spotted a couple of helmets and a few swords beside the trail. A dead horse lay half-hidden by some tall grass. Then a little way off the trail, I found a pile of nothing but severed arms. A matching pile of legs lay on the other side. I dismounted to get a closer look and saw that all the legs wore the same boots and uniform trousers as Vin.
Behind me, Vin had begun crying fairly hard. I walked on down the trail so as not to embarrass him. Fifty paces away, I found a pile of torsos, and then a pile of heads. By then, Ella and the others had caught up.
“Ella, I think they’ve headed on south,” I said. “They’re probably not too worried about us if they stopped long enough to do all this butchering.”
Ella sat her horse, although everybody else had dismounted and was walking around. “Do you think he’s still alive?” She was crying too, but her voice was steady.
“Do you see his body? I mean, is it over there?” I pointed at the pile of heads. Desh and Stan were removing them and placing each to one side.
Ella rode to the heads and scanned them. “No, I do not.”
“They don’t s
eem shy about showing off who they’ve killed. If you haven’t found him yet, I imagine he’s alive.”
“We cannot bury them.”
“You’re sure right about that. It would take us all day. In fact, maybe they were expecting us to stop and mourn these men. Well, when the army gets this far, they’ll care for them.”
Ella sighed and rubbed her cheeks with her left sleeve. “Gentlemen! Return to your mounts. Let us continue the pursuit. When we overtake these villains, we shall stalk them and then guide our troops to their precise location. We shall rescue the prince and slay all who oppose us.”
I didn’t expect anybody to challenge her, and they didn’t. She threw out commands and plans, and she never showed a notion that some of her plans were ridiculous. Her plan to carry out a rescue was straight crazy. There was only one prince, so she and her four men had to go wherever he was, even if the whole of the Denzmen people were there. My plan was superior in every respect. I just wanted to kill Denzmen so I could find them anywhere in little batches and slaughter them like chickens. I could wait as long as necessary to find Vintan, some time when just a few of his toadies were with him.
The moon slid toward the west as we spurred on, trotting awhile and then walking our horses so as not to tire them. It wouldn’t do to arrive at a fight on a worn-out horse. Or worse, try to run away from a fight on a worn-out horse.
I might have seen an odd glint of moonlight, or a branch swishing against the wind. I’m sure I didn’t hear much over the clumping and blowing of my horse, a contrary beast I was growing to despise. Maybe I just had a strange feeling—it wouldn’t have been the first time. I’ve always had a good sense of who and what was around me. It had saved my life a few times, and it likely saved my life this time.
“Ambush to the left!” I yelled, wheeling my horse. Nine or ten riders charged out of the tree line pointing spears at the most cherished and unprotected parts of our bodies.
I remember flashes of that fight. I was alone at the front, and two riders rushed me. My horse stepped nicely around so that I wasn’t trapped between them, and I began to love the old mare a bit. I slapped the nearest rider’s spear aside and swung, then he rode past trailing blood from his neck. His friend passed me and turned for another go, and before he brought his spear around, I sliced him from bicep to wrist. He howled as I rode past.
A rider skewered Vin, that nice, handsome boy, who was dead before he fell off the saddle. I rode up behind Vin’s killer, thrust into his back, wheeled, and ducked a spear that showed up from nowhere. Ella slashed a dodging man’s throat before he got away. Desh had been thrown and was trying to hide behind his staff from a Denzman who probably couldn’t believe his luck. I rushed over and killed that man.
I saw one of our soldiers speared under the chin. I’d never even learned that man’s name. A Denzman charged Ella from behind, and I nearly took the sneaky bastard’s head off before he reached her.
And then it was done, except for panting, clopping, moaning, and one man cursing. I hopped to the ground. Desh was kneeling beside Vin, while Ralt scrambled around trying to catch loose horses. I strolled to the closest Denzman writhing on the ground and stabbed him through the eye.
“Stop that! Stop it this moment!” Ella said. “You are not to murder those men as they lie helpless.”
“Well, I guess I could draw a picture of them while they lie here and bleed to death.”
“Charming. I never supposed a person as grimy as yourself could be so droll. Nor possess artistic aspirations. You will cease dispatching them, because you appear to be enjoying it a bit more than is proper.”
She was right. I had enjoyed the killing so much it was almost embarrassing, and I anticipated great satisfaction from killing the last two mortally wounded Denzmen. I almost felt Harik’s hands on my back, pushing me toward them. However, Ella dismounted and reached them first, and she killed them both with neat thrusts. The disappointment stole my breath for a few moments.
One last Denzman sat on the grass, groaning and clutching the ragged arm wound I’d given him. Stan stood over him, holding his sword the way he might hold an ax over a tasty-looking goose. Ella caught my eye and led me over to the man. She faced me square and said, “We must discover what he knows. Extract it from him, and do it quickly.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She spoke a little louder. “Please do try not to leave him paralyzed and blind, as you did with the last one.” She raised an eyebrow right back at me before she marched away.
Seven
I have never much liked torture. I know that seems like an uncomplicated sentiment, but I’ve lived much of my life among people who sometimes felt a bit cozy about the idea and the execution of torture. I dislike it for several reasons, one being that I’m not good at it. There’s usually a lot of yelling, and I don’t like watching people in pain. I’ve seen a lot of pain. I will count my own death to be kindness if it’s quick instead of long-suffering, and I can at least extend that kindness to the people I kill.
But the main reason I dislike torture is its unreliability. A tortured man will tell you what he thinks you want to hear to get you to stop cutting, smashing, or burning him. Once he tells you the thing you wanted to hear, you believe him right away, even if it’s a lie, because it’s the very thing you wanted to hear. It’s all a lot of screaming and blood for no good reason.
So, now I had to torture this Denzman. I hungered to kill the baby-murdering, butchering filth, but I could put that off until later.
“Stan, build a fire right over here,” I said. “Make it hot. Desh! Cut me a few wide strips off a shirt one of these dead fellows was wearing.” I examined the Denzman. He was taller than me, and probably stronger too, but he was younger than Desh. “What’s your name, son?”
The man rolled to his feet and made it one step before I kicked his legs out from under him. I knelt and helped him sit up. As Desh handed me the strips, I said, “My name’s Bib.” I turned his wounded wrist palm up and started bandaging. “You can tell me your name. I’m not some sorcerer who can hex you with your name.”
Behind me, Desh said something that turned into a cough.
“Desh, go find me a good horse from the new ones. No, find me the best horse.”
“What then?” Desh said.
“Don’t come back until you’ve braided its mane and tail.”
The Denzman was looking back and forth between Desh and me.
“Don’t mind him—he’s my sister’s idiot son. Am I wrapping this too tight?” The man shook his head. “So, what do I call you?”
“Steven.”
“Steven, it’s good to know you. Lift your arm a little.” He winced and even whimpered once, but I pretended not to notice. “I’m not mad at you, Steven. You’re a soldier, and you do as you’re ordered. I will count our conversation as time well spent if you walk out of here tonight and walk all the way home.”
“You can torture me, Ir-man. I won’t tell you anything.”
I smiled. “Steven, you’ve met someone besides me from Ir? All the way across the sea? Was his hair red like mine? Well, red with a speck of gray. We’re a handsome and virtuous people, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re a murderer.”
“Yes, I am. There.” I tied off the bandage. “I’m not sorry I killed your friends, but I’m sorry you’ll grieve for them.”
“He was Lerritt, my cousin.” He pointed to the first man I killed.
“A brave man. I know his family will miss him. Do you have a family at home, Steven?”
Ralt had walked up beside me and was watching, his head cocked. “These pliers was in my saddlebag. Thought you might want them.”
“Just lay them down there, Ralt. If you found any beer in the Denzmen’s bags, bring me some.”
Ralt walked off, muttering, “Want me to bake him a flippin’ pie too?”
I looked back and saw Stan and Ella standing beside the immature fire, watching me. “Stan, pull the boots off
all the dead bodies and pile them over here.”
“What?”
“Ella, will you supervise him, please? I’ve taken a vow not to speak with more than three idiots in one day.”
“Very well,” Ella said, shaking her head.
I turned back to Steven. I had kept his wrist clamped in my hand while looking away, but he’d scooted as far away from me as he could. “Tell me about your family, Steven. Any children?”
He almost smiled but caught himself. “A daughter.”
I smiled for both of us. “I’d do about anything to go home and see my little girl. Her name’s Bett. I want you to do a favor for me, Steven. I can’t go home and see Bett right now, so you go home to your daughter.” When I said that, I realized I might not absolutely have to kill this particular Denzman. There would be plenty of others to kill later. “You can tell her about the horrible, murdering Ir-man, and how you escaped.”
“I can go?”
Ralt slapped me on the shoulder and passed over a skin of beer. I took a swallow and handed it to Steven, who lifted it to his lips one-handed.
“You can go, but I need to know two things: Why and where? Why did you take the prince, and where are you taking him?”
Steven choked and coughed out a little beer. “I… I can’t tell you that.” He glanced at the pliers, and I tossed them back up the trail.
“Sure you can. I’ll find out anyway. If you don’t tell me, somebody else will. Staying quiet won’t change a damn thing, except for you and your little girl.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Then tell me where.”
Steven hesitated.
“Help me, son. Help me get you home.”
He looked at the ground and shook his head.
“Otherwise, I’ll have to break your jaw and ram those hot coals down your throat and into your belly.”
My threat lacked immediacy, since the fire was too young to contain a single hot coal. But even a small fire showed my intention to cook him alive from the inside, and Steven spoke.