by Martin Kee
Guard Two had pulled away from the bayonet and now staggered bent over, bleeding a pool onto the floor. Marley swept his leg under Guard Three before he could recover. The man fell backwards, but not before Marley grabbed his head in a lock as he fell. A wet pop, and the soldier’s neck was broken.
He had honestly been surprised to see Guard Two still alive and drawing his revolver, firing and nicking Marley in the shoulder. There was the smell of gunpowder and smoke, lots of smoke.
Marley pulled Guard Two toward him, throwing out his elbow to break the neck. It did. The armored man went limp to the floor and Marley coughed. Black smoke had gathered in the tavern, so thick he couldn’t see the rafters.
He stumbled out the door, exiting The Hungry Skunk for the last time.
*
Even now he could smell the smoke as it rose through the trees as the tavern burned.
For a man his size, Marley was surprisingly adept as he drifted unseen between the burnt-out hollows and scorched trees. Lassimir was a charcoal crescent in the middle of a lush green forest. The few remaining structures were the shanties that survived the fires and a couple of tents. Everything else was ash.
In the fading light, Marley was a shadow painted in coal and dirt. A scarlet line streaked down his left shoulder, a souvenir from Guard Two’s pistol. Against the body paint it looked like a ribbon as he huddled behind burnt branches and trunks. A small green stalk sprouted inches from his nose.
He watched from the crook of a blackened tree trunk as soldiers carried the dead, lugging them to the center of town where they tossed the corpses unceremoniously into a large crater that, only a day ago, sat spectators and vendors. The corpses fell like burnt bags of wheat and vanished from view. What had been an arena was now a mass grave.
The docks were beyond the pit, easy to spot now that no structures stood in the way. The invasion barge merged with the land. Lassimir citizens—now slaves—labored at gunpoint, folding deflated airship bags and erecting new tents to house the occupying soldiers. They drudged back and forth from the barge to the land. Many of them had been banished from Bollingbrook, the very city that now enslaved them.
He decided he would wait until night, reach the docks and steal a boat to Rhinewall. In the meantime, he was preoccupied with the voices that came from the nearest structure. Someone was getting drunk.
“Did you see the one kid that tried to hit me?” said a voice.
“The shield fighter?”
“Yeah.” There was a pause and then laughter. “Hit me right in the shoulder too. Look at that mark.”
“Those rings hurt.”
The first man made a pshaw sound. “It looks worse than it is.”
“You can almost see the pattern.” He sounded fascinated. “Looks like a skull, maybe. At least it makes a nice souvenir. Did you keep the ring?”
“Francis took the ring after the man died. Ask him.”
“They don’t stop bullets very well do they?”
Both men laughed, and a warm prickle felt its way up the back of Marley’s skull, making his brow furrow. He began to wonder how many more of them he could kill before they stopped him.
A door opened unexpectedly and both men shuffled as they stood to attention. Marley heard footsteps and some orders being barked. There was silence and then the heavy sound of boots on wood.
“At ease,” said a new voice.
“Sir, we were just—” said the first man.
“Drinking?”
Another pause.
“Yes sir, we—”
“Were just about to pour your general a drink?”
There was an awkward silence and then nervous laughter.
“Sir. Yes sir!”
Chairs scuffed the floor and boards creaked, as Perlandine got comfortable. Marley heard the sound of glasses clinking and muttered words that he couldn’t make out. More laughter and then some silence again as the men relaxed.
“How’s your chest, corporal? Have you shown the cleric yet?”
“No, sir,” said the corporal. “It only looks bad.”
Perlandine hummed. “You might want to. I’ve known fighters to poison their rings, or sully them to kill a man days later.”
“I will sir, thank you.”
Marley listened as the men drank into the evening, telling exaggerated tales of bravery against the mostly unarmed men they had killed. The more they drank, the bolder their claims. They began to talk about the women and Marley thought again about sneaking in to kill them. But he wanted information first.
“So how long do we have to stay in this wreck of a town?” one of the men asked. “I’m already bored.”
“We’ll send half the forces out in a couple days once we’ve cleaned up and tracked down any runners that were too dumb to leave for good. They like to hide in the trees. I’ve known them to live that way for months.”
One of the men groaned. Formalities were forgotten behind the veil of booze.
“I’d just as soon slash and burn the entire forest.”
“We might,” Perlandine said. “It all depends on whether The Reverend Inspector finds what he’s looking for in Rhinewall.”
Marley perked up at the city name. He pressed his muddy ear to the wall. The window cast a warm square of light out into the evening.
“Is he still after that girl?” one man said chuckling. “That always sounded like some sort of rumor to me.”
Another soldier chimed in: “Preacher’s got a real hard-on for the girl from what I hear. Burned her house down when Willcox and he found it.”
“They found it?”
“Yep,” the soldier said. “Found it and burned it. The Reverend likes to burn, from what I hear.” He laughed.
“Is it true what they said about Charlie?”
“Yeah, barkeep poisoned him.”
They all took a moment to toast their fallen comrades. Glasses clinked together again. There was a reverent pause before anyone spoke.
“If either of you are interested,” Perlandine said. “We’ll need more men in Rhinewall if he has in fact found her. We’ll be sending the rest of the boats in a day.”
“I’ll go,” said the corporal. “And Stykes here. You’ve never been to Rhinewall?”
There was a pause as Stykes shook his head.
“They have a Tinker’s Guild there. Most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll have to see it,” the man said. “I hear the barmaids aren’t bad either.”
Perlandine interjected: “It’s much more than a Tinker’s Guild, son. It is a full-scale laboratory.”
“He told you about it?”
There was a pause while glasses were filled. Perlandine continued.
“He did, a little. Claims they can perform miracles.”
“Claims,” a soldier said. “I can claim to have a bedroom full of virgins, that doesn’t make it true.”
There was laughter.
“Lupo, we all know that the only virgin in your bedroom is you,” Stykes said. There was more laughter, then some shuffling of boots on wood.
“Excuse me gentlemen,” Perlandine said, getting up. “But I believe that first, somewhere there is a bush that needs watering.”
“That’s a coincidence, because Lupo’s mother told me to water her bush just the other night.”
There was more drunken laughter as a minor scuffle broke out. Lupo had a thin skin, apparently.
The door opened and Marley slipped along the wall, away from the glowing window. His footsteps were masked by the chatter and drunken arguing from the soldiers inside. He watched from the corner of the building as a shadow stretched out across the ground. Perlandine emerged, bulging from his ill-fitting general’s uniform. Feathers and ribbons flounced behind him like small animals strapped to his clothing. He strutted, drunkenly across the small section of grass and pine needles that had escaped the firestorm.
Marley had almost slipped from the cover of the house when two more soldiers called out
to the general.
“I think I know what I’m doing, gentlemen,” he shouted back at them. “I’m not a toddler. They don’t give you a general’s uniform if you can’t take a drunken piss in the woods by yourself.”
The soldiers retreated into the building as the door slammed. Perlandine, now alone and swaying, stumbled away from the house and into the forest. Marley followed.
When he came back into view, Marley might have laughed. The man was leaning against a tree, his back facing Marley. His trousers were dropped to the ground, encircling his sausage-like ankles. He groaned as Marley crept up behind him.
“I told you I—”
A slab of meat with five fingers encased his mouth. His startled cry was but a muffled whimper as the huge shadow leaned in close to his ear.
“I’m going to turn you around and I’m going to ask you some questions,” said Marley in a deep murmur. “And if you answer them politely, I might manage to not snap your neck like a game hen. Are we clear?”
Marley felt the man nod under his palm. He slowly turned him around and held him by the throat with one hand and the shoulder by the other. In the darkness, the man’s face was white as tissue. His dark mustache turned up at the ends, pointing toward his frightened eyes. To Perlandine, it was as if a mountain had risen from the ground and embraced him. Marley was a wall of shadow with two barely visible eyes.
“Now,” Marley said. “You said the Reverend left for Rhinewall. Why?”
His fingers encircled the general’s throat, coming within inches of touching the thumb at the back of his neck. Perlandine swallowed.
“He believes the girl went there.”
“Why?” Marley adjusted his fingers. The man tried to swallow again.
“Because that’s what our informant told us.”
“Dale,” Marley said.
Perlandine looked surprised. “You know him?”
“I did,” Marley said. Or at least I did at one time.
“Then surely you know how dangerous that girl is.”
A sliver of white appeared below Marley’s mustache. He chuckled. “I don’t know what insanity he’s told you, but that girl’s no more dangerous than the bird she traveled with.”
Perlandine gave him a confused look. Marley’s grin vanished.
“Why does he think she’s dangerous?” he asked.
“He thinks she is dangerous to The Church,” Perlandine said impatiently. “Look, I don’t know what his business is with the little witch. The Reverend’s reasons are his own. I’m just glad she’s gone from our city. I hope she and her mother never return.”
Marley narrowed his eyes. “So her mother isn’t dead?”
“Hell if I know. That whole lot is rotten.”
“Even her aunt?”
“Her aunt?” Perlandine looked genuinely surprised. “How did you hear about her aunt?”
“She told me her aunt lived in Rhinewall.”
Marley was surprised when the stout little man burst into laughter despite Marley’s attempt to wring the humor out of him.
“Why is that so funny?” Marley snarled as the general continued to laugh in his face. He pulled the man closer and Perlandine leaned into his ear to share the joke, two small words that changed his world.
Marley was too surprised to notice the general looking at something just over his shoulder.
A branch exploded next to his head. Sharp splinters stung his ear as Marley ducked instinctively. A pain under his ribs caused him to fling the general to the side, lumbering into the forest as more bullets buzzed at his ears, striking the trees.
To his right, the entire camp seemed to come to life with the silhouettes of soldiers, yelling and pointing into the woods. They all carried guns.
He leaped, dodging trees and rocks, his massive feet pounding on the earth—there was no point being sneaky, now that an entire army was chasing him. Something caught his toe and Marley plummeted to the soft ground.
Only when he tried to pull himself up did he realize his left arm no longer worked. He braced with his right hand and managed to get back on his feet just as another bullet ricocheted off a nearby rock, throwing a cloud of dust and moss into the air.
A low cliff allowed him to tumble awkwardly down and out of sight. Several footsteps stampeded by, ignoring him. There was some distant shouting before the voices receded into the forest. The dim light of evening allowed him this, at least.
Panting, Marley recovered to a crouch and clutched his arm. Dull throbbing pain shot through his shoulder. Dark, sticky warmth squeezed between his fingers. He stumbled forward, continuing to skirt the camp, spots forming in his vision.
How much blood did I lose?
A hundred yards later, the ground gave way beneath his feet and Marley tumbled into cold water. He righted himself and gasped at the surface. Any soldiers who had been guarding the docks were off chasing his ghost. Their yells echoed in the night.
Trying to ignore the pain in his arm, Marley waded toward the docks and pulled himself clumsily into a small craft, not much more than a lifeboat, his bulk nearly causing it to capsize as it tilted wildly under his awkward boarding. He rested.
How long had it been since he had been in a boat, he wondered. Marley was hit by flashbacks from his youth. How he missed the gentle rocking of waves, the sea mist—
Skyla! He had promised her. He had to meet her, but he was so tired. His eyes fluttered.
He pulled his dead arm over his chest and began to look for the tether when he heard a click from above. Standing on the ledge of the harbor was the unmistakable outline of Perlandine, his trousers firmly secured around his waist again. He held a revolver, aimed at Marley’s head.
“This is why they give you a uniform—” he began and then slumped to the ground.
An angel stood over the fallen general, her hair lit from behind with the flames of a dead city. She wielded a sword—no not a sword, it was a wooden beam—and not an angel. It was just a girl, sad and filthy, her torn yellow dress betraying her form.
“Did you poison him?” she asked. Her voice was filled with judgment and he wondered if perhaps she really was an angel. God, he was tired.
“What?” he said, his voice a low rumble.
“Did you poison him?”
“Who?” His eyes flickered, his voice hoarse.
“Charlie,” she said and her voice cracked. “My cousin Charlie—“ She choked back a sob as Marley watched the angel weep.
Marley shook his head slowly. The corners of his vision were going gray now. Suddenly he jerked upright.
“Rhinewall!” He said and slumped back into the boat. “Get… to Rhinewall.”
The angel grabbed the tether and released him from the docks. The rope fell with a splash into the river, sinking, sinking. Marley was sinking as well.
His arm throbbed. He reached across his chest to inspect the wound and felt a new pain, this one burning with chemicals. He fumbled under his armpit and plucked something hard and sharp. Gripping it in bloody fingers, he pulled.
Marley held up a stiletto into the fading light, the blade black and deadly. The hilt bore the seal of the constable of Bollingbrook. Marley chuckled deliriously. “Who poisoned who?”
The docks slid away into the distance as consciousness slipped from his mind. When Marley looked up from the venomous fang between his fingers, the angel was gone.
Chapter 24
“I know a safer way,” said James. He continued to study the scene through the circular portal of the spyglass.
The airship was not much more than a housefly from this distance. They weren’t in much danger of being seen. But despite the priest’s reassurances that they had committed no crimes, and that John “knew people in The Church”, James insisted that they travel as carefully as possible.
“Can you make out what’s going on?” John squinted to see without the aid of a spyglass.
“Your friend in the white suit is there. Looks like he’s met some soldiers.”
/>
“Any sign of Skyla?” John asked.
The other man shook his head slightly. “None yet. Couple of bodies, though. I didn’t think the fighting would have spread this far south.”
James watched as the soldiers, dressed in their black armor, dragged a pair of bodies to where the man in white stood. He leaned against a large motorized carriage with a wide cage mounted in the back.
John picked at a grass stalk while he waited. “How far out of the way are you thinking about taking us?”
“Not too far,” James said.
John rolled his eyes. He knew understatement when he heard it. “Well we’d better get going then,” he said.
“Hold on,” said James. “I think they found something.”
The priest shaded his eyes with a flat hand and strained to see, but it wasn’t much use. Even with the lack of trees, it was impossible to see more than specks in the distance.
“It isn’t her,” said James. The priest relaxed. “They found a man. I guess they’re arresting anyone outside the city walls. We’ll take a safer route.”
John fought to hide his exasperation. Maybe he’d be better off just letting James go his own route. Being a priest, John wondered if he couldn’t just talk his way past the church-affiliated guards if he needed to.
But he was willing to indulge James his paranoia. Living alone in the woods was bound to foster a degree of contempt and distrust for others. He wasn’t ready to give up on the man just yet.
“Yeah, let’s go,” James said after another minute. “They look like they are getting ready to leave.”
Vultures had begun to circle near the anchored blimp.
*
It wasn’t hard to find the place. They were flying toward Rhinewall when the pilot had spotted the two dead soldiers outside a farmhouse. A prisoner transport had been requested from Rhinewall to meet them.
Reverend Lyle Summers took the cigarette out of his mouth and watched the blue smoke drift into the morning air. The sunlight glinted off the mutilated bodies that lay at his feet. The pilot stood next to him, his head encased in complex machinery. The two soldiers who had delivered the bodies stood at attention.
“No sign of the girl?” he asked them through the haze.