He stops for a moment, looking over one shoulder as if something’s coming for him, and then renews his efforts on the glass.
He’s darkly dressed. I know from overhearing the hyenas’ conversations that they’d lost a few men, and that certainly looks like one of their guys. They’d abandoned him. Not even a cancer man deserves that.
But wait. He seems especially familiar.
Everyone around me is looking at Ryan, and I realize why.
With surprise, I compare the two men, the Ryan next to me, and the distant Ryan trapped behind the glass.
Durgan’s voice startles me because I didn’t know he’d returned. “It’s Soulfall,” he says. “It knows you’ve been there. It’s trying to call you back.”
Whatever weird state of shock has been protecting Ryan gives way—his eyes are wide and full of horror.
“We’ve got to go back,” he says quickly.
Fin jerks at the suggestion and even Harris’ face blanches with fear.
“We ain’t going back there, man!” Clement shouts.
“It’s not you,” Keith tries to reason with Ryan. “It’s an illusion.”
Ryan looks left and right, as if searching for enemies in our midst. “You’re wrong!” And he bolts for the cliff.
Harris jumps forward, and catches him, keeping him from the ledge.
“You’re wrong,” Ryan screeches, struggling against Harris’ arms. “I knew it. I knew it. I left something behind! We have to go back. Don’t you understand? That’s me. That’s the real me! Look!”
The other Ryan seems to have spotted us, and though he’d been frantic before, that was nothing compared to the inane fury he’s possessed with now.
He throws himself into the glass, arms whirling, head-butting, clawing, kicking and punching. His mouth is open, though his screams can’t reach our ears. Something is darkening the window, perhaps his blood.
I look back to our Ryan, the real Ryan, and I want to comfort him. I want to take him up in my arms like Harris has and whisper into his soul that it will all be okay.
And maybe I could do that, if my hands were untied.
And maybe it would help.
But I bet all I’d really accomplish is to make myself a liar.
“Come,” Durgan’s voice rumbles against the rush of the waterfall. “We haven’t much time.”
The pace Durgan sets through the wilds is frustratingly sporadic, and the toll it’s taking on my ankle is severe. As we move quickly through the architect worked halls, I’m forced to increasingly favor my right leg. My bound hands aren’t doing anything to help my balance, and I start catching myself against the walls with my cut up shoulder.
On the bright side, I’m leaving a blood trail for Q to follow—or any devil that’s near.
After each hurried jog, Durgan has us crouch down in small rooms, and then, after brief solo scouting missions, returns to take us away again. As a wight, the dyitzu won’t attack him, but they sure as hell won’t spare us on his account.
Our rest periods are so short I give up elevating my leg.
“Keith,” I whisper at our next stop, “my ankle is about to give.”
Keith let’s out a long sigh. “Durgan says we’re nearly at the Carrion. We’ve got a safe room there. Can you make another three dashes?”
“I can.”
Fin looks at me, worry in his eyes.
Apparently he still likes me even after I insulted his God. Well, come to think of it, I killed his God, but what really pissed him off was me rubbing his face in it. I start to feel a bit guilty. Sure, of the thousands of gods men had worshiped over the years, he picked the absolute worst one available, but Xyn is dead now. Why make Fin feel worse than he already does?
Durgan returns. “We’ve got a decision to make.”
“Go on,” Keith says.
“There is a long hallway that seems deserted, but it is highly problematic. I didn’t see any devils at the entrance, but it is a ten mile loop, so there could be some in there. We can stay low to minimize our profile, and we only have to pass through about half of it, but the nature of the place means anyone anywhere along the hallway should be able to detect us as we move.
“Choice number two is to go low and use a series of crawlways. The progress will be much slower.”
Keith looks to me. “If your life depended on it, could you run a mile?”
I think about this.
“Yes,” I say, “but only if my life depended on it.”
Keith shrugs. “The loop it is.”
Hell never stops surprising me.
The ceiling of Durgan’s hallway is full of black crystals, and they are as dark as whetstone. For some reason, when we walk, our vibrations run up the wall to the crystals and, as they shake, they begin to emit a dull red light. On our left wall is glass, which reminds me of the window we’d just seen on Soulfall. The floor and the remaining wall of our passage are made of charcoal grey hellstone bricks.
When I look through the glass, I see that our corridor curves around a hollowed-out cylinder. The cylinder goes up and down for about a mile, and the only interruption in its bricked surface is our window. The window runs seamlessly along the left side of our hallway.
Jesus.
“Once we start down this path,” Durgan says, “we won’t be able to change course without backtracking. That means anyone who comes in after us, and anyone who might be hiding in there now, will be able to see us all the way around.” His finger points along our future path through the miles-long curved glass wall.
Keith motions to the ceiling. “And the crystals light up the whole way?”
Durgan nods. “Yes.”
I notice even the vibrations of our voices creates tiny little pinpricks of light on the tips of the crystals. If there is anyone in the hallway, they surely can see the red flickering above us.
We watch through the window, looking for any signs of lit crystals.
“There’s a stream past our exit,” Durgan says. “We’ll clean ourselves there to rid our scent. Then we’ll rest in the Carrion.”
That seems like the wrong order to do things, actually. We should rest here, then wash, then go into the Carrion. But Hell, it’s their show, and if there’s a simple reason why I’m wrong, I’d rather not let them know how stupid I am.
We walk as softly as possible, but even so, tiny red lights flash along the ceiling above. When one of us makes a misstep, the light is bright enough to bathe us in its bloodlike color.
“This is insane,” Alec mutters.
Keith grunts in agreement. “The Devil is a bastard,” he says. “He’ll give you a shortcut, but he sure as hell is going to make you pay for it.”
My ankle starts to feel better at the midway point, but that doesn’t last. As we continue along the barely-curved hallway, the swelling begins to come back. Tears of pain are starting to form in my eyes.
“I need to rewrap my ankle,” I say.
Durgan takes a long look through the window, probably searching for any red lights. “You must hurry,” he warns.
“Quickly, Godslayer,” Keith says.
I drop to my butt and hold up my hands. Fin works hard at the knots. Seeing his lack of progress, however, Keith leads him aside.
“You didn’t teach me how to untie it,” Fin explains.
Keith’s blue eyes stare at me intently as he kneels down beside me. Fin turns around with the others to look through the window, and suddenly I’m having a private moment with Keith.
“Why does Cid hate you?” I ask.
Keith ignores the question. He works quickly at the rope, and I realize I’ll soon be free.
“What did you see in Soulfall?” Keith asks so softly that the crystals barely sparkle above us.
With a flash of insight I realize that Keith is almost as much a prisoner as I am. Harris had mentioned that Keith was assigned these men by the Order. They don’t follow him out of admiration but out of fear and respect for the organization. If K
eith ever failed to live up to that ideal, they would have no problems turning their backs on him.
And maybe that’s what I want, or maybe it isn’t. Keith, for all his evil intent, is at least reasonable. The others are as emotional as Myla.
“It hurt us,” I say. “Even Cid. It broke a couple of us.”
Keith finishes with the ropes, but he doesn’t move away. As far as his men know, he’s still working.
“Did you feel like there was something,” he says, “something . . .”
“From below,” I finish for him. “An evil force. A cruel mind.”
Keith nods fervently, his eyes wide, and it seems like he wants to look back toward his men, but is afraid to do so. “I think it . . . did it, did you get the feeling that it . . .”
This time I don’t know what he means. “It what?”
“I think it came out with—”
“We’ve got company,” Harris says.
“Quiet,” Durgan warns.
“I don’t see nothin’,” Clement whispers.
I quickly unwrap my ankle. The joint is pretty damn swollen. I breathe in through my teeth. Fuck. I am so fucked.
“There,” Harris says, putting a finger on the glass. “Right back by the beginning.”
Together, the hyenas stare through the window.
“I see it,” Ryan says.
Alec starts shaking. Then he pisses himself.
Jesus.
“Confirmed,” Durgan agrees. “We’re being followed.”
“You said the infidels couldn’t keep up with us.” Alec’s soft voice shakes, like his body, with his anxiety.
I smell his urine.
“They didn’t,” Durgan assures him. “I led them astray long enough for us to find where Cris fell, remember? No, most likely it is dyitzu on our trail.”
I really hate this fucking wight. I’d hated Keith before, because he’d been the one I’d thought had got the Order chasing me, but now I’m starting to think it’s Durgan who is the main culprit.
I begin to wrap my ankle, working quickly, but not too quickly. I wonder if Durgan is lying. If so, then even though his face is half turned away, those black eyes could be focused on me. Maybe he’s judging whether I bought his lie or not.
Well, liar or no, I can at least figure out if he’s looking at me.
I give a slight upward nod and make a couple of kisses at him.
His face turns toward me. “Quickly, Godslayer.”
I grin.
Rationally, I don’t know that it’s my friends on our tail, but I imagine Q, leading Cid and Neb, weaving his way around the traps Durgan has set for them.
Please be you, brother. I need you more than ever.
As we leave the long hallway, I cast one long look over my shoulder, hoping to see red lights twinkling in the distance.
I don’t.
They untie me again when we arrive at some random river. It’s only about ten feet wide and ten feet deep, and the water travels quickly along its squared-off banks.
They begin to strip.
Infidels don’t have body shame, but I’m not really an infidel yet, so I’m going to have to fake it.
My shame lessens upon seeing their wiry, malnourished bodies. Ribs stick out from their thin forms. Harris is broader than most, and Fin is smoother, but model specimens of masculinity they are not.
Durgan is interesting to look at. The illusion that his skin looks like marble is intensified by his nudity. In a way, he seems almost like an old statue, the kind Myla used to liken me too. Keith, however, is one strong motherfucker. I notice this as I drop to my ass to unwrap my foot. His body looks more like an infidel’s than those around him. His shoulders are both lean and full. His abdomen, perhaps not quite a six pack, shows good definition.
I disrobe from my sitting position, and though I’m careful, taking off my pants twinges my left ankle.
Fuck.
Wounded though I am, I find I’m proud of my body. I don’t let my gaze linger on my nakedness for too long, because while infidels may not have body shame, they sure as hell aren’t narcissists.
I scoot on my butt toward the river, using my good foot and both hands. Keith tosses my clothes and the shoes Jessica’d made me across the way.
I miss my pack and my Old Lady. I hope Cid and Q still have them.
The water is oh so bloody cold.
Jesus effing Christ.
With an effort that I would have thought beyond me, I slip into the water as if it is a summer stream.
A few of the other hyenas have already appeared on the far side, shivering and dripping, their balls receding up into their pubic hair.
They are dipping their clothes into the stream and then wringing them out. Hopefully that will lessen our scent for the hounds and dyitzu in the Carrion.
The Carrion is where the City of Blood and Stone is. I remember those areas being horrifying.
Fin is nice enough to dip my clothes into the river and begins washing my stink out. That’s nice of him.
I emerge as best I can, and stand on one leg, willing my body not to shiver.
It doesn’t.
Go you, body, go you. Shame these evil motherfuckers. Who says good can’t be pretty?
We dry ourselves by running the water off our limbs with our hands, which I’m forced to do from a sitting position. Then, as they clothe themselves, I begin wrapping my foot. The way Harris stares at me is creepy in the high school gym teacher kind of way. What a weirdo.
I have to admit that the brief jaunt into the water has made them look a bit more lively. I feel it too. The cold water has my blood pumping through my veins like a fresh spring. The river could have done more to lessen the swelling around my ankle, surely, but who am I to complain?
Ryan, however, looks much worse for the wear. The water has puckered up the peeling skin on the right side of his face. Those burns are far worse than I thought.
“Quickly,” Durgan says. “The Carrion is close, and we can be assured the dyitzu will not be able to follow us there.”
Dyitzu? Or Q? Which is it you’re afraid of, Durgan?
“We shouldn’t go back into the Carrion,” Alec says.
Keith snorts. “We have to.”
“Why?”
And I realize that right now, they need me. They need me badly. I’m something to do. I’m a mission. They’re hurting so much from Soulfall that they have to have something to do. Without me, they are just lost little soldiers. Without me, all the horrors they suffered in those dark halls in the middle of the Erebus will have been for nothing.
“Shut the hell up, Alec,” Harris tells him.
After I’m clothed, I stand and test my foot again.
Oh man. Oh, totally shit hell man.
“I don’t have long,” I warn them.
Durgan’s black eyes flash as he turns to me. “You won’t need long.”
Finally our pace is even, and I can’t pretend I miss all the furtive starting and stopping. That being said, I don’t see much of a future in walking for me. At some point, I’m going to have to let this ankle heal.
When I lean against the walls for balance, I can tell that the stones around us are getting cooler, and it’s not long before the air does the same. The chill is nothing like the pole, but it’s enough to make goosebumps pop up on my skin. The light, which has been ridiculously dim this entire time, changes in color, often covering the hyenas in a soft, purple-hued light. At other times, I see yellow illuminated cubbies. The ceilings get lower, and occasionally we have to duck to avoid hitting our heads on the strange archways.
I see a purple marker stone which I remember serves to warn us that we’re very, very near to the Carrion.
“The ancients walled the Carrion off, it was so bad,” Keith tells us.
“Pussies,” Harris jokes, but no one laughs.
Well, except me, but I’m not exactly who you’d consider his target audience.
Gingerly, we walk down the passage. There
was a barrier here, but something had burst through it. Judging from how much the stone debris had been absorbed, much of it appearing as if it was half melted into the floor and wall, I’d guess whatever breached the barrier did so several decades ago.
“I don’t want to go in there,” Alec says from behind me.
Harris places a hand on the remaining stonework. Whoever built this barrier had quarried the stone from nearby, that much seems certain. They’d locked the bricks together with some kind of mortar. Maybe it was ground up hellstone. Maybe the ancients did build a barrier here, long ago, but this doesn’t seem like their work. Of course, I’m no expert.
Some of the bricks, each the size of my head, were split in two, and half-healed cracks spread through the barrier and into the architect-built wall it’s attached to.
The breach is easily large enough for a man to fit through.
“I’m not going into the Carrion,” Alec insists.
Keith, who’d nearly stepped through the barrier, turns back, a quizzical look on his face. “We’ve got to, man. Don’t you want to get your hands on that Angel? Don’t you know what the Order will give us?”
Alec shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly.
“I don’t care,” he whines.
Harris and I give simultaneous sighs of disgust.
“Jinx,” I say, but Harris isn’t amused.
Durgan cocks his head to one side, his black eyes studying Alec carefully.
“Don’t you understand?” Alec shouts.
The hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
“Pipe down!” Clement’s harsh whisper is almost as loud as Alec’s shout was. “We’re just outside the Carrion, you idiot.”
Alec shakes his head back and forth, his nostrils flaring with each intense breath. “We can’t take it back with us.”
Is he talking about me?
Keith’s voice is soft but oh-so-concerned. “Take what back with us, Alec?”
“We must go, and quickly,” Durgan says. “It’s not safe to stay here.”
“You heard him, Alec,” Clement says. “No dallying. Get your ass in gear, soldier.”
Alec draws a pistol and points it at Clement. “I’m not going.”
Dust (Hellsong: Infidels: Cris Book 3) Page 4