Arturus watched as Rick nodded and drank deeply from his cup.
The still man, he was the one who traded us these cups.
“No shame in those orders,” Galen said. “Your people need to eat. That’s Michael’s responsibility.”
Aaron nodded. “This mission won’t stop until we find where he was getting his devilwheat, that’s true. But Galen, I’m not asking your help for that. I want your help finding the boy. We’ll be looking for the wheat, sure, but only because we think that’ll help find Julian.”
Arturus chewed on his lip. He didn’t like the idea that Julian wasn’t more important than the food he provided. The idea of a rescue sounded so much more noble than a hunt for resources.
Because you’re fed. Because you’re not like those villagers in Harpsborough who will die if this devilwheat isn’t found.
“It’s going to be tough, though,” Aaron said, gazing at the curious machinery connected to the battery.
“How long has he been missing?” Rick asked.
“Maybe two days, by now. Things have been so busy in the village with the spider food that we didn’t really notice. But that’s not why I say it’s going to be tough.”
“Why then?” Arturus broke in.
He almost clapped his hands over his mouth. This wasn’t his conversation to speak in. He was an outsider, a child lucky enough to overhear important information at his parents’ table. Aaron, however, answered his question without a pause.
“We’ve looked for it before, while Julian was in the village. Michael Baker wanted me to do it. It wasn’t a very complete search, but we tried it a couple times. Didn’t get any leads. You can’t go telling anyone in the village this. The villagers wouldn’t like to hear that the Fore wants to know where everyone’s stashes are. Even a lot of the Citizens don’t know.”
“But you know,” Galen stated, leaning his elbows on the table.
“Of course, I was the one who went looking. We weren’t going to take any of it away from him. He pretty much taxes himself by giving everything to the Citizens for cheap. It’s just that he brings in so much food that Michael felt we had to know. Particularly now that the devils have all but abandoned this place.”
“I’ll help you. How big is the boy’s range? Do you know?”
Aaron nodded. “It’s on the Harpsborough side of the Kingsriver, east of the road fork. I know almost exactly where he goes. I followed him as far as the fork once, and he came back within a couple of hours. Area’s small but tricky. Lots of tall and short rooms full of stone blocks. Lots of uneven ceilings. Plenty of places where there could be hidden passages that go up or down.”
Galen pushed his cheek out with his tongue and used his thumb to scratch that part of his beard. “I know the place.”
“So you’ll help us?” Aaron asked.
“Yeah. I’ll want to bring Turi, though.”
Arturus almost choked on his water. Carefully, he placed the cup down and cleared his throat. “I’d love to help.”
Do I want to help? I could get shot. This is a job for hunters, not little boys.
Aaron raised his eyebrows.
“Boy’s got a keen eye,” Galen said. “And he’s just small enough that he’ll be able to scoot down tight passages that we’d have trouble with.”
Aaron nodded in agreement.
Galen thinks I should go.
The thought filled him with pride.
“Wait outside,” Galen told Aaron. “Turi and I will gather our things.”
Aaron got up and walked out of the room.
But what if I do get shot? What if I make too much noise and bring the devils down on us. Galen won’t ever let me do this again. He might not let me go to Harpsborough.
“Your rifle clean?” Rick asked Arturus.
“Of course it is,” Galen answered for him. “Turi’s old enough to keep his rifle clean.”
I could say no. I could say I’m not ready. Galen wouldn’t call me a coward.
But he’d be disappointed, Arturus knew. And there were other reasons he wanted to go besides just being an adult.
Julian’s one of us.
They met Aaron’s hunters at the fork. He had chosen five of his favorite men for the rescue. Duncan and Fitch were there, who Arturus knew had become famous lately from the spider expedition, along with Avery and Johnny Huang. Arturus recognized the face of the other guard, but didn’t know his name. He wondered if he should have.
“Why’s the kid coming?” Avery asked within seconds of Arturus’ entrance.
“He’s got good eyes,” Aaron said.
“It’s not like there’s any devils around, Avery.” The fifth guard’s voice was strangely familiar to him.
Patrick. Patrick is his name. Molly used to say his voice was sexy.
“Through there?” Galen asked, pointing down the fork marked with a purple stone.
The thought of heading near the Carrion sent Arturus’ heart rushing.
“Nope, this way.” Aaron motioned down the other corridor.
Arturus breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Aaron went on. “We’re going to break up into two groups, so keep your weapons safetied. That means you too, Duncan.”
“Funny.”
“He’s been missing for two days or so. We’re probably not going to find him alive. Hopefully we will. Maybe he just took a vacation, I don’t know. Julian’s a little guy, so check the corners of the ceilings and the floor. I’ve been through here a few times myself, and I’ve never seen any devilwheat stash. Not even a little one, let alone one big enough to feed us. My guess is he found a chute which leads up or down. Michael says we had better find it before the spider food runs out, or he won’t have a vote about our different food rations. Maybe we can convince him that we should get ten percent of Julian’s stash rather than the Fore.”
“Good,” Patrick said. “If that’s true, I’ll shoot the little fucker on sight.”
Arturus disliked him already. He looked towards Galen, but the warrior didn’t seem to care.
Not that I’d be able to tell if he did.
“Galen, myself, Patrick and Avery will check on the far side. Duncan, Fitch, Johnny, and Turi, check near Harpsborough. Two shots if you find him or the wheat. Anything more or less, and we’ll assume you need some help. And remember, safeties on.”
Aaron stared Duncan down.
“Who’d care if I fucked up and shot an infidel?” Duncan asked. “Huh? Who’d care?”
“If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”
“And if you were Michael Baker, I’d expect I’d do it, too.”
Fitch sucked air through his teeth. Avery crossed his arms.
“Look—” Avery began.
“And, if I were Michael Baker,” Aaron responded over Avery, “I’d have the kid already home, found a second store of devilwheat, and fucked Kylie twice by now.” The men laughed at that. “So unfortunately we’re going to have to get a bit sweaty. You good?”
Duncan nodded. “I’m good.”
Aaron knows what he’s doing.
But then he thought of Aaron and Alice, spending time together. He imagined them kissing. Usually he felt for Alice in his chest. Now he felt for her in his throat.
Jealousy.
“Jealousy is God’s sin. Pride, the Devil’s,” Galen had told him. “We’re humans, so we’re lucky enough to have both.”
They divided into their separate groups of four and began their search.
Huang was the quietest as they marched through the endless winding corridors, earning Arturus’ respect immediately.
“Should we call out for him?” Arturus asked the group.
“No, boy,” Fitch said.
“There’s a reason Julian didn’t come back,” Duncan whispered, “and we have no idea what that was. Maybe he’s lost. Maybe he broke his leg. But maybe something got him. You know, an Icanitzu, a Minotaur, maybe even a Nephilim. You want to
call those things down on our heads?”
Arturus shook his head.
Soon they paused at Duncan’s direction. The room they stopped in was red, dim, and had uneven brick walls interspersed with jutting formations of natural rock.
“Let’s check this place,” Duncan said. “Wouldn’t be surprised to find a tunnel here.”
Arturus ran his fingers along the stone as he searched the uneven wall. He noticed Huang standing next to him.
“How do I say your name?” he asked the hunter.
Arturus’ hand glowed, colored with a fiendish cast as he ran it over the red stone. He looked for disruptions in the light. This was the best way, Galen had taught him, to search for passages in illuminated rock.
“Johnny,” the man answered.
Arturus laughed as softly as he could. “Not that name.”
“Whowang.”
“But that’s not how everyone else says it.”
Johnny shrugged. “They mistook me for my cousin.”
“Did not.”
“Sure did. His name was Johnny Wang. It’s just they couldn’t tell because we all look alike.”
Arturus laughed again.
“God made everyone unique and special, Turi. He just got tired when he got to China.”
“Quiet,” Fitch ordered.
“Found something,” Duncan reported.
He had climbed up nearly to the ceiling on one of the sections of natural rock. The right half of his face was lit up from the light of the wall.
“Looks like someone can crawl through here.”
At first it was hard to see the small opening, but as Arturus neared it and held a hand up before his eyes to block out the glare of the red rock, he could see the passageway. It was a small one. A dyitzu would have to struggle to fit in there.
“Can you check it out, Turi?” Johnny asked.
I have to be brave.
Duncan and Fitch helped him climb up the stone.
It’s tighter than I thought.
He looked into the hole. The red light of the stone slowly faded away as the passage continued. He passed his pack back to Johnny, and after eyeballing the passageway a little more, handed his rifle to the hunter as well.
Arturus stood on Fitch’s back, drew his pistol, and crawled in.
“I may need a torch,” he said back over his shoulder.
His voice sounded muffled in the passageway.
“Let us know,” Fitch answered, his head framed by the square entrance. “I’ve got a couple. I’ll pass one to you.”
The crawlway was so small that Arturus found it difficult to use his legs to propel himself forward. His knees simply could not bend far enough. His pants were pulled tight by the friction, restricting his movement. The air was warm, and seemed empty. He couldn’t get enough of it.
He placed his pistol down in front of him and started pushing it ahead of himself.
Is it getting tighter?
Johnny’s voice echoed down the crawlway, but it was too soft for Arturus to make out. He couldn’t turn his head back to look. He seemed to have been talking to Duncan or Fitch.
What if they’re attacked?
He was struck suddenly by a fear of them dying. Of a dyitzu crawling after him down the corridor. Of its clawed hands grabbing at his feet. Of its mouth tearing at his Achilles tendon.
Could I point the gun back in time?
Arturus tried to figure out how he could fire behind himself. Perhaps he could get his arm back from out in front of him, and then shoot along his leg down the corridor. He tried to wiggle his arm towards his hip, but his elbow kept running into the stone. Finally, he pinned his elbow against the corner and squeezed his arm beneath his body.
He issued a sigh of relief. It was possible. He tried to look behind himself, but bumped his head against the rock.
I won’t be able to aim.
He was sweating badly, he realized, and his breathing was heavy. He tried to move forward, but with his arm now caught against the stone, he couldn’t budge. He tried to move back. No luck.
I’m stuck.
His heart beat faster. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears. He could smell his own warm breath as he was forced to breathe it in again.
Help me.
He thought about shouting. About how long it might take for them to try and excavate him out of so much stone. Would his air last long enough?
This reminded him suddenly of his wrestling sessions with Galen. His arm was trapped, and he was stuck in a tight place under immense pressure.
“Stay calm,” Galen would assure him. “Assess the damage you are taking. Find a plan. Seize any opportunity. Little advantages can turn into big ones if you fight hard enough.”
My arm.
He flattened his hand and moved it back up along his body, propping his elbow in the same corner he had used before. When his hand was in front of his face, he was able to corkscrew his arm forward again.
He could breathe.
He could move.
I can do this. Julian needs me.
He crawled farther forward. Ahead the tunnel got dimmer, but using a torch would be useless, he realized. First of all, he’d have to crawl all the way out just to get the torch in front of himself. Secondly, even if he did all that, the torch would burn up all of his air in a hurry should he run into a dead end.
Just a few feet in front of him, hardly visible in the faint light, was a bend. The crawlway took a ninety degree turn to the right. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt the stone with his fingers.
He remembered a way that Galen had taught him to turn around at such a bend.
It won’t work here. Not enough room.
He took the turn slowly, having to wriggle his body to squeeze through. The stone was cooler here, and he couldn’t see at all. His gun hit a wall.
“Oh thank God,” he muttered.
The passageway dead ended. He inspected the dead end carefully to make sure that this wasn’t a false wall.
If it was, he figured, it was a damn impressive one.
And now I have to go back.
Arturus emerged, feet first, hot and sweaty, his hands shaking from spent adrenaline, his chest heaving, out of the crawlway.
“You alright?” Johnny Huang asked, lifting Arturus to his feet.
Arturus nodded, his vision swimming.
“Dead end,” he reported between breaths.
Fitch looked down it, and shook his head. “Man, imagine if you were running from the devils and tried to hide down that passage. You’d dead end, and they’d tear you to pieces.”
Duncan and Johnny nodded.
“Simon died that way,” Duncan reported. “His body and face were fine, but they’d torn all the flesh off his legs.”
There were more passages. Many more. Most were not as small, but a few were. In the larger tunnels, one of the hunters would travel along with him. It usually ended up being Johnny. Arturus didn’t mind this. He actually preferred the man’s company.
Finding the tunnels was a difficult task in and of itself, and Arturus found himself wondering how many passages they were missing between the ones that they found.
No one said this was going to be easy.
“Hey.” Duncan’s voice was a harsh whisper.
As careless as the footfalls of the hunters could be, they knew how to keep quiet after a warning.
Duncan’s figure was a dull red, lit only by the light from another tunnel. The hunter’s dim hand beckoned them forward. Beyond Duncan there was only blackness. Arturus feared that he might be standing on the edge of a cliff.
Duncan stepped forward into the dark, fading away into the blackness. Fitch followed him, unslinging his rifle.
“Torch please.” Duncan’s voice came from the emptiness beyond.
Fitch complied, kneeling at the edge of the light, and pulled out a woodstone torch. It had a thin wrapping of cloth along the top, marking it as one of Copperfield’s.
Fitch’
s lighter had long since run out of butane, so it took him a while to get a spark to catch.
The torch caught fire in a rush, and the black room beyond was suddenly alight.
“There,” Duncan said, “on the wall.”
The wall itself was made of Hellstone, so Arturus was unsure as to why the chamber was so dark. Usually light flowed through hellstone rather well, but this oddity was not what had captured Duncan’s attention. Deep grooves had been cut into the stone at almost head height.
“Is that hound sign?” asked Johnny Huang.
The four of them gathered around the grooves.
“Can’t be, too tall.” Duncan said.
“No, it is.” Fitch said. “It’s just a really big fucking hound.”
Duncan shook his head. “Impossible. It would be huge. It would have left deeper marks.”
“It did,” Arturus said, touching the stone. “Look at the spurs in the grain here, you can see where the stone is healing over. This sign is very old. Maybe ten or eleven years.”
Johnny nodded. “Boy’s no fool.”
Arturus smiled.
“The Infidel Friend said he was bit by one that big,” Duncan said. “I didn’t believe him though.”
They followed the grooves along the wall, none of them willing to stray too far from the light.
“I’ll hold the torch in the middle,” Fitch said, stepping into the center of the room. “That way you can spread out.”
They found hound sign along the walls.
“It could be Beast,” Fitch said.
“Who’s that?” Arturus asked.
“We used to see him around Harpsborough when Mike was still Lead Hunter. Biggest hound you’ve ever seen. Klein said it followed the founders here. Mike says he shot it about three times. They thought they killed it once, but no one was sure. No one’s seen him since. Well, no one I believe at any rate. Martin says he sees him every couple of months.”
These are very old.
Arturus traced the marks with his fingers. He could feel the small spurs of stone shooting up from the wounds. Hounds’ teeth never stopped growing, so they would grind them down against stone. After months of doing this they would create these grooves. The younger ones preferred woodstone.
Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) Page 21