Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong)

by Shaun O. McCoy

Aaron laughed. “I hope the Citizens are merciful to you in your trial.”

  “You and I are in agreement there.”

  The infidel chewed thoughtfully before handing Aaron his empty bowl.

  “Why are you here?” Aaron asked suddenly.

  “Endymion, one of our leaders, sent me scouting. I came farther when I heard the settling, and stayed longer, because I noticed there were so few devils.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve killed them all.”

  “I’d considered that as a possibility.”

  “What’s he like, the Infidel?” Aaron asked on impulse.

  The Infidel Friend leaned forward, and put his elbows on his knees. He looked down to the stone floor. Aaron could see a clean space on the stone, where Staunten’s mattress used to be.

  Every night I sleep on bedding. He sleeps on stone.

  “Have you met him?” Aaron asked.

  Soon enough, if we can’t find Julian quickly, I might be sleeping as you.

  “I have,” the infidel responded, his eyes still downcast. “That’s a good question. Not all of us have. I fought with him at the Well. It’s difficult to describe the man.”

  “I’ve told you enough. You should give back a little.”

  “Reciprocation comes between friends, not between guards and prisoners.”

  “Maybe, but it looks to me like you need all the friends you can get.”

  “Do you even remember my name?”

  “No. But you can tell me if you like.”

  “Cris Caledon.”

  “Can I call you Cris?”

  “You’re the one with the gun. You can call me Susan for all it matters to me.”

  As always, Aaron found himself disarmed by the man’s sense of humor.

  “We infidels worship nothing but humanity. Did you know that? We consider people and their wants to be more important than God’s or Satan’s—”

  “You’re not answering the question.”

  “I am, be patient. We call ourselves infidels because Hell was made by some devil. We don’t accept morality by fiat. The Creator of the universe doesn’t decide what it is. As soon as there is sentience outside of a God’s, then morality becomes an opinion. That the consequences of this universe are dictated by Satan is merely an accident of power.”

  “I’m not here for preaching. I’d go to Father Klein if I wanted that.”

  “Very well. The Infidel is a hero. Like Achilles when he slew the river, except not blinded by rage or put off by jealousy. He’s like Wotan, standing against Fenris and the tides of Frost Giants as they assault Valhalla. He’s like Aeneas marching forward to slay Turnus. He’s like your David, facing Goliath, except that he would never send a man to die that he might have his woman.

  “I fought for him in the Well. That’s when I met him. The Icanitzu kept coming down like rain, and we had to fight them from the walls of the cliff. I despaired. I broke, inside, like people do sometimes. When the devils were gone and defeated I was still broken. When the Infidel came to me I lied to him. I told him my lover had fallen in that battle. I couldn’t bear the thought of being so weak in front of him.”

  Aaron felt as if he was paralyzed by the man’s words. He had never imagined that he would ever be face to face with an infidel, let alone that he would be receiving war stories from one.

  “He told me his lover had fallen, too,” the infidel was saying. “I was lying, you see, to try and express the truth. I was trying to express to him how much I was hurting. My boulder was more than I could bear, and I should have told him that rather than make up some fantasy. I admitted my lie to him, then, so that I could say that I told the truth.

  “You lovers of God, you claim that unconditional love is some great virtue that you aspire to. But it’s useless. Even your own God doesn’t practice it. Look at us down here, tortured. Taking the pain of this universe and turning it inwards towards ourselves. Imagine what it would be like if God or Satan really loved us. If they actually had our best interests at heart. If they cared about our achievement or self-actualization. If they wanted to help you attain greatness rather than claim it for their own. That’s how the Infidel loves people, Aaron.”

  Something about the infidel’s words made Aaron unnaturally angry. His ears felt hot. “Who are you, to judge God?”

  “Who would I be, not to?”

  “How could you look at our failures, and attribute them to Him? Are you not willing to take any responsibility for your actions on earth? We’re here because we failed.”

  “At what?”

  “Loving Him.”

  “Why on Earth would we have wanted to love Him?”

  Aaron shook his head, clenching his fists at his side. “You fool! He sacrificed His Son for us.”

  “Well not us, per se. We’re in Hell. But I must admit, even on Earth, I was a bit bemused by the Crucifixion. He absolved me of a crime, Original Sin, which I did not commit by means of a sacrifice I didn’t make, and then creates some big ado over the whole thing. But hey, I thought at the time, if ole Yahweh wants to sacrifice Himself to Himself to save us from Himself, bully for Him—so long as He does so responsibly and without hurting anyone. Looking back at it now, He probably didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

  “He loved you, Cris.”

  “He did not! He didn’t love you either. He sent us to an eternity of punishment for a finite crime. At least if we sent Him to an indefinite punishment, He’d deserve such a thing for having inflicted it.”

  Aaron’s rage boiled over. “You’d damn God?”

  “I doubt it, actually. I consider myself to be a good man.”

  “God is good. He is the source of all that is good. You cannot claim that he is evil since he is the one who defines what evil is.”

  The Infidel Friend laughed. “Perhaps he is good, but he would send people here while I would not. Which is more likely, do you think? That I am more merciful than an all loving God, or that you are somehow mistaken about his nature?”

  Aaron had never before heard such blasphemy. His gun flew from his holster into his hand. The infidel was on him before he could look up, gripping his wrist with both hands. The world spun as he was forced down to the ground. He felt his elbow pop and he shouted as the gun fell out of his hands.

  He shook his head, not sure how he had been dazed. Sweat dripped down along the side of his face.

  Not sweat. Blood.

  He stood dizzily, flexing his arm. His elbow was sore, but didn’t seem to be seriously damaged. He heard the sound of his own gun being cocked. The infidel stood before him, pointing the pistol at his head. Outside he could hear the guards shouting.

  He incited me. He used my anger against me. These men are devils.

  “Well,” Aaron said, “I guess you can call me Susan now.”

  “Sadly. I cannot,” the infidel replied. “For you, in your prudence, neglected to load your weapon.”

  Thank God I follow my own orders.

  The infidel reversed his grip on the gun and offered it to Aaron.

  Aaron accepted the weapon. Then he slammed it into the man’s head. “I was just starting to like you, too.”

  The infidel had fallen into the corner, bleeding from his brow line where the gun’s sighting had hit him.

  “Everything okay in there?” Aaron recognized Patrick’s deep voice.

  “Fucking great. Thanks for asking.”

  Aaron touched a finger to his own brow. The cut didn’t seem bad. “I’m sure you’ll miss me.”

  The man stirred, rolling over and touching the wrappings on his thigh. “In all honesty, I will.”

  “Oh?”

  “When you’re gone, Duncan feeds me.”

  “I wish I could go with them,” Martin lied to ole Bense.

  Martin was leaning back against the stone wall of the Fore. It was shaping up to be another busy Harpsborough day, and that made Benson an even better companion than usual. The still man’s eternal, unblinking stare and perfect sil
ence had a tendency to put people off. Privacy, in these times, was a gift Martin would take gladly. Ole Bense also didn’t have anything to say, which made him a perfect listener.

  He saw two people, Aleck and Sarah, chasing each other. Aleck had somehow gotten a hold of her hair tie and was attempting to keep it away. They ran through the village, jumping over other people, disturbing belongings and tearing down door curtains.

  “Even with all these people, it’s kind of quiet. Except for them,” Martin observed.

  Benson’s stare did not follow the pair as they ran by.

  “Because of the expedition, you know. They’re all waiting to see them off. Probably no big deal, though. I mean, how far into the Carrion could Julian have gone? He’s probably right on the other side of the barrier, sleeping on a pillow of devilwheat.”

  Smoke began billowing up from the stone floor above the still. Martin watched it swirl upwards towards the Harpsborough ceiling.

  “That’s good news for us, eh? Mancini’s a brewin’. People will be sad tonight, with the hunters gone. He’ll be making us some comfort. We’ll have to get comforted ourselves.”

  It was definitely quieter than it should have been, Martin decided. People were waking up later and later as well. All their routines had been changed. Usually, the villagers would try and head out into the wilds in the morning, traveling to whatever secret caches they had to gather a living. Afterwards they would keep searching, hoping to stumble upon another find. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they’d discover one like Julian’s. Martin had always hated that rat race. He had done it himself, before he became a Hunter. Once he had found a hungerleaf tree growing in a cavern by the Kingsriver. It had been enough to keep him fed for a while. He hadn’t claimed it with the Fore though, and he hadn’t the will to shoot the poor girl who had found it after him. She swore she’d found it first.

  Hell, maybe she was right.

  A man named Dooley saw to it now. The girl had gone missing a couple of years ago.

  “It’d be like the old days, Bense. Like when Baker was still Lead Hunter. I miss camping out in the wilds. Dangerous as shit, you know, but the camaraderie. . . We don’t have that anymore. That’s what’s wrong with hunters these days. We don’t camp out in the wilds, so we turn against each other. I think Kyle would probably shoot somebody for the killer’s lot. Hardly enough for us to eat, anymore.”

  The smoke was beginning to coalesce on the ceiling. If Mancini was making a particularly big batch, the smoke would become thick enough to look like clouds. Martin would pretend that there was no stone above him, just the empty sky, stretched out forever above the haze.

  “Going to be cloudy, Bense. This is the first time I’ve been mad about the hand thing, you know. I don’t mind when the girls look at it funny, they look at me funny anyway. And the food’s been great. But my fellow hunters are going out into the Carrion without me. I wish I could go. I ain’t afraid of that place. Why would I be?”

  Benson’s eyes seemed to glaze over.

  It was just from the smoke, Martin realized.

  He looked above him to the clouds. The smoke on the far edge of the chamber began to descend upon the church. It was as if he could see the air behind the steeple.

  “It’ll be a damn good brew.”

  The smoky fog increased in thickness until all the villagers of Harpsborough looked like two dimensional cut outs, moving amidst the haze.

  “Hunting’s probably real thick in the Carrion. It ain’t devoid of devils like we are here, that’s for sure. Probably a ton of food in there. I can’t believe I ain’t going, Bense. I should be out there with them. All because I was smuggling shells. Shit, everybody was doing it. I’m just the only one who got caught, you know?”

  He coughed a little, but the smoke was starting to lessen. “I’ll share some with you, Bense, though God only knows why. You get all that sinfruit juice for free. You’re a damn lucky man, Bense, a damn lucky man.”

  The village came alive as Aaron exited the Fore, clustering around him and the men who followed. The Lead Hunter seemed angry, and had a cut on his brow.

  “Look at him! He’s all business,” he told Benson. “Wouldn’t want to get on his bad side today.”

  The last of the hunters Aaron had chosen came out of the Fore.

  “He would have chosen me, Benson. You know he would have.”

  Duncan and Fitch were there, of course. They were an inseparable pair now, and famous for backing up Michael on his hunt. Avery had been chosen, too. They’d assigned him the AK-47. They’d picked Kyle, their best shot, who had his M-24 strapped across his back. Kyle was slow to aim, but if you gave the man enough time, he would not miss. Patrick and Johnny Huang had also been invited.

  “I wouldn’t have chosen them. They were probably picked just because they were out looking for Julian earlier. And they didn’t take Graham. I’d have taken Graham.”

  Wistan and Mabe were the last to leave the Fore. They were great runners, and Mabe had a peculiarly good sense of direction.

  The group had all assembled. Martin could not help but feel a sense of pride while looking at his fellow hunters.

  “Those are some bad motherfuckers,” Martin told Benson. “The Carrion better watch itself. They’re going to fuck that place up. Just you wait, Bense. And Galen’s coming too. Whew! Be lucky if a demon is left alive in there.”

  He heard some announcements at the entranceway. It was hard to make out their figures through the smoke, but Martin could recognize them as they came closer.

  He saw Galen, Rick, Arturus, and that mouthy girl he had met in front of the Fore.

  Water was dripping down Benson’s cheek.

  “You okay there?”

  It was the smoke, Martin realized. It had irritated Benson’s eyes until the water in them had turned into tears.

  “I feel you, Bense. I feel you. I’m scared for them, too. Don’t you worry. Our boys will come back. You’ll see.”

  He saw Galen and Arturus join the group of hunters. They began shaking hands in greeting. The villagers’ voices began to pick up, making Harpsborough sound like it was humming. Citizens began to appear on the street as well, coming out of the Fore to help see off the hunters.

  “You’ll see.”

  The villagers surrounded Aaron on all sides. His men were being showered with goodbyes and good lucks.

  Is this how Michael felt, when he went out to hunt?

  As the leader, he was afforded a special kind of consideration. It was as if people believed that his survival was assured.

  “Take care of Mabe for me? Okay? Make sure he comes back?”

  “Don’t let the Carrion take Julian.”

  “Keep their heads on straight, out there.”

  He nodded seriously to each person’s requests. Their hands reached out to touch him as they spoke.

  “Let’s start heading towards the entranceway,” Aaron ordered his hunters.

  Together the hunters tried to move. Each step was a battle. The villagers’ hands clung to him, holding him back. Their wishes weighed on him. Each person he was told to safeguard served only to further his worry about their death. The hunters’ movement ceased. One of his men near the front had stopped to speak to someone. A loved one, perhaps.

  He found himself looking through the throng for a single face.

  Alice.

  She came to him, pushing through the masses.

  “Alice!”

  She smiled and put her arms around him. “Come back soon. Don’t let them take you.”

  Finally. Someone cares about me.

  “I will. I promise. If we’re even able to live through this.”

  She smiled sweetly. He could smell her when she was this close. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply. “Go get Julian,” she whispered into his ear. “Be a good tiger and get him.”

  There was something very right about her telling him this. He closed his eyes.

  I’m her warrior. I have to fight for her.r />
  He opened his eyes and looked ahead. No one was moving yet. He caught sight of Duncan, shaking hands with Copperfield. He saw Fitch and Michael, shouting into each other’s ears. Galen seemed to be enjoying it all, smiling and shaking people’s hands. His actions reminded Aaron of a politician. Arturus was beset as well. He had that young girl, Ellen, from the wilds. She was kissing him on the cheek.

  “He’s not going, is he?” Alice said suddenly.

  “Who?”

  “Turi? You’re taking Turi into the Carrion?”

  “It was Galen’s decision.”

  “Why? You can’t let him go! He’ll get killed out there. Aaron, you have to put your foot down. You can’t let this happen.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed, focusing on the boy. Aaron admired her profile, her sharp nose and angular jaw.

  “He’s our tunnel rat. We have to have someone small enough to go where Julian goes.”

  “He’s nearly full grown.”

  “Would you rather we take someone younger?”

  She shook her head. Then she reached into her pocket and produced a thin braid of hair. “It’s supposed to bring you luck. Massan told me that this is what people used to do.”

  Aaron nodded. He was sure he’d heard of that in one story or another.

  He saw Chelsea out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly felt dizzy.

  I’m sorry, Chelsea. This is the woman I love.

  “Let’s keep it moving,” Aaron shouted to his hunters, doing his best to avoid making eye contact with Chelsea. “Julian’s out there and he needs our help.”

  Slowly, the hunters began to walk again. The people’s hopes and prayers melded together into one congruous hum.

  It’s only a place. We’ll be fine.

  The villagers were worried, Aaron realized. Without this food they would starve. He was their hope. The Citizens didn’t care nearly as much, but he figured they should. If the people got too hungry, they wouldn’t go into the wilds of Hell to gather. Why would they, when there was plenty right there in the Fore?

  It’s only a place in Hell.

  Finally, they made it to the entranceway, and the hunters entered into the wilds. Aaron looked behind him. The people were there, waiting. Graham and a couple of the remaining hunters began moving them back into the village. They didn’t touch Alice, though.