by Carl Purcell
“Richard.”
“You always said I was a coward. You're right.”
“Richard!”
Richard sobbed loud, unable to form words through his tears. Caia sprinted towards him. Richard shut his eyes tight and pushed the knife into his body. He didn't make a sound as the blade pierced his heart. Caia stopped a full six paces away from Richard. She wasn't fast enough. It was over. Richard fell back, knocking over his chair. His hands slipped off the knife, onto the ground. A stream of blood leaked out of the wound and pooled in his shirt.
Caia stared at him in complete silence. Roland watched her from the edge of the clearing, waiting for some kind of reaction. Caia didn't do or say anything for a long time. She stared, silent, dry eyed, just as cold and lifeless as the body before her. Finally she spun around to face Roland and Griffith.
“We can go now. It's done.”
“I can still help him.” Griffith started forward, as if suddenly coming out of a trance.
“It is done.” Caia repeated.
“No!” Griffith rushed past her and knelt by the body. “I can,” He turned the body over and stared at it. “I can...” He paused and sighed. “I can't. He's gone. I waited too long.”
“It is done.”
“Are we just going to leave this here?” Roland asked. “What if somebody finds the bodies? Or all this stuff?”
“I'll deal with it. They were my brothers. It's my duty to bury them. I'll make sure nobody finds any of this. But you should go now.” Caia turned again to look at Richard's corpse.
“Just what kind of person were you?” Griffith asked, still holding the body.
Caia didn't turn around. “If you still haven't figured that out, I hope you never do.”
Chapter 11
Thomas clapped what dust and dirt he could off his hands and wiped the rest off on his jeans. He took one look out at his fields, all the cows spread out like they should be and munching on the grass. He had a fine, healthy herd this year and a big one, too. Penning them in together to draw out the dogs had been a complete failure and he'd lost his bull. But he was alive and he'd be able to make up the losses. The wild dog problem didn't seem so big any more.
Thomas turned back to his house and went inside.
“Well, they're all back where they should be!” he called. He went straight to the bathroom and began washing his face and hands. “I don't know where those boys from last night got to. I went out to the road a little while ago and I didn't see any sign of their car. A shame. I sure would like to thank them.”
Thomas towelled off and left the bathroom. In the hallway he stood and listened. Nothing. His house was silent.
“Georgia?” He called. “Georgia, you in?” He headed for the stairs when something heavy hit him upside the head. Thomas dropped; the world swam and melted in front of him. Somebody leaned down over him. The stranger's long grey hair draped over his face. He smiled, and raised a gloved hand. The last thing Thomas saw was a fist coming down on him.
He woke up with the worst headache he'd had in years. Georgia sat across from him, strapped into one of the dining room chairs. Her head hung limp to the side. Thomas blinked a few times to clear his vision. Then he screamed. His screams echoes through the house until his voice was hoarse and his cries turned to sobs. He tried running to her but his whole body was fastened to a chair, just like hers.
Dried blood was caked in Georgia's burnt, matted hair. Blood and brain matter splattered the wall behind her. One half of her face was gone entirely; the other was deformed and lifeless. Her one, remaining eye stared across the room at Thomas.
“That didn't take long.” The pale stranger entered from the hallway. He spoke through a mouth half full of beef pot-pie. “I hope you don't mind. I thought I'd have some dinner while you were napping.”
“Who are you?” Thomas asked.
“Call me Lloyd.”
“What? Who are—”
“My name is Lloyd. Any more than that is unimportant.” Lloyd kicked Georgia's chair over and sat on the couch behind her. He put his plate down on the floor and leaned forward. “What is important is that you cooperate with me.”
“What do you want with me? Why did you kill Georgia?” A flood of fear and sorrow and anger rushed through Thomas' body, too much to feel at once and leaving him feeling numb.
“You ask a lot of questions, Thomas. It is Thomas, isn't it? Your wife kept telling me to wait until you came home.”
Thomas nodded.
“Truth is, Tommy, that's one of the reasons I killed her. She wouldn't stop talking. I didn't come here to hurt you. That doesn't mean I won't, though. Believe me I will hurt you in ways you can't imagine. I mean that, too. You go ahead and imagine the worst thing in the world for me. Go ahead, I'll wait.”
“Please...”
“No? Fine. To business then.” Lloyd stood up and circled Thomas, moving out of sight. “I'm looking for a man. His name is Griffith. He probably looks a bit younger than he acts. He probably wanted to be helpful. Chances are he annoyed you with how nice he was. It's fine, everybody thinks that. Oh yes, and he's travelling with a friend.”
“They're not he— Aaah!”
Lloyd yanked Thomas' head back by his hair. “I know that!” He roared and then broke into soft laughter. “I know that, Thomas. Your wife was dead a long time before you came home, so I had plenty of time to look. So where are they?”
“I don't know.”
“Thomas.” Lloyd let his head go, pushing him so hard he rocked his chair. Thomas heard him step away and pick something up.
“I don't know.”
“Thomas.”
“Please, I swear—”
Lloyd cut him off, forcing the barrel of his rifle his mouth. Thomas stared at him, stared him right in the eyes and he saw fire. Where every other man, deep down, had a kind, human soul, Lloyd only had passionate evil burning in him.
“You know, Thomas, I always wondered what a shot in the head looked like. Turns out it's real messy.”
Thomas gagged around the gun. His eyes filled with tears. He kept trying to plead, unable to form words around the steel in his mouth.
“Listen to me, Thomas. I'm going to take this out, now. I don't want to hear any I don't knows or please don't kill me and so help me god, if you start blubbering and choking up I will end you. Now think real careful about how you want this to go.” Lloyd pulled the rifle out of his mouth, smiling as he did.
“They ran off into the bush last night. They disappeared. But when they were here, they said they were on the way to Salem.”
“Salem? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Lloyd laughed and tossed the rifle aside. “Oh, Griffith. I should have known all along.”
“Now, please, let me go,” Thomas asked. Lloyd whipped around and struck him across the jaw.
“Shut up!” Lloyd took a moment to collect himself and then smiled. “It's pathetic, isn't it? He brought this on himself, really. Oh, but you don't need to know about that.”
“I've told you everything I know. Please, just leave me alone.”
“That's hardly hospitable, Thomas. Did you know your wife wasn't even going to let me in? And did she offer me a drink when I was in? A glass of water, maybe? Of course not.”
“I'm sorry.” Thomas swallowed, fighting tears as he spoke. He kept his voice low and turned away from Lloyd.
“Yes, I know. But I'm afraid sorry isn't good enough. That's the thing. People always think they can say sorry and it'll all be okay. But good people, really good people, they don't do things to be sorry about in the first place.”
“I don't—”
“Hush now, Thomas.” Lloyd grabbed the chair Thomas was tied to and began and dragging him out of the room. “I'm not here to judge. No one is perfect. But you and your wife have hurt my feelings and. for that, you have to die.”
“What? No. Please. Please you can't! You can't!”
“But I can, Thomas. I can and I wi
ll.”
Lloyd dragged Thomas outside, and across his yard. He pulled open the door to his tool shed. Thomas smelled petrol the moment the door opened. He turned to look over his shoulder and the fumes burnt his eyes. Lloyd dragged him into the centre of the shed and left him there. Beneath his chair, Thomas saw petrol spilling out of a jerrycan and spreading across the whole shed.
“No, don't. Don't!” Thomas begged and shouted and cried but Lloyd only stood smiling. In one hand he held a dry, broken stick. Lloyd smiled at him. The stick crackled and the end burst into flames. Without a word he tossed it into the shed and walked away. The little tin building went up in flames, and the roar of the fire swallowed Thomas' screams as the heat engulfed him.
Chapter 12
Caia told Roland and Griffith to find the dirt road and follow it back to the Red Lion Tavern and they did just that. Dark clouds moved in and turned the sky black by the time Roland and Griffith broke through the tree line. They felt the first drops of rain falling as they reached the Red Lion. There they waited while Caia remained in the bush, cleaning up the mess left by her family. When Caia returned, the bar had closed and the staff packed up for the night. Roland and Griffith sat in the restaurant with a pitcher of water between them. Caia stepped through the doors, waterlogged and covered in dirt. Roland watched her as she spotted them, crossed the room and pulled out a chair at their table. Griffith never looked at her, but he spoke, his tone bitter, almost venomous.
“Did you bury them all?”
Caia nodded. “In the end, there was nothing any of us could have said and done. Their fate was to die one way or another.”
“Do you really believe that?” Griffith asked.
“Yes. Their time had come. Richard knew his fate and accepted it. Like it or not, we can't go against fate.”
“Richard was afraid.”
“There's a certain kind of bravery in being resolved to your fate, no matter how horrible it seems.”
Griffith sighed. “Well, now that you're done, what's your fate?”
“I've been thinking about that. I thought about it when I went into exile and while I hunted my brothers. I thought about that while I buried them. Richard, Juan, our master and all the others were my family. It hurt to be pushed away by my family. But I realised that it was my fate to leave them and see what our actions meant in the real world. My fate was to punish them for what we had done and their fate was to die. I didn't know what came next until today. I had always expected that I would die in battle with my brothers. But here I am, still alive. It seemed unfair at first.” Caia paused and took a deep breath, mustering her strength. Outside, thunder clapped over Glencoe.
“There are no coincidences. We were meant to meet on the farm and we were meant to meet again today. Fate has brought me to you for some reason and I think it is my fate to go with you to Salem.”
“Why would you want to come with us?” Roland asked.
“It's not about what I want; it's just what I have to do.”
“There's no killing on our pilgrimage.” Griffith crossed his arms. “I'm going to learn magic to heal people, not hurt them. I've sworn not to hurt people with magic. Those are the rules.”
“What about him?” Caia gestured to Roland. Griffith glanced at him and then turned back to Caia.
“He tells me when my plans are stupid.”
“I was starting to think he was your bodyguard.”
“Roland isn't my bodyguard. He's my friend with common sense. I don't need a bodyguard. Why does everyone think I need a bodyguard?”
“Because you're an idiot who walks into danger?” Roland chimed in after a disinterested sip of water.
“Well, I don't!” Griffith turned his head away from both his companions.
“Perhaps you do. If you've crossed Pentdragon, there's trouble in your fate,” Caia continued. “You'll need somebody who can see you to your journey's end and face that danger.”
“Trouble?” Griffith turned back to her.
“Trouble. Trouble like me. Naive weaklings like you are the kind of people I used to prey on. Trouble always finds people like you and you don't stand a chance.” Griffith rolled his eyes. Caia continued: “I can change that. I'm convinced it is my fate to change that and atone for my past.”
“You want to make it better?”
“Yes.”
“And no more killing?”
“I have nobody left to kill.”
“Well, all right.” Griffith smiled and held out his hand. “That's all I needed to know.” Caia took his hand and shook it.
The three of them spent the night at the Red Lion. Griffith awoke at six the next morning to prepare. He woke Roland shortly after, but was surprised to learn that Caia was not in her room. He found her downstairs, in the restaurant, talking with the manager – a tall, bearded man of indeterminable age with hair equal parts white and grey. Caia gave Griffith a nod in greeting and Griffith returned upstairs to finish preparing for the day. When he and Roland had packed, they met Caia for breakfast.
Over their meal, Caia revealed that The Red Lion Tavern was the first place she'd gone after leaving her family. Over time she kept coming back and had become close friends with the owner. While they talked and ate, the tension between the group began to fade. The night's events seemed to get further away, fading into history and leaving only a new bond of friendship. Griffith and Caia did much of the talking while Roland listened and enjoyed his drink. He could see Griffith trusted Caia immediately, the way he trusted everybody unconditionally. Roland couldn't understand how he could be so welcoming, so trusting and so forgiving. As for Caia, she fascinated him. She seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve as if she had nothing to hide and yet she never showed fear. He didn't understand her in the slightest and yet, as he listened to her talk, he knew that he could trust her.
He also knew that he and Griffith had more trouble in their future, just as Caia said, and he was glad to have somebody with her talents on their side. He wasn't sure if it would be Pentdragon again or somebody else, but so far their pilgrimage had been far more dangerous than any road trip should be. Roland could only assume that it would continue that way and, when the shit hit the fan, an unscrupulous fighter only gave them better odds. Whatever Caia had done in her past was her business. Roland knew he was in no position to judge.
By eight o'clock all three of them had eaten breakfast, gathered their things and started walking. Caia had everything she owned in the world bundled tightly into a brown, leather satchel. As soon as they had set out on the road north, Griffith announced excitedly:
“We don't have a map any more but I'm pretty sure I can still remember where we go next. After Glencoe we follow the New England Highway to Glen Innes. After that we follow a different road. It's another big one, I can't remember what it's called, though. But that's all right. We'll be able to get a map in Glen Innes. But this means we're almost half-way there. In spite of everything, we're almost half way there.”
The previous night's rain still soaked the ground. Grey clouds covered the sky, threatening to rain on them again. Caia, in her short sleeves, didn't seem bothered by the cold. Open, grassy fields bordered the road. Rolling, tree covered hills stretched out beyond them, all the way to the horizon. Everything was one shade of green or another; life seemed to flourish in the cold, wet June. The fallen rain on the grass gave the air a vibrant, sweet smell.
A short time later, without seeing it until it was on them, they stumbled on a barely noticeable hamlet on the highway. A sign at a junction in the road marked the hamlet as owning the curious name of Stonehenge. The tiny community disappeared behind them as quickly as it had sprung up before them. Later in the afternoon, while the trio travelled through the vast, green world they were surprised by the sound of a car pulling up behind them. Griffith, Roland and Caia turned to look.
Two men stepped out of an old VW Beetle. One was tall and hairy, as if he hadn't shaved once in his life; he wore green camouflage pants. The ot
her was a very familiar-looking short man in a tweed jacket. Roland stepped towards them, positioning himself in front of the others. Caia stepped up beside him.
“We're not here to fight you. We're just here to deliver a message,” The hairy one said.
“Whatever it is, we don't want it,” Roland answered.
“Perhaps not. But I'm sure you want this.” He reached into the back of his car and pulled out a bag. Roland recognised his backpack immediately. The hairy man took a few steps towards them, placed the bag on the ground, then stepped away from it.
“What I want is for Pentdragon to go fuck himself.”
“Roland!” Griffith whined.
“Aren't you listening?” The hairy said. “This is a peace offering. Lord Pentdragon wishes to make amends.”
“Bullshit. He tried to kill us. Why would he want to make amends now?”
“I'm not paid to understand Lord Pentdragon's motives. I am just delivering the message.”
“Where's the other one?” Griffith asked, stepping around to Roland's side.
“Other what?” The hairy one answered.
“Bag. Where's the other bag?”
“Lord Pentdragon has it. He will give it to you if you visit him in Glen Innes. The details are in an envelope in the bag.”
“Do you expect us to believe any of this?” Roland asked.
“I'm just delivering the message. You don't have to go, and, whatever Pentdragon has to offer, you don't have to accept it. All he's asking is that you see him and he'll give you back what's yours.” The messengers said no more but got back into the car and drove on.
Roland, Griffith and Caia took a quiet moment to try to process what had happened. Caia made a move towards the bag. Roland rushed ahead of her and picked it up. He held the bag against his chest, with his back to the others. He unzipped it and rummaged through it. There was the letter, there was his extra clothes, his wallet, the motel toiletries he'd stolen, a brown paper bag he didn't recognise and most importantly, there was his bottle of scotch. Roland sighed, relieved, and shoved the bottle deep under everything else.