Chapter 13
The cold body of Pysuun moved beneath Shaol as the wagon was pulled through the dark streets.
The Unders had come for the bodies and had found the them lying in their dry blood. Without words, the two had taken the arms and legs of each, in turn, and carried them from the guardhouse and into the night. Now, the bodies were headed to the place of all those that died in Tarlnath went, the place for the flesh no longer needed.
More bodies were piled on top of Shaol as the wagon continued through the streets. There were six more he needed to save. It was this that stopped him from losing control when the lanterns above the street brought back Pysuun’s empty eyes.
The wagon pulled into a shed and the Unders set about the task of moving the bodies into a room with no air, only the putrid, heavy veil of rot which Shaol was forced to breath. He wanted to vomit, but he stilled himself and kept his body limp as he was dumped onto something loose, damp and boney.
After the work was done, the Unders vanished through a door and Shaol was left in the still, quiet room. Shaol went to push himself from the pile but his hand slipped across a face and he fell to the floor pile, a dead arm tumbled across his chest.
Shaol pulled himself up from the ground and looked around him. The room was full of Masters and Unders thrown together in piles, their bodies and limbs entwined, their faces pressed against the cold flesh of the other, waiting for the end together.
Shaol searched the piles for Pysuun, he wanted to see his friend one last time.
The metal bolt was still stuck in Pysuun’s gut, his eyes were wide, his face was sad, his clothes stained and ruined with blood. Shaol looked down at the cold body and searched for something to say to the one who had fallen on the way home.
Shaol realised he had no words and closed his friend’s eyes.
The Masters had taken another because they had wanted, just as they always did.
In his mind, Shaol saw the twisted face of his first friend and it hurt more than it ever had before. He would have brought here as well. Shaol screamed at himself as he lost control of his thoughts, it was not right, none of this was right.
Horsuun needed him, he would not give in now. It hurt now but tomorrow it would hurt less. He had more to do. He needed to get out this room, there was nothing but the poison thoughts.
Shaol stumbled through the piles to the door and did not look back. He pushed through the door and sound of a thousands claw scratching against metal invaded his ears.
A long hall of pits sat in front of him. A single stone track, stained with skin, flesh and blackened blood, led the way to the door at the far end. Shaol moved himself forward swarms of fur and tails rolled and boiled in the open holes on either side of the path. He saw the faces of those the city was done with, chunks of flesh torn from their faces by a frenzy of snouts and teeth. The rats chattered and chipped, spat and snarled as they went about their task of ending the existence for those fed to city of stone. Shaol reached the far door, opened it and pushed himself through.
The front room was a small space with a few chairs and a table. The windows were dark, except for the light of a lantern that burnt just outside the door, lighting the dirt road in front. There were no guards in front to watch over the dead.
Shaol fell into a chair and put his head into his hands. He felt the wound in his side, it had not reopened but he needed the paste in the storehouse.
Shaol saw red, he saw Pysuun and he wanted to scream again.
“We must keep moving,” said Friend calmly as she appeared in the room.
“To where?” spat Shaol and as the anger bubbled inside him, “the gates are guarded, the streets are watched.”
“We can do this,” said Friend calmly, “this is not the time to rest.”
“I need help not your empty words,” yelled Shaol.
Friend was quiet.
“How many can you take?” asked Shaol forcefully.
“As many as is needed.”
“Take them all. Take them and let Pysuun be the last.”
Friend was quiet as she looked at the window at the dirt streets, her wings rustled slightly as she stood.
“This is not the time, Shaol. You must get to the fortress, you must stay focused until it is done. Strength and…”
“Will you take them?” growled Shaol.
Friend was quiet for a moment.
“I cannot do that,” replied Friend softly.
“Why not?”
“Who do you want to take, Shaol? I’ll take all you can name.”
“I want you to take them all.”
Friend shook her head in the lantern light.
“I can take as many as you can name.”
“Why? If you can take that many, why not the others?”
“Tarlnath must stand,” said Friend with a frustration in her voice.
“Why?”
“I’ll take the ones you name,” repeated Friend her voice becoming stressed.
“But the others will still be here, still trapped.”
“As it must be,” said Friend.
“Why?”
“The city of stone must be kept to keep this place forgotten.”
“No one remembers us,” yelled Shaol.
“You’re one man, Shaol, you can only do what you can. Tarlnath is more powerful than either of us and it will stand when we are gone.”
“How will you free us? If you can take seven, if you can take a hundred, why can’t you take them all?”
“It’s what I can do, that’s all you need know.”
“Tell me,” Shaol screamed and threw the chair across the room as the anger came forth and made the world spin.
“What has taken you, Shaol?” hissed Friend, “what happened to the one who came to my lake? Have you finally given in and soured after all these years?”
Shaol stopped. Friend looked at him with her burning eyes.
“Are you giving up on those who still need you?” she asked forcefully.
Shaol took a breath. He was exhausted, he was alone and he could feel the rage and frustration inside, turning in him. Shaol had lost his friends, he could not protect them. But he could not give up on those that remained. Pysuun demanded he save his son and he had given all he could, he deserved to have his demands honoured.
Pysuun did not regret what had happened, he was already gone.
Shaol stilled his mind and saw the six that remained. He saw Horsuun as he always did, he looked liked his father. Dark black hair with a round body, his eyes were strong, hard and determined like his father’s.
Shaol pushed the visions from his mind, his friend was gone, he was alone but that was the world, that was the city as it was and he knew that.
“How many are enough, Shaol?” asked Friend quietly.
“There aren’t enough to make this right,” replied Shaol calmly.
“All you can name will be taken from the city.”
Shaol stood in the half light and breathed deeply.
“Where do we need to go?” asked Friend.
“Yor can still get us in. We need to get to the meat store.”
“How do we get there?”
“People walk the streets every day,” said Shaol with no emotion, “they will not be looking for me, I died in a cage. I will walk to the meat store.”
“You will need clean clothes.”
“The bodies have clothes.”
The End
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