Tales of the Horns: Part 1 The Berserk Beast
Chapter 23
Home beneath the streets
As a blood red dawn approached they found an open kiosk selling a variety of discounted newspapers and magazines. The merchandise looked like it had fallen off the back of a truck ˗ some seemed to have been run over by the same truck, and all of them had their title and date clipped off. Mary selected a handful of the most recent fashion magazines. The owner slid them into a recycled plastic bag.
“That’ll be a fiver, love.”
“Oh,” said Mary. “Um… ah…”
“You don’t have any money, do you?” sighed Lonagan.
“No,” replied Mary.
“My shout then,” said the dark elf as he threw a crumpled bill on the counter. “You most likely saved my life anyway. Twice in fact, if you’re counting.”
They quickly walked back to their subterranean home, sticking to shadowy alleys and roads for Lonagan’s benefit, who, for some reason, despised the sun. Mary gave the sky one last wistful look before she disappeared below for who-knew-how-long.
Dogsbody let them in through the rusty door at the top of the loading bay. His animated eyes looked Mary up and down as she walked past.
“Wha’s this? Another Horn? You must breed like rats!” laughed the bugbear.
Mary had had enough lip to last a life time. “Say one more thing about my family and I’ll break you in half like a little twig! Go on! I dare you!”
“You? Break me?” said the bugbear, pointing at his large barrel chest. “I’d like to see you try.”
“She is quite capable of doing it, you over-grown dreadlock,” warned Lonagan. “Have you not heard of the Sidhe berserker that broke The Old Man’s army? Here she stands.”
Dogsbody’s jaw dropped and his cigar fell on the dirty floor. “Oh! I… errr… sorry?” he asked.
“Thought so,” said Mary, leading the way.
On the shop’s floor the filthy skin was taken from her without so much as a 'how you do' and stuffed into an oak chest. The shop assistant that took it had a vulpine face with mangy fur. He looked at her through two mismatched eyes, one red the other yellow and a droll expression.
"Do I sign anything?" asked Mary.
"Do I look like the Royal Mail? Get out of here."
Mary opened and closed her mouth, gobsmacked at the rude attitude. Lonagan steered her away before she could react.
"Just walk away. You don't want to get into it with that one."
Mary cast a steely gaze over her shoulder at the short little critter. He waved back, his odd eyes following her.
"I could totally take him," she said.
"I know. But he's good at what he does so leave him be. Besides, you can’t pick a fight with everyone who crosses you, Mary. Now I'm parched and I'm paying so cheer up."
They left the shop warehouse and made their way to the adventurer’s quarters. Men and women were sprawled out on the floor in a drunken stupor, bottles near at hand and pipes fixed to the corner of their mouths. Nobody batted an eyelid as they entered and took a seat in the corner at a low table. Mary gave the room a disapproving eye before sitting down.
"When is breakfast? I'm starving."
"Soon. Kitchens won't be ready yet. Thirsty?"
She nodded. Lonagan called over a waiter. The man had thick, warty skin that hung in rolls all over his body. He had a permanent frown on his sagging face. Mary supposed she would frown too if she looked like that. She thought of her budding horns and what the future changes may bring. Shuddering, she emptied her mind.
"What did you order?"
"I felt like a red. Something Italian."
"You got us booze?" exclaimed Mary. "The sun isn't even up yet!"
"Don't be so prissy. We've been up all night fighting a fire-breathing lunatic if you've forgotten. Think of it as an after-work wind down. An aperitif before the meal if you will..."
Mary crossed her arms and pouted. Lonagan sat back in his chair, arms behind his head. The saggy-faced waiter returned with an open bottle of wine and two glasses. Lonagan paid him with some coins from his pocket. The waiter gave what Mary could only assume was a smile and left. Lonagan poured two healthy measures and passed Mary a glass.
"Go on. Drink up."
Mary took the glass and sniffed it warily.
"It's better than the water around here. Safer too," said Lonagan undoing the leather shroud across his face. He peeled back the veil, exposing his mouth. Mary looked at him with awe and disgust. His lips were thick and purple like fat worms. His mouth was much wider than normal and turned down at the ends. Sharp, shark-like teeth stuck out like saws. Lonagan gave her a toothy smile and drank his wine. Mary looked away, ashamed she had been caught staring.
"Okay..."
She took a small sip. It wasn't bad. It wasn't good either. She would have preferred orange juice. She would also have preferred a neck massage and a servant to feed her grapes. Better throw in her freedom while you're at it.
She looked about the room. The disgusting layabouts had hardly moved. Some were fast asleep.
"Are they always so... drunk?"
Lonagan looked at his glass. "Every morning they wake up is a celebration of a kind. To some it's just a way to pass the time. For others it is a crutch. Some of us need it to survive."
He downed half the glass, smacked his fat lips contentedly.
"So about last night."
"Yes?" asked Mary taking a bigger sip.
"You did good. Better than I thought."
"But it could have been better?" said Mary frowning.
"Much better," agreed Lonagan.
She slumped forward in her chair, rested her elbows on her knees. "Okay. What did I do wrong?"
Lonagan leaned his boots on the table and took a long drink. He looked at the glass as he spoke. "You hesitated on the rooftops. You had a shot and didn't take it. Not many people get that kind of opportunity in a lifetime and still get to breath. You were lucky he didn't slit your throat."
Mary was studying the floor. "I thought we needed the suit intact..."
"Forget what Bell, or any of his cronies tell you. What they think isn't going to matter if you're dead. It's better to ask for forgiveness than permission..." said Lonagan swirling his glass.
Mary’s ire began to rise.
"It would’ve helped if someone had shown me how to use the bloody thing. I was inducted into this cult one second then pointed to the door the next. No training. No help. Nothing. Besides, I told Kyron that I didn't want to kill anyone..."
"Kill or be killed, Mary. We play for keeps in this game. If you're lucky you might make a good-looking corpse!" said Lonagan hotly.
Mary arched an eyebrow and sat back in her chair. She looked away as tears formed in her eyes.
Lonagan pursed his lips. "I'm sorry. We're not in the habit of helping each other around here... I suppose we assumed you could handle yourself. After that debacle in the great hall we were all in awe of you a little. Still... I'm sorry, Mary. I could have done more."
Mary nodded her head, either in agreement or thanks, she didn't know.
"So will you help me? Show me how to be a better adventurer?" she said, meeting his eyes.
Lonagan finished his glass. "I will. When I can, that is."
Mary sat up straighter. "When do we begin?"
"After breakfast."
"And then?"
"After I've slept. I need my beauty sleep after all," he said, winking and giving her an ugly smile.
Mary delivered the magazines on her way to breakfast. The spider-tailor gave her a bone-crunching hug when she saw what Mary held. “Oh! You little darling. I definitely won’t eat you now,” she said, flicking through the magazines with her large, sharp hands.
“You’re welcome,” said Mary, rubbing her tender shoulders.
“Oh… my… What are they thinking?” asked the spider, looking at an article.
Mary waved goodbye and left before she could be squished with another hug.
“I do believe I have a new favourite,” smiled the spider as she scuttled to her perch near the ceiling.
In the great hall Mary received many a frosty glare from the seated warriors as she passed. None dared speak a word or touch her however.
They will never forget, she thought. I'm surrounded by enemies and my friends are few. Best not step on any more toes.
She was greeted by Kyron and the other adventurers warmly. Lonagan told them the story of last night’s battle as they ate, heaping praise on Mary’s stealthy hiding abilities and her timely rescue of him from Spring-heeled Jack’s fiery breath.
"Rescued by a little girl? You'll never live that one down, dark elf," sneered Heronitas.
The rest of the table broke out in raucous laughter. Lonagan glowered darkly at Heronitas and didn't speak another word. Kyron stood, a tankard of ale gripped in his massive red hand.
“To Mary Horn! A berserker and a thief. Our Thief!"
The table roared in approval, clashed mugs and downed their drinks in one. Mary blushed and took another sip of her red wine. She found it strange to be the centre of attention and not in danger of being publicly humiliated. A weight lifted from her mind as her companions laughed and joked amongst themselves as they retold past adventures. Soon she was laughing and cheering along with them. For the first time in her life she dared to believe that she could belong somewhere. Could these strange and dangerous people be her friends? Had she finally found her home?
…Trust no thief… An alien voice in the back of head growled in caution.
Mary put down her glass. Her genuine smile turned false.
What was that?
Later she was shown to her room. It was bigger than her last one but also far cooler. It still had some personal effects from a missing adventurer ˗ a hair brush made from ivory, a dog eared picture of a woman and child, carved wooden figurines. She set the items on the only chair and looked around the room. She had a small writing desk, a radiator, a banged up chest and a single bed. All very modest but they would suit her needs. It beat the snot out of sleeping on the floor.
Mary slithered out of her sneak-suit and climbed into bed.
As she tried to get comfortable she reflected on all that had happened to her in the last few weeks:
Meeting John and discovering magic…
The astonishing family revelations…
Getting her brother back ˗ only to be stolen away…
Enslaved by The Old Man…
Learning of her own magical abilities…
Joining the adventurers…
Now she was hearing strange words in her head…
It felt like a hallucination or a bad dream ˗ then she was harshly reminded of her bizarre reality. If she was ever given the chance to trade places with Remy, she would take it without hesitation. She was not made for this world of danger and intrigue.
Kill or be killed.
If she was to survive, she would need all the help and training she could get. The berserk animal waiting inside of her needed to be tamed.
Mary rolled over and stared at the wall.
Damn Stephen for putting me in this situation. Why hasn’t he saved me yet?