Perilous Jaunt Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Dante
Peter's eyes hung open wearily the next morning and -on the few occasions that he spoke- his voice was hollow of all inflection. His lips were extremely purple and swollen to twice their usual size. When I asked him how it had happened, he carelessly brushed me off and claimed he had fallen down when he went to use the privy in the night. He said that it was because of the dark, but I knew that he had probably fallen because he was sleep-deprived, which certainly made his reflexes very slow. After noticing the deadness in his eyes, I was sure of it. I was also convinced that Ivan and King Ulpis' untimely deaths were the cause of his insomnia, since Peter was still un-accommodated to the sight of bloodshed. I didn't press the issue with him. The scene from the previous night had horrified me as well, despite the fact that I had been in numerous skirmishes in which men had often found themselves drowning to death in the very blood that drained from their own bodies. It amazed me how Esme acted so quickly and attacked the assassins without hesitation. Thank God she brought her knife. Lant may have died if it weren't for her.
_ _ Despite it being the next morning, I still felt a growing sickness inside my stomach whenever I thought of Lant. He must have loved his brother dearly. The sight of Lant hovering over Ivan's body still clung to my memory and I felt a surge of pity for him. He had to watch the one person that loved him die, leaving him alone in the world with no other family members or friends. He must be a mess.
We were asked to leave the palace at sunrise because Lant was preparing to declare war on Capres for murdering his father and brother, which was entirely understandable, since Lant probably didn't want to watch us die, either. Sadly, we were unable to give our goodbyes to Lant. The messenger boy -a skunk- who informed us that we were required to leave the palace had told us that Lant was having his antlers trimmed so he could wear his new crown, which was why he was unable to meet us before we departed. The skunk also revealed that three letters were found on the assassins' bodies, which were stamped with Capres' official seal and included detailed instructions on murdering all three of the Ulpis'. Naturally, we understood and took our leave. Of course, we were unable to depart before some members of the kitchen caught up to us, just before we stepped outside the palace door. They gave us a few pieces of bread, which were wrapped in white napkins. They also had brought along a flagon of wine and re-filled Esme's wineskin, as well as my own. After displaying our appreciation, we passed through the front door and walked towards the southern gates of the City, unescorted and without any knights to watch over us as we left.
Once we were out of sight and hidden by the trees of the woods, I bound Peter's hands together and we resumed walking. Peter was silent as I wrapped the rope around his wrists, withholding any complaints or whines. However, he did give me a look. It was brief, yet perceptible. His eyes blazed with disappointment, something that I was very familiar with. Yet, I was too troubled by the memory of Ulpis and Ivan bleeding to death from the night before to ask him what was wrong. There also was the chance that I still wasn't fully awake yet and that my mind was play tricks on me.
Hours after walking, it became dark and the nimble fingers of the trees reached up towards the sky to brush away the starry tears that ran along its black face. The moon glowed down at us with its beaming gaze and barely provided us with enough light to see where our boots landed on the ground. Soon, we stopped to make camp and I began trying to light a fire.
"I'll go find dinner," Esme announced and turned into the dark woods before anyone could protest.
"Goodbye," I said, as I formed a circle of stones around where I planned to pile the wood for our fire.
I eventually finished the circle of stones and set a few branches, along with some dead leaves, in the middle of them for tinder. I then pulled my flint out of the bullet pouch it had been sitting in and began igniting the kindling. After a bright enough spark was able to burn long enough to turn the leaves and twigs into a blaze, I realized that I had forgotten to tie Peter to a tree. I glanced up from the fire and saw that he was sitting on the opposite side of the flames from me, his crossed legs merely inches away from the stone circle. His eyes were locked onto me.
"What do you think will happen to Lant?" he wondered.
I placed my flint back into my knapsack and tied my knapsack closed, just before pushing it off to the side. Then, I sheathed my knife. "I've been asking myself the same thing,"
There was a brief pause and I could feel Peter's eyes burn my face with their interrogative stare. "And?"
"And," I said, as I tossed a few larger twigs into the fire for the flames to devour hungrily, "challenging Capres is a big task. Lant has a larger army of course, but Capres has much more experience with war. So both of them have a chance of beating each other,"
"What do you think Capres will do if he wins?" Peter asked.
I put a log into the fire. "I don't know. I'm not clairvoyant. Anything is possible,"
Peter blinked and finally looked away from me, staring at the ever-growing flames in front of him. His mouth bent into a hateful sneer and he bared his teeth. "I hope he kills him,"
"Me too," I sighed and allowed my shoulders to sink. "Capres isn't somebody that you want ruling a Kingdom,"
"No," Peter whispered and lifted his head to look me in the eye again. "I hope Capres kills_Lant_,"
My tail bristled and my insides twisted with shock. "What?"
Peter remained silent, looking at me like I was some kind of fool who didn't know how to read.
"Why?" I demanded, feeling a growing whirlpool of rage thrash around inside of me. "He gave us food and beds to sleep in! Lant is an honorable man,"
"Bullshit!" Peter said. "Do you know what that 'honorable' man did? He murdered his fucking family, just so he could be a king!"
My ears folded back and I lowered my head down to snarl at Peter's insolence. He had no right to speak about Lant that way, especially since the buck had treated us with compassion. How did he even come to such an appalling conclusion? "The assassins were from Capres! Remember? And they had letters with Capres' seal on them,"
"He forged them!" Peter argued, his tone growing more audacious. "After we all went to our rooms before dinner, I went for a walk and saw him give the assassins pieces of paper. I thought he was just having them deliver messages or something, but they were the same guys who killed Ivan and his dad!"
My hands tightened into fists and it felt as though the bones in my fingers were going to snap. "What about the assassin who almost killed him? Lant would have died if it wasn't for Esme,"
"Maybe Lant was going to act like they were fighting and take the knife from him,"
"And you know this because...?"
"I talked to Lant after you and Esme went to sleep,"
"Now," I said, slightly raising my voice, "explain something for me. Why would he do that? If he had just murdered his father and his brother, why would he tell you?"
"I don't know!" the prince squeaked. "He was proud of it!"
"I'm just supposed to trust you?" I asked. "Do you even have any proof?"
Peter's shoulders sagged and his ears lowered, yet his eyes still pierced me like knives. His voice was low and as wooden as a knock on a door. "Did you fuck him?"
What?
_ _ My back burned with fear and I had to force my tail to remain still. How did he know? Then again, as I began to think about it, Lant never sent me perfume to cover up the smell of our sex. Maybe Peter smelled it when I came out for dinner, but, still, he couldn't have known that I had been with Lant. For all he probably knew, I had masturbated. His exhausted brain was just jumping to conclusions. Yet, it was terrifying how he was able to guess the truth. He doesn't have any proof.
_ _ "No," I told him. I wasn't going to fuel his delusions about Lant, especially ones that portrayed the buck as a murderer.
A moment passed and Peter's gaze did not ease. Then, he carefully reached into the pocket of his trousers with his bound hands and withdrew something in his fingers. Without a single warning, he tossed it through the air and over the fire to me.
I outstretched my right arm and caught whatever it was that Peter had thrown. Before I could turn my hand around to see what Peter had tossed to me, my fingers told me that it was cold to touch and smooth. Glass. I then rotated my hand and saw a red vial of perfume in my hand with a note tied around its neck. I scanned the note and nearly dropped the vial once I saw Lant's name.
"This..." I whispered as my hand slowly shook. "Perfume,"
"He forgot to give it to you before dinner," Peter explained. "And, when he gave it to me, he said, 'Your friend is a dirty little faggot, just like me. He loved it when I fucked him, especially when I got him on all fours'. I said you wouldn't fuck monster like him, but he asked me if I smelled the cum in your room, which I did,"
My tongue appeared to have vanished, for I was unable to speak any words.
"I don't care if you fucked somebody," Peter continued. "But you lied to me, Dante. You fucking lied! Don't treat me like a baby. I'm not some spoiled brat who doesn't know how to handle the truth. I'm capable of actually being helpful,"
Peter then stood upright and went to sit down by a tree, while I sat there, gazing down at the perfume bottle.
Slowly, an illness crept over me. What Peter had said was true. The proof was there in my hand with a note neatly tied around it. Lant wouldn't have given it to Peter, unless what the otter was true. My rage was now mixed with regret and the two emotions caused me to throw the bottle off into the woods, where it shattered somewhere in the darkness.
Gradually, after a few shallow breaths, I tossed another log onto the fire and watched the embers, their flickering lights causing me no relief from my inner turmoil. Nothing, at the moment, seemed capable of easing my pain, not even all the wine and whores in the world.
Neither of us spoke to one another during the rest of the night, even when Esme returned with dinner.
I only got an hour of sleep that night because I kept tossing and turning while I tried to fall asleep. On numerous occasions, I opened my eyes to stare up at the stars above me, hoping to seek comfort in their light. Sadly, all they seemed to offer me were their condescending glares. A heavy guilt had burrowed its rusty hooks into my belly and was pulling all of my organs down, making me feel like I was sinking into the ground. I felt like disappearing into a dark cave, where sunlight was non-existent, and never having to speak with another person again. At least then I wouldn't have to see the look of disgust in someone else's eyes when I confessed to them what I had done.
Even the next morning, when Esme, Peter and I set out after having some of our bread for breakfast, I still felt appalled by myself. I couldn't even bring myself to eat any of the bread and only watched my companions devour it without a care in the world.
Once we set out that morning, Peter walked by my left side and Esme walked by my right. While we marched, I felt as though I weren't controlling my legs, as if I were looking through somebody else's eyes. The morning before, when I woke up in Ophylius, I was completely fine. I had slept in a bed after eating a wonderful meal, which happened after I partook in carnal sex with a stranger. But now, after Peter told me about Lant's insidious plot, all of those memories left a bitter taste in my mouth, which made my stomach burn, as though I were about to vomit. My heart was scorched by shame and my arms dangled lifelessly at my sides with less liveliness than a pair of curtains on a breezeless day.
I then shivered at the recollection of Lant's weight against me. I let him fuck me...and I enjoyed it.
The rings around my eyes felt moist and my vision became somewhat hazy as I sensed the urge to cry rising inside of me. I pushed the feeling away, reminding myself that Esme and Peter were walking with me, discussing something that I wasn't listening to. I couldn't allow them to see me like that. If I did cry, I knew their eyes would violate me with pesky glances and their voices would annoyingly peck away at my ears with encroaching questions. I didn't need that, nor did I want it. All I wanted was to be left alone. They wouldn't understand.
Faster.
_ _ I shoved the memory of Lant entering me away, feeling a flame of regret burn in my chest. My insides tightened, as though Lant were trying to invade me yet again. How could I have been so stupid? Wasn't I better than that?
You sure?
_ _ Fuck! I nearly flinched at the dreadful memory. Why couldn't I just forget? At least then I wouldn't loath myself.
Could you get on all fours?
_ _ My sheath twitched at the memory of bending over for Lant. What the hell? Why was I aroused? Lant was a cruel and sadistic man and there I was getting turned on by the memory of sleeping with him. How could I even think someone like that was attractive? What's wrong with me?
_ _ Again, slivers of tears began to kiss the loops of eyes and caught the rays of the sun overhead as I subdued them from escaping. I would have had to wait until later, when it was night, to go "hunt" in the solitude of the woods and release my misery.
_ _ Esme poked my shoulder lightly. "Dante?"
I turned my head to the right and, based on Esme's expression, I could tell that she knew something was wrong. "Yeah?"
"You're really quiet," Esme said. "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," I lied and gave her a half smile to try and diminish her prying.
"Come on, Dante," Esme said, her eyes narrowing. "What's up?"
What's up? WHAT'S UP? HOW ABOUT THE FACT I FUCKED A GUY WHO MURDERED HIS WHOLE FAMILY, JUST SO HE COULD BE A KING? HE WAS COMPLETE MONSTER AND I LET HIM FUCK ME LIKE A LITTLE SLUT, JUST BEFORE HE KILLED HIS FATHER AND BROTHER! I WAS HIS WHORE AND I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO FORGET ABOUT IT!
_ _ "I just keep thinking about Ulpis and Ivan," I told her, releasing a depressed sigh, as I hung my head down to stare at the dirt.
The kangaroo gave me a lingering look, but then stared forward again. "Yeah. That was fucked up. Capres is a monster,"
"He is," I agreed, solemnly.
Esme dropped the topic; yet, I could feel Peter's eyes burning the left side of my face while he trotted next to me.
A scream came from our left, through the bushes and the legion of trees, stopping all three of us in our tracks.
"Did you hear that?" Esme asked aloud, as we all stared in the direction from which the shriek came.
"Yes," I answered her, my hand placed over the strap that kept my gun in its holster.
The scream came again, only this time it was much louder and I could discern that it belonged to a woman.
Esme drew her knife and ran through the bushes before I could say a single word.
"Come on," I said, turning to Peter as I drew my gun. "Let's go,"
"What if it's a trap?" Peter said, fearfully.
"What do you mean?" I asked him, as we circled around the bushes and hurried between the trees.
"Like, a Talth pretending to be hurt while his friends hide in some bushes,"
"I highly doubt that's the case,"
"How can you be so sure?" Peter criticized my skepticism. "The Talth are capable of anything,"
"The Talth don't have accept women among their ranks,"
Peter didn't have another response to that. Meanwhile, another scream came from just up ahead.
Eventually, the trees dispersed and we came upon the main road. Esme had stopped in her tracks just ahead of us to stare at something that I was unable to see because she was in front of me.
Without calling to her, I walked over to Esme and stood at her side. Then, I too gazed in horror at the scene before us.
Just down the road was a small, wooden, white church that was just as big as a typical house. On the front of its roof stood a tall wooden cross that had been frayed by rain and time. The church itself was in a much worse condition and suffered from rotting wood, as well as various spots of discoloration. The front doors, which were closed, were the only part of the church that wasn't white. Instead, they shined bright red in the early rays of the sun.
In between the old church and where we stood on the road, there was a bear, who was dressed in white robes and wore a silver crucifix that dangled from his neck. He was small for a bear, but was still equally as tall as I was, and his fur was black as coal. In his right hand, he held a black leather Bible open and, in his left hand, he gripped a brown whip, its tongue drenched in blood. Before him was a shirtless lioness, no older than sixteen, who was kneeling on the ground with her hands tied behind her back, where tiny strips of flesh hung down and dripped fresh blood onto the dirt. The lioness' head was hung downwards as tears streamed over her cheeks and onto her under-developed bare breasts, accompanied by a few drops of blood. She screamed as the bear brought down his whip onto her unprotected flesh, tearing a fresh wound across her back and splattering blood onto the ground in front of him.
"''I will sweep away everything in all your land,' says the Lord!'" the bear read from his Bible and struck the girl with his whip once more, showing no sign of remorse for the lioness' wailing. "''I will reduce the wicked to heaps of rubble!''"
I stepped forward, dropping Peter's rope onto the ground, and moved towards the priest. Soon, I was upon him and he was too busy reading to notice me, before I gladly buried my left fist into his cheek.
Luckily, since he was small for a bear and was exactly my height, the priest stumbled back and away from the girl. His Bible fell out of his hand, yet his fingers tightly grasped onto his whip.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" I barked at the priest.
Steadily, the bear turned to face me, his empty hand cupping the cheek that I had struck. His eyes were filled with offense and fury. "You dare strike a man of God?"
"What does God have to do with beating a helpless girl, you sick fuck?" Esme shouted, as she and Peter walked up behind me.
The priest winced at Esme's swearing and scowled at her. "No person should use the very tongue that God gave them to spew such filth!"
"God didn't give you hands to whip defenseless women," I countered, drawing the priest's focus back onto myself.
He pointed with his free hand to the lioness, who looked up at us with confusion and tears. "This harlot is a twisted abomination! Her parents found her in bed with another women, who was a prostitute! They sent her to me so I could drive out her sinful lust and restore her to the way that God created her,"
What the fuck are you doing?
_ _ "So," Esme said, taking a step past me and pointing her knife at the priest, "you're saying that God wants you to whip the living shit out of this girl, just because she likes to fuck women?"
"If that's what it takes," the bear growled, "then yes. I assume He's quite pleased,"
"That's fucking stupid!" Esme said.
"To a sinner like you, I'd imagine it would seem that way," the priest said. "'I will carry out great vengeance on them and punish them in my wrath. Then they will know that I am the Lord,' Ezekiel 25:17. The Lord gives harsh punishments to degenerates that disobey His laws, or else He will cast them into the pits of Hell for all eternity. This is why the girl must learn now, before it's too late! She must be cleansed of this disease if she ever hopes to avoid eternal damnation,"
Give me that goddamn painting!
_ _ "Bullshit," Esme said. "Just because you quote some random Bible passage doesn't mean you're right! And it's not like she chose to be a gay!"
"I've had enough of your slithering tongue," the priest roared and lifted his whip into the air.
Before the bear could bring his whip down upon Esme, I dashed forward and tackled him to the ground. As his back slammed against the dirt, I bounced up to my paws and I held his neck down firmly with the front of my left boot. The priest's whip had fallen out of his hand and I quickly kicked it away with my right boot, out of his reach. His arms stretched up and attempted to push my boot away from his throat, but weren't strong enough to do so.
I raised my gun and aimed it directly at his forehead. "You think God approves of you hurting somebody else in His name? The God who, you believe, sacrificed His Son so you could go to Heaven? The same God who's Son said to love your neighbors as you love yourself?"
The priest's breath became raspy, yet he still strung words together. "Trickery won't work on me, boy. That's the Devil in your words. I won't be fooled. I know the truth,"
"Truth?" I screamed. "You think God sits on His ass all day and just waits to damn people to Hell because of who they love?"
"Love?" the priest cackled beneath me. "You think what you're describing is love? It's a sin, a plague that is alive now more than ever! Fifty years ago, it was witches and warlocks that were sent here to destroy us, but now, Satan has created another trick to turn us against God! Men are leaving their families to become sodomites and mothers are abandoning their children to visit brothels filled with dykes! That's not love, boy! That's just Satan's title for it, but it's actually an atrocity that can be wiped away by the firm hand of God!"
No son of mine is going to be a faggot!
_ _ "What's the matter, boy?" the priest asked with a grin. "Are you beginning to see the truth?"
I wasn't doing anything, Dad. I swear!
_ _ "You're one of them, aren't you?" the priest asked. "A faggot?"
Stop it, Dad! I swear, I'll never do it again! Please, just stop!
_ _ "I think you are," the priest said as his ears rose with interest.
_ YOU'RE GOING TO BURN IN HELL, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! THERE'S NOTHING MORE UNFORGIVABLE THAN BEING A FAGGOT!_
_ _ "I can make you like women again," the priest promised, his eyes flickering with triumph. "Of course, it will cost you some gold. After all, every man has to eat,"
I blinked and stared down the barrel of my gun as the tears in my eyes began to roll out onto my cheeks, disregarding my commands. "Eighth Circle. Evil Counselors,"
My gun bucked as I pulled the trigger and my ears rang as I witnessed, through my tears, the priest's forehead tear open, splattering blood on the ground in every direction. My body quivered as I sobbed like child before pulling the trigger a second time, practically caving in the priest's nose, forcing his bones to rip through their fleshy cage and emerge into the sunlight drenched in red. I fired my last shot, crying even harder than before, and completely tore his right cheek from his face. I could now see his crooked teeth and limp tongue, which were stained with blood.
I screamed a wretched cry and threw my gun with all of my might down onto the bear's tattered face. Quickly, I ran down the road while I sobbed, leaving behind both of my companions and the bleeding lioness.