Perilous Jaunt Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Dante
Fortunately, the next town was only four miles down the road, so Esme didn't have to wait very long to replace her old knife. Thus, we arrived only two hours after sunrise. And, much like with previous towns, we removed the binds from Peter's arms in the woods.
"There," Esme said, motioning to a small house that was located next to a smith's forge. "I wonder if anyone's home,"
As if the universe had been listening to Esme's concern, a brown bear exited from inside the house, wearing a fashionable buttoned navy colored tunic and a pair of brown trousers. He then turned his back towards us and proceeded to lock the same door that he had just passed through.
"He isn't dressed like a smith," I noted.
"We might as well ask him," Peter said.
Wordlessly, all three of us strutted forward and approached the suitably garbed bear, who still had his back towards us.
We had barely stopped walking when the bear turned around to face us with a shimmering bronze key in between his thumb and index finger. His ears twitched curiously and his eyes glossed over us, soaking in every detail of our appearances.
"Hello," the bear greeted us.
"Hello," Esme replied, chivalrously, taking a step towards the smith. "Are you the smith that lives here?"
"Yes," the bear said, as he stuffed the key into its home deep within the depths of his right trouser pocket. "What can I help you with?"
"I'd like to buy a knife from you. My last one broke and I'm borrowing this one from my friend here," Esme told the smith, as she gripped the pommel of my knife sheathed at her hip.
"A combat knife?" the smith asked.
"Yes," Esme said.
The smith paused and thought for a brief second. "Do you have a preferred length?"
"Eight inches would be great,"
Again, the smith contemplated silently for a moment. "I don't have anything pre-made right now, so I'd have to forge a new one from scratch. I have all the materials and it shouldn't take longer than an hour or two, but..."
"But?" Esme wondered.
"You see," the bear said, scratching the back of his neck, "I have church right now and I'd hate to keep you waiting,"
"We've got time," Esme assured him with a slight shrug. "It's no big deal,"
"Well..." the smith continued. "I'd feel awful making you wait here. You can come with me if you want,"
Esme looked back at Peter and I, her eyes shifting between the two of us. "You boys up for some church?"
Peter and I shot each other unsure glances, only to shrug in unison at the idea. It wasn't like we had anything more interesting to do at the moment.
"Great!" the smith said. "Follow me,"
Esme and the smith took the lead, walking a few steps ahead of Peter and I, while they further discussed the anatomy of Esme's blade, as well as any preferences that she had.
"It's been a long time since I've been to church," Peter realized aloud.
"Me too," I agreed and laughed. "Maybe this is a sign,"
"Yeah," Peter scoffed. "The Lord is calling our asses home. Jesus, we're gonna burst into flames once we go through the doors,"
"Most likely," I said.
"Hey," Peter said, his voice growing quiet as he looked ahead at Esme with caution, almost as if he didn't want her to overhear what he was about to say. "Do you believe in God, Dante?"
At first, I was unable to provide a satisfying answer. The question had caught me off guard, since Peter had never once brought up the topic of religious ideology before. "I consider myself agnostic,"
Peter's forehead furrowed as he gave me a perplexed look. "What the hell's that?"
"Basically," I explained, "I don't necessarily believe in God, but I don't deny His existence. I simply think there isn't enough evidence to support either belief. What about you, Peter?"
"I don't think God exists," Peter answered. "It's kind of hard to believe there's some grey-muzzled guy who sits on top of clouds all day,"
"So, you're an atheist?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess so,"
"You guess so?"
"Well... It's just... It's weird saying I don't believe in God," Peter elaborated. "I've never told anybody that because I was always afraid of some Christian attacking me...like Esme,"
"Esme?" I repeated, puzzlingly.
"Uh-huh," Peter said.
"What do you mean?"
"Esme's a Christian," Peter clarified. "Back at the church, Esme was talking with the girl and said she believed in God. Esme told her that He could never hate someone for being gay,"
I paused, letting his words sink in, and looked ahead at Esme as she walked with the blacksmith, who suddenly laughed at something Esme had said. "I never knew that about her,"
"It's true," Peter guaranteed.
"And you think she'd flip out on you, just for having different beliefs?" I asked, returning my eyes onto Peter.
"Well...yeah!" Peter said. "All the Christians I've met are fucking assholes, especially if you don't act and think exactly like they do,"
"You've been hanging around the wrong Christians, then,"
"What do you mean?"
"No matter what groups of people exist," I said, "there will always be pricks who try and attack you. Christian. Atheist. Gay. Straight. It really doesn't matter. There will always be assholes, but there will always be good people, too,"
"So," Peter said, "you're actually defending the people who say you're going to Hell because you're not straight, even that priest you shot back at the church?"
I shook my head. "No. I'm saying that there are good people in every group. You can't just see a few assholes and assume every one of the same species, religion or sexuality as them is like that, too. Do you remember Pan?"
"Your friend in Tynas?" Peter asked. "Yeah,"
"And do you remember how promiscuous he was?"
"Yeah," Peter said. "He wanted to do you right there on the counter,"
"Okay," I said, ignoring the disturbing thought of Pan and I being together. "So, let's say someone saw Pan and immediately assumed that all gay people are a bunch of perverts, who want nothing more than to sleep with as many people as they can. Would that be a fair assessment?"
"No," Peter answered.
"No, it wouldn't," I said, gently, attempting to keep my promise to him about not being patronizing. "Now, look at Esme. She may be a Christian, but does she treat us any differently because of our sexualities?"
Peter considered what I said for a moment and grumbled, "No,"
"Exactly," I told him. "The world isn't black and white. Esme knows better than to judge someone for who they're attracted to, despite what other Christians might think. Hell, I even have a few gay friends that are Christians. But, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what different beliefs or preferences you might have. What truly matters is that you treat somebody with respect, regardless of their differences. If you don't, the world is a much more miserable place,"
Peter remained silent and not a word was spoken between us as we continued to follow the smith towards his church.
When we arrived at the front door of the church, which was ajar, a priest greeted us with a smile as we approached. He was a bat and was dressed in long green robe with golden highlights. His face had not been spared from the malicious nature of old age. Time had meticulously carved deep wrinkles under his muzzle, which had been scorched with a blaze of grey hairs. Two almost-black ovals formed around his dull brown eyes, which seemed to be covered by a veil of dreariness. His chin, or what remained of it, draped down a flap of fur beneath itself that was almost as thin as a bed sheet.
"Good morning, Paul," the priest's voice creaked.
Paul replied with genuine courtesy. "Good morning, Father Mellow,"
"I see you've brought some friends to today's Mass," the priest said, as his bleak eyes drug their gaze over Esme, Peter and I.
"Yes," Paul replied. "They're quite excited,"
"Well," the old bat groaned as he shifted in place, "I'm afraid they'll have to leave their weapons with me,"
Paul turned and looked at us warily, fearing that he had caused us some great offense. "Will that be all right?"
Nobody disagreed.
We entered the church, finding ourselves standing in a cramped hallway that ran horizontally in front of another wooden door. Once all of us were inside, Father Mellow closed the outermost door and stepped into the hallway after us.
"Mass is just about to start," Father Mellow coughed, as he turned right and slowly walked towards a wooden wardrobe that stood against the wall. "So we must hurry,"
"Of course, Father," Paul said.
The bat withdrew an iron key from the right pocket of his robe with the claw on his right wing and unlocked the wardrobe, which opened without even the tiniest creak. He then stepped to the left of the wardrobe and smiled. "If you could place all of your weapons inside here, it would be greatly appreciated. I myself will return them to you once Mass is over,"
"Sounds good!" Esme said, as she withdrew my knife and its scabbard from her side. She then moved forward and carefully placed the two items on the wooden bottom of the wardrobe.
After Esme walked back to us, I sauntered to the wardrobe, removing my rapier, gun and knapsack, just before placing them at the bottom of the wardrobe as well. I then stepped back and allowed Father Mellow to lock the wardrobe.
Once he was done locking the wardrobe, Father Mellow placed the key back into his pocket and moved over to the wooden door in the middle of the hall, politely opening it for us. "You may now find your seats,"
"Thank you, Father," Paul said.
"It's no trouble," the bat said, as we passed through the open door.
The inside of the church was, I must admit, beautifully simplistic. Most churches, I've found, are either small sheds that are not even fit to contain the most abominable prisoners, or they are extremely large and gaudy, which makes you question why they didn't use some of the money to aid the less fortunate rather than focus more on building the biggest church that they possibly could. This church, however, was able to be lovely and small at the same exact time. The room was large enough to fit the seventy or eight people that I saw sitting before us on a few rows of pews, which had been divided into two groups, one on the left and one on the right. The floor was carpeted with a nice rug that was as green as fresh grass. Further down, on the opposite side of the church from us, hung a statue of Jesus, whose proud lion mane hung low as he dangled from the large wooden cross that he had been nailed to. Finally, underneath the statue of Jesus, sat a wooden alter, which was only nine or ten feet long and had a purple cloth draped over the front of it. Meanwhile, a large black book -presumably the Bible- sat on top of the cloth, keeping the material from falling off of the altar. Was it the most beautiful church I had seen? No. But it was by no means hideous. It was simple and decorated adequately. As all churches should be.
_ _ "Looks like it's standing room only," Paul whispered from my right.
All four of us crept forward and stood behind the closest pew, the one furthest from the altar.
Paul, who stood on my right while Esme and Peter stood on my left, preformed the sign of the cross. He then closed his eyes, just before he clasped his hands together in silent prayer.
I turned my head to glance over at Esme, who had already followed Paul's example, quietly hanging her head down with her eyes closed and hands pressed together.
After a quick shrug and a look of uncertainty to Peter, we both followed Esme's example.
Hey, God. I don't know if you'll get this because...well, I don't know if you're real or not. So, that's a little disinheriting. But there's really nothing else to do. I guess it can't hurt to at least try. Um... Is this the part where I give you a few requests? Yes? No? Okay, look's like we're improvising. Please don't let me be murdered in my sleep. That would be very polite of you. Let's see... What else? Oh! I know! Keep the Talth off our backs for a while. We don't need to run into those assholes any time soon. Wait, am I allowed to swear when I'm praying? Probably not. Oops. My apologies, God. I suppose I could thank you for some things now. Uh... Peter hasn't been irritating lately. Thanks for that. I thought for sure I would go insane if he kept whining the entire trip. Oh, and another thing. If you see Philip up there anytime soon, if that was even his real name, tell him that I'm sorry. He was a nice boy and didn't deserve to perish so painfully like that. Ok? Well, I've run out of things to say, so I'm just going to hang my head down like this until Mass starts.
_ _ "Good morning, everyone!" a voice came from the front of the church, not more than a minute after I ended my prayer.
My head snapped up and I saw Father Mellow standing behind the alter with that familiar smile of his.
"Good morning, Father," the churchgoers responded in unison, drearily.
Father Mellow's laugh was loud enough for all of the church attendees to hear, since it bounced off of the walls of the building like the echo of thunder. "I see you're all still shaking off last's night sleep. Don't worry. I'll try my best not to bore you. Now, why don't we all stand and-?"
The doors behind us were thrown open and sunlight was cast upon our backs, causing our shadows to hang over the statue of Jesus.
I rotated myself around and saw four men: an ox, a rhino, a lynx and a puma, who all wore yellow Talth armbands.
Oh, fuck me.
_ _ "Grab 'em!" the ox commanded and the men ran towards us.
The rhino stomped over to Esme and snatched her up in his bulky arms, pinning her arms to her sides as he held her. Meanwhile, the lynx lifted Peter off of the ground, throwing the prince over his shoulder like a sack of flower. Then, the puma pounced on me and caught me in a headlock before I could even raise a finger.
"I still don't get why we can't just kill 'em in here," the puma grumbled in my ear, as the Talth began to force Esme, Peter and I towards the open door.
"It's bad luck to kill somebody in a church, you dumb cunt," the lynx said, condescendingly.
"Let me go you son of a bitch!" Peter yelled, as he tried to squirm free from the lynx's arms.
The rhino, who held a thrashing Esme in his arms, chuckled. "That must be the otter,"
"That's a hell of a disguise," the ox said. "It would've fooled me,"
The three of us persisted to try to break free from our captors as we were dragged outside of the church and through both sets of doors. Yet, no mater how much we struggled, nothing seemed to be working.
"Unhand them!" a voice shouted from behind us, a moment after we stepped outside.
The puma, who still retained me in a headlock, turned and I discovered that Father Mellow, whose grey neck fur bristled with rage, had come to save us.
"This ain't your business, priest," the puma warned.
"This is my church," Father Mellow declared, "and I will not have you harm those who come to hear the Word of God!"
"You don't have a say in this, old man," the ox said.
"Go back inside, you fucker," the lynx snarled.
"No!" Father Mellow defied the Talth. "I won't let you harm these good young people! I'm sure whatever problem you have with them can be settled with a civil conver-"
The ox lunged forward, drawing his knife, and pierced Father Mellow's neck, causing blood to run down the bat's green robe, thus darkening the cloth. Then, the ox pulled his knife out from Father Mellow's throat, tearing the old man's flesh even further, as he allowed the wide-eyed bat to fall facedown onto the ground, where he violently shook and drowned in his own blood.
"Jesus, Percy!" the lynx screamed. "What'd you do that for?"
Percy, the ox, shrugged and wiped his blade against his pant leg, cleansing it of Father Mellow's blood. "Old bastard wouldn't listen,"
"Old bastard?" the lynx continued to shout. "You just killed a fuckin' priest! That's even worse than killing someone inside a church!"
"What the hell are you talking about, Duncan?" Percy demanded and turned around to take a step towards the lynx.
"You're not supposed to kill priests!" Duncan cried. "It's bad luck!"
Percy's head lowered and his eyes blazed like two orbs of fire. "You didn't seem to mind when we were holdin' that twelve year old down for you to fuck the other day,"
"That's different," Duncan defended himself. "A fuck's a fuck! She wasn't a priest, so it didn't matter what we did to her,"
"I really don't get you," Percy said, his voice becoming much deeper and unsettling. "You go on about some bad luck shit and say killin' a priest is worse than fuckin' a little girl? What's your problem? Were you dropped on your head when your mother was nursin'-?"
The claw of a black iron hammer hooked into the top of Percy's head, cracking it loudly and drawing forth a fountain of red that carried chunks of pink flesh down onto the ground.
Percy's body fell, just a moment after the hammer was pulled out of his head, and his mouth hung open wide enough to catch some of the blood that washed down his face. Once his body lay flat on the ground, I saw Paul standing over it, like a hunter over his hard-earned kill, with a bloody hammer in his left hand.
"Lucky for you three, I'm not very good at following the rules," Paul said, slightly raising his hammer for us to see. "I always feel naked without at least a hammer to defend myself, even in church,"
"Motherfucker!" Duncan screamed. He then tossed Peter aside and rushed toward Paul, unsheathing his seven-inch long knife that glistened in the morning sun.
Paul dodged the first slash, which almost punctured his left eye, but was struck by a swift second strike that cut his left shoulder. Fortunately, Duncan wasn't ready to attack again before Paul swung his hammer in a horizontal strike, which caved in the Duncan's temple, causing his right eye to pop out of its socket and dangle almost halfway down his cheek. Blood gushed down the bridge of his open eye socket and over his muzzle as Duncan fell onto the ground to lie in a pool of freshly drawn blood.
The Talth who still held onto Esme and I released us. Immediately, we ran to Paul's side, as Peter followed closely behind.
Esme bent over and pulled Duncan's knife from his still-closed fingers. "You should probably go get your shit, Dante,"
Realizing that she was right, I turned and ran into the church hallway to get my gear out of the wardrobe. When I reached the wardrobe, I tried pulling on its tiny knob, only to realize that it wouldn't turn. Already, I could hear screams coming from outside and the sounds of steel clashing against steel, which only increased my urgency.
"Maybe you should break down the door," a voice suggested from behind me.
I twisted around and saw Peter, standing in the hall, staring up at me.
"Good idea," I told him.
Without another word, I moved towards Peter and away from the wardrobe, only to turn around and sprint forward at the wardrobe as fast as I possibly could. I angled my body so that my right shoulder slammed into the wardrobe, which surprisingly caved in.
I fell forward into the wardrobe, smashing my face into the back of it, and slowly pushed myself back up. I had not expected it to break so easily, which was why I ran at it with full-speed, assuming I would barely have managed to create a dent in the wood. It must be really old to have broken that easy.
_ _ In an instant, I placed my bow, quiver and knapsack on my back. I then picked up my knife and sheathed it once I tied my scabbard onto my belt. After sheathing my rapier as well, I lifted my gun off of the bottom of the wardrobe and turned around to rush towards the outside of the church.
After charging back through the front door and diving headfirst into blinding sunlight, I saw Paul standing off to the side, tenderly cradling his wounded left shoulder with his right hand. He was staring at something and, after my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that he was watching Esme.
_ _ The corpses of Duncan, Percy and the rhino, all of which lied in the dirt as they bled, surrounded the kangaroo. Esme, however, was crouching over something and her shoulders were tense. Something was very wrong.
"Where the fuck did you get this?" Esme demanded, looking down at something.
"I ain't telling you shit," a voice claimed.
Carefully, I made my way to my friend's side and saw that she was hovering over the puma who had held me, baring the knife she had taken from Duncan's body against his throat as she held another knife in her left hand.
Wait... That's Esme's knife!
_ _ Esme pressed her new knife against the Talth's throat while she still held her old one up in the air. "I swear to Christ, if you don't tell me where you got this, I will carve out your eyes and shove them so far up your ass that you'll wish I'd cut off your balls instead!"
I moved next to the puma's head, making sure he caught the glint of sunlight that bounced off of my gun. "Things can always get worse for you,"
"We took it from some girl yesterday," he confessed without a second thought. "She was alone in the woods, just outside the next town up the road, and said a friend gave it to her,"
"Did you rape her?" Esme asked, with a soft hint of rage in her words.
"What?" the puma asked.
"I said," Esme repeated herself, nearly shouting at the puma who lay beneath her, "did you rape her?"
"Fuck you, bitch," the Talth cursed and spat in Esme's face, spraying her cheek with a web of saliva.
I crouched down and drove the muzzle of my gun into the center of the puma's right hand. Then, I pulled the trigger and ripped open the center of his hand, exposing strings of blood and what remained of his pink tendons.
"What the fuck?" the puma screamed and tried to squirm underneath Esme.
"Answer the question," I told him, "or I'll shoot your other hand, too,"
"We didn't rape her!" the puma began to sob. "We were about to...but she ran away,"
"Then what?" Esme pressed.
"We asked her," the puma sniffed, "where she got such good knife and she said from a kangaroo who was traveling with a wolf and an otter dressed like a ferret. We figured that you were the guys Osric put the bounty on,"
"And?" Esme pushed.
"And then she started fighting us. Duncan killed her, though, before she could even cut us with that knife of hers,"
Esme became very quiet.
Then, the kangaroo raised the new knife in the air, only to drive it up into the puma's head, in through the soft spot just underneath his chin, and began to twist it, causing blood to stream out onto the collar of the puma's tunic. The puma's eyes widened with terror and he clung to the grip on the knife with his only uninjured hand, which proved to be of very little assistance. Then, when his left hand grew limp and his eyes became dim, Esme withdrew Duncan's blade from the puma's head and threw it off to the side.
"Well," Paul broke the uncanny silence, "it's a miracle none of us died,"
"The Talth may have speed," I said, standing up as I placed my gun in its holster, "but it's rare to find one with true swordsmanship. I'd say only one in a hundred of them actually knows how to fight properly,"
"How does a mercenary group make gold if they can't even fight?" Paul wondered.
"Robbing and raping people on the road," I said.
Paul grew silent and stared down at the bodies on the ground.
I then glanced over to Esme, who had risen and stared down at the knife in her left hand, the same one she had given to the girl from the church, silently.
Before I could do anything, Peter appeared out of nowhere and stepped next to Esme, placing his hand on her wrist. "Are you okay, Esme?"
Esme's eye, much like both of my own, widened and stared surprisingly at the kind otter in disbelief. "Oh... Yeah. I just wish the girl could have been happy someday,"
"We've avenged her," Peter reminded her, glancing at the dead Talth. "At least that's something, right?"
Esme paused for a minute and then bent down to remove the scabbard from the dead puma. She then put her own knife, the one she gave to the girl, into the scabbard after she tied it to her side. Once the knife was sheathed, Esme shot Peter a weak grin that was obviously forced. "Yeah. And that's all we can do,"
The kangaroo then turned and faced Paul, who was no longer grasping his wounded shoulder. "I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble, especially since I don't need to buy a knife from you anymore,"
Paul grinned and waved with his free hand. "It's no trouble. And, in a way, you did pay me quite a bit,"
"How so?" I asked, not understanding what the smith was referring to.
Paul grinned and motioned towards the dead Talth with a bump of his head. "I can sell all their weapons in my shop, or melt them down for the steel,"
"Smart man," I complimented the bear.
"No," Paul admitted, humbly. "Just resourceful,"
The smith then looked down at the dead Talth and glanced back at the church doors. "We probably should move the bodies behind the church," Paul suggested. "The children inside don't need to see this mess,"
Silently agreeing with him, Peter, Esme and I all helped drag the bodies of the Talth around to the back of the church, placing them in some bushes on the edge of the woods.
"What should we do with Father Mellow?" Peter wondered, as we returned to the front of the church.
"Move him with the others," Paul grunted, as he draped the priest's tiny body over his shoulder and began to walk towards the back of the church again. "I'll let one of the other priests know, so they can get him a proper burial,"
"Do you need us for anything else?" Esme asked.
The bear stopped and turned to face us with a smile. "No. You can all go if you want. I'm sure you want to get moving before more Talth show up,"
"What about you?" I inquired.
"What about me?" he asked.
"The people in the church saw you come out here after Father Mellow," I explained. "If the Talth come looking for us, all they have to do is break a few fingers and they'll find their way to your doorstep,"
Paul shrugged. "If all of the Talth fight like the ones we just killed, I'm sure I'll be fine. Don't worry about me telling them where you're going. You never told me. So I'll just tell them you're heading west to hide with some friends on the coast. Unless, of course, that is where you're going,"
"No," I answered. "That works. Are you sure you'll be all right? We have some friends that you could stay with that live close by,"
"I'm fine," Paul assured me. "Take care, you three. Good luck going wherever you're traveling to. I hope you make it there safety,"
"Thanks, Paul," Esme thanked the smith.
"Thank you," Peter and I said together.
"No problem!" the bear replied, just before turning around to walk behind the church again.
The three of us turned to walk away from the smith, heading towards the southern edge of town and to the future perils that awaited us.