Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) (31 page)

The hunter was slapping at himself.

“You okay?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, fine.”

Arturus was glad for the break and tried to catch his breath. He heard something in the distance.

That’s not coming from behind us, that’s ahead. Is it water?

It didn’t sound like water. He couldn’t place it.

The claws of the dyitzu that are chasing us, perhaps? Did they somehow get in front of us?

“Fuck,” Wistan repeated. “Something’s on me. Mabe, get your lighter.”

Arturus heard the hunter rustling through his pack.

“We need to keep moving,” Aaron said.

“How’s your arm?” Galen asked.

“Fine. Bleeding, but not much. I’m not light headed or anything.”

“We don’t have much time,” Duncan’s voice came out between his gasps for breath.

The sound was more like the dropping of pins, Arturus noticed. Thousands and thousands of tiny pins.

“Quiet,” Aaron chided. “I’m trying to listen for the dyitzu.”

Mabe’s shuffling in his pack stopped. “Got it.”

I don’t know if I can run much farther. I’m exhausted.

He tried to remember what had tired him out so much. Was it the fight with the Icanitzu? It must have been. And the adrenaline.

I fought it. Will Galen be proud? Or mad that I didn’t kill it? Is it still coming?

He bit his lip as if the pain would wash away his fear.

He couldn’t feel any pain.

Too much adrenaline.

He heard the flicking of Mabe’s lighter and saw the sparks. After the third try, a single finger of flame shot up from the lighter. He held it up towards Wistan. “You okay, man?”

Is the sound getting louder?

“Oh shit, what’s that?” Mabe said.

Arturus and the rest of the hunters gathered around Wistan. On his arm, illuminated by the lighter, was a small spider. It was maybe a half inch tall.

“Poisonous?” Wistan asked, his voice shaking.

“Nothing in Hell is poisonous,” Aaron answered.

Galen grunted his agreement.

“Shit, I’ve got one on me too,” Johnny’s voice was strangely nasal.

Arturus caught a glimpse of him in the lighter’s light. Johnny’s nose was horribly disfigured and swollen. Arturus could see the dip where the septum had broken. Johnny slapped at his shoulder.

The lighter went out for a second, but Mabe quickly relit it.

The spider on Wistan’s arm was oddly reflective. Arturus got even closer to focus on it. Its legs appeared to be made of metal and were catching the light. He saw as it moved that there was a miniscule spur near the bottom of each of its legs. It moved a few inches across the hunter’s arm, perhaps scared by how close Arturus had gotten, its spurs burying themselves into Wistan’s flesh. The man’s skin raised just slightly before popping back down as each leg freed itself. Behind the spider, welling up from its footprints in the skin, were small beads of blood.

The sound is definitely getting louder.

“Silverleg spider,” Aaron whispered as he flicked the thing off of Wistan’s arm.

“Light a torch,” Galen ordered, his words as urgent as Arturus could ever remember them being.

Arturus then heard the howl of an Icanitzu echoing through the corridors behind them.

Mabe returned to his pack.

“Quickly, Mabe,” Galen said.

The rain of pin drops was loud enough that Galen’s voice didn’t drown the sound out.

Mabe’s torch sprang to life. Arturus looked down the corridor.

Spiders were coming around the bend. A few had come ahead, but behind them, where they were thickest, he couldn’t even see the floor beneath them. Many were marching along the walls. The corridor was lit with countless points of light as the torches caught the thousands upon thousands of silver legs. The myriad lights spun in circles, pouring down the corridor, dancing over Arturus’ head and across his body.

“More torches,” Galen ordered.
“They’re swarming.”

Two more sprang into life, and then another, each one multiplying the amount of tiny lights.

The spiders feared the flames.

Some, perhaps blinded or confused, fled towar
ds the torches. They popped in quick conflagrations as the hunters brought their fire low. Most of the spiders pulled away, however, and fled to the edges and corners of the corridor.

The four men with torches, Mabe, Wistan, Johnny and Avery, moved to the front. The spiders fled farther away, their sudden movement sounding like a shower of pins.

“Should we go back?” Mabe asked.

Aaron shook his head, slowly, from side to side.

“Two torches in front, two in back,” Galen said. “How many extras do we have?”

Arturus didn’t dare take his gaze away from the spiders. He heard the hunters answer his father, though he wasn’t paying enough attention to know who was saying what.

“I’ve got two.”

“One left.”

“Two.”

The ten of them huddled together. The four men with torches moved to the corners, their backs to the group.

Arturus heard the pops of the braver silverlegs as the torches caught them.

As quickly as they could, they pushed forward through the pops and the thousands of points of reflected torchlight. The spiders climbed the walls en masse, scurrying away from the fire to the tune of a hundred thousand needles
dropping.

The spiders did not thin as they rounded the bend.

How many can there be?

Arturus could not see well from the center of the huddle. The hunters around him were warm and sweaty. It was hard for him to keep his balance as they were constantly pushing him from all sides. Johnny did lose his balance, but stopped himself from falling by reaching out and touching the wall. Arturus caught a glimpse of his spider covered hand.

“Fuck.” Johnny shook them off. “Fuck, fuck.”

Arturus caught a glimpse of Johnny’s hand again between Aaron and Duncan. It was a bloody mess.

“How do they keep getting on me?” Kyle asked.

Galen pointed up.

Arturus looked but wished he hadn’t. Some of the silverlegs had managed to cling to the ceiling. They dropped off from time to time.

The torches scare them and they lose their footing.

“Jesus,” Kyle muttered. “Which way, left or right?”

“Right.” Aaron replied.

They crept down the corridor. The smell was awful, like food after a corpse had gotten into it.

“Will they come after us?” Wistan asked.

“Dyitzu probably won’t,” Galen answered. “They’d have to burn their way through, or the spiders would rip them to pieces. The Icanitzu might, though.”

I couldn’t fight one here, amidst the spiders.

The right side of the passage opened up. Beyond it was a wall of rotting flesh and spider eggs.

“Oh God.” Arturus wasn’t sure who said it.

“Keep moving.” That was Aaron.

“My torch is getting low,” Wistan warned.

“Get him a replacement,” Aaron ordered. “Wistan, don’t light it until you’ve used that one up, you got me?”

“Yes, sir.”

A spider dropped onto Avery’s shoulder. Arturus reached to flick it off of him. One of the legs caught in his fingernail. He had to swat the thing off with his other hand. It left an odd dent in his nail, right above the cuticle.

“Left or right?”

“Right.”

Arturus heard a sudden rush of flame. The popping became louder and more consistent. The rain of pins got louder as well. He stood on his toes and craned his neck to try and see what was going on around him but was pushed back down as the group kept going.

“Switched torches,” Wistan reported over a sudden rush of fire.

Arturus stepped on a silverleg. He felt the slightest tingle in his big toe.

One of its legs is stuck in my boot.

He felt the tingle with each step. He lifted his foot to try and work out the needle but had to put it down to catch his balance. The tingle became a tiny shout of pain.

Can’t do anything about it now.

“Right or left?” Arturus was losing track of who was saying what.

“Right,” Aaron answered.

“We’ll go in circles.”

“I said right.”

The corridor wound on, turning back on itself in places. Arturus wished he was on the edge of the huddle rather than being stuffed, practically blind, in its middle.

“My torch is low.”

“Mine too,” that was Johnny’s voice.

We’ll have to use t
wo more torches soon.

“Look, a crawlway! It might be our way out.”

“That thing is full of spiders.”

“We are
not
going in there.”

“There has to be a better way,” Aaron said. “Keep going.”

Arturus did his best not to imagine what would happen when the torches went out. They would be trapped in the darkness. Then the spiders would walk all over them. He bit his lip.

This time it hurt.

Be like Galen. Galen’s not afraid of anything.

But his heart wasn’t like Galen’s. His heart was like Rick’s. He wore it on his sleeve sometimes so that Massan could see it. So that Alice knew that he loved her. So that Ellen knew that he didn’t.

They can’t keep coming.

But this was the Carrion and the spiders
could
keep coming. They could run out of torches and still have miles of silverlegs left to wade through.

“Left or right?”

“Left.”

“Why not right?”

“We’ve already been right.”

“How the fuck can you know?”

“Because there’s God damn burnt spiders to the right. Go left.”

A spider ran across his boot. He didn’t bother to try and get rid of it. It ran off of his foot on its own, scurrying as quickly as it could into the shadows.

It’s not your fault the devil gave you silver legs.

Kyle ran into Arturus from behind, hard, pushing him into Mabe.

“Jesus,” Mabe said, but just kept on walking.

Arturus’ right ear was ringing now, and he couldn’t hear anything from it. For some reason, hearing the rain of needles only on his left side gave him a sense of vertigo.

Don’t you dare fall.

His e
ar was throbbing.

Kyle was shooting right next to me. And my rifle was on that side, too.

One silverleg in particular caught his eye as it moved across the wall. It was as large as his fist.

The swirl of lights around him added to his sense of vertigo.

Blood was still dripping from Johnny’s hand.

“Right or left?” Someone asked.

“Fuck,” Aaron shouted.

“We haven’t been left,” that voice was Patrick’s.

“That goes back to the original fork and then to the dyitzu,” Galen said.

“Well, that’s the way we have to go.”

“We may not have enough fire.”

“I’m low,” Avery said. “Need another torch.”

“Turn around,” Galen ordered. “To the crawlway.”

Please don’t.

“Agreed,” Aaron shouted. “Turn around.”

Arturus heard another torch come to life.

“Fuck, burnt my finger.”

One extra.

“As fast as you can,” Aaron ordered.

“The spiders.”

“Leave a few!”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

They retreated back through the corridor. Arturus saw the burnt corpses of the silverlegs as they walked over them.

“Straight or left?”

“Straight.”

“Left,” Galen said.

“Left,” Aaron agreed.

“Why the fuck are we going to the crawlway?”

The ringing in Arturus’ ear increased in intensity, making it even more difficult for him to be sure of which one of the hunters was speaking. He tried to stay steady. His world was beginning to spin.

“Because we’ll only need two torches there.” Galen said.

Oh God. In the crawlway I’ll be first.

“My torch is low.”

“We’ve only got one extra.”

“I don’t care, it’s low.”

“Let it burn your God damn hand.”

Arturus saw the crawlway. It was circular and had a slight upslope.

“Turi, you first,” Galen said. “Give him your fresh torch, Avery. Put out the others, except for Wistan’s. Quickly, boy. Wistan you’re last.”

Arturus waved the torch around the lip of the hole. The spiders either popped, consumed by the fire, or fled. He climbed in and moved forward. He could hear the hunters piling in after him.

“Fuck! They’re on me. Turi, be more careful.”

“No time,” Galen said. “Keep going, Turi.”

He crawled as fast as he could. The passage narrowed until, even on his hands and knees, his back touched the ceiling. Some of the spiders seemed not to know which way to run. The ones that popped left their legs behind. Some of the needles rolled down the passage. Some caught in his clothing. He could hear that not all of the hunters had made it into the passage.

Please, no narrower.

Screams echoed up the tunnel.

“Wistan’s fucked, they’re all over him.”

“Get the torch, Kyle,” Galen shouted.

“I can’t, he’s fucking dying.”

It was Wistan who was screaming.

“Get the torch.”

“I can’t. I’m not getting back out of this tunnel.”

“Grab it with your feet.”

Arturus waved his own torch back and forth frantically, trying to clear the spiders faster. Without a torch in the back the spiders would catch up to him.

“I got it! I fucking got it!”

“Go!”

“They’re on my legs!” Kyle yelled. “They’re all over my legs!”

“Who’s got the spare torch?”

“Wistan did.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ve got one, it’s mostly burnt down.”

“Is that you, Johnny.”

“Yeah.” Johnny sounded like he was pretty near the front.

“Anyone else?”

“Faster, Turi,” Galen said.

Kyle’s screams of pain intensified.

“Keep going, Kyle,” Aaron shouted.

“He’s not moving! Kyle’s not moving!”

“Listen to me, Kyle,” Galen’s voice boomed in the tunnel. “I will carry you to safety, but if you lose that torch, we’ll all die. You get me? I don’t care how much it hurts, you keep crawling.”

Smoke was in Arturus’ eyes. He could barely see enough to make sure to keep the silverlegs away. He felt one as it marched across his head and down his neck. He was initially relieved when it came to his shirt, until he felt it going down his collar. The passage narrowed further, forcing him to crawl from his belly.

What if it gets too tight?

“They’re all over me!”

“I don’t want to die like this.”

“Kyle, you with me?”

“Kyle? Kyle?”

“Kyle?”

“Fuck!” Kyle responded. “I lost the torch.”

“Go back.”

“I won’t go back.”

“Now!”

“I can’t feel my legs.”

“Get him Johnny’s torch.”

“Johnny, pass it back!” Aaron shouted above the din.

Arturus tried to look back. The afterimage of his own torch blinded him. He could vaguely see the reflected light of Kyle’s abandoned torch along the top of the passageway, but that was all he could make out. He turned back to the spiders.

Please end. Please end.

“It’s only a stub.”

“Kyle doesn’t have a lighter,” Galen shouted. “Mabe’s got to light it.”

“The lighter is in my pack.”

“Faster, Turi,” Galen said.

“Get it out.”

Turi felt the heat of his own torch on his hand. It was almost too much to bear.

“Mine’s low,” his voice sounded high, and he could only hear it in his left ear.

“I’ve got it lit!” Mabe said.

“Pass it back.”

“Kyle?”

“I’m alive. Pass it back.”

Someone screamed, but it sounded too hoarse to be human.

“Fuck.”

“What happened?” Aaron asked.

“Patrick, he got the fire in his face.”

“Get me the torch.”

“Kyle you okay?”

“I’ve got it. I’ve got it.”

“Patrick, move. Move, Patrick.”

“He ain’t breathing right.”

“Patrick, if you don’t move, I will climb over your ass.”

“Grab onto my feet, Patrick. I’ll pull you. Come on, Patrick. Push him, Duncan.”

“Oh fuck! He ain’t right.”

“He breathed some of the fire!”

“What’s going on back there?” Aaron’s voice cracked.

“He ain’t right man. He ain’t breathing right.”

“Keep him calm.” That was Galen’s voice. “Keep him moving.”

The pain in Arturus’ hand was more than he could stand.

“I’m almost out!” Arturus shouted.

“Light your shirt on fire,” Galen ordered.