Firetale (28 page)

Martha lost track of time. It
seemed to her that
the night stretched forever, and when she was ready to give
in to her despair, the pain thread linking her with Greg eluded her
again. It was weak, but there was no need to look for it. Something
had changed. Something was reaching for Martha. She saw the dawn
behind the treetops, but the sun didn’t rise. She realized that the
light was not coming from the sun, but from the glare of a fire
somewhere in the woods. She turned onto a bumpy road that led into
the trees.

Caius
followed Martha, and after a few
minutes he saw the dying fire. Martha’s car was near, with the
driver door open, but the girl was not there. The Judge took the
harpoon and slowly walked in an arc around the yard in front of the
house. In the backyard, in the light of the fire, he noticed a
trail of blood leading to a thin strip of wood and stripes on the
ground, as if someone had crawled there to escape the fire. Raising
his harpoon to his shoulder, Caius went down the trail. Fire
reflections barely penetrated through the branches and leaves, but
almost immediately he saw two silhouettes on the ground. Martha and
Greg.

The mage was lying on
his side, the back
of his T-shirt was soaked with blood, but his chest was still
moving. Next to him was Martha. Her face was turned to the sky. She
lay motionless, as if asleep, her chest heaving easily and quietly,
and her fingers were sunk into the ground, as if before losing
consciousness, she had struggled against it. Greg groaned, and his
body shook as if he had been hit with a defibrillator. The Judge
lifted the harpoon, but Greg twitched again and then was still. His
limbs went limp, and his head jerked in a last fight with death and
then quietly sank down onto the grass. During his years of service,
Caius had learned what death looked like, but he still went to
check Greg’s pulse. There was no pulse. The Judge had been waiting
for something different. A battle, a hunt. And now the two most
unusual mongrels of his career lay before him, one dead, the other
seemingly sleeping. The man obviously had received fatal injuries
in a fight, and, judging by his position on the ground, had tried
to crawl away from the fire, but had not lasted long. But what had
happened to the girl? Who could have knocked her out? Caius felt no
one near except Zaches. And the Judge could not imagine that
Martha, reaching the one she had been looking for all night, had
simply fallen unconscious.

Martha was in a dark tunnel,
narrow and low. The walls were covered with something black and
gray
. She
touched them, and they left a liquid ooze on her fingers. Behind
her, the tunnel ended at the boundless darkness, where there was
nothing, no bottom, no walls, no ceiling, no light, no boundaries.
Ahead was a twist. The path was obvious. Martha went ahead. The
farther she went, the steeper and narrower the tunnel became. A few
minutes later she had to get down on all fours to continue down the
path. Martha’s arms and legs slid through mud. She had to push her
back into the arch of the tunnel to avoid slipping down it. Then
the tunnel became so narrow that Martha had to use all her strength
to move forward a few inches. She felt something sharp under the
mud, and when she pulled herself up, her arms, shoulders, and knees
were covered with deep scratches, and her skin was red with blood,
which dripped and was absorbed by the dirt of the
tunnel.

She felt trapped, but after
drinking her blood, the tunnel seemed to change
direction
. It
expanded, its incline decreased, and more rocks and less dirt
covered its walls. Feeling a firm surface underfoot, Martha stood.
The light was still gray, but more vivid, as on a cloudy day.
Martha pressed ahead, the tunnel rapidly expanding with every step.
Its walls were covered with large, strange flowers growing in the
cracks in the stone. Their fleshy succulent petals looked like a
flower blooming inside itself, as if the bud was going to burst
inside itself. Martha touched one of the flowers. At first it tried
to hide in the crack, but then it reached for her and clung to her
hand, like a puppy going to its owner. After hesitating a moment,
as if trying something for the first time, the flower petals opened
slowly toward Martha’s palm. Inside, they were bright as butterfly
wings, and she froze for a moment, struck with their design and
beauty. Silky flower petals gently touched her fingers, soaking up
the blood on them and becoming brighter. The girl reminded herself
why she was here and went forward again, and the flowers on the
walls turned their heads after her.

Martha was in a cave with
strange patterns and markings on the walls. Looking closer, she
realized that the black markings were traces of fire, and
the patterns were
raw bas-reliefs of human faces. The patterns moved, as if trying to
say something. On the stone faces was discontent, pleading, anger,
despair. Martha thought they were silently arguing with each other,
using stony rustling instead of words. The sound was something
sinister, denying life itself.

“
They will not harm you.” The
faint voice had come from behind. She turned. Greg stood there. She
recognized him, although here he looked different. His skin was a
sickly pale, and lumps of gray mud filled his eye sockets instead
of eyes. It was the same mud as in the tunnel through which Martha
had just crept.

“
I know. They are just ghosts,
Greg.”

“
You know me?” With every
movement of his jaw, dirt poured from Greg’s mouth. It ran down his
chin onto his chest, and then to the floor, before crawling away
like a huge worm.

“
I’m Martha. Don’t you remember
me?” she asked.

“
Martha? I remember her. But you
are not her.” Greg’s voice was full of confidence. “I feel
something in you, but you’re not her.”

“
Maybe because of the blood?” She
began to wipe the blood off her face. Her hands were covered with
deep bleeding scratches, which made it hard, but she continued to
wipe away blood.

“
Yes,” said Greg.” Now I see you
are not Martha.”

Ma
rtha was confused. There was no time left,
and she had not expected Greg to reject her.

“
Listen to me. It doesn’t matter
if you recognize me or not. I need you to go with me,” she
said.

“
Go where? I belong
here.”

“
Go back. I want you to live
again.”

“
I live here,” he
said.

“
No, Greg. This is not life. This
is its last stir, which will soon disappear. This is not the world
of the living. That world is outside. You’ve just crossed the
border, but you’re not far from it. You still have a
chance.”

“
Chance? Live?”

“
Greg. You were mortally wounded,
and I … I went into you, to bring you back. I am in you, Greg. If
you do not agree to go back, I will die, too.”

“
You’re not Martha,” insisted
Greg and mud dripped from his mouth. “I do not care.”

Martha took a step forward,
and
the faces
on the walls rustled.

“
What is it?” the girl
asked.

“
You’re lying to me,” Greg said,
and he sprang back away from her. “You’re lying. The faces warn
me.”

“
They are lying to you, Greg.
These are the faces of those you’ve killed. They want to keep you
here, they want you to die and stay here. They want to get back at
you.” Martha took one step further, and the faces murmured. The
stony rustles became a rumble, and the walls of the cave
shook.

“
Come with me, before it’s too
late.” Martha’s voice had risen to a shriek.

“
I’m staying here,” Greg said,
but his voice now seemed uncertain.

“
Maybe I’m not Martha, but you
will never meet her here.” Martha continued to go forward. Greg
retreated, but hesitantly. The stone faces now portrayed anger.
Their stone mouths and eyes, nostrils and eyebrows moved, causing
the cave walls to shudder and crack. Stones began to fall from the
ceiling, quickly increasing in intensity. Soon the girl and the
fire mage were in the middle of a storm of stones. Fleeing from it,
Greg fell to his knees and covered his head with his
hands.

“
Stop it!” he shouted. “You’re
killing us!”

“
You’re already dead, Greg!”
Martha shouted above the noise of the collapsing cave. “And I’m
your only chance to go back and see Martha. If these faces wanted
to save you, would they make all this?”

Greg hesitated for a moment, as
if the truth
had finally struck him, and Martha rushed to him. She
kneeled before him and grabbed his shoulders. She shook him,
forcing Greg to look at her with his eye sockets full of mud. Greg
was afraid of her, she could see this.

“
You’re not Martha,” he
muttered.

“
Now I know who I am,” she
said.

Her bloodied lips pressed
his
mud-covered lips. As in the tunnel, dirt absorbed Martha’s
blood. Her blood flowed into Greg. He choked and tried to pull
away, but she held him and forced him to take a little more of her
blood. Greg obeyed, and a moment later, he and Martha joined in a
kiss.

The walls continued to crumble, but could
not harm Greg and Martha. The stones fell more and more, and then
the rumbling ceased. Greg’s eyes clouded over, and then a whiteout
enveloped him. The last thing he saw before his resurrection was a
perfect face.

And then the world of
the living fell on
him.

Zaches immediately realized what
had happened. Astaroth had assigned him to spy on
Laz
arus
Bernardius’s circus, and some other mongrels in the country were
ordered to find the fire mage’s refuge. The demon had several pawns
at hand, which he had hidden from Lucifer and Bernardius to use
them whenever he liked. Most of them were capable only of
unquestioningly following orders but were too stupid to do their
tasks properly. Obviously, one of these mongrels had found the
magician’s refuge, but had been overzealous.

Zinnober went some
distance away from
the Judge, hiding behind the trees. He knew that the Judge did not
have to see him to sense his presence, but his fear made the dwarf
choose the shadiest shelter even in a dark forest at night. Zinno
was confused and frightened. He held his knife to his chest, but he
knew that if it came to a battle with Caius, he had no chance. He
followed the Judge, subtly looming ahead among the trees, and was
frantically thinking about what to do. But soon a wave of burning
rage swept away all the thoughts in his head.

The
Judge had found them. Martha and Greg
lay on the ground, as if asleep. The Judge checked Greg’s pulse and
grinned triumphantly. And then he leaned over Martha. Caius put
away his heavy harpoon and took off his gloves. Then he had a knife
in his hand. He played with the blade for a few seconds, as if it
were a harmless toy, and then slowly ripped Martha’s dress with it.
In the silent forest, the crackle of fabric sounded like a broken
bone crunching and easily drowned out the crackling of the burning
house. Zinnober wanted to jump up and rush Caius, but he knew the
Judge would kill him easily, so he remained under the shelter of
the branches.

The Judge touched
Martha
’s
body. Then he stuck the knife into the ground so that both hands
were free. His hands eagerly wandered around the pale skin of her
body, which stood out in the dark. The Judge let out a groan full
of frustration and anger, audible even in Zinno’s shelter. Tears
rolled down the dwarf’s face. He hated himself for his cowardice
and fear of death. He covered his mouth with his hand so the Judge
wouldn’t hear his sobbing. The lump in his throat made it difficult
to breath. Zaches gasped. His tears made the world blurred and
twisted. So when the Judge raised his hand over Martha, the dwarf
didn’t see the knife in it. And when he realized what had happened,
an eerie cry burst from his lungs. Wild with anger, he jumped out
of his hiding and ran, holding his knife in front of him. The Judge
paid no attention to him.

Greg was obviously dead. But
Caius wanted the last hit
to be his. He turned the fire mage over on his
back, and with the same knife he had used to stab Martha, he hit
the magician’s chest. The blade snapped, and Caius lost his balance
and fell forward. A wave of flame hit him, throwing him up to the
treetops. As he flew, the Judge wondered why the world to the right
had suddenly disappeared and the world on his left had turned into
a sickening kaleidoscope. Then darkness engulfed him.

Zaches
ran, tripped over a root, and fell.
An explosive wave, the epicenter of which was Greg, passed over
Zinno and left him unharmed. Not realizing how lucky he was, the
dwarf jumped up and ran on. He needed to get to Martha. The girl
lay on the ground. Blood flowed from a wound in her side and had
already formed a puddle. Greg lay nearby and did not move, but,
much to Zaches’s surprise, he was alive though unconscious. But the
dwarf had no interest in the magician. Zinno pulled off his jacket
and tried to cover Martha’s wound and her torn dress with it. He
must tell Astaroth he had found Greg, but just then he had better
things to do. First he needed to help Martha. He gently lifted her
into his arms. His stooped back and his short, crooked arms and
legs strained with the effort. With every step, his weak body
burned with pain. Still, he walked toward his car. Stumbling and
quietly weeping, Zaches walked through the forest.