From Hell with Love (41 page)

At first, Niccolo had been curious about events on Earth and had been desperate to hear news about Camilla or Giovanni, asking each new arrival if they had come from Firenze, but invariably he was disappointed.  He had yet to meet a soul that had come from his city, and many of the new arrivals did not understand him at all.  Niccolo could not blame them for that; it had taken him two years to learn the common tongue of Hell. 

His fingers wrapped around another arrow before bringing it to the string, taking a deep breath before pulling it back and concentrating on his target.  His thoughts drifted to his past and the way he had been killed, but he calmed his mind as he stared at the red target.  That life was over now; his life was in that red circle on the target.

“Hey!” a shout came from his left side, breaking his concentration and causing him to release his grip on the arrow, which sailed recklessly over the target and sank into the mud twenty yards behind it.  Niccolo cursed before turning to see Lü Bu, the Horseman of Pestilence, whose oriental features were twisted in a malicious grin.  “Oh, Niccolo, you absolute failure!  Can’t you hit the
target
, at the very least?”

“If someone didn’t break my concentration, maybe I wouldn’t have missed so spectacularly,” Niccolo muttered under his breath, but he tried to keep his opinion from the yellow and green Horseman.  Lü Bu was known for being a proud man, prone to inflicting pain on anyone who did not respect him.  “I’m sorry, sir,” Niccolo offered, trying to swallow his own pride, “it’s still difficult to aim with one eye.”

“Pathetic,” Lü Bu said as he walked up to Niccolo’s side and peered down the training yard, “really just pathetic.  You’ve been here far too long to be this terrible, Niccolo.  You’re only forty yards away and you only hit the target twice!  I could hit that bull’s eye three times while looking at
you
,” he said with a scoff, shaking his head in disapproval.  Niccolo wanted to slap him in the face, perhaps rake his new claws against the shorter man’s features, but he just held the bow tighter with his diseased hand.

“I’m doing what I can, Horseman.  That’s why I came here past training hours,” Niccolo explained, but Lü Bu breathed out heavily before stepping up to Niccolo’s face.

“You should work harder, then.  I don’t need a man who can’t sink an arrow into his enemy’s body from a stone’s throw away.  When the Apocalypse happens, I need true warriors by my side, true
men
who are worth a damn.  In your current state, your only use is as a meat shield I can use against my opponents,” the Horseman said before stepping back and waving his hands up and down Niccolo’s body.  “I mean, look at you!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Niccolo said, trying to hold back his anger toward the legendary warrior.  Lü Bu had been a hero during a war of three kingdoms, but Niccolo did not appreciate the man’s insults.  Niccolo looked to the muddy ground of the clearing and tried to ignore the warrior’s laughter.

“That’s right!  You can’t because of the one eye, but let me tell you what I see, Niccolo,” he said before grabbing Niccolo’s chin and forcing him to look into his narrow eyes.  “I see a waste of humanity.  That you had a strong enough soul to make it down here is completely ludicrous.  It’s
absurd
.  There must have been a mistake, because someone like you deserves oblivion.”

At that, Niccolo could take no more insults, so he head-butted the smaller man before dropping his bow and diving at the warrior with the claws of his diseased hand.  Before Niccolo could react, Lü Bu stepped behind him and grabbed the spear on his back before thrusting it into the soft meat of Niccolo’s right leg.

“I should have you killed for that, Niccolo,” Lü Bu snarled, twisting the blade that was buried in the young assassin’s leg.  Niccolo fell to the ground, grimacing in pain, and felt more than just a little shame.  When Lü Bu twisted the blade again, Niccolo cried out and turned his body to kneel before the Horseman.

“I’m sorry, sir!  I’m…sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that,” he explained, the pain in his calf burning its way up his leg.  Niccolo heard a disgusted sigh before the spear was withdrawn, followed by a kick to Niccolo’s head which caused him to roll along the ground.

“Just
pathetic
.  You don’t even have the balls to continue your attack, just because you’re wounded.  Niccolo, look at me when I’m talking to you,” Lü Bu said, standing triumphantly with his spear  in his right hand and sneering at the leper at his feet.  Niccolo turned over and then propped himself up on his knees, the pain in his leg still aching as it started to heal.  As he looked up at the smaller man, Lü Bu breathed in and gathered a bit of mucus before spitting on the leper’s face.  In his disgrace, Niccolo did nothing in reaction.

“I’m sorry, sir.  It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Lü Bu said before reaching behind him and setting his spear into the straps that held it on his back.  Although he was supposed to be the Horseman known for archery, Lü Bu rarely ever used the hell-forged bow on his back, which seemed like such a waste to Niccolo.  He watched as Lü Bu then lazily pointed at the stables to their left and shook his head.  “In my mercy, Niccolo, I won’t kill you.  To tell you the truth, I just don’t want to deal with Barbas whining at me; you’re lucky he likes you.  Now go to the stables and clean up after Plague.  He’s made the place filthy.”

“I thought that you were in charge of…” Niccolo started, feeling the tissue of his leg joining back together, but then his face whipped around and burned with pain.  It took him a moment to realize Lü Bu had slapped him.

“I am in charge of it, but I’m also in charge of
you
, Niccolo.  Consider this your punishment for trying to attack me.  Now go before I change my mind,” Lü Bu said while staring down at him, intent on watching Niccolo sulk away.  The assassin tried to keep in his anger and then made off toward the stables at the edge of the training yard, feeling Lü Bu’s eyes on him the entire time.  He cursed himself for the wild strike, knowing that the Horseman had been goading him on for this purpose; Lü Bu was just bored.  As he made his way to the stables, Niccolo hoped that Lü Bu’s horse had not made too much of a mess. 

Niccolo had not made his way to the afterlife just to shovel up manure, after all.

***

The smell was so offensive that Niccolo was actually grateful that he had gotten used to the smell of his own rotting flesh.  When he got to the stables, he could almost
see
the particles of diseased filth floating about him and briefly thought about retreating and allowing Lü Bu to end his suffering with a well-placed spear.  After he started to get used to the smell, his eyes fell on the black horse standing in the alcove surrounded by his own refuse, the green sores on its side reminding Niccolo of his own malady.  One look into the creature’s eyes, which leaked out a green fog, was enough to cause an avalanche of sympathy in the young archer.

Niccolo mustered his courage and wrapped his red tunic around his mouth and nose, exposing his ruined left side to the foul air.  If he had ever worried about an infection, this would be the time for it, but Niccolo was past such worries.  In Hell, he never seemed to get sick, never seemed to suffer any physical maladies for more than a few moments.  The only lasting wounds were the ones given to him as he was bathed in fire, as his bones and tissues rearranged to give him a monstrous arm.

While he set about removing all of the manure from the stables, Niccolo felt the horse staring at him.  Every once in a while his eyes would drift to the green embers of Lü Bu’s steed, but Niccolo would turn away after a moment.  He felt silly, thinking a beast of Hell would be able to understand his actions, and continued to bury his shovel into the filth for a good part of an hour.  The mud outside of the stables was covered in manure by the end of it, but he figured that was not really his problem.  Lü Bu had only asked him to clean the stables and had not been specific about
where
the filth was moved.

When Niccolo buried the shovel back into the mud, he was satisfied to see the stables were in much better condition.  He tentatively unwrapped his tunic from his mouth and nose, wondering if he had ever been so foolish, and then tried to breathe in.  Though still rotten, the intensity was far less harmful on his senses, so Niccolo felt like he had accomplished something.  Even better, now he did not have to get a spear buried into his gut.

The assassin was about to leave when he felt someone watching him again.  When he looked over his shoulder, he found the black horse was still looking at him.  Niccolo tried to justify the beast’s interest in him and fell upon the obvious; he was the only other thing in the stable.  Niccolo had always thought it rather wasteful to have an entire building devoted to one horse, but then again, it was one of the harbingers of the apocalypse.  When he looked over the stallion, which had cocked its head to the side, Niccolo was filled with sympathy once more.  It was not the animal’s fault that its master was an arrogant warrior from the second century; it was not the horse’s fault that Lü Bu deserved a horrible fate for his behavior.

Niccolo walked over to the great creature and put out his hand, trying to comfort the beast as he approached.  He remembered his days in Firenze and how his father had provided a horse for him, one which he had ignored as his thoughts of childish glee were replaced with thoughts of women and money.  Carlo had thought it important that Niccolo took care of the beast and cleaned out its hooves to learn the importance of hard labor, and in his youth it had become one of Niccolo’s favorite activities.  There was a simplicity to it; something he had lost in the years before his exile.

There was absolutely no way a man like Lü Bu would have deigned to clean his horse’s hooves and remove stones and clods that would surely hurt the animal.  Niccolo continued to approach the animal with his hand stretched forward, confused that the beast was not nervous but instead looked at him with mild curiosity.  When he was close enough, Niccolo extended his human hand and ran his fingers through the creature’s sleek, black hair, avoiding the patches of skin ruined by disease.

“There, there.  I’m just here to help.  Just here to get rid of your shit and clean your hooves, alright?  Your master is an asshole, but you seem decent enough,” Niccolo said in a soft, gentle tone, stroking the creature’s hair with a delicate touch.  The statement was more for him than the horse, but when the horse’s burning green eye looked at him, Niccolo felt like he had been understood.  Niccolo put the thought out of his mind and then crouched down before lifting the creature’s front hoof.

As he expected, there were plenty of obstructions buried in the dirt and mud that had been packed into the horse’s hooves, so Niccolo took a short knife from his belt and set to work.  From Plague’s front leg, Niccolo found two stones and a number of small sticks stuck in a clod of mud, but as he set about the rest of the hooves, he found a number of disconcerting objects.  In his final count, Niccolo found three finger bones, a fragment of a clavicle, and what looked to be a small bit of skull.  He had to wonder what Lü Bu was doing in his spare time.

Niccolo sighed deeply before standing up and rubbing his hand along Plague’s shining coat, wondering if there was a brush nearby.  As he set about trying to find something he could use, a booming voice echoed through his eardrums and mind.

“You’re a curious one,” it said, causing Niccolo to turn around quickly to find whoever had been watching him.  He exited the horse’s alcove to find no one in sight and Niccolo's face twisted in confusion.  Niccolo had heard that a number of demons could turn invisible, but he wondered why any creature would want to play tricks on him.  He was a nobody.

“Come out, I don’t have the patience for this,” he said with a hostile tone, determined to avoid this ridicule.

“From what I’ve seen, you have your fair share of patience,” the voice came again, causing Niccolo to whip around in panic.  Whatever creature was watching him was not making this easy.

“Enough’s
enough
, alright?  Just show yourself so we can get on with this!” he shouted, his eye narrowing as he glared into the dark corners of the stables.  Immediately he was answered by a tired chuckle.

“Alright, then, I’ll take that back about the patience.  Turn around, little man, and we’ll hash this out,” the deep voice reverberated throughout the stable.  Niccolo stopped his wild motions and realized there
was
something there with him in the stables.  He turned around slowly to find that the black horse was staring right at him.

“Wait…” he said, which made the horse whinny and paw the ground in response.

“
There
you go,” the deep voice came again, complemented by a wink from the beast.

“You can’t expect me to believe that a horse is talking to me,” Niccolo said with skepticism, but then the animal’s eyes drew to slits and its nostrils flared.

“Why the
hell
not, little man?” it asked, walking out of the alcove and making Niccolo’s spirit sink.  Instead of drawing back in fear, he just stood there as the horse approached.

“I guess anything is possible,” he started before crossing his arms, determined to keep his thoughts from being obvious.  “I haven’t been in Hell long.”

“I can see that,” Plague’s voice seemed to echo inside of Niccolo’s skull, its massive face only a foot away from Niccolo’s own.  “Five years is barely an introduction.”

“How do you know how long I’ve been here?” Niccolo asked with some hostility, which drew a light chuckle from the creature.

“Oh, Niccolo, you’re
precious
,” it said before drawing back slightly and shaking its head, the black hair of its mane falling to the left side of its neck.  “I’m one of those mind readers you’re so skeptical of.”

“You…” Niccolo started, flustered by the creature’s knowledge.  Immediately he stepped forward to cover the distance between them and raised his diseased index finger to point into the horse’s face.  “What are you doing in my mind?  Who gave you the permission to do that?!”