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Brutal.
A brief moment passed, and Mara stood, tucking away the blade. “And now, you’re dead.” Then walked to the cabin.
Silas had to stop himself from calling out. Don’t go in there. The Shadows won’t have it.
Mara disappeared through the door. The muffled cries became loud and wailing.
“Help us, please,” shouted the woman.
Us?
The woman continued shouting. “Come, Juliana, please get up. Juliana.”
Silas left the tunnel and took up Mara’s position at the side of the cabin.
“Juliana, we are free. Help me, boy, help me lift her.”
Mara and two naked women staggered from the cabin, the woman in the middle supported upright, head hung forward. Two Shadows emerged from the tunnel. A second vision of hell. Silas moved behind the cabin and peeked around the corner.
“Who? What is this? Who are you?” the woman shouted.
“We are here to help you,” Mara said.
A third Shadow came from the tunnel. “Release her, Mara.” The Shadow Master held out a hand toward Mara. “Your blade if you would be so kind.”
Mara eased the supported woman to the floor, revealing her to be heavily pregnant. Shit. Mara handed over the blade, handle first. A brief warmth washed over Silas as the memory of teaching him that came back.
“Come, the brothers will take care of them.” The Shadow Master ducked back into the tunnel.
“See you at the castle,” Mara said, then followed.
Silas sighed. There’s still some innocence in him.
Silas grimaced and pulled behind the cabin as the Shadows moved toward the women.
He left enough time for the Shadows to leave, then approached the bodies. He spat on Gerald. “Fat cunt.” I wish I could have killed you myself. He wondered how long it would take the helpless children inside the dead women’s bellies to die. No fucking need. They could have been let go. Silas believed the no witness rule to be unnecessary at the best of times and rarely followed it, but this really did take the piss.
Silas emerged from the briar tunnel to find a black horse staring down its long nose at him, head raised as if primed to swing down and butt him. The Shadow sat on top of it, said nothing. Silas wondered if it smiled under the mask. Come on, spit it out. Or kill me, whatever it is you are here to do.
The Shadow threw a large bag of coin to Silas’s feet. It looked to be three times that of a normal payment. Silas didn’t pick it up and continued to stare at the Shadow. Bend over to pick that up, and I won’t see the blow coming. The horse snorted, then turned and left. Silas wiped his snot-peppered face and tied the weighty coin bag to his belt. Good riddance.
Witswick was silent as Silas approached Gerald Curtis’s home. He wanted ale and nothing else, but the tavern wouldn’t be serving at this hour. He leant against the cabin opposite Gerald’s and rubbed at the wound. There was essentially no reason whatsoever to go inside, but the image of the pregnant women had stuck with him.
He’d conjured up a variety of reasons why the witch had accompanied Gerald to the forest and finally settled on the idea that she wanted the children Gerald sired in the cabin, unable to carry her own. There could be many, all locked in cages hung from the rafters. It had also crossed his mind that there may be a supply of wine.
Silas forced the lock on the door. A stench of stale smoke mixed with rotting meat came out to greet him. Inside, a single, close to burnt-out candle flickered in one corner, dimly lighting the small, cluttered room. No children in cages, now for the wine.
During his search, wafts of human shit came in waves. The smell was strongest next to a large chest in the corner, bound by two thick ropes. Keeping their shit in a locked box? He didn’t want to open it, but something wasn’t right.
He untied the ropes and flipped back the lid. He recoiled and retched at the stench. “Fucking hell.” He pulled up his shirt over his nose and looked in. A set of glazed eyes looked back at him.
The child resembled a skeleton more than it did a living person, thin skin stretched over pointed bones. Silas stared motionless. No. He shook his head slowly. Why? The shirt slipped from his nose as he reached in and lifted the child out under its armpits, thin ribs digging into his hands. The child’s head flopped to the side while its arms and legs dangled uselessly. He lay the child on a pile of clothes. It didn’t squirm or make a sound, only blinked occasionally. A tear leaked from Silas’s eye as he looked over the scar-peppered skin. Those fuckers died too quickly.
He placed a hand over the child’s eyes and drew his blade. “Sleep well, little one, no more pain.”
9
Mara shivered, his cold, wet clothes clinging to him. It had rained the entire way back to the Shadow Castle, and his hands and arms ached from squeezing the saddle to stop himself bouncing off. He wanted to go to bed, even if it meant going back to a pile of straw on the floor. He was too tired to care.
