Madman Run Page 9

  "Where do the serfs live during the day?"

  "In the Underground, sir."

  "Where might that be?"

  "In the levels under the great house, sir."

  Another puzzle cleared up, Blade reflected. The reason Endora confronted them on the stairs was to prevent them from descending farther into the levels where the serfs lived. "When we were in the great house today, we happaned to hear someone screaming and wailing. Do you know who that was?"

  Sorrow etched the faces of both serfs.

  "Yes, sir," Tabitha said. "That was poor Tweena. Master Elphinstone punished her for coming back here by herself last night."

  "Explain."

  "When we spotted your campfire last night, all of us came for a look when Grell went off to relieve himself. You saw us and we hid. Remember, sir?"

  "I remember," Blade said. "But who is Grell? We haven't met him yet."

  Selwyn shuddered and gazed into the surrounding darkness. "You don't want to meet him, sir. He's the immortal one."

  Blade was confused again. "Skip him for the moment. Tell me about Tweena."

  "She wanted to sneak back for a second look, sir," Tabitha explained.

  "We tried to talk her out of it, but she went anyway, alone. You spotted her and chased her to the portal, and Master Morlock caught her. Naturally, the great ones saw fit to punish her."

  "They did, huh?"

  "Oh, yes sir. They found out that all of us snuck away for a peek at you and decided to teach us the error of our ways by using Tweena as an example."

  The statement rang false in Blade's ears. He suspected she was quoting words spoken by one of the great masters, probably Morlock. "What did they do to Tweena?"

  Tabitha lowered her gaze and spoke in a whisper. "Horrible things, sir.

  Grell, Master Elphinstone and Master Morlock all took turns, beating and torturing her." She paused. "Tweena is in heaven now."

  "They made us watch, sir," Selwyn said. "It was the most terrible thing I've ever seen, even worse than the time Grell ate Cathmor."

  Blade wasn't certain he'd heard correctly. "This Grell ate one of the serfs?"

  "Yes, sir. Cathmor tried to leave the Domain, and that's strictly forbidden by our masts."

  "What the heck have we stumbled into?" Hickok spoke up. "Who ever heard of killin' a woman for takin' a look at strangers? And folks eatin'

  other folks is downright sick."

  Geronimo fixed his eyes on Blade's. "You know what we have to do, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "We can't let these atrocities continue."

  "I know."

  Hickok nodded. "Now you're really talkin'. Let's go find Morlock so I can shove both Colt barrels up his nose and see if his noggin is bulletproof."

  "First things first," Blade said, turning to Tabitha. "There's something I don't understand. If Tweena was punished to keep the serfs away from our camp, why did all of you return tonight?"

  The dainty woman's mood changed from sadness to giddy elation in the space of a heartbeat. She giggled and stated proudly, "We wanted to see you again. Grell heard an animal in the woods and went to check if it was dangerous. He protects us, you see, sir."

  "And eats you," Blade reminded her. "But go on."

  "As soon as he was out of sight, we dropped our tools and ran over here.

  We expected to be back before he returned. We're much faster than Grell, sir."

  "And eats you," Blade reminded her. "But go on."

  "And what about Tweena? Didn't her death impress you at all?"

  "Yes, sir. It was horrible. I told you so."

  "Yet all the serfs came anyway?"

  Tabitha giggled again. "We like to break the rules. It's fun."

  The inane smile creasing the woman's thin lips gave Blade cause for concern. "In other words, none of the serfs were fazed one bit by Tweena's death?"

  "Not really, sir. No."

  "When Cathmor was eaten, how did you feel about it?"

  "Well, sir, the masts only did it to teach us a lesson. And they teach us lessons because they love us."

  Hickok snorted. "Did I miss something here?"

  Before anyone else could speak, a tremendous roar shattered the stillness of the forest, a roar the three youths had heard during their first night in the woods.

  "It's Grell!" Tabitha screeched.

  Chapter Twelve

  So stunned was Blade by the ferocious sound, he froze. In his mind's eye he saw the enormous creature with the glowing red eyes and felt again a tingle of fear ripple down his spine. He inadvertently released his hold on the serfs and gripped his Bowies.

  Tabitha and Selwyn were off like panic-stricken antelope, bounding to the northwest in airy leaps.

  "Run, sirs!" Tabitha cried.

  "What do we do?" Geronimo inquired, the Winchester molded to his shoulder.

  Blade wanted to answer, but couldn't. His lips wouldn't respond to his mental commands, and his body was frozen in place. Even his heart seemed to have stopped. He gaped in the direction of the roar, to the southwest, and experienced an almost overwhelming impulse to run.

  "I say we show it who's boss," Hickok suggested, drawing the Colts.

  "Are you crazy? Didn't you see how big that thing was last night?"

  Geronimo responded.

  "Hey, the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

  Sensation returned to Blade's limbs. He gulped and slid both knives from their sheaths. His heart hadn't stopped beating after all because now it was thumping in his chest and the veins in his temples were pounding, his entire body pulsing vibrantly, an adrenaline rush to end all adenaline rushes making every nerve and muscle, every tiny cell, quiver expectantly.

  But this wasn't the pleasant rush brought on by intimacy with a loved one, nor the giddy rush of facing foes bravely in a battle to the death. This was a perverse rush, a rush he'd never known of outright cowardice. For the very first time in his young life Blade felt genuinely afraid of an adversary.

  Fear was an alien experience until that very moment, and being alien it tore down his psychlogical defenses and left him spiritually naked, his soul in supreme turmoil.

  Hickok glanced at his giant friend and did an exaggerated double take.

  "What's with you, pard? You look sick."

  Licking his dry lips, Blade opened his mouth to reply when he saw it, saw the monster, the thing moving directly toward them from out of the gloom. Ten feet high, its reddish eyes radiating malevolence, the creature effortlessly barged through the undergrowth, the thump-thump-thump of its feet growing louder and louder, matching the thump-thump-thump of Blade's heart.

  "Are you okay, Blade?" Geronimo asked.

  "Yeah," Blade mumbled.

  "Since you want to be the boss on this expedition of yours, do we fight or what?" Hickok inquired.

  The creature was close enough now to reveal its thick reddish coat of fur, its stout legs the size of tree trunks and its massive arms.

  Blade couldn't stand to look into those red eyes any longer. "Let's take cover until it leaves," he proposed, backing up.

  "You want to run?" Hickok declared in astonishment.

  "We don't know what we're up against. Until we do, let's play it safe."

  "Some Warrior you'll turn out to be." The monstrosity was only 30 feet away. "We can argue later," Blade snapped. "Let's go." Whirling, he raced toward their camp, feeling deeply ashamed of his decision and suspecting his friends sensed the truth. He stopped at the campsite to grab his backpack. A glance over his shoulder showed the beast known as Grell lumbering in pursuit. Elation coursed through him, replacing the fear, when he saw it couldn't move faster than a ponderous walk. We can easily outrun it, he thought, and laughed.

  "What's so funny, pard," Hickok asked, lifting his backpack.

  "Nothing."

  "If you don't mind my sayin' so, I think the beating you took rattled your brain. You're not actin' like your normal self."

  Ignoring the com
ment, Blade started northward. "Come on. Let's get out of there."

  "Why not?" Hickok grumbled. "We seem to be makin' it a habit to turn yellow at the first sign of danger."

  Blade led them at a dogtrot for 40 yards, than halted and gazed at their camp.

  The monster was nearly there. Grell stepped close to the fire, unaffected by the bright flames, and snarled in frustration. He proceeded to rip the lean-to into kindling with powerful swipes of his huge paws, then tramped on the broken bits for added measure. Finished, he glared at the youths and roared his defiance.

  " Please let me plug the varmint," Hickok begged.

  "Not yet."

  "When? Next year?"

  Blade saw Grell depart, heading toward the castle, and he was tempted to charge, to try and kill the thing in a hail of lead. But what if the bullets had no effect? To a creature that massive a gunshot might be equivalent to a bee sting, and if their guns proved useless, what then? Did he want to face it with just his Bowies? The answer was no. "Let's see if we can find the serfs," he suggested. "There are still a lot of questions they need to answer."

  "Lead the way," Geronimo said.

  Hickok vented a protracted sigh while watching the monster crash through the brush. "Sure. Whatever you want, pard."

  Taking a few seconds to orient himself by using the stars, Blade hiked in the directions of the tilled field and the garden. He felt uncomfortable at leaving without making at least a token effort to slay Grell, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around and go back.

  "That thing is the biggest mutation I've ever seen or heard of,"

  Geronimo commented. "I wonder how Morlock exerts control over it?"

  "Most likely with his charming personality," Hickok quipped.

  "Why do you think Selwyn referred to it as the immortal one?"

  Geronimo wondered.

  "Who knows?" Hickok rejoined. "I don't make it a habit of tryin' to figure out fruit loops and fairies."

  "They're serfs, remember?"

  "Serfs, smerfs, what's the difference?"

  They walked in silence for five minutes, listening to the receding footsteps of the monster.

  "I had no idea mutations grew so big," Geronimo said.

  "Drop the subject, will you?" Blade snapped. "We have other things to consider."

  "Like what, pard?"

  "Like what we're going to do about Morlock, Endora and Elphinstone."

  "What's to consider? We blow 'em away."

  "I agree we must stop them from enslaving the serfs, but how far can we go? Do we have the right to kill them, if need be?"

  "Sure we do," Hickok said without hesitation.

  "Oh? Even though they're not a threat to the Family?"

  "What's that got to do with anything?"

  "Everything," Blade said. "You and I are Warriors. We're pledged to safeguard the Home. Technically speaking, neither of us has jurisdiction here."

  Hickok chuckled. "Why worry about a measly thing like jurisdiction when it comes to blowin' away a couple of lowlifes?"

  "Because if we kill Morlock or any member of his family without proper justification, we're no better than common killers. Morally, we'd be in the wrong."

  "Here you go with the morality business again. Why don't you forget being a Warrior and become a spiritual Teacher instead?"

  The sarcastic comment stung Blade. A few years ago he had toyed with the idea of becoming a Teacher, as the Family designated those gifted individuals who possessed the capacity to teach truth and were in tune with the Source of all, but he'd decided his natural talents lay elsewhere.

  Except for an occasional insect noise and once the hooting of an owl, an eerie stillness enveloped the forest.

  Blade hoped his sense of direction was equal to the task and received confirmation when they broke from the trees and discovered the garden straight ahead. There was no sign of the serfs. "Where are they?" he absently mumbled.

  "Probably off huggin' trees," Hickok said.

  "They could have heard us coming and ran off," Geronimo guessed.

  They skirted the garden until they came to the grassy road. Parked there was a crudely constructed, wooden wagon, six feet high and with immense wooden wheels and a thick beam for a tongue. Tilling implements were piled high inside.

  "So now we know what made the ruts," Geronimo observed.

  "Maybe they went to the castle," Blade said. "Let's check." Only when he uttered the recommendation did he recall Grell had headed toward the castle. Again he thought of the enormous brute and those eyes the color of fresh blood, and he involuntarily shivered as if from a chilling breeze. It was too late to change his mind without arousing suspicion, so he led them slowly along the road.

  The front of the castle came into sight and with it the narrow field in front where dozens of pale forms danced and played in innocent abandon.

  "Get down," Blade whispered, dropping to one knee.

  "What the blazes are they doing now?" Hickok asked.

  "Having fun," Geronimo said.

  "With that hairy fart runnin' around loose? Those people ain't playin'

  with a full deck, if you get my drift."

  "They're like children," Geronimo remarked quietly. "I'd say they have the emotional maturity of twelve year-olds."

  "Should we try to capture one again?"

  "Not yet," Blade answered. "They'd see us and take off. We're no match for them unless we can take them by surprise."

  "Now I've heard everything," Hickok complained. "When you wouldn't let us tangle with Morlock and that great ape earlier, I held my peace. And when you beat a retreat without takin' on Grell, I figured you knew what you were doing." He gestured at the serfs. "But when you claim we're no match for a bunch of bimbos and dorks who like to traipse around in their underwear and who couldn't stomp a flea in a fair fight, I draw the line."

  So saying, the gunfighter rose and sped toward the serfs.

  "Wait," Blade said. He tried to grab his friend's wrist and missed. He saw the pale figures collectively whirl around and gape at Hickok, then they fled en masse, giggling and running without really exerting themselves.

  The gunfighter never slowed.

  "Damn," Blade snapped and took off after him.

  Geronimo kept pace on the giant's left. "You'll have to forgive Nathan,"

  he commented.

  "Why should I?" Blade responded testily.

  "Because unlike the rest of us, he gets by with half a brain."

  "When I'm done with him, he won't even have that."

  Predictably, the serfs reached the castle well ahead of their puffing pursuer and ran along the base of the wall toward the yard in back.

  The gunfighter was doing his best, but it was the tortoise and the hare all over again, and he wasn't the hare.

  "Hickok! Stop!" Blade bellowed, and when his cry produced no result, added under his breath, "Idiot."

  "You've got to admit there's never a dull moment with him around,"

  Geronimo said proudly.

  "For someone who's always on his case, you certainly stick up for him a lot."

  "What are friends for?"

  Blade increased his pace, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to overtake Hickok before the gunfighter reached the rear corner. He didn't like the idea of Hickok being out of sight, even for ten seconds. "Will you stop?" he shouted.

  Incredibly, Hickok glanced back and grinned, his white teeth contrasted by the darkness. "I'm gainin'," he replied and kept going.

  "Remind me to dunk him in the moat when we get back," Blade said angrily.

  "Okay."

  "Fifty or sixty times."

  In graceful leaps and bounds the serfs went around the castle and disappeared.

  "Hickok, don't—" Blade began and stopped in midcry when the gunfighter took the corner. He pumped his arms and legs frantically, pulling ahead of Geronimo, and pounded into the rear yard with his mouth open to chew out Hickok for being such a blockhead.

  But Hic
kok wasn't there.

  Nor were the serfs.

  Stunned, Blade halted so abruptly he nearly tripped over his own feet.

  He glanced to the right and the left. It was impossible, and yet it had happened. His intuitive dread had not been unfounded.

  Geronimo came around the corner and stopped short. "Where's Nathan?" he blurted.

  "You tell me," Blade said, gazing at the castle and the mausoleums, and jogged toward the latter when the thought occurred to him that Hickok might be behind one of the tombs.

  Geronimo ran at his side. "He couldn't have just vanished," he declared in astonishment.

  "He did."

  They conducted a sweep of the mausoleums but found no trace of their rash companion. Winding up in front of the biggest tomb, they stood in mutual, baffled contemplation, trying to make sense of the inexplicable.

  "Maybe they kept going around to the other side of the castle,"

  Geronimo conjectured. "I'll go see." He sprinted off.

  Blade idly stared at the Blackfoot, thinking they must stay there until daylight and scour the ground for tracks, expecting him to stop at the southeast corner. He never thought to advise Geronimo to stay in sight and was extremely upset when his friend pulled a Hickok and ran around to the east side. "Geronimo!" he called out, starting forward, his gaze straying to the castle.

  Standing at a third floor window, her white dress impossible to miss, was Endora.

  "Geronimo!" Blade repeated, louder this time, his intuition flaring again, and when no response was forthcoming, he raced to the corner and stopped in breathless bewilderment.

  The stretch of ground between the southeast and northeast corners was empty.

  Geronimo, like the gunfighter, had disappeared.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He was alone!

  Blade backed against the wall, the Marlin leveled, his heart beating wildly again, his temples drumming. He gulped and scrutinized the forest, half-expecting to see those savage red orbs glaring at him.

  It couldn't be!