Shadows At Dawn: Chapter 2
Regret
Before you dive into chapter 2, get up to speed with chapter 1.
The further south he travelled, the more it felt as if the black cloud above Rueben’s head was disappearing. His decision to disobey Pa’s orders had given him a kind of giddy recklessness that kept him focused on the moment.
He wondered if that was how men who’d thrown everything away for love were meant to feel, or whether it was simply a way of trying to forget about all the fear and uncertainty that came with forsaking duty.
The euphoria wore off as he approached the entrance to an old Quester outpost hidden among the ruins of a stone building. Rueben unearthed a flight of steps covered by debris. He strode through a cobwebbed corridor and from the dust and grime of the main chamber he could tell no one had been here for a long time. A statue of Aegnius, God of The Underealm, greeted him with a raised fist and Rueben bowed to the guardian of the chamber respectfully.
He found the door to a vault lined with ancient wards and he passed into a larger room filled with witch bottles. They were placed into small holes carved into the wall and he thought about how many witches had been locked away over the years in a prison they would never escape. He passed the slot containing Mad Myrtle, who must’ve grown even madder in the years since Pa captured her.
Rueben remembered coming here with Pa in the aftermath of his battle with Myrtle. Pa’s coat was scorched, his arms were bruised and he still refused to rest until the job was finished. The look of grim pride on his face when he’d slotted the bottle into a hole was something Rueben could never forget. That was the day Rueben had believed Pa was invincible.
But as he stepped over the stained silver bands built into the floor and put his bottle into a slot he couldn’t feel the same pride. Only shame.
Rueben left the vault and renewed his journey. The morning passed in a blur of unremarkable sights until thunder roared and an arc of lightning crackled overhead. Through the murk he made out the shape of a barn and took cover inside as the rain crashed down.
Rueben tied his mare to a hook in the corner. Straw was piled high on the upper level of the barn and he supposed it was as good a place as any to rest and better than sleeping in the open.
Rueben climbed the ladder, lay down in the straw and used his coat as a blanket. The woollen inlay against his skin was soft and comforting and he drifted off to the sound of pattering rain.
Rueben dreamed he was in a field, staring up at the vast summer sky and Maddie was laying beside him. She put her head on his chest and leaned up, as if going to kiss him and then whispered something against his lips. Rueben strained closer to hear.
“Run.”
Maddie screamed in his face, blood splattering across her skirts, turning the grass into a crimson wasteland. Rueben woke in shock, a cold sheen of sweat upon his brow. He rubbed his face, tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Rueben clutched at the enchanted coin until his breathing returned to normal.
A creaking noise came from below. The door scraped against the floor and muffled voices filled the barn. Rueben pulled out the revolver from the holster on his hip. He inched towards the ladder and peaked over the side to see two men come inside. They wore Quester uniforms and the man who came in last dragged a girl whose hands were bound with a silver chain.
“Finally! Some gods-blighted sanctuary!” The first Quester said, shaking off a layer of water not unlike a wet dog.
“Must you always take their name in vain?” His partner muttered, yanking on the girl’s chain.
“When I hear ‘em complain I’ll let you know.” The man took off his hat, revealing close-cropped auburn hair Rueben recognised.
“I wouldn’t worry about them complaining, Everett. The gods don’t waste their time talking to half-wits anyway,” Rueben quipped, standing up with both hands on his belt.
Everett Foster squinted and scowled and then his eyes lit up. “That you, McNab? I was having trouble seeing past that chip on your shoulders.”
“Blind as love and dumber than a box of hair. Describes you perfectly.” His brother, Godfrey pointed out.
Rueben laughed and climbed down the ladder, cheered by the notion of running into fellow Questers, even if the Foster brothers weren’t his favourite people in the world. His gaze shifted to the girl who kept her eyes on the floor.
“What are ya’ll doing this far south?”
“Bringing this witch with us to the Summit,” Godfrey said. “She’s got a lot to answer for.”
“And what would that be?”
“Never you mind,” Everett butted in. “We could ask you the same thing about being south.”
Rueben shrugged. “Pa’s wanting me to investigate a lead into the Cartwrights. I’m sure since you’re being so forthcoming you can understand why I can’t say more than that.”
Everett whistled. “I find it real interesting The Hammer would entrust you with anything to do with the Cartwrights considering what happened last time.” Rueben narrowed his eyes and Godfrey stepped between them. “Peace. Let’s just be thankful we’re all out of this storm. To answer your question, McNab, the girl was caught working magic on townsfolk so she could steal from them.”
Rueben studied the girl. Her cheeks were sunken and she looked half-starved. “You saw her bewitching people?”
We didn’t need too,” Everett said. “We spoke to half the town and they swore she was hexing ‘em out of their food. That’s good enough for me.”
Rueben didn’t bother asking if they’d tested her or put her through a trial. He continued to watch the girl, sense the pain and despair radiating around her. He’d seen children be accused of witches, stood by and done nothing as they were burned, hanged and carted off simply for being a little out of the ordinary. He thought of Charlie, of what could happen if he was discovered and his fists clenched until the knuckles turned white. Questers were supposed to be better than that. They protected the innocent.
The witch’s voice echoed around him. Feel like an honourable man.
“Is what they say true about you, girl?” Rueben said.
The girl dared to look up from the floor, receiving a back handed slap from Godfrey.
“You’ll say nothing, creature. Leave it be.” Godfrey grunted.
Rueben ignored him. He took a step closer. “Is what they say true about you?”
Everett put a hand on his shoulder. “You deaf, McNab?”
Rueben elbowed him in the jaw to show he wasn’t and Everrett staggered backwards. He grabbed for his revolver but Rueben already had his drawn.
“Duel,” Rueben said.
Godfrey hadn’t moved from his spot. “Use your head, man. You really want to duel over a -”
“It’s alright, brother,” Everett put his hand up and grinned through blood-stained teeth. “This idiot wants to go picking fights then let me be the one to finish it.” He spat a red glob onto the floor. “Terms.”
“First shot to penetrate. Non-vitals. I win you release the girl over to me. I lose then you take me into custody along with her.”
Everett chuckled mirthlessly. “If your daddy could see you now. I accept your terms and Godfrey will act as the decider.”
Godfrey shook his head and sighed. “Both of you are fools. Let’s get this done.”
All that remained of the storm when they left the barn was a thin coating of rain blanketing the road. It fell in a misty haze, swirling and twisting as smoky wreathes. Rueben took up position in the middle of the road with Everett while Godfrey went over the necessary paces. Rueben imagined Pa berating him for not having a second to watch his back.
Use your head, lad. If you find yourself in a duel without a second then look for something to turn to your advantage.
He had that in the decider. Godfrey was one of the most pious Questers in the Order, and Rueben was counting on that stubborn adherence to a fair contest. Rueben turned his attention to Everett who stroked the barrel of his gun with the expression of a well-fed cat.
“We all know what’s at stake here,” Godfrey announced. “From the middle of the road, turn and walk twenty paces and fire on my mark.”
Rueben walked up to Everett and they exchanged glances. There were no words, no biting comments or witty retorts. They turned, stood back to back and moved to the sound of Godfrey counting. Rueben felt the weight of the revolver in his grip and relaxed his breathing, slipping into a place of calmness beyond the boundaries of the normal world. He breathed in time with his footsteps, remembering what he was running from and what he was running towards.
Rueben held the image of the girl shivering in his head, burned it into his memory as a reminder of what he was fighting for. The mist crawled over his shoulders, touching him like fingers. It brushed over his gun and at the count of twenty Rueben turned and squeezed the trigger.
A crack tore the air and Rueben saw Everett fall to his knees. At first, it looked as if he was clutching the shoulder Rueben had been aiming for. But his arms swayed and the mist parted to reveal a ruined face.
Everett slumped to the floor and Rueben dropped his revolver in shock. He blinked and picked it up, running down the road. Godfrey was already at his brother’s side and the girl was sobbing. The bullet had smashed Everett’s nose and carried on into his skull, leaving behind streaks of viscera spreading across his coat.
“I...Godfrey I’m...sorr...I was aiming for his shoulder. I swear to you.” Rueben was sure he’d calculated everything right. The point of his revolver wasn’t in line with the head when he’d fired and there hadn’t been enough recoil to suggest his aim was off. But no amount of explaining could change the sight before him.
“I’m sorry,” Rueben said weakly.
Godfrey placed a hand on Everett’s chest and there was a darkness in his stare. “Take your prize and go.”
Rueben wanted to say more but he nodded quickly, not wanting to push the laws of duelling etiquette any further.
He unwrapped the chain from around the girl’s wrists and touched her shoulder. She flinched away from him, rooted to the ground. In the end, he had to grab her hand and drag her into the barn. After some gentle encouragement, he convinced her up onto his horse and they rode away. The rain had picked up again and it fell with the same quiet intensity as Rueben’s tears.