Neal Barrett Jr. - The Prophecy Machine

Sabatino sat up and groaned, gritted his teeth as the blood rushed back into his limbs. He flexed his fingers, pounded his fists, then quickly tore the ropes from his feet.

He turned, then, and looked down at Finn. “I want you to never forget I could easily leave you here. I'm sure that thought has crossed your mind.”

“Never once,” Finn said, meeting Sabatino's eyes. “You are a scoundrel, a liar and a rogue. One of the most disgusting men I've ever known. Still, I never imagined you a coward, a man who'd leave his comrade, his brother in arms behind.”

Sabatino looked pained. “We are not comrades, Finn. Please don't use such a word referring to you and me. I despised you on sight. Nothing has happened to change my mind since.”

“Until this is over, we're brothers in arms. Hate, loathing and disgust have little to do with the matter till we're out of here.”

“I'm thinking about it.”

“Don't. Do it now. Before some family trait comes to mind …”

Grandfather Nucci had not left their swords where they might be easily found. For weapons, Finn and Sabatino ripped planks of wood off the floor as quietly as they could. Sabatino had a suggestion that Finn felt was sound. Removing sheets of tin from the wall, they fashioned hats that would cover their heads, leaving only slits for the eyes. These devices were ugly and crude, not at all like the helmets of old, but they would have to suffice.

“If it worked for Grandfather, it will surely work for us,” Sabatino said, with less assurance than Finn felt himself.

Before they left the room, he glanced at the plated walls again. There was something there he hadn't noticed from the floor. Crudely scratched upon each scrap were symbols that gave Finn a chill. Runes, spells, clear signs of sorcery, and none of it, Finn was dead sure, close to benign.

Grandfather Nucci had built this protective metal wall-and someone, the old man or someone else, had added some very dark magic as well.

He turned and waited as Sabatino opened the door a crack, then waved Finn to follow behind.

At once, Finn breathed a grateful sigh. He could still feel the awful tug of the machine, hear the faint, ever-present howl, but the makeshift helmet offered welcome relief. Without it, he knew that deadly thing would strip him of his senses, of his will.

He wished, now, that he had taken time to fashion one for Letitia herself. Whatever effects the emanations had upon the mind, they seemed to vanish when one was out of range, or wore some protective device.

Letitia is different, though … that horror has a strange hold upon her, some unwholesome sway … when I find her, she may be lost, nothing but a shell …

Finn swept the frightful thought from his mind. It wouldn't be so-she'd be his Letitia, she'd be just the same.

While each of the two had stubby candles scavenged from the grandfather's room, their path was treacherous and dim. Ceilings sagged abruptly, giving little time to duck. Floors tilted from one dizzy angle to the next, with scarcely any warning at all.

Finn tried not to think about Julia. He'd heard the terrible, sickening sound when the crazed old man had hurled her at the wall. Finn had built Julia with all his heart and skill, lovingly crafted every part. She was solidly made, but not meant for blows like that.

He couldn't, wouldn't, let himself dream that she'd survived. Julia was his glory, the height of his art, a thorn in his side, and he felt a great emptiness now that she was gone. All his thoughts were on Letitia now, for Letitia was not a machine. Letitia, he was certain, could still be alive.

“Watch yourself,” Sabatino said, gripping Finn's arm, holding him back. “Where do you think you're going now, man?”

Finn shook himself free of his thoughts, blinked, and found himself staring at a wall.

“Sorry. I was off somewhere.”

Sabatino's grip tightened. “You have judged me right, Finn. I have no affection for you. I would have left you bound back there, but I'd like to get out of here with all the same parts I brought in. You were fool enough to let me go. I'm smart enough to let you live. Get your mind off the Newlie. She's lost for good. Now you can watch over me.”

Finn couldn't see the fellow's features behind his tin mask, but he could read Sabatino's eyes.

“Brothers in arms, you know. Your words, I believe.”

“And don't mention her again. I won't put up with that.”

Sabatino turned away, holding his candle high, and ducked into a passage at his right.

“I don't suppose you have any idea where we are,” Finn asked. “This is your house, you know, not mine.”

“I told you before. I played in these corridors when I was a lad. I don't remember where. My guess is we're just above the main floor. I believe the library is right under here. Was, I mean. The bugs ate the books long ago.”

Finn stopped. “Then, if we tried to break through the floor-right here, we might be out of this place.”

“And again we might not. We might be on the bloody roof, or back in Grandfather's hidey hole.”

“I don't think so. I've tried to keep a sort of map in my head.”

Sabatino laughed. “Have you now? A lizard maker who conjures up maps on the side.”

“I did not mean my words as a jest.”

“No, you never do. Fools are more certain of themselves than their betters, I've always found it true.”

“And that better , that would be you …”

“A delightful thought occurs. Since Father has clearly broken his command to treat you well, I'm no longer bound to cancel our duel. Now I know we'll get out of here. I feel much better, Finn. The very thought of running you through-”

Sabatino's smile fell away. He stared at Finn as the lizard maker raised his plank of wood, and brought it down in a swift and deadly arc.

Sabatino cried out, threw up his arms in defense. Finn's blow missed him by an inch, but struck home soundly on the old man's skull.

The grandfather roared like a beast in pain, staggered back and slammed into a wall. Dust and rotten wood drifted in a veil from overhead. Sabatino turned quickly, pounding the fellow with his club. Families , Finn considered, don't always get along.

The old man shrieked, a horrid, mindless sound. Sabatino wouldn't stop. Finn was uncertain what to do. It wasn't right to kill one's kin, yet the grandfather would surely slay Sabatino if given half a chance.

Before Finn could make up his mind, the old man, seemingly helpless at his grandson's feet, reached out a bony arm and yanked Sabatino to the floor.

Sabatino cried out in surprise, dropped his club and clawed at the ground. Finn saw cold, unspeakable horror in the younger man's eyes. He knew Sabatino feared this ancient, mad relation, but he'd never seen, never even imagined, the kind of terror he witnessed now. Sabatino's face was frozen in a rictus of dread, lost, caught in hopeless desperation. His eyes had nearly disappeared, with only the whites revealed, and his face was the pallor of the dead.

The old man had taken so many brutal blows to the head, Finn couldn't bear to strike him there again. Instead, he kicked him soundly in the ribs. Clearly, this was the thing to do, for the savage let his grandson go, and whimpered off into the darkness again.

Sabatino struggled to his feet, brushed off his vest and patted a welt on his cheek.

“I must thank you for that, Finn. I had him under control, but your help enabled me to release him without further harm. He's quite insane, but one hates to kill one's blood.”

“That's very thoughtful of you,” Finn said.

“Besides, it's said to be bad luck. Or at least I think it is. Let me get my bearings again. We were headed that way, I feel.”