David Robbins - Madman Run

“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.

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 comment, 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.”