The Dead Have No Shadows (33 page)

A little way ahead the path branched off slightly to the left.  The branch led to a cleft in the hillside and a tunnel entrance that was partially shielded from the main pathway by a spur of higher ground.  The angle of the pathway and the entrance to the tunnel was such that most walkers wouldn’t even notice it was there.  As he reached the branch Mickey stopped walking.  Though he could no longer see the entrance to the tunnel Mickey could see that the area surrounding the entrance was bathed in a red glow.  It wasn’t a warm welcoming glow but one that looked hard, angry and painful.

“Time to say goodbye, Mickey Raymond,” laughed Mr. Jolly.

Mickey turned and smiled.  “Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

He turned back to face Pester and Elena, who had walked a little way past the entrance to the tunnel path.  Mickey paused as he watched the unarmed guard sink to the ground.  The body inside the cloak seemed to dissolve, leaving an empty cloak topped by a beaked mask and brimmed hat.  The two other swordsmen were positioned close by but didn’t look to be in any position to prevent or cause anything to happen.  Mickey turned back to Mr. Jolly, still smiling.  This was the moment.

“Goodbye,” he said.  Mickey turned away and began walking towards Pester and Elena.  The two guards didn’t react.

Mr. Jolly began a slow hand clap.

“Very funny,” he said, though his tone of voice suggested anything but amusement.  “You made a decision, remember.  And as Pester no doubt explained to you, over here decisions are binding.”

Mickey stopped his slow walk and turned back to face Mr. Jolly.

“I know,” he replied.  “I’ve made a few decisions since I arrived here.  One was to fight a bully, someone a lot like you, so that Elena could make her own journey.  I also made a decision and a promise to help her and stay with her to the end of her journey.”

Mickey looked around at Elena.  He wanted one last look at her.  If this all well wrong then he wouldn’t be seeing anything for much longer.

“Yes, I agreed to walk with you to your Finem
Omnium
but I never said I’d enter it.  I couldn’t.  I’d already made my decision to stay with Elena and I’m bound by that.  Isn’t that how the rules work over here?”

Stifling a smile Mickey turned and continued walking towards his friends.

Mr. Jolly’s forced smile crumbled and he stared in disbelief as he realised that Mickey was serious.  He hadn’t known about what had happened in
Koprno
and the consequences that cascaded from it.  Mr. Jolly, master of deceit and deviance had been so absorbed by his obsession to trap Mickey Raymond that he’d allowed himself to be outwitted at the last moment. Failure was something that Mr. Jolly never enjoyed and failure in this case was something that he knew would be severely punished.

Barging into one of the plague doctors, easily knocking it to the ground, Mr. Jolly snatched up the sword and rushed at Mickey.

“Look out,” screamed Elena.

Mickey turned to see Mr. Jolly bearing down on him.  All traces of sick humour had vanished from the aggressor’s face.  Holding the sword double handed Mr. Jolly hoisted the blade over his shoulder.  Mickey raised a futile arm to defend himself and closed his eyes.

The blow winded Mickey.  He felt no stabbing or cutting sensation.  As he fell to the ground he felt something burst in his right thigh.  Mickey let out a howl of agony and had to fight the wave of nausea that swamped him. 

He felt a weight on his body and opened his eyes to see Elena lying across him.  Her face was bathed in pain and she was gasping for breath.  Mickey put an arm around her and felt dampness.  He lifted his arm and his hand was slick with blood.  Mr. Jolly was standing a little way off, looking triumphant; the lower half of the sword he was holding was red and dripping.  He moved in for the kill.

“It’s over, Jolly,” Mickey grunted through his pain, wrapping a protective arm around Elena. 

“It is not over, not by a long chalk,” said Mr. Jolly.  “You promised to stay with the girl to her journey’s end.  Well her journey is about to end, freeing you from your obligation to her.”

“No, you’re wrong.  You’ve lost,” said Mickey.  “I’ve walked past the entrance to your cave.  I couldn’t go with you, even if I wanted to.  And because of that I reckon your time here will soon come to an end as well.”

“You fool,” growled Mr. Jolly.  “I am not the only one of my kind here.  There are hundreds of others like me.”

“Aye, there are,” said Pester from behind him.  “But there won’t be you.”

A length of sword appeared through the front of Mr. Jolly’s Ringmaster’s coat.  The blade twisted and was then withdrawn.  Mr. Jolly dropped his own weapon and fell to his knees.

“What have you done?” gasped Mr. Jolly.  He watched his blood soak through the front of his coat, darkening the fabric.

“Something I should have done years ago,” Pester replied.  He grabbed Mr. Jolly by the shoulders and dragged him over to the side of the path.  “You can sit here and watch all the good people walk past you and your hellish path.”

Pester returned and knelt by Mickey and Elena.  He looked at the girl’s wound.  Mr. Jolly’s sword swing had been lucky for him but deadly for her.  The blade had cut cleanly between two of Elena’s ribs, slicing through one of her lungs.  The left side of her body was drenched in blood.

“I want to see the sea,” Elena whispered.  “Please put me where I can see the sea.”

Pester nodded and gently lifted her off Mickey’s body.  She was a tiny thing and Pester had no trouble in folding her into his arms.

“Can you stand?” he asked Mickey.

Mickey nodded.  “I’ll manage,” he said, climbing to his feet.  He groaned with the pain and, fearing he was going to pass out doubled over until his head began to clear.  Elena’s whispering of his voice helped Mickey focus.  Pester waited until Mickey was ready then set off at a slow walk towards the coast.  Mickey forced himself to keep up and positioned himself so that Elena could see him.

“I can hear the waves,” Elena murmured, after a few minutes.  “Let me see.”

Pester stopped walking and moved around so that Elena could see along the valley floor to the beach and the sea beyond that.

“Oh,” she sighed and smiled.

Overhead a gull passed, crying a mournful lament.

“Hold on Elena,” said Mickey.  “We’ll find your door for you.”

Elena continued to smile but didn’t answer.

Pester carried Elena’s body towards the beach.  Mickey still limped alongside.  His right leg was now slick with blood.  He had wanted to carry Elena the final yards to the beach but he was barely able to cope with his own weight.  He would never have been able to bear Elena, slight as she was.

Just before the entrance to the beach a small path cut a narrow gulley between two low crags.  Pester left the main path and started to climb the rear of the crag closest to the beach.  Mickey followed.

The top of the crag gave uninterrupted views over the golden beach and the sea.  Pester sat Elena in a natural step in the forward facing rock that made a perfectly sized seat.  Mickey then took over from Pester, wiping the congealing blood from his hands first.  He arranged Elena so that she was sitting upright and rested her head gently against the rock wall behind her.  Then he laid her hands in her lap.  To anyone looking, she was just a beautiful young girl taking in the sea view.  A strand of raven hair fell across Elena’s face and Mickey gently replaced it.

“Can she feel anything?” Mickey asked Pester.

“No, nothing at all,” Pester replied.  “She can see and she can hear; but her senses of touch, speech and smell are all gone.”

“What about her emotions?”

“At the moment she’ll be in turmoil,” Pester conceded.  He knelt to help Mickey rearrange Elena’s clothes to conceal the fatal wound as much as possible.  “But I think she’ll be happy that you’ve made it to your journey’s end, even though she didn’t quite make it herself.”

“Do you think so?” Mickey sounded bitter.

“Oh aye,” said Pester.  “We had a talk while you were with Mr. Jolly.  Elena knows you’re no gangster.   She knew that all along.  She was just angry with you that you were such a fool and let yourself get into such a mess.”

Mickey nodded and easily accepted Elena’s judgement of him.

Pester stood up and looked around.  Mickey followed his guide’s gaze.

“You picked a good spot for her Pester,” said Mickey.  “I think she’ll like it here.”

Mickey looked back at Elena.  He kissed the corner of her mouth.  Then he reached around her and pulled her to him so that their cheeks were touching.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry I let you down.  I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

Mickey eased Elena back into position in her eternal seat.  When he pulled away Mickey wasn’t convinced that all of the tears running down Elena’s cheek were his own.

Mickey climbed to his feet and tried to walk back down the path but found that his feet wouldn’t take him that way.  He looked to Pester in confusion.

“Every step has to take you towards the beach,” Pester reminded him.

“I didn’t realise that you meant it quite so literally,” said Mickey.  He looked down the face of the rock wall they were standing on.  The rock face was broken and uneven providing plenty of natural steps and footholds.

“If I fall and break my neck, pick me up and sit me next to Elena.”  Mickey took one last look at Elena.  She looked as if she was oblivious to his presence but Mickey knew she was watching him.  Mickey gave her a final smile then started to climb down from the crag.

Things went well until the rock steps got smaller and became more like foot holds.  Mickey had to take his weight on his hands and left leg while he lowered his right leg to the next level.  His right foot found a good purchase on a ledge of rock but when Mickey transferred his weight to his injured limb it wouldn’t hold him and he fell to the ground below.

When Mickey opened his eyes Pester was standing over him.

“How do you feel?”

“Ok, I think,” Mickey replied.  He tried to sit up but an intense throbbing in the back of his head and a wave of dizziness made him roll to one side and retch.

When the nausea had passed Mickey tentatively touched the back of his head.  His hair was sticky and matted and the skin beneath it felt very tender.

“Your head didn’t bleed for long,” said Pester.  “Come on you need to get on your feet.  Your time’s run out.”  He held out a hand for Mickey to take.

Mickey the accepted the offer and was hauled upright.  It all happened a little too quickly and another wave of dizziness washed over him.  Pester grabbed his arm to hold him upright.

Mickey waited for the nausea and pounding in his head to ease before he tried to put any significant weight on his leg.  When he did the pain was like nothing he had ever felt before - even being shot hadn’t hurt as much as this.  Mickey was grateful that Pester hadn’t let go of him.  It felt as if someone else’s leg had been transplanted where Mickey’s leg had once been; all without anaesthetic.

“Okay?” said Pester.

“Yeah, fine,” Mickey replied.

Pester laughed, “You know, you’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever met.”

Mickey returned a smile, despite his pain.  “Mum could always tell if I was fibbing.”  His smile became wistful at that.  He hadn’t thought about his Mum recently.  Perhaps, now he was so close to the end of things, it was fitting that he did think of her.

“Time for you to go then,” said Pester.