The Dark Stone Page 5

  Only Joshua’s enthusiasm brought Sam to his feet. He thought he wouldn’t be able to do it and as he got up, his head spun and his legs almost buckled beneath him.

  Joshua laughed. “I think you need bed,” he said.

  On hands and knees, Sam finally made it up the stairs, teetering on the top step for a moment before stumbling into the room where he saw what could have been the most comfortable bed he’d ever laid eyes on. He fell face first onto the thick, burgundy embroidered blanket and stayed there.

  “Goodnight then,” said Joshua.

  Sam didn’t reply but heard his friend making his way back downstairs and into the bar.

  He thought he was going to vomit and tried rolling onto his back to see if a change of position helped. The room reeled about him and in the end he found he could only get reasonably comfortable when curled up on his side. Motionless, he focussed on nothing but holding down his brandy, apart from a brief thought that he’d forgotten to eat, and to wonder that it was indeed a fine place they’d found for themselves.

  9

  The following morning was grey. Snow was falling, fat wet blobs, melting to slush as it hit the cobbles. Winter was upon them.

  They'd discovered the inn’s kitchen excellently stocked and after filling their bellies with cured ham, Sam and Joshua stood on the street complaining about the cold. Sam had shivered awake, wishing he'd had the wits to kindle a fire before he'd fallen asleep; the hearth in his room was certainly large and serviceable enough. Strange that he already thought of it as his room, but it seemed by far to be the best place they'd found, and one which suited their needs perfectly. It was neither too small nor too shabby like many back street taverns, neither was it overly large and ostentatious, which would most likely make it a target for any other survivors and people passing through the city streets. It was still impossible for Sam to believe they were the only ones, and could not allow himself to completely let go his caution.

  So, they went in search of warm, dry clothes. Why they hadn’t before was something neither of them could answer; both of them were dressed in what could barely pass as rags and their toes were wet and freezing. It didn’t occur to either of them how bad they must smell.

  In the middle of the city, running perpendicular to the river, was a wide boulevard lined on either side by old lime trees. Fortunately the exclusive stores, formerly frequented by the wealthy and fashionable, all lay on the bank untouched by fire. Just like everywhere else in Riverford, all the stores lay empty.

  Sam lagged a little behind, feeling miserable, while Joshua ran ahead, peering into alleys and doorways and swinging his sword at imaginary foes. Two daggers poked out from his belt at the small of his back. When he charged a flock of crows which were feeding on a body lying face down in the slush, his voice rang loud in the deserted streets and Sam glanced around to make sure no one came investigating. The birds flapped and cawed, deftly avoiding the wildly wielded blade before re-alighting to continue their meal once danger had passed.

  Joshua paused his antics to linger outside a jeweller’s shop for a while, a hungry look in his eyes. Behind the glass window metal bars were positioned to protect the treasure trove of bracelets, necklaces and brooches within. By this time though, both boys were sodden and freezing and even Joshua’s enthusiasm was waning, as snow melted in his hair and trickled down the back of his neck. However, he made a mental note to return to the jeweller’s, even if it meant burning the shop to the ground to get at its treasure.

  It was the next window along which revealed what they were looking for; practical winter clothing for those who could afford it, or in this case, break in and steal it. Long coats, trousers and hats were displayed next to warm, woollen jumpers, all dyed in an exquisite array of colours.

  With one swing of Joshua’s sword the glass dropped to the ground where it shattered into a million flying splinters and both boys needed to leap backwards to avoid being cut to ribbons. Knocking out the few remaining shards from the frame first, they both clambered through the window and instantly felt warmer just for being indoors and out of the biting wind.

  They had no trouble finding the things they needed, even if all the clothes were a little too big. Sam went for plain, warm and waterproof clothes with a long woollen coat while Joshua ended up mostly with garments made of leather, finished off with a long, black overcoat which swept down near his ankles.

  They had to break into another shop for boots. Sam was pleased with the ones he chose; they came half way up his calves and were lined with sheep's wool. It was a relief to abandon his old, holey shoes and pull on warm, dry socks over his wrinkled toes. The boots made his feet warmer still. The same shop also had a good stock of other leather goods and each of them chose a pair of warm, sheepskin lined gloves and they also found a couple of simple scabbards so they didn’t need to continually carry around their swords. Joshua took to practicing drawing his quickly from the sheath; each time with a swish, before slowly sliding it back in and repeating the movement over and over again.

  "This is the last time I'm sharing," declared Joshua as he divvied out the small amount of money he’d collected whilst they were out. They were back inside the Coach and Horses, sipping brandy to warm themselves.

  Sam was crouched by the large hearth, attempting to kindle a fire. “Keep it,” he said. “I’m too cold to care.” They could leave the city walls to go and hide their takings later, but before they did, Sam wanted to be properly warmed through. New clothes could only do so much and he'd been cold to the bone for too long and now he planned on breaking a sweat before venturing back out of the inn. By the time the fire was roaring Joshua was becoming impatient and so, after setting a fire in each of their own rooms to take the chill from the air upon their return, and downing a final glass of brandy, they made their way back onto the streets. Funny, thought Sam, how quickly he'd developed a taste for brandy.

  By the time they were walking out of the city the snow was beginning to settle and although still wet underfoot, it was deep enough to leave soggy footprints in their wake. The new clothes served them well and Sam stayed warm and snug. Even though he found the act of looting, or collecting as Joshua preferred to call it, distasteful, Sam was reassured to see his previous haul still nestled safely within the tree. Before jumping back to the ground he peered across the field to see Joshua still some way off, returning to the point where they'd parted and was briefly curious to know where Joshua's hiding place was, and to see how much treasure he’d amassed there.

  Before they went back through the city gates and returned to the inn, inquisitiveness drove Sam and Joshua to skirt the walls to take a look at the dump. If anything, the snow had become heavier and lost its slushiness, but buttoned up against the cold and warmed by brandy, the walk was invigorating.

  They laughed as they walked and Joshua fantasised about what he'd do when the people returned. "We can do anything we want," he was saying. “We’ll have enough money by then to live like lords. I’m going to have a big house, and servants, and …”

  “Can’t have our families back can we,” Sam cut in. “And we’ll probably hang for stealing.”

  "They won't know we took it." Joshua said with enthusiasm. "And we're family now. You and I."

  "You and I," repeated Sam.

  “Brothers,” said Joshua with a smile.

  When they reached the dump their conversation ended. Corpses were piled high, spilling out over the rim of what was once a pit and spreading out across neighbouring fields. Snow had covered some of the heap but the heat of decomposition had left most of it on display. Steam rose in faint plumes from gaps between the rotting bodies and ravens flitted to and fro, picking out whatever morsels they could still find.

  Sam wished curiosity hadn’t driven them there. In his mind’s eye was an image of his family; somewhere deep within the pile, half decayed and riddled with worms. Try as he might, he couldn't push the picture from his thoughts and he turned away, slowly walking back towards th
e city gates. As soon as the mound of bodies was out of sight, Sam broke down into tears.

  "As I said," Joshua had come up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'm your family now. Let's get back shall we?" His words were markedly tinged with sympathy.

  The bout of seriousness was short lived and Joshua was soon bounding around the streets again and waving his sword, often darting up alleyways or side streets only to reappear moments later by Sam's side. Not long after they got back to the Coach and Horses and Sam had thrown more logs onto the fire, fanning the embers until they re-ignited and burned hot, Joshua asked a question. "What do you think attracted them?"

  Sam had no idea what he was talking about. "Who?" he asked.

  “The half-deads”

  “The what?” Although the description was apt enough for him to follow he was quite surprised Joshua had named them, almost as if they were a different breed.

  "The sick people. Why do you think they came?"

  "When?"

  "Before. When we lit the fire at your old house."

  "Dunno. Think they were just there." Sam wondered where the questioning was leading. He was glad they'd not had any more encounters.

  "No. We've not seen any since." Joshua was slowly shaking his head, deep in thought.

  "Apart from that one." Sam said.

  "Still," continued Joshua. "I think it might have been the fire."

  Sam looked nervously at the hearth, knowing that their chimney would be the only one with smoke rising from it. "Could be." The heavy bolt on the inside of the door was unharmed by their breaking and entering. Sam went over and slid it across before going to the kitchen and making sure the small door there was secure too. "Can't be too careful," he said upon his return.

  An uneasy night was to follow. The bed which was so comfortable the night before now felt too soft for him to settle and he tossed and turned. Shadows danced and played about the walls from the fire which had died down to a few dimly glowing, crackling embers. Every creak of the house or unexplained bump made him ever more alert as he imagined the disfigured remnants of men trying the door. For all he knew there might be hoards of them, all trying to get in, attracted by the fire which was keeping him warm. Despite the knowledge that Joshua was sleeping soundly in the next room, he'd never felt so alone, small and afraid.

  10

  It must have snowed solidly for most of the night for it lay thick on the ground, pristine and untouched by tracks of any kind. In places they were forced to wade through drifts almost as high as they were but now it had almost stopped, coming only in occasional flurries.

  "We need wood!" exclaimed Joshua after they'd been aimlessly wandering the streets for much of the morning. Unbeknown to Sam, he'd been hunting for footprints other than their own.

  "Wood? What for?"

  "To make a fire of course."

  "But..." Sam started, confused.

  "I'm not going to live in fear," Joshua cut in. "I want to get them before they get us."

  Sam could see the logic even if it didn't sit easy. "They're easy enough to run away from," he grumbled, not wanting to invite confrontation.

  "This is our city," snapped Joshua, suddenly heated.

  "I was only saying." Sam, although he couldn't understand why, was suddenly wary of his friend.

  "And so was I." Joshua's voice became calm again, reassuring. "Imagine this. One day you're taking a leak, and from out of nowhere a group of those things come and grab you from behind. Before you know it, you're being eaten alive.

  Sam shuddered at the thought.

  "And besides," he continued. "You'd be doing them a favour."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, would you want to live like that?" Joshua's face had become all serious.

  Sam was thinking. Mulling over what his friend had said. "Um... I don't know."

  "It's up to you. I know what I'm doing. You can either help me or find somewhere else to live."

  A subdued Sam quietly nodded but Joshua carried on his argument. "Who's helped you so far, to find food and somewhere to live? Without me you'd have no coin for when the people return. You'd have died on the cathedral steps."

  "Alright," mumbled Sam. "I'll help you."

  "You know it makes sense," said Joshua, happy again.

  It wasn’t long before they’d broken into a house and taken a respectable amount of wood from by the stove. Even so, it didn’t seem enough for what they wanted but rather than go to the small effort of breaking into somewhere else, they proceeded to smash and chop the furniture into pieces. Joshua as always used his sword to hack at the table, chairs and anything else they found which might be of use. By now they'd more than got used to the sight and smell of bodies and the former occupants, almost skeletal in their appearance, hardly warranted a second glance as the boys went about their business. On the way out, Sam fumbled to unhook a lamp from the wall so they could use the oil to light their blaze and dropped a couple of chair legs. When he stooped to pick them back up, the rest of his load almost fell as it shifted in his arms.

  It was awkward to carry the bundles of wood and they were forced to keep stopping to rest their arms and adjust their loads. However, with memories of the destruction they'd caused by setting fire to Sam's house still fresh in their minds, they wanted to select somewhere in the open, well away from densely packed alleys and streets where a blaze could easily take hold.

  More by chance than design, they found themselves standing on the cathedral steps. Despite the cold both boys were sweating profusely and unceremoniously dropped their wood into a heap rather than placing it. Sam opened up the lamp and poured oil over the top of the wood and then just stood there, looking at it.

  "Let's wait a minute," said Joshua, breathing heavily and wanting to regain some strength in his arms before trying to attract their quarry.

  This was good with Sam, being in no rush to invite trouble. Soon though, the sweat of exertion made them both cold and shivery and the promise of warmth was all too tempting. And so the fire was lit, and they waited. As the flames took hold and the fire grew, both of them constantly scanned the large square where the cathedral stood. More than once, Sam's eyes landed on the double doors and he shivered, not with cold but with the memory of what lay inside. If Joshua had any thoughts of his family, rotting in the pews, he showed no sign of it. Instead he bobbed around, readying himself for a fight.

  "I don't think it's going to work." Joshua seemed disappointed but even as the words left his mouth, a figure lurched around the corner. Both of his hands were clamped around the hilt of his sword, with just the tip left resting in the snow. "Wait," he said.

  Sam was too afraid to do anything but wait as the figure came closer. This time they could tell it was definitely a man due to its thick black beard, matted and full of mucus and spittle. Joshua stayed stock still apart from the steady rise and fall of his chest as he controlled his breathing. Sam’s eyes flitted between the man and his friend, wondering what was about to transpire. His own sword was drawn and his hands had become sweaty on the hilt.

  When the man was close enough so they could reach him in just a couple of bounds, and they could clearly see the yellow of his jaundiced eyes and gag on the stench of putrefaction which arose from him, Joshua screamed and leapt forward. At the same time he brought his sword high above his head and swung it around, two handed, with all the effort he could muster. The diseased man moved slowly and stood no chance. It seemed he wasn’t even aware of the fate that befell him.

  Blood spurted high into the air like a fountain as his head hit the ground. Both boys stood mesmerised as the decapitated torso took one more step forward then twitched violently before crumpling into a heap. Scarlet blood lay stark against the snow and droplets were sprayed for many yards around the pool which collected near the body. The head, lying several feet away, stared upwards without sight.

  A moment of shocked silence was broken by Joshua. “Did you see that? Did you fucking see it?” He�
�d begun to prance around, unable to contain himself.

  Sam didn’t answer. He felt sick. Diseased or not, they’d just killed a man.

  An exalted Joshua rejoiced while a numb Sam stared at the bodiless face, in particular its eyes which seemed to stare back at him. Once this man had a life, maybe a family and children. Sam wondered how old they were and imagined the life he'd just helped bring to an end.

  More came from behind, surprisingly quiet through the snow. Three more filthy wretches who converged on Joshua first, as if they knew he were the greater threat. By the time the boys smelled them, and Sam caught movement from the corner of his eye, the half-deads were too close. Joshua must have sensed them at the same time because he spun around, sword raised. But it was too big and unwieldy a weapon to be effective at close quarters and his assailants ignored the glancing blow which caught one of them on its arm. The figure reached out to grab at Joshua.

  The other two were upon him more quickly than either boy expected, clawing, biting and tugging at his limbs as if fighting over scraps of food. His sword fell useless into the snow. For a moment Sam simply stood and stared, terrified to move as his friend screamed and thrashed. Then instinct took over and he charged in with his own blade, wildly swinging and stabbing, not thinking he might also injure Joshua. However, the half-deads were crowding him so tightly the possibility was low.

  Sam’s sword bit home before sliding into the back of one of the half-deads. It fell with an almighty gurgling scream, the blade, jammed between two ribs, stuck fast and wrenched from Sam’s hand. Quick as a flash he drew his knife and leapt onto the back of another, reaching around and slitting its throat. With a breathy scream, the half-dead fell out of the melee.