Better Off Dead (21 page)

“Ah was especially accomplished as th
’ leader ah th’ oother warriors. Ah drunk mah ale an’ mead, wrestlin’ wiff mah brothers ah th’ warband an’ gittin’ noomeroos dalliances wiff th’ lasses. Ah wanted fer noothin’.”

I started to blush as he recalled his sexual escapades. Well, at least this conversation put to bed (no pun intended) one of the mysteries regarding the Scotsman—that being that he hadn’t always practiced celibacy. ’Course, on second thought, maybe he wasn’t even practicing it now—maybe I just wasn’t his type. I couldn’t help but think, were I his type or not, that given the subject of my virginity and its associated perils in the Underground City, that he would have just sucked it up and “given me the sausage,” as Bill so aptly put it.

“Boot then th’ Roomans came,” Tallis continued with a tight jaw, both fists clenched at his sides. “Aye, they came an’ they coonquered, as they say.” He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. When he lifted his eyes to mine, they seemed hollow and shadowy, in a word, pained. “’Twas Samhain, th’ festival ah th’ new year, th’ oonly time when th’ gate ’twixt thess wurld an’ th’ wurld beyoond thess oone is oopen. The oonly time when spirits o’ th’ dead wander amoong us.”

I eyed the meat, having again forgotten it, and noticed both of my shish kabobs were black on both sides. Taking them off the fire, I handed them to Tallis, unsure how he preferred to dish them up. He accepted both, holding them at eye level, and inspecting each one, but making no motion to get up from where he leaned against the tree.

“Sorry, please continue. I just didn’t want to char them anymore than I already have,” I offered by way of explanation.

Tallis nodded, but remained oblivious to the overcooked meat. “Althoogh ’twas dangeroos, Ah coonvinced th
’ auld priestess tae brew me ah tea made froom th’ spores ah th’ rye foongus.”

“What is the rye fungus?”

“When brewed inta tea, th’ spoores alloow yer soul ta separate from yer boody sae ye can see beyoond this wurld an’ intae th’ next.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Keeping your soul within your body seemed like the best place for it to be.

“Ah didnae want tae,” he answered in a snippy tone, apparently annoyed at my interruption. “As ’twas Samhain, by drinkin’ th’ tea, Ah was openin’ mah boody tae th’ spirits, an’ tae oone certain spirit in particular.” Then he took a breath. “Donnchadh, th’ moost powerful ah warriors. Th’ bards woods sing ah his ability wif ah sword an’ his brutality when it came tae destroyin’ his enemies.”

“So you possessed yourself?” I asked askance. My mouth dropped open just as an image of Linda Blair in
The Exorcist
flashed through my head. “Willingly?”

Tallis shook his head and speared me with an
other expression of utter annoyance. “Ye dinnae oonderstand th’ risk ah th’ Roomans. They waur conquerin’ our clans, toonship by toonship. As Ah saw it, Ah hud nae oother choice.”

“So the spirit of Donchad took over your body?” He glanced at me with a raised brow over my mispronunciation of the spirit’s name. “Potato,
potato
, whatever,” I grumbled.

He didn’t drop the smile but continued. “Aye. Ah alloowed heem intae mahself. Efter f
ree nichts ah infernal pain, th’ rye spores passed frae mah boody.”

“So did the possession work?” I demanded. “Did the spirit of this warrior help you defeat the Romans?”

Tallis was quiet for a few long moments before he shook his head and sighed despondently. The look in his eyes became one of utter despair. “Th’ Roomans wouldnae be defeated soo easily. Instead, mah bravery an’ mah ability in battle oonly attracted their attention.” He looked down at his hands, each of which held the skewers of meat. He handed one to me. “Ye shoods eat.”

“What happened with the Romans?” I asked, accepting the skewer he offered me without taking a bite.

“Whit happened? Ah was captured in coombat an’ given th’ ooption tae help them ur tae die.”

“To help them?” I shook my head, not understanding.

“They wanted th’ Votadini land an’ as they saw it, they hud oonly th’ chieftain an’ th’ warbands standin’ in their way. If Ah, as leader ah th’ Votadini warriors, sided wif th’ Roomans an’ betrayed mah oown folk, they cooulds triumph.”

“But you didn’t do that,” I started, shocked, as I shook my head against the mere idea of Tallis selling out his tribesmen. “You … you hated the Romans,” I stammered. “You hate them now!”

He inhaled deeply and released his breath a few seconds after as his eyes settled on his fingers. Cracking his knuckles, he raised his stricken gaze to mine. “Th’ Roomans proomised meh riches, fame an’ th’ kingdom ah th’ Votadini lands.”

“The kingdom?”

“Aye.”

“But what about the old chief, er, chieftain?” I asked, feeling a lump forming in my throat. I just didn’t want to believe, couldn’t believe, that Tallis would have even considered taking the Romans up on their offer. I hated to think he was capable of such utter and complete treachery.

He shook his head, his eyes boring into mine and his were empty pits, never ending voids of nothing. “Th’ chieftain was ah loost cause, regardless. Th’ Roomans planned ta keel heem anyway.”

“But … but wasn’t the chieftain your family? You said you were the chief’s kin?”

He gritted his teeth. “Aye, he was mah ooncle.”

I didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but listened to my heartbeat while it pounded through my head. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I released it. “Please tell me you didn’t backstab your own people.”

He didn’t say anything, but simply stared at me. But he also didn’t need to say anything because the answer was there in his eyes. “Then you agreed?” I asked, my mouth agape. A stabbing sense of disappointment began penetrating every fiber of my being. I shook my head against the inanity of my own disappointment. I didn’t know Tallis Black from anyone, so why I should be disappointed in him, I didn’t know. Furthermore, once this mission was over, he’d go his way and I’d go mine; that would be the end of it. Yep, his sordid past had absolutely no effect on me whatsoever.

So why was disillusionment still cresting inside me? I didn’t have an answer to my question and, instead, focused on this side of Tallis that I never imagined existed. Despite being anything but friendly, he appeared to live his life according to some moral code. ’Course, ratting out your family and fellow clansmen wasn’t exactly upholding the code.

“Aye, Ah agreed,” he spat the words out, as if they disgusted him. 

“But what of the other warriors in your warband? You called them your brothers?”

“Massacred.”

His answer hit me just as keenly as a palm across my face. “The Romans slaughtered them?”

“Aye,” he answered, exhaling deeply and dropping his eyes down to the dirt on the ground. He drew circular patterns in the dirt, using the end of the skewer. It was pretty apparent that neither of us was interested in our dinner.

“Then what happened?” I asked, almost dreading his answer. I was still reeling with the realization that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. It was as if someone ripped away the façade that I first believed was Tallis Black and I was now looking at his changeling.

“Ah was ah fool tae troost th’ wahrd of ah Rooman,” he said with a bitter laugh.

“Then they didn’t keep their word to you either?” I asked, thinking he probably deserved any ill treatment he received at their hands. Whatever the options, or lack thereof, backstabbing your own family was beyond wrong.

“Nae, they didnae, noot when they realized they couldna coontrol me sich as they hooped.”

“So what did they do to you?”

He laughed out. “They murrdad me.”

“They killed you!” I almost choked on the words while shaking my head in a cloud of confusion. Could Tallis Black simply be a spirit, a ghost? “You must mean they
tried
to murder you?”

He laughed again, a deep sound totally devoid of humor. “Aye, they tried. Boot th
’ spirit ah th’ warrior within meh, imbued meh wif immortality.” His eyes bored into mine. “Ah couldna be kilt … jist as Ah cannae be kilt noow.”

I nearly swallowed my own tongue. There was something horrible but familiar stirring in my gut that felt very much like fear. “Then the spirit of the warrior is the reason you’re immortal now?”

He simply nodded, the expression on his face unreadable.

“You’re still possessed by him?”

“Aye.”

I just stared at him without knowing what to think or say. Was it customary to offer your condolences to someone possessed? I wasn’t sure. For that matter, what did possession really mean? Was I talking to Tallis or to the ghost? There was only one way to find out. “So, uh, are you like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”

Tallis chuckled and shook his head. “Nae, ’tis naethin’ like that. Ah’ve learned tae suppress Donnchadh’s spirit. Soometimes, Ah even forgit he’s wif meh. Th’ oonly reminder Ah hae ah his presence comes every morn Ah wake oop.”

“If the spirit left you, you’d die?”

He nodded. “Ah belief soo.”

I still didn’t know what to make of Tallis claiming to be possessed by some ancient spirit, but one thing was becoming quite clear: why he flogged himself. “You flog yourself as penance for backstabbing your clan?”

“Aye,” he answered in a smaller voice, his eyes suddenly appearing as dark blue pools of ancient pain. “Boot nae matter hoo mooch pain I bear at mah oown hains, it cannae wipe away th’ pain ah mah betrayal.”

Feeling like my mind would collapse on itself, I tried to organize my myriad thoughts. “So do you have some sort of agreement with
AfterLife Enterprises whereby if you retrieve enough souls, you will have paid penance?” That was the only reason I could see for why he wanted credit for saving the soul of our first mission.

He was quiet for a second or two as he appeared to contemplate my question. Then he simply nodded.

“How many souls do you have to retrieve?” I continued.

He shook his head and sighed. “Ah doona ken.”

“You don’t know?” I tripped on the words. “Then how will you know when you’ve been forgiven?”

He chuckled, but it was a hollow, weak sound. “Yer guess is as guid as mine, lass.” Then he took a deep breath and brought his eyes to mine from where he’d been focusing on the crop circles he was drawing in the dirt. “Mah hoope is ta soomeday nae wake oop. For then Ah will ken that th
’ spirit has been warshed from me an’ Ah hae been forgifen.” He stood up and stretched his arms above his head, sighing as he did so. Then he turned his haunted expression on me. “Fur mah part, Ah will ne’er forgife mahself.”

I just exhaled, suddenly feeling very sorry for him. Two thousand years was a long time to
suffer immense self-loathing and guilt. Whereas before, I envied his immortality, knowing it meant his safety in the Underground City, now I recognized it as the true curse it really was.

“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”

—
   
Dante’s
Inferno

TWELVE

I didn’t know what time it was, or whether it was day or night, as everything in this horrible place amounted to nothing but endless dark. And even though it was my turn to sleep, after Tallis took it upon himself to play the role of watchman, I did nothing but toss and turn. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, all centering on the story Tallis told me about being possessed by the ghost of some Celtic warrior and how he’d sold out to the Romans. It almost sounded like the setup to a bad joke …

But, unfortunately, there would be no punch line.

Coming to the realization that my mind was too busy to sleep, I rolled onto my back, opened my eyes and focused on the stars as they blinked in the black sky. The sound of Bill’s loud snoring further pushed me toward the decision that I was definitely awake. I rolled onto my side and looked over at Tallis, who was leaning against a tree, his attention centered on me.

He held a small piece of wood in one hand, a blade in the other. Wood shavings on the ground around him as well as in his lap told me he was whittling a spear or something of that nature.

“I can’t sleep,” I grumbled as I cleared my throat and sat up. I could feel the effect of sleep deprivation on my body—lethargy, a feeling of being drained, and almost sick. But, there was no way I could rest in this dreadful place, having already tried and failed.

“Ye need yer sleep. ’Tis important.” Tallis’s voice was a monotone, his attention riveted on the spear he whittled.

“Yeah, well, unless some of your Druid magic can make me sleep, there’s no hope.”

“Ah cannae force ye ta sleep,” he answered, frowning at me before refocusing his attention on the spear.

I nodded and took a deep breath, my stomach grumbling loudly as I felt the heat of embarrassment flooding my cheeks. Despite eating the shish kabob earlier, it obviously hadn’t been enough.

“Are ye still hoongry, Besom?” Tallis asked. He motioned to the two uncooked skewers that lay on a strip of muslin beside him, one of them reserved for Bill. Laying my eyes on the one unaccounted for, I immediately felt my stomach growling even more loudly. But moments later, I shook my head. Tallis was more than twice my size, so if anyone deserved seconds, he did.

“You should eat it,” I answered with an encouraging smile. “I’m fine, really.”

“Ah hae learned tae surfife oan minimal
edibles. If ye are hungry, ye shoods hae it.”

Unwilling to argue, I accepted the kabob when he handed it to me and faced the warmth of the fire while holding it over the flames. “You should sleep now; I can take over watch duty,” I said, although the thought did leave me slightly concerned. I couldn’t help wondering what lurked out there that required me to be on watch duty in the first place.

Tallis said nothing, but simply nodded. He dusted the wood splinters from his kilt as he laid the spear on the dirt, with the blade beside it. Then he made sure his sword was propped next to him, against the tree. Convinced everything was present and accounted for, he wrapped his arms against his broad chest and closed his eyes. I forcibly moved my gaze to the fire and watched it flickering as it spat flames and roiled this way and that. At the sound of sputtering, I looked at Bill. His mouth was half-open, with a clear stream of drool traveling down his cheek and dripping into a small puddle in the dirt. Catching his breath, he began to snore more evenly, and looked as comfortable as if he were lying on a bed of down.

Unable to suppress a smile, I shook my head and returned my attention to the hard planes of Tallis’s face. I couldn’t help staring a
s I studied him in his repose, grateful to be able to gaze at him without worrying about him realizing what I was doing. ’Course, all he had to do was open his eyes and I’d be caught. I figured it was a chance I was willing to take since I couldn’t unfasten my eyes from his face. It was strong, masculine and handsome, despite the long scar that bisected his cheek. Actually, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that the scar wasn’t so much a flaw, but rather an embellishment to Tallis’s face. The scar emphasized his masculinity with more rawness, and more edginess. His long, black eyelashes settled against his high cheekbones, and his eyebrows and mouth free of their usual glower, gave him a peaceful, even happy appearance.

But I knew better. Happiness was not in Tallis’s repertoire. I sighed, remembering the details of our conversation and, more pointedly, the details of his past. Tallis was damaged, that much was clear. And I wasn’t sure why, but somehow knowing he was broken drew me closer to him, almost as if I wanted to fix him. Knowing his story, I no longer dismissed him as the hostile, intimidating and argumentative bladesmith. Nope, the situation wasn’t black and white anymore, or cut and dried. Now, I knew why he was the way he was. He needed to bury his past, and let it go. And a part of me wanted to help him cease his self-loathing, and prove to him that he could overcome his past and be proud of himself, not ashamed.

Another part of me wanted to avoid any involvement and protect myself. I sensed the more I got to know Tallis, the more invested in him I would become. And that thought scared me because getting close to Tallis was like befriending a wild lion. Not to mention, I didn’t think Tallis wanted much to do with me.

Just stop thinking about him, will you?
I yelled at myself.
Tallis isn’t your problem to fix! I mean, hello! You’ve already got more than your fair share of issues facing you!

But, try as I might, I couldn’t forget the angst in Tallis’s eyes as he recalled his past. Furthermore, I was shocked to hear him admit as much as he had to me. Sometimes, he seemed so guarded and withdrawn, while at others, it seemed as if he wanted or needed someone to talk to. There were moments when it almost seemed like he trusted me, or maybe even considered me his friend.

He was a dichotomy, for sure. Not only that, but he was in obvious pain. It was pretty clear that he couldn’t forgive himself. One piece of the Tallis puzzle that I couldn’t quite put my finger on was why he had ever agreed to side with the Romans in the first place. I mean, yes, he said it was either that or death, but Tallis didn’t strike me as someone who feared death, or anything else, for that matter. But, who knew? Maybe in his long lifetime, he’d changed. Maybe the Tallis of two thousand years ago was very different to the Tallis I only recently met.

“Hey, nerdlet, please tell me you’re cookin’ that shiznit for me?” Bill grumbled in a sleep-heavy voice as he sat up and stretched, with a gaping yawn. Cupping his palm in front of his lips, he blew and cringed when his breath wafted back at him. “Shit, I got nap mouth,” he muttered. He crinkled his nose and swallowed three times, trying to rid his mouth of the offensive smell. Then he looked around himself, belched, and tipped his chin in Tallis’s direction. “He dead or just sleepin’?”

I shook my head and offered Bill a smile, pleased to have his company because it meant the end of my mental debate about Tallis. “He’s asleep and, yes, you can have this,” I said, indicating the skewer. “It’s almost done now.”

Bill nodded in thanks before yawning again. He rubbed his eyes, which made them look even puffier. With his cowlick causing his hair to stick up in the middle, he reminded me of Alfalfa from
The Little Rascals
.

“Damn it!” he blurted as he rubbed his stomach and curled his lip into a pout.

“What?” I asked, worried. It looked like he was in some kind of pain.

With a quick glance over both of his shoulders, he made sure we were really alone, then frowned at me, still grasping his stomach like he thought it would drop. “I gotta go number two, but this place is givin’ me pooformance anxiety.”

I laughed out loud. For all Bill’s off-color and idiotic jokes, some of them were actually pretty funny. “Well, just make sure you don’t venture too far.”

“Easy for you to say when you don’t gotta go.”

“When you don’t have to go,” I corrected him, shaking my head. “If you want me to learn your bizarre lingo, then you have to speak mine correctly!”

“Blah,” he spat back at me and stood up. He hopped from toe to toe as he looked right and then left. Finally, with a shrug, he walked behind the tree he’d been sleeping beside. A tree that was maybe five feet from me.

“Oh my God, Bill, go farther away than that!” I yelled at him, absolutely not wanting our friendship to degrade into watching him defecate. Hopping over to a burnt-out trunk, beside the other tree, he began to squat. “Not there, Bill! I can still see you!”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he gripped his waistline with one hand and his bottom with the other. Then he waddled over to a tree maybe three feet away from the other one. Hiding behind it, he poked his face around the charred trunk and scowled at me, shaking his head. “I gotta go now, yo. I got major poo pains!”

Still able to sort of see him, I immediately turned my attention to the skewer in my hand. I rotated it carefully to make sure I didn’t burn this one. Then realizing that Bill and I weren’t exactly quiet in our last exchange, I chanced a glance at Tallis, and was relieved to find his eyes still closed. It looked like he was sleeping, or at least trying to. I scolded myself for being so loud—as much as I needed my sleep, Tallis needed his more.

Before I could think another thought, Bill bellowed from behind the tree and rent the still of the air. I felt my stomach knot and I instantly released my hand, dropping the skewer into the fire. I jumped up and turned to face Tallis, who was already on his feet, his sword ready. Hearing unsteady but hurried footsteps, I watched in shock as Bill ran at us full bore, while holding up his pants. His eyes were as big as two saucers and his mouth was even larger and screaming.

“What is it?” I shrieked at him.

“Uglyasfuckasaur spider!” he wailed in terror. He caught up to me and stood still, trying to catch his breath.

“Really, Bill?” I glared at him, throwing my hands on my hips to show my annoyance and disbelief. “All of that over a spider?”

“This ain’t no ordinary spider!” he squealed, shaking his head just as he remembered he hadn’t zipped or buttoned his pants. “This thing is the size of a fucking hippo!” he roared out as his fleshy, fin-like fingers wrestled with his zipper and button.

“Yer sword!” Tallis railed at me, motioning to the sword that lay beside me. I lurched for it, my heart in my throat as I wondered what was out there, and what Bill had seen. I had to admit I’d been skeptical about the danger of the spider, that is, until Tallis ordered me to pick up my sword. Now I was just scared. I held the blade up in front of me, completely forgetting all of Tallis’s lessons.

Bill, now beside and slightly behind me, addressed Tallis. “Go kill it, Conan!”

My breath caught in my throat as the spider in question suddenly appeared from behind a tree. Although not quite the size of a hippo, it was abnormally large—standing as tall as my knees. Its tubular body was maybe two feet in diameter, and its legs had to be four feet long when extended. Its body was covered in a pelt of white hairs that looked like fur. Its legs, also covered in the strange hair-fur, were mottled white and grey. Long, black hairs extended from the top of its legs, matching the glassy black of its six eyes. But it was the two large eyes on top of the other four that were repugnantly terrifying. All eyes watched Tallis as he approached it. The thing reared back and held its four front legs out, obviously adopting an attack pose. In this new vantage point, I could see what looked like two large, yellow, furry fangs that were just below its numerous eyes.

“Be cannie,” Tallis called out. “It joomps!”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the creature launched itself at Tallis, flying over his head as he swung his sword and missed. Bill and I both screamed, in exactly the same pitch, and ducked in the same direction and at the same time, squarely ramming our heads together as the thing sailed past us. It caught its foot on the trunk of the tree where Tallis had been sleeping and thrust itself forward again. This time, Tallis came up behind it and speared it right through the abdomen.

“We moost moove oan,” Tallis said as he pulled his sword free of the spider. He glanced down at it briefly, just to make sure it was dead. “They hoont in packs an’ it wulnae be aloyn.”

After cleaning the blade of his sword with a piece of muslin from his backpack, he sheathed it. Then he motioned for my sword, which he stashed beside his own, in the scabbard across his chest. Pushing his arms into his backpack, he did the same with his shield.