GUILLAUME III

  Guillaume had the breakthrough he was hoping for and was able to communicate successfully with the devil. He now knew that its name was Tang-goo and that the devil-kind called themselves Eskers. Guillaume was beginning to feel more and more sympathy for the creature. He hated how Sir Marin and Ranulf had tormented Tang-goo with the body of its fallen companion and was confused by Tang-goo’s reaction. The church of the Broken Man had taught him that devils were selfish beasts that lived only for the betrayal and the suffering of others, yet he had seen the anguish on Tang-goo’s face as it looked upon the other devil’s broken body chained to the side of the keep. Back in the dungeon, Tang-goo continued to mourn the loss of its companion, Guillaume watched as tears ran down its red face. Another connection they shared was that they were both prisoners. Guillaume was not physically confined to a cell, but was just as trapped. What use was a failed squire? His self-pitying was interrupted by the rasp of a manacle across the grubby floor. Tang-goo looked at him with its massive eyes and then down to the parchment paper he had scribbled his name on. Tang-goo said something softly before shuffling backwards slightly and bowing its head, it then extended its long arm in front of its supplicated body.

  Guillaume looked down at the quills and ink pot arrayed in front of him, before pulling a nib of charcoal out from his scrivener’s satchel. He tossed it in front of Tang-goo along with a bit of birch bark to write on. Tang-goo moved slowly, examining the charcoal first and then staring at the bark in wonder, afraid to touch it. Before Guillaume could demonstrate the bark’s purpose, the red creature took a deep breath and blew debris away from the stone floor. Grasping the charcoal delicately in its long spindly fingers, it began to diligently write what looked like runes. Guillaume became concerned, was Tang-goo a wizard?! Perhaps he had made a horrible mistake and would soon be engulfed in hellfire. As he scrambled away, Tang-goo stopped writing and cocked its monstrous head at him, large eyes peaking over its long nose. Guillaume felt like a chastened child and was embarrassed that he had assumed the worst out of his cell mate. He scooted back towards the bars separating them. Tang-goo made a few extra strokes with the charcoal, before placing it down.

  With a rattle of chains, the creature placed its hand on its heart and said, “Tang-goo,” before gesturing at a vertical line of glyphs and repeating its name. It then gestured from its feet to the top of its head and said, “Esker,” and pointed at the second line of glyphs. Guillaume was baffled and immediately felt foolish for having grown impatient when he tried to get Tang-goo to read his name. Expecting the Gaídel to be able to read his writing was unfair and they shared an alphabet. The glyphs that Tang-goo had inscribed on the stone were unlike anything Guillaume had ever seen. The clean strokes and sharp angles resembled the Giantkin’s runes more than the flowery loops of Gaulish script, but were utterly alien. As he leaned in closer to study them, boots echoed down the hall, approaching in the broken cadence of the limping jailor. Panicked, Guillaume scrambled to gather up the writing supplies. The devil tucked the charcoal and bark paper behind it, then hovered its hand over the glyphs, deep in concentration. After Tang-goo opened its eyes in astonishment, Guillaume locked eyes with the creature. The glyphs were gone and the area of stone they were written upon was polished to a sheen. This creature had some uncanny ability to interact with stone.

  Ranulf shambled into view with a sputtering torch held in one hand. He carefully placed it in a sconce near the cells and looked over the area suspiciously. “What’re ye up to boyo? It’s far too quiet for me liking.”

  “Working on my script, sir,” Guillaume replied as casually as possible, gesturing to the writing utensils laid out in front of him.

  “Likely tale ye scupper, I’ll keep me good eye on ye!” he growled, before breaking into a grin that was very much incomplete. “Ye’ve been a good lad, I brought ye a bit of salted mutton. Grab the slops fer the devil will ye. The pail rests at the top of the stairs.” The rumpled jailor gestured unnecessarily to the only exit of the dungeon. Guillaume jumped to his feet and scampered down the dim hallway. He could hear Ranulf banging on the bars of Tang-goo’s cell and berating the devil. He took the stairs two at a time as he hustled towards the upper landing. The guards posted at the entrance to dungeon paid him little mind, until he returned with the pungent bucket of slops. With a susurration of chainmail, one of the guards stopped Guillaume by placing a firm hand on his shoulder. As Guillaume waited, perplexed, the guard cleared the humors found in his throat and spit them into the pail. His companion laughed uproariously.

  “Need to drain your snake Léan and help season the beast’s meal?” the first guard said as he wiped his mouth on a soiled sleeve. Guillaume did not give the guard’s companion the time to answer and carefully began his journey down back down the stone steps. He could hear them yelling and laughing as he descended back into darkness, ignoring their mocking words. The steps were uneven and the pail was awkward in his hands, Guillaume wished that his small frame had filled out like his fellow squires. He remained slight, while their shoulders broadened and their muscles matured. Perhaps Lord Osmond was right, he was ill suited to knighthood. He had always dreamed of being a wizard as a child and had never lost his love of reading. The realities of the harsh world he lived in made knighthood seem like the fantasies of a naive child. As he reached the bottom step, he resigned himself to the fate of becoming a priest. If he was fortunate, perhaps he could become a trusted advisor to a lord, like Godefroy.

  Guillaume could hear harsh barks of laughter from down the hallway, punctuated by grunts of exertion and the unmistakable sounds of violence. As he quickened his pace, unidentifiable scraps of animal remains and tufts of fur or feathers sloshed out of the bucket he carried, splattering down onto the flagstones. He could hear a keening noise, it sounded like stones being ground together and made him ache from deep within. Guillaume’s heart was pounding both from the effort of carrying the pail and out of fear. As he turned the corner to the dungeon, he could see that Ranulf had left the door to Tang-goo’s cell open. He was stooped over the devil, beating it with a cudgel. Spittle flecked the corners of the jailor’s mouth and his eyes were alight with rage and pleasure. “Good Sir Marin will be back soon to tend to ye, figure I might as well get my licks in while yer in one piece!” he said with relish, before raining more blows upon the red devil.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Instinctually Guillaume burst forward and caught the jailor by surprise, pouring the slop onto the disheveled man’s head and down his grubby garments. Guillaume did not know why he came to Tang-goo’s aid, yet he knew that he could not bear seeing the creature tormented. Ranulf lashed out with the cudgel, smashing it into Guillaume’s arm and sending the boy flying to the floor. Guillaume gripped his arm in pain and began to whimper as the jailor turned towards him with an angry sneer. “Yer going to regret that, I knew ye were a scupper. I’m g-“ He was cut off as Tang-goo’s hand clamped onto his left shin. There was a brief moment when the jailor and the devil locked eyes, then the bones in his leg snapped and the man tumbled to the stone floor. Ranulf’s scream was brief, the manacle slithered metallically as long red fingers wrapped around his neck and with a sickening crunch, collapsed his throat. The jailor gurgled and wheezed on the floor, kicking weakly, before going limp. Guillaume began to hyperventilate.

  ———

  Guillaume had his head between his knees and was rocking back and forth for an indeterminable time. He could hear the clanking sound of Tang-goo’s shackles as it moved about, but he could no longer bear to face reality. Ranulf may have been a vicious person, yet he had shown kindness towards Guillaume when no one else had. Seeing the look of horror in the man’s eyes as his leg collapsed beneath him was horrifying enough: the sound his throat made as it broke haunted Guillaume. As shock and adrenaline diminished, his arm began to throb painfully where Ranulf had struck it with his cudgel. Guillaume built up enough bravery to take a peek at Tang-goo and he half expected to see the devil feasting on the remains of the jailor. He was relieved to see that was not the case, Tang-goo sat with its long and sinewy back facing away. The devil appeared to be trying to create enough leverage to tear the manacle from the wall, the metal groaned, but did not give.

  Ranulf’s body lay sprawled on the dungeon floor, both hands reaching towards his ruined neck. His shattered leg was crumpled beneath his stout frame while his right leg was extended awkwardly. The jailor’s ring of keys still rested near his right hip. In a weak voice Guillaume called out, “Tang-goo…” But the devil did not respond and remained intent on freeing itself from the restraints. Once again Guillaume called out its name and the creature turned towards him, seemingly annoyed. The boy began to tremble, the hard look the devil gave him softened immediately.

  “Esker,” it said as it gestured up and down its body. It then pointed at Ranulf’s body, “Jotoman ka geeoomu?” There was an inflection at the end of the phrase that clearly made it a question. All at once it became clear to Guillaume that he had it backwards, the creature’s name was Esker and its kind were called the Tang-goo. With a silly smile across his face, the boy gestured to himself and replied, “Guillaume.” He then pointed to both Ranulf and himself before saying, “Jotman.” The corner of Esker’s eyes wrinkled into a smile and it nodded its head approvingly. A serious looking expression washed across its alien face and it said something Guillaume could not understand, while lifting the shackle on its wrist towards him. Again there was an inflection at the end of the statement, Esker was asking for his help. Guillaume was at a loss, he had no idea how Esker would react when freed. He had witnessed how easily it slew Ranulf, even with its arm restrained. How could he justify releasing such a dangerous creature? He moved slowly towards Ranulf’s body and Esker tensed, but quickly lowered its gaze and bent its head forward in supplication. Guillaume noticed that he had inadvertently moved close to the cudgel and muttered an apology, before reaching for the ring of keys. He could see Esker’s long ears twitch at the sound of the metal, as he struggled to free the ring from Ranulf’s waist, yet it never raised its head.

  Guillaume cautiously approached Esker, identified the correct key and nervously bit his lip as he slid it into the manacle to unlock it. Guillaume knew that releasing Esker was a dangerous risk, but he was not safe around Lord Osmond either. Guillaume feared that he would be blamed for Ranulf’s death and did not want Esker to be further tortured. The shackles released and clattered to the stone floor, however the devil did not stir. “Esker?” the boy ventured and the creature slowly raised its head, with tears streaming down its face. Guillaume gasped at the raw display of emotion and fell backwards on top of Ranulf’s body, the man’s leg tangled with his. He thrashed about violently kicking at the corpse, desperately trying to get away. Esker stood above him and gently pulled the corpse away from him. A pouch fell out from Ranulf’s belt and rolled towards them. Esker’s strong hand grasped Guillaume and helped him to his feet. He could feel the strength in the creature’s fingers, but its touch was tender. They looked at each other for a moment, before Esker collapsed to the ground and coughed up dark purplish blood. Guillaume could now see the welts from the beating Esker had endured and imagined that it had been weakened by malnutrition. He reached down, picked up the pouch and pulled it open. He felt immense guilt upon seeing the salted mutton that Ranulf had brought for him as a gift. He tucked it into his waist and grimaced as he bent to pick up the cudgel. Esker leaned forward on its solitary arm and rested on its knees, its breath was ragged.

  Guillaume looked about, uncertain of what to do. He gingerly slipped the loop at the base of the cudgel around his injured arm and threw it over his slender shoulder. He then reached with his other arm towards Esker and tried to help it rise. What a pair they made, they only had two healthy arms combined. He braced and lifted as hard as he could while Esker tried to get to its feet, nearly toppling due to the Tang-goo’s weight. They made their way shakily out of the cell. Guillaume was already exhausted by the effort and Esker was clearly in pain. They had barely reached the dungeon wall by the torch sconce when Esker lost its balance and fell towards the wall, catching itself with a bent arm before vomiting more blood down the masonry. Guillaume took a moment to retrieve the torch, as Esker gathered its energy. “I have no idea where we can go Esker,” the boy said sadly. “We are trapped in this dungeon. The only way out is up the stairs and through the guards.” Where would they even go if they managed to escape Lord Osmond’s castle? Since Esker was a devil, perhaps the sisters at the nearby abbey would know what to do with it? The Broken Man knew compassion and preached understanding, Guillaume hoped that the nuns would be able to help.

  Esker pushed itself fully upright, wobbled, and pressed its palm against the stone wall for balance. It slowly followed Guillaume’s lead as they made their way towards the hallway connecting to the exit of the dungeon. Abruptly Esker froze and tensed, startling the boy. Its large red hand searched an area of wall they had just passed, running it back and forth. Puzzled by the bizarre behavior, Guillaume watched closely as Esker continued to investigate a particular set of stones.Now that he was paying attention, this section of the wall looked different to him. The stones were smoother and fitted together without mortar, perhaps a feature of the ruins the castle was being built atop. Esker pressed hard, tensing its muscles and one of the stones recessed into the wall neatly. With a mechanical clunk, a small doorway opened in the wall, its outline was invisible and perfectly fitted to match the rest of the masonry. Esker and Guillaume looked at each other for a long moment, before stepping through the dark portal and into the tunnel beyond.