The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart (18 page)

The bright moon revealed a purplish tint to the swollen lumps under the dead man’s arms, great swollen lumps far bigger than
Hegel thought possible. He recoiled, the stink of the man turned sinister. He saw his brother and Ennio chasing the pig back
his way.

“Manfried!” Hegel bellowed, backing away from the corpse, “it’s the pest!”

“Eh?” Manfried stumbled, the pig avoiding his mace again.

“Leave it!” Hegel’s voice boomed out over the valley. “Plague! It’s got the plague!”

Manfried stopped dead, then went rolling when Ennio crashed into his back. Getting up and delivering several kicks to Ennio,
Manfried wiped the snow off and returned to his brother by the door of the crypt. The pig lay down in the snow beside the
dead man, watching Manfried warily.

“Plague?” Manfried wiped sweat from his face, eyes darting to the body.

Hegel nodded solemnly. “Buboes big as my fists.”

“Explains him talkin nonsense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, makes you all touched in the head.”

“Where’d you hear—”

“He moves!” Ennio yelped, propped against a stone cross.

“Eh?” The Grossbarts looked, and indeed, the man arched his back and thrashed. His left shoulder swelled and turned black,
and he foamed at the mouth. Gore leaked around the quarrels embedded in him, then began spurting out further than should be
possible.

“That look right to you?” Hegel demanded but Manfried just gaped.

The curious pig snuffled closer, then screeched and ran off through the churchyard. The man’s armpit ballooned outward and
he sprayed vomit all over himself. The stench of putrescence grew stronger, the man voiding himself from every orifice. Then
he rolled on his side with his left arm twisted behind his head and the pulsing bubo burst, an oozing discharge hissing in
the snow.

“Nah, ain’t look right to me,” Manfried admitted.

The flow of fluids from the armpit quickened and thickened, and then the pus, blood, and biles poured upward into the frosty
air, swirling into a hovering humoural maelstrom above the corpse. The growing mass of liquid let off a meaty, musky, hot-rot
stench that curled the nose hairs of all present, and before any could move something coalesced within the impossible floating
whirlpool. The veil of humours parted even as clouds took the moon but the night illuminated what it should have hidden, as
though darkness had become black sunshine. The three men stared, each one slipping down into a bottomless pit of his own mind.

A body the size and shape of a barrel jutted up into the air behind the thing’s skull-sized head, plates of shell bristling
with long hairs. Six willowy, multi-segmented limbs protruded from its thorax, the two pairs in the rear arcing back and up
before angling down to make heart-shaped imprints on the corpse with its oddly dainty cloven hooves. The front appendages
functioned more as arms than as legs despite their similar four-part build and length, the pair stroking the clump of dagger-length
antennae jutting out in place of a nose. They saw its hard, shiny face possessed the bulging eyes of a man, the horns and
floppy ears of a goat, and small spines running in combs along its cheeks to join the protruding cluster of feelers. It hopped
clumsily into the snow beside the corpse of its former host, its cylindrical, bulbous abdomen held aloft behind it to reveal
a decidedly human erection of prodigious size, the organ straining up between the plates like a knight’s lance or a scorpion’s
stinger.

Manfried prayed under his breath, Hegel turned to run, and Ennio retched. Wreathed in a thin yellow mist, it dribbled a viscous
film as it turned its head to each of them in turn. Its antennae trembled and, proving that events can always worsen, it addressed
them:

“Grossbarts, eh?”

Hegel slapped Manfried dead in the mouth, bringing him back to something resembling mental coherence. Manfried slung his arm
around Hegel’s, the woozy Brothers supporting one another. Ennio wiped his mouth and fled with a shriek, and this seemed to
decide the matter for the monster. It pounced after Ennio, its spindly legs somehow propelling its bloated form high into
the air after the screaming wagon driver. The Grossbarts ran as one but immediately stopped when they saw Ennio and his pursuer
were headed for the exit.

“What in fuck?” Manfried panted.

“Uhhh.” Hegel felt vomit creep up his throat but forced it down.

“This way,” said Manfried, dashing in the opposite direction from Ennio.

The churchyard that had struck them as massive now appeared small indeed. The church grounds sat on a shelf, the door in the
wall that Ennio ran toward the only exit. The cliffs rising on one side and dropping on the other met at the end of the triangular
plot, affording few hiding places. They could find no purchase to climb up to a higher road or possibly scramble over the
abbey walls without disclosing their presence, and, of all the ill luck, the clouds thickened overhead, darkening the cemetery.
Ennio’s screams drew closer, and they desperately went to the ledge. They saw a snowdrift shining below but could not gauge
the drop.

“Rope,” Manfried instructed.

“In the bags,” Hegel groaned.

“So?” Then Manfried realized they had both left their bags on the steps of the tomb. “Go on back and get’em.”

“Nope.” Hegel vigorously shook his head. “Let’s try cuttin round while it’s after Ennio.”

“Sound.”

They were near the end of the churchyard where the cliffs on either side merged into one sheer curtain of stone. Staying close
to the mounds they fled back toward the monastery wall. As they neared the back of the crypt, the hog—having burrowed into
a snowdrift—appeared underfoot. It squealed and Manfried shouted.

The light-headed Ennio heard someone nearby but dared not look, the blinding cloud of stink alerting him that his hunter drew
closer as well. He angled toward where he hoped the Grossbarts hid. Few men have experienced the terror that drove Ennio forward,
few men save the Grossbarts.

Hegel saw Ennio and turned around, running to the ledge. Manfried, still stunned from stepping on the pig, dallied a moment
more and so caught a glimpse of the fell thing leaping from atop a tombstone. Its legs shuddered and its heavy abdomen swayed
as it landed beside Ennio, the man narrowly avoiding its groping arms.

Hegel lowered himself over the edge, the rock cutting into his chest, his fingers clawing the slick stone for purchase. His
boot-tips found a crack, and then another cloud darkened the night, and he blindly scrambled down the cliff. The cloud passed
moments before Manfried would have run off the edge.

Throwing himself backward, Manfried slid legs-first over the side. Fortunately Hegel had cleared a few handholds of snow,
and Manfried grabbed these as he went over, banging himself against the cliff. Unfortunately for Hegel, his brother’s flailing
legs kicked his fingers, but Hegel managed to snatch the straps of Manfried’s hose before falling. The added weight almost
pulled them both down, only Manfried’s red fingers keeping them suspended on the cliff face.

No sooner had Hegel rediscovered his handholds and released his brother than Manfried caught sight of the exhausted Ennio
lurching toward him. Arms shaking uncontrollably, Manfried scrambled down, pausing only whenever his feet found Hegel instead
of the next foothold.

Ennio saw Manfried disappear over the ledge and used his last strength to charge ahead, the thing clumsily bounding behind
him. Screaming a final prayer Ennio hurled himself off the cliff, spinning in midair to see if it pursued. It did not, craning
over the edge and staring after him. Then his vision blurred as he plummeted, and everything shone white and black.

The Grossbarts heard Ennio tumble past them, babbling as he dropped. He suddenly went silent, and the Brothers did not breathe.
The shadow of the cliff obscured the bottom, but judging by the moans that began rising up it could not be too far down. They
would have kept climbing but Manfried glanced up and saw the thing just above him, and from his vantage point he clearly made
out the circular, winking, hemmorhoidal anus of a mouth behind its central ring of antennae. He had the sense to kick away
from the rock face as he let go but still crashed onto Hegel, and both plunged through the moonlight.

At the tavern, Alphonse and Giacomo quickly became blind drunk. They laughed at the Brothers’ foolishness and stewed over
their threats and arrogant demeanors. It stood to reason such a miserable empire would produce such miserable bastards as
the Grossbarts. They had it coming to them, of that the Italians were convinced.

After another bottle they tired of discussing enemies past and present and the talk turned to women. Neither had laid eyes
on the veiled maiden they had retrieved but both were convinced she must be gorgeous indeed or else the captain would never
have sent for her from such a grand distance. Then they talked of the captain, and how peculiarly he was rumored to behave.

They were both very drunk when the song started, floating out of the back of the tavern. Neither could rightly say what was
sung but both found it far prettier than anything they had ever heard. Giacomo got to his wobbly feet and made for the door
to the back rooms, but jealous as Alphonse was, he had drunk too much to move. Instead he cried dejectedly until he fell asleep,
her music the first truly good thing in his hard life.

Ennio broke Hegel’s fall, Hegel broke Manfried’s, and together the Brothers broke both of Ennio’s ankles. Hegel faceplanted
in the snow between Ennio’s legs and blacked out. Manfried’s tail-bone landed on his brother’s and he rolled in the snow cursing.
Ennio howled and clutched his legs, and would not be silent until Manfried began slapping him vigorously.

Quieted by the drubbing, Ennio followed Manfried’s gaze up the cliff. Despite the reemerging moon they barely made out where
the plateau holding the cemetery dipped in. Nothing stirred on the ledge. Then horrible shrieks echoed out over the mountains
and back again, an inhuman wailing that rattled their nerves.

Hegel came to and wiped the snow from his eyes and nose. Patting himself down, he found everything in order, luck having spared
him from impalement on his own sword. Manfried likewise felt bruised but fit, but of course Ennio could do nothing but blubber,
his mind as cracked as his legs.

“Leave’em,” said Manfried, “we gots to go.”

“Need’em for the wagon,” said Hegel.

“We can figure it out,” Manfried insisted.

“Drivin’s fine, but what bout hitchin? Wagon’s different from a cart, and we’s gonna need to make a sharp exit.” Hegel felt
a touch ashamed to side with Ennio.

They hoisted Ennio up and carried him between them, elbowing the fool whenever his crippled feet brushed the ground and he
cried out. The town wall lay close at hand, and after toiling up and down several small hills they reached the gate. Hegel
clambered over and let them in, suspiciously watching the dark monastery looming over the town. Narrowing his eyes, he picked
up a shadow flitting over the road past the last bend. Something white moving over the white snow in the white moonlight.
Whatever it might be—and he had a fairly good idea on that account—it brought the trembling back to his legs and his brain.

“Run.” Hegel snatched Ennio’s right arm.

Manfried grabbed the left and they rushed through the wagon tracks to the tavern, dragging Ennio. The poor driver went unconscious
from the pain of his lower half bouncing on the icy road. As with the time he had spent with Nicolette, Hegel’s anxiety since
first arriving had fluctuated mildly but never fully diminished, and now swelled again to mammoth proportions.

The spectral town glistened until clouds again enveloped it with the rightful darkness of night. The Grossbarts did not pause,
and when they finally deposited Ennio on the ground outside the tavern fresh snow further shadowed them. When neither guard
opened the door they forced it as they had before and dragged the comatose Ennio beside the fire. Alphonse’s snoring stopped
when Manfried kicked him off his chair and began shouting in his face.

“Where’s your man?” said Manfried.

“Shit-sipping bastard,” Alphonse slurred.

“Right!” Manfried began pummeling him until Hegel dragged him off.

“Need all the swords we got if that thing comes back,” Hegel advised.

“What you did to Ennio?” Alphonse crawled to the driver and shook his shoulders. Ennio immediately awoke screaming and clawing
at Alphonse’s face. The injured man’s bloodshot eyes registered Manfried advancing and he immediately went still.

“Demon,” Manfried said, and Hegel did not argue.

“What?” said Alphonse, squinting at the Brothers.

“A demon from the pit!” Hegel exploded. “Somethin from Hell, that sink through your stony pate? A goddamn fiend!”

“What?” Alphonse repeated.

“Pestilence,” Manfried proclaimed, pacing the room and pulling his beard. “Had the rot in’em. Came out. Demons and plague,
Mary preserve us!”

“Plague?” Alphonse blanched and Ennio moaned.

“Shut your holes, damn you!” Hegel yelled, hurling a chair against the wall.

“Brother,” Manfried hissed in Grossbartese. “Need to keep our calm if we’s gonna get shy a here and over to the sandy lands.
Calm.”

“Calm?” Hegel forsook their private lingo. “Calm! Got us a demon after us! Not some manti-what or beastly-man, but a real
demon! You seen it!”

“Yeah, I seen.” Manfried shuddered. “Maybe it stayed up on the hill.”

“Rot! I seen it! It’s comin! The witch’s curse, Manfried, the witch’s curse!” Hegel raged, the foreigners cowering on the
floor.

“Faith!” Manfried shouted.

“Balls!” responded Hegel, smashing a table with his sword.

“She’s watchin over us!”

“Damn right! Got us a hex gonna last til we die!”

“No, you twat, Mary!” said Manfried. “We live and die by the will a the Virgin! We die when She wills it, not fore! Faith,
damn your beard, faith!”

“Faith?” Hegel panted.