Iron Quill - Ashes to Ashes [Fool's Fiddle]

[mephiston]

Fool's Fiddle

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we commit his body to the ground.” dirt rattled against the cheap wooden lid of the coffin, sharp stones flicking off splinters, “Sure in the knowledge his soul will find its true destination.” The priest paused, “Would you like to say a few words for Mr O’Halligan? Mr Tramler?”

A lone figure stood by the grave, a thin fog shrouded New Fairbank's cemetery, weak sun attempting to break through, giving the grey air a shimmer. He was dressed in a duster and matching hat, weapons arrayed at his waist, adventures garb, faded and well worn.

He approached the priest, nodding his head, removing his Stetson before speaking. “Fingers was the best thie… scout I knew. Trustworthy too, long as you kept one hand on your purse. A year we’d been working the crypt, before the accident, one armed you’d have been better than most.” His eyes narrowed, mind transported back five days.

***

“I can get this, two more minutes Tram, am I ever wrong?” Fingers words muffled by the pick in his mouth. Two hands not proving enough for this door.

“Now Fingers. I’m not joking we’ve been here too long, something’s coming.” Rex Tramler licked his dry lips. This trip into the crypts had promised a big pay-out. So far it had cost them Arthur and Mitch. Arthur had vanished; he’d turned a corner ahead of the rest of them, and when they rounded the corner his sword and pistol lay on the floor. No noise of battle or cry of fear, no blood or body, simply gone. Fingers had spent a good amount of time looking for traps and come up blank. They’d backed off and found another route.

He only wished he hadn’t seen the thing that took Mitch. They were in a dark corridor, ceiling half-collapsed and tight as hell to move through. An ambush waiting to happen. Knowing this hadn’t helped Mitch. The massive black shape had risen up right in front of him, wailing pure malevolence, more teeth and claws than anything ought to have. One massive talon slashed Mitch across the chest, ripping chunks of flesh and bone. Mitch didn’t make a sound, his heavy blade crashing down on the offending arm, severing it, showering him in sticky black blood. The beast roared, smashing Lenny to the floor with its good arm.

Rex triggered both barrels of his shotgun, his personal mix in the shells. Four fist sized holes appeared in the monster, no doubt much larger holes in its back, it staggered, mewling now, pain overcome its rage. Fingers sent a bolt from his crossbow between its eyes, dropping the beast to its knees. Rex leapt forward, removed its head with one swing of his sword, jumping back to avoid the fountain of gore pouring from its neck.

They turned to help Mitch, knowing it was futile. The blood had burnt open his torso, inside now a mass of goo that should have been the stuff that kept a man up and running. They’d closed his eyes, eased the look of shock on his face and moved on, nothing more they could do for him.

“We have to go Fingers, right now, or we end up like Art and Lenny.” He squinted into the darkness, something was near, close in, ready to pounce.

“Tram, I’ve got this... just need.... one more..... There!” The clicking of clockwork echoed through the room, growing louder unseen wheels began to turn. Fingers scooted back from the door. The stone door opened inwards, bright light spilling from within the hidden chamber.

Across the room, another black beast howled in pain, its subterranean eyes unused to bright light. Rex fired, striking true, the beasts head exploding in a shower of black ichor. “Score two for the good guys.” He was out of special shot now, down to regular buckshot. No more tricks with the shotgun, the fight out of the crypt would be tricky.

“Nice shot.” Fingers packed up his tools, staring through the wide open doorway into the room, “exactly like he said.”

The room bare save for a table, at the centre of which sat a black violin case. “I still don’t like it, you sure you want to do this? I know we struck a deal with the Sheriff, but this smells bad to me.” Rex’s palms itched, and not in a money making kinda way.

“What? We lose Art and Mitch and back out on the Sheriff? Are you mad?” Fingers shook his head, “All we have to do is walk in and get out, I’ve checked the door, no traps, it’s right there.” He pointed into the room, his arm crossing the threshold.

A loud click spoke of disaster, a hidden blade fell from the roof, faster than anything Rex had ever seen, the cut perfectly clean, taking Finger’s arm off at the shoulder, a shining blue silver wall of steel blotted out the light, rendering Rex blind.

A third beast roared, close. Rex crouched, feeling the first swipe of its claw pass over his head, his sword stabbed upwards, feeling the blade bite into the monster. He pulled the blade free, rolling left, slashing with the short blade in his left hand, making contact. Claws raked down his leg, Rex grunted in pain. Pale light blossomed in the room, a flickering oily light, a glow bomb, Fingers still alive somehow.

The light revealed Rex’s blows had been true, the wounds deep and oozing black blood. A second globe broke against the beasts back, setting it alight, the creatures own blood feeding the fire. The beast writhed on the floor as the fire consumed it.

Rex moved to Fingers, his face impossibly white despite the orange flames illuminating the room. He slumped against the door, a growing pool of blood at his side. Rex stared, words failing him for once.

“Go on,” coughed Fingers weekly, “Say it, one last time for old time’s sake.” His breathing slow and erratic.

“Told you it was a trap.”

Fingers smiled, then turned serious, “Rex, don’t leave me here. I don’t want to come back and haunt ya...”

***

A cough brought him back to the dank cemetery. Eyes blinking to clear them. “I got you home Fingers, no haunting me now.” His duster fluttered on a windless day, a dagger embedded itself in the lid of coffin, vibrating rapidly, “that’s for your journey. I’ll finish the job too, maybe not the one we started, but I’ll finish.”

He stepped back, letting the priest finish his words. Did they matter through the breach? He wasn’t sure, but Fingers deserved the help. Finished the priest turned and walked away. The grave diggers stood nearby looking at Rex, waiting for him to leave, shuffling their feet in the damp cold.

Rex turned, heading into town, the whiskey would be cheap and brown at the Last Light, but that was what he needed right now. A dark shape leant against the gates of the cemetery; Rex clenched his fists, typical he picked today to settle scores.

“Rex, a shame about Mr O’Halligan, but the crypt is a dangerous place.” The Sheriff stood, staring away from Rex.

“Sheriff. Kind words, Fingers was good, just not good enough. You here about the job?”

“Well as you bring it up sure, where is my violin? I advanced you plenty of scrip to get it.”

“It’s behind a chunk of fine steel, deep in the crypt. But I kinda think you knew that already.”

“Mr Tramler, you are most perceptive. Shame, that is a fine fiddle, though knowing its safe warms my heart. You can keep the advance; I’ll not be requiring repayment.”

Rex paused, waiting for his famous cool to return. “One day Sheriff, me and you are gonna have words and see what’s what.”

The Sheriff’s head turned to stare at Rex, his hats wide brim hiding his face from view, “You know, you may well be right, but not now. Fingers got justice, he’d been places he shouldn’t, not as cleanly as he thought. I gave him a chance to clean his slate. Dues been settled.”

The Sheriff turned, heading back into town, “You head on into the Last Light Rex, tell Frank first rounds on my tab. Stay safe now, plenty of time before we need to get all serious.”

Rex grunted, heading for the lone tavern in town, he needed a drink, well, a lot of drinks.

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Story based in New Fairbank, hope it works for you docloxley!

Words: 1,414

Theme: Character, Line, item.

Edited May 31, 2013 by mephiston

[Mako]

I liked this a lot.

Only thing that seemed odd is the use of Lenny as a caution to Fingers, when Mitch was much more of a focus - Lenny was almost an afterthought in the fight.

[mephiston]

Honest answer is that it was a rush job, and the names of the two 'victims' got changed more than once so I may have mixed stuff up!