The Mariner kept as still and quiet as he could. It took strength of will, but he managed to get his breathing under control. Haggard breaths became shallow; subsequent dizziness unpleasant, but necessary, his chest quivered with the exertion, reluctantly succumbing to his commands.
The feeling of oppression was immense. A strong breeze and sound of waves were the only betrayal that he was outside with space to flee, otherwise he’d think he were trapped deep underground with the Devil itself.
Pryce grew quiet, his growls and hisses subdued. Was his Mindless spell fading, as it had done for Absinth?
Was it over?
Suddenly, the bestial creature was about him, screaming and snarling. Yet the attack was a lucky guess and it seemed to surprise Pryce as much as it had the Mariner. Their limbs tangled in the confusion, both figures once again crumbling to the ground, each trying to pin the other down. A puff of wind against his cheek and a bony snapping sound horribly close, told the story that Pryce was trying to bite his face.
Now it was the Mariner’s turn to get some luck. He lashed out, his fist connecting with Pryce’s nose. It squashed under the blow, blood squirting out, warm and wet about his fingers. The Mindless creature howled in pain, giving the Mariner just long enough to scramble away in the direction of the extinguished lantern.
He moved quickly, tracing the surface of the rock with his hands. Behind him he could hear Pryce desperately searching, jabbering incoherently. The Mariner knew he didn’t have long, the Mindless would soon hear him and react.
Pryce was getting closer, attacking the night air over and over, hoping to find his victim.
The Mariner kicked something by his feet. It skidded with a familiar metallic scrape.
Pryce roared with triumph and sped towards his position. Only a pace or two away.
One.
Two.
And then he found it! The Mariner grabbed the Mauser off the rock, turning and firing wildly into the dark, Pryce’s mad rictus grin revealed in the flashes as the gun vomited hot lead. The first three missed completely, the fourth hit Pryce in the throat, turning his roar into wet deflation. The fifth shattered the man’s jaw, cocking his head forward painfully.
If he hadn’t felt blind before, the Mariner certainly did after the flashes died, leaving the image of Pryce’s imploded face lodged in his brain.
A wet crack followed — the sound of Pryce’s head hitting the rock.
Echoes in his mind all that were left.
Exhausted and in pain, the Mariner lowered himself onto the stone. The wind was picking up and it felt cool against his skin. He turned his head into the breeze, tasting the salt in the air. Nearby, Pryce made a last few gurgling sounds as he died, finally leaving the Mariner alone in the dark with his pain.
He stayed there, unwilling to move and thus risk injuring himself, stretched out by the shore. And it was thus that the monks found him a little while later, lying prone next to an unarmed and very bloody corpse.
29. GETTING TO KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU
ALWAYS ERR ON THE SIDE of caution. That’s what the Mariner reminded himself as he was dragged through the overgrown foliage towards the central dolphin pool. It was a pity he hadn’t stuck by that maxim when the monks had found him moments before. In hindsight, he should have used the Mauser to keep them at bay until he’d had a chance to explain, but he’d been too relieved at having normal human company again. That was Grace and McConnell’s doing, he thought bitterly. In the old days he’d never have been so careless.
The Mauser now lay somewhere behind on that damn rock. He hadn’t felt the need to pick it up when they’d arrived, drawn to investigate by screams and gunfire. Only when hoisted to his feet by rough hands did he realise something was amiss.
Explanations tumbled from his lips, but a swift blow to the face silenced further pleas. Pryce had been popular and he a stranger.
Sighisoara all over again.
Except this time he didn’t deserve it! In Sighisoara he’d been a grave-robber and thief, the hatred justified. Here, he’d acted in self-defence! Were they not aware of the Mindless? Had they not seen how easily one could slip into barbarism?
Flaming torches lit their path, huge shadows cast amongst the trees. Monkeys, awoken by the commotion, began screeching in panic, and their voices were soon joined by the monks, as more and more were alerted to the congregation.
“Murder!” they cried, though soon the declaration of the act turned instead to broadcast of the accused. “Murderer! Murderer!”
The Mariner stumbled. Thinking he would hit the ground, he closed his eyes ready for impact, but found strange arms beneath his shoulders holding him aloft.
“Plenty of time to lay down later, you evil fuck!” snarled the man supporting him. The Mariner looked at him shocked, surprised to see someone who he’d only ever seen quietly meditating, now so animated with venom.
“Please,” he mumbled, but a woman leading the way turned and sucker-punched him, knocking all air from his lungs.
They emerged where he’d first been presented to Diane, and once again she was ready for him, though this time standing before her throne instead of reclining, ready to judge rather than rule.
“It is as I feared!” she declared. “What deed did this man do?”
The many responded. “He killed Pryce!”
“Shot him in cold blood!”
“Arthur, what happened?”
The Mariner turned and saw McConnell being held by two monks. Word must have spread quick.
“Mindless,” he managed to gasp. “Pryce turned Mindless.”
“Silence!” Diane bellowed, and the crowd complied. “Is this true? Is Brother Pryce dead?”
“It is. I saw his body myself,” the man holding the Mariner growled. “Shot and killed.”
She looked at the Mariner with cold reptilian eyes, and for a moment the Mariner was taken aback by what he saw. You shouldn’t have mentioned my book, they seemed to say with a petty jubilation.
“He came here to plot against us, to spread dissent,” she spoke with the smallest hint of a smirk. “He’s an agent of the demon, come to maintain the Déjà vu. I’ve suspected this for some time, as did Pryce.” She strolled along the bridge, coming ever closer to the Mariner. All watched her with awe and reverence. “But Pryce came too close to discovering this fact and you killed him, didn’t you? You thought you could contain your true identity, a secret sealed in blood! But you’ve been found out, demon-lover!”
You don’t believe a word of this, the Mariner thought as he looked into her eyes. But these poor bastards do, and that’s enough.
All around him the crowd began chanting again, though this time ‘murderer’ had been replaced with ‘demon’.
Diane was almost upon him now, smiling in her victory. He hadn’t realised how threatened she’d been by his small dissent on the beach, but now he knew. They’d read each other’s cards quite clearly, though perhaps his far more than hers.
“This is madness!” McConnell’s shrill voice rose above the din. Diane angrily turned her glare to him, hoping he’d be cowed into silence, but the only silence it brought was from the crowd. If Diane was to converse, then they should honour it. “I know you’re angry,” he said, “but it is not this man’s fault! You’re blaming him for a universal truth. Surely we’ve all witnessed it? Brother turning against brother, father against son, peaceful women violent as if by a change of the wind? Why would Arthur kill Pryce if not in self-defence? He was defending against a man turned Mindless, not acting on behalf of some mythical demon!”