Journey from the West

Journey from the West

Chapter 4
Shtriga

by
Cursed by Dragons

None of the saloon patrons moved at first when the two strange fellows came stumbling in through the swinging flaps. Enough of them had seen men come in to wet their whistle while still three or four sheets to the wind, so it was nothing special. When the taller one threw his head back and screamed for everyone to be quiet, at the same time displaying a pair of pale, pointed ears underneath his curtain of hair, that got their attention. Several players at the nearest poker table moved, ready to shoot him dead, but Tobias Reubens quickly jumped in their way.

"Sorry 'bout that, fellows," he said warmly, giving them a cheerful smile. "My friend here is just a mite upset at the moment. Pay him no mind."

"If ya'll are looking for a bank," Miss Tilly, the local barmaid, said sharply. "You'll just have to wait until tomorrow morning at eight sharp to rob it. Mr. Sharp don't open it for nobody, not even rustlers like yourself, before that time."

"What?" It took a second for what she said to settle in on Tobais. "No, ma'am. We came to town looking for a doctor. We've got a hurt boy here."

A number of people looked away wearing eerie faces. The ones that didn't had their eyes glued to Sylvester's chest where Wu was clutched shaking badly in his delirium. Sylvester was absent-mindedly patting his back like he were an infant in an effort to calm him down. Since they'd gotten to down, his condition had grown worse by the second. Still, Sylvester couldn't work out what was wrong with him.

"Land sakes," an elderly man grumbled, getting up from the bar. "Give him here to me. Where did you two fellers find this one?"

"Out in the desert," Sylvester answered. "You the doctor?"

"Yes, that's right," the man growled. "Doc Ruberts is my name, and if you don't mind, let's move on over to my office so we can have a look at him. If you two can't be considerate enough to bring in patients while the sun is up, don't bother worrying about interrupting my libation time. Let's go."

Doc Ruberts led the two back out the saloon doors while the crowd looked on in silence. Sylvester was several feet down the road trailing after the old man with Wu still in his arms before things picked back up inside. Finding this suspicious, he nevertheless kept his eyes sharp on the road ahead, just in case the old coot decided to slip away on them. It didn't take a college professor to work out that he wasn't exactly welcome there.

The Doc's office was a few building's down on the opposite side of the street. Once he had the door unlocked, the old man motioned for Sylvester and Tobias to come on in, then pointed at the table in the middle of the room.

"Set him down there," the Doc instructed. "Where'd you two say you found this one at?"

"The desert," Tobias answered this time. "He's been like that since we came across him. We can't figure out what happened. I thought it might have been a snake bite, myself, but he ain't got no mark on him. What did this?"

"You and everybody else wants to know," said the Doc, as he began looking Wu's unconscious form over. "He's just like the other ones, alright."

"Other ones?" Sylvester asked, but the Doc ignored him and went back to his examination.

"Yup," he declared sadly a moment later. "I give him maybe a night. Two, if he's lucky. This one looks just as bad as the others."

"What others?" Sylvester demanded. "Are you saying this shit's happened before?"

"It's been happening for months now," Doc Ruberts said, gravely. "People keep findin' their kids all curled up and shivering like they've got some kind of a fever, but their skin is ice cold to the touch. They all had the same symptoms up until they died, which wasn't very long. Nobody can figure out what's caused it, and most of them wanna lynch me for not knowing in the first place. Hell, I even had a telegraph sent out to some hotshot big-wig at a university in New Amsterdam. He'd never heard anything like this. Had a few theories, but nuthin' helpful, and all the while folks around here are gettin' more and more scared."

"They're about to have a bigger reason to," Sylvester declared, storming out the door. "You, old man, don't let a damn thing happen to that little shit. If so much as a hair falls off his head, I'll be taking a piece of your body with me as compensation."

"Sorry," Tobias said to the bemused Doc as he headed for the door as well. "We haven't know each other long, but I get the impression conversation is a lost art to him. Try and do your best though, Doc. I'd hate to see anything happen to such a cute kid. He's barely old enough to shave yet."

Doc Ruberts looked after them as the door shut, then turned dejectedly towards Wu. "They always are, dammit."

* * * * *

Sylvester made a beeline for the ostrich he'd stashed outside the saloon in front of the drinking trough. Before he was finished untying her, the back of his neck began to crawl. He couldn't hear footsteps, but knew by now that Tobias was approaching him. Not looking up, he finished freeing her before pulling the reins around over her head. Tobias touched his shoulder just as he was about to mount her, causing Sylvester to lash out instinctively.

"Don't ever do that again," he warned, eyes shining in the night. "It might take me a while, but I reckon there's a way I could dispose of you with some time and patience. You'd best go back to wherever the nine hells you came from and keep to your own business. I don't need no help in this from a dead man."

That, not the threat, made Tobias back away. "How..." he stammered, as Sylvester mounted his ostrich. "How long have you known?"

"Just made a guess," Sylvester replied, turning his bird around towards the edge of town. "Something hasn't been right about you from the moment you waved your pistol in my face, though."

"Was it turning into a bird?" he asked, playfully.

"More likely, it was the way you can move so quietly. Even elves don't move like you do. Only the dead can get around without making a sound like that."

Tobias twisted the ornamental ring on his finger habitually for a moment. "I suppose that's true," he admitted. "You're going out to find whatever it was that attacked your boy?"

"He's not my boy," Sylvester denied venomously. "And, no. I just thought tonight looked like an excellent night to go on a killing spree."

"Whatever did this to him might have a way of bringing him back," Tobias warned. "I got close enough to him to tell. He's dying slowly, but there isn't any sign of a struggle or a bite mark. Whatever did this to him isn't natural."

"Like I need you to keep me informed of that?"

Tobias shook his head. "I guess not," he agreed. "Care for some company? I could use a good slaughter after today."

"I don't need no stinking help," Sylvester declared, before looking away solemnly. "But do whatever you want, I guess. Just try not to fall behind."

Tobias chuckled as Sylvester rode off without him. "Oh, I think I can keep up," he said, twisting the ring again to allow himself a shift in forms.

Sylvester was already riding out into the night, leaving Tobias behind as he backtracked his way across the dirt and dust, looking for the path they'd ridden into town on. Even with his eyes, it took a moment before the panic rising in him ebbed away enough for him to work out where he was. Veering sharply to the left, he pushed his bird as fast as she would go towards the spot where they had found Wu before. This time, his ears twitched just enough for him to pick Tobias up before he rode in alongside him. Sylvester's eyes widened at the jewish gunslinger's chosen form, but chose to keep his eyes focused on finding what had done it to Wu instead.

All the while, Sylvester had a strange itch in the bottom of his gut. He wouldn't have risked money on it just yet, but it felt like they were being followed. Sylvester was just starting to think that whatever had attacked Wu was now tracking them, when they came up on the spot where Wu had been found. Dismounting, Sylvester wandered over to the slight indentation in the ground where the kid's body had curled up. There weren't any tracks, no signs of disturbance or a struggle, and that didn't make any sense at all. Given what had happened before in the last town, it seemed unlikely that Wu wouldn't have fought back. There was definitely something wrong here.

"Nothing," he said, feeling defeated already. "Not so much as a blade of dry grass bent outta shape."

"Definitely nothing normal did this," Tobias agreed, still in his horse form. "You smell anything on the wind? I hope I'm not offending you, but if you've got any elf magick stored up for emergencies, now might be the time to whip it out."

"I'll ignore that for now," Sylvester replied. "Fact is, all I can tell is that, whatever did this, it's still close by."

"It's watching us?" Tobias quickly shape-changed back to his normal self and drew his guns. "Where?"

"Don't bother," said Sylvester, keeping his rifle tucked away. "Nothing that can do something like this will be hurt with ordinary bullets."

"Good, then," Tobias grinned. "Guess it's a good thing I thought to pack my..."

"Shut up!" Sylvester barked, holding a hand up. "Do you hear a... buzzing?"

Both men turned, almost as if in a trance, to look up in the sky behind them. Bearing down like some kind of demon from one of the nine hells itself was a wasp; to be specific, a gigantic wasp! Sylvester had about a millisecond of spare time to be properly shocked and amazed by it as it plunge down at him. Tobias saw what was going to happen, and quickly pushed the half-elf out of the way, allowing the megalith bug to take his head off instead. Tobias' corpse flailed around for a brief period of time helplessly as the creature soared back up into the sky for another pass.

Sylvester took in what was happening with Tobias, then turned around on the ground to face the bug and raised his rifle. Taking aim, he fired as the wasp was diving down at him and clipped it's wings. The wasp buzzed angrily, jerked back a little from the pain, but kept right on coming. Sylvester fired again and again, which only seemed to irate the damned thing. Sylvester had maybe a second to decide as it landed right on top of him, and thrust the blade of his bayonette right through what he assumed was the monster's heart.

"Take this, you cocksucking sonuvabitch!"

His felt his will enter the blade. The power from his mother's blood welled up inside him. Sylvester wasn't sure what was happening, but the big ol' bug looming down from atop of him definitely didn't like it, so he kept right on going. As the blade burned a bright red, the creature let out a shrill howl, far from any sound an inscet would make. Sylvester dragged the blade downward, disembowling the monster, then rolled out of the way just as it struck the ground with it's stinger right at the spot where his crotch had been; the creature's dying effort to drag him to hell with it.

Out of spite, Sylvester swung his blade across as the giant bug collapsed on it's side, cutting the stinger off. The moment it was severed, the insect began to shiver and change. Sylvester stepped back out of the way as a stinking, amorphic gel burst out of the thing, covering for a moment like a coccoon. When the gel split open, Sylvester raised his rifle again, ready to blast the balls off of whatever crawled out. Instead, the ooze gave birth to the rotting corpse of an old woman, which sort of floated halfway out of the big ball of slime, before it and the corpse gave out completely and splattered to the ground.

"Now that," Sylvester commented, backing away farther while shielding his nose. "Is really disgusting."

Something stumbled into him, causing Sylvester to whirl around and fire his rifle without thinking first. The bullet traveled straight through the chest of Tobias' headless body, still stumbling around comically. The headless body seized up for a moment, then collapsed down at his feet.

"Oh," Sylvester nodded, remembering. "Right. Sorry about that. Good thing you were already dead, huh?"

"I can still hear you, you know," came Tobias' voice from somewhere behind a thick brush of cacti. "And would you mind giving me a hand here?"

Curious, he wandered over towards where Tobias' voice was coming from. There, amid the cactus, was Tobias' head stuck right in the middle and covered in quills. His eyes rolled upwards to where Sylvester stood looking down on him as best he could, and scowled.

"I don't suppose we could be adult about this and put aside our differences for the moment?"

"Sorry," Sylvester chuckled, finding it very hard not to laugh despite the circumstances. "I mean, you were a big help back there and all. It takes a real man to get his head chopped off by a giant horsefly, but now that it's all over and I find you stuck there this way, I'm forced to remember how you once waved a gun in my face."

"Yeah, I was thinking you'd probably bring that up now," Tobias muttered. "In retrospect, that was probably an error of mine. Could we maybe discuss it later, after you've helped me out of this? My body seems to have developed some new holes in it, and can't quite pull itself together just yet."

Calmly, Sylvester walked over to his ostrich and mounted it. "Hello?" Tobias called out, as he heard the bird trot off back towards the town. "Um, a little help here?"

Sylvester ignored him, even as his cries got loud enough to carry across the California desert. Riding all the way back to town without stopping, he parked his bird next to the saloon, which by now had quieted down. The sunlight creeping over the dry landscape had chased away it's patrons for the morning. Sylvester longed for something to wash away the night he'd just had, but rather than drown his sorrows, he marched over to Doc Ruberts' office. The Doc was still there keeping his silent vigil over Wu when he entered.

"There's been no change," he informed. "The boy's no worse, but he hasn't been getting any better. I don't know what to tell you at this point, except that you should pray to whatever god you believe in."

Sylvester stood by the table Wu was lying on, curled up and shivering. "How long?" he made himself ask.

"Really, it depends," the Doc admitted. "I've seen some that lasted for a day or three, and others that were gone before the sun rose. Sometimes, it takes effect all at once and they're just dried up husks. No one can make hide nor hair outta what's been doin' this. To be honest, the mayor was getting ready to have the government send in some military men. He's about as strung out over this business as I am."

"I took care of it," Sylvester said calmly, as though detacted from the scene. "Found what was doing it, and cut it open. It's dead."

Doc Ruberts acted like he wasn't sure he'd heard right. "What? You... killed it?"

"That's what I said," Sylvester replied, stroking Wu's hair lightly. "Would it be alright if I spent a few minutes alone with him?"

"I..." The Doc stammered for a moment, then noticed how Sylvester was touching Wu so carefully. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you knew the boy so well."

"We've traveled together for a while," Sylvester told him, absentmindedly. "Found him in a cave one day. Someone had sealed him up inside of it, trying to bury him alive. He'd gone without food or water for a month or so, but somehow managed to stay alive through sheer stubborn contrariness. It seems amazing that something as little as this would take him down now."

"These things do happen," the Doc muttered, making a sour face at something out the door. "I'll give you some time alone. Take as much as you need."

Sylvester waited until he heard the door shut behind him before shucking his riding coat. Climbing on the table, which hadn't been built to hold more than one person, he lay down on his side with Wu curled up near his stomach. As if sensing his presence, Wu turne towards him and breathed, taking in his scent. It sounded like wind coming through a pair of rusted gates, but Sylvester merely smiled and cuddled him in closer to his warmth. Wu lay there for a moment, his shivering body clutching at whatever part of Sylvester's body his hands could grip hold of, clearly in a feverish haze.

"You were always such trouble," Sylvester scolded softly. "Always taking time out to make me miserable with something or another. I don't know whether to be grateful or beg whoever might be listening for mercy. It just doesn't seem fair."

Sylvester's voice broke then, forcing him to take a moment's break. "I still remember how we met," he went on finally. "You looked like a starved, drowned rat coming out of that cave. Sometimes, I was almost glad that stray blast blew open that cave. Of course, there have been times when I wanted to go looking for it so I could put you back in there. Still, the road's going to be a long, hard place without you around to drive me looney."

Sylvester got up, disengaged Wu's hands from his vest, and reached for his riding coat. Heading out the door, he made sure not to look back once for fear of what it would do to him and marched diligently over to the saloon flaps down the street. The place was deserted save for the one barmaid he remembered from last night and a gentleman behind the counter cleaning out glasses. If the lady recognized him, she gave no notice of it. Sylvester considered asking for a moment whether her services were available to him, but something made him turn away. Instead, he headed over to the bar.

The man there took one look at his approach and reached under the counter. Sylvester froze, thinking he was reaching for a gun, but the man just pulled out a bottle of what looked like some better-stocked whiskey and two small shot glasses. Sylvester approached the bar stool curiously as the bartender poured a glass for each of them. The man said nothing while raising his, but the knowing glint in his eye told Sylvester everything. Word had gotten around town, and here was someone willing to share his grief with a drink. Grateful beyond words, he merely returned the stranger's salute before downing the stinging amber liquid.

The tender nudged the bottle towards Sylvester, then calmly walked off to take care of some other business. The offering made him feel strange, for such things had often come at too high a price in his life. Still, not one to look at a gift ostrich in the foot, he poured himself another shot and downed it, letting the fluid numb away his misery.

Time ceased to matter to him. Sylvester let the passing of whiskey from the bottle to his lips mark how long he'd been there. Nature slowly crept up on him, insisting he go outside and relieve himself, but the bottle was beaconing to him, and still had a little bit left. The bartender seemed content to let him wallow in his sorrow on the saloon's coin, so he wasn't about to argue. Sylvester was so wrapped up in his drunken sadness, however, that his ears didn't perk up at the sound of twin feet in step with one another coming up behind him until they were almost at either shoulder.

"Sylvester Lelvenshire," a male voice said. "By the authority vested in us by the Protestant Major, we are placing you under arrest."

Sylvester turned in his stool, careful not to fall off, and saw two men dressed in pinstripes standing side by side together. On each of their vest was a pin depicting two swords crossing one another underneath a hanging cross.

"What the..."

"Templar Knights," the bartender answered behind him. "What brings you boys to town?"

"We have business with this one here," said the one on the right in a higher-toned voice. "Come with us, and there won't be any trouble."

"Otherwise..." the other piped up, threateningly.

"Can't you boys leave a man who's grieving over a lost friend alone for a few minutes?" the bartender said, scowling. "Where the hell have either of you been when this town's been torn apart by..."

"Those are some mighty harsh words there, mister."

"Yeah," the other nodded. "We might have something to say to that."

"No, you don't." Sylvester started at both of them flatly as he rose up off the stool. "Let's go. Leave this gentleman alone to clean his glasses in peace. He's done nothing to harm either one of you."

"'Cept offer service to the likes of you," the one of the left snarled. "Why? Don't have enough decency to throw out tall-eared garbage when it comes swaggering through your doors?"

"Actually," Sylvester countered, letting both see the warning in his eyes. "This has to be the finest bar I think I ever swaggered into. You boys should come back and try the whiskey. He's got some real nice stuff here. Almost as good as what they used to make back in the Wildlands. If I weren't under arrest, I'd definitely come back to have a drink here."

Sylvester turned around and gave the bartender a wink before dropping what coin he had on the bar. "Thanks," he mumbled meaningfully. "That was real decent, what you tried to do, but don't go sticking your neck out for a poke like me. It'll only get you in serious trouble."

Sylvester shifted himself around to face the two Templar Knights, who flinched and reached reflexively for their gun belts as he drew out his rifle. He heard the bartender duck for cover, but Sylvester merely held it out for either man to take from him. After a moment's hesitation, the one on the right snatched it away, then grabbed him roughly by the arm and drug him out the door. Sylvester went quietly without so much as a smart aleck word of protest, his eyes only drifting towards Doc Ruberts' office for an instant when they passed it by. Hanging his head, Sylvester whispered a quick prayer to all the gods of the earth and sky, hoping one of them might be in a merciful mood at the moment.

* * * * *

For the second time in two days, Sylvester found himself behind bars. An even bigger surprise than that, however, was the lone figure leaning quietly against the wall in the cell next door to his. A very small window covered in bars kept him from doing more than looking at Tobias Reubens. He would like to have shot him were it not for the fact that he'd foolishly turned over his rifle already. That, and the bitter knowledge that it would do absolutely no good.

"What are you thinking about?" Tobias asked, noticing how Sylvester was keeping a close eye on him through the window.

"Killing you," he replied calmly. "Even though it is pretty pointless. I left you shot and without a head out in the desert. If that didn't finish you off, there's probably not a lot left for me to try."

"It does get tiresome after a bit," Tobias admitted. "I had one guy set fire to me, drop me down a mine shaft, and dump poison down my throat before finally calling it quits. I like how you've given up already, but to be honest, his persistance was kind of admirable."

"I'm glad for you. Mind explaining why you turned me in?"

"Besides the obvious?" Tobias raised an eyebrow as he spoke. "Believe it or not, I didn't turn you in. Those two guys that brought you in here found me along with some holy woman right where you left me. I had just picked myself up and was getting my head back on when she gave them the order to fire. Since then, I've been picking bullets out of me, wondering whether they'd found you."

"And why would they want the both of us?" Sylvester wondered. "Say, this has to do with the whore who tried to kill me, doesn't it?"

Tobias froze, holding up another bullet he'd found as the wound began closing up on it's own. "Would it do any good to deny knowing anything?" he asked, flicking it out the window. "Or should I just play dumb?"

"Neither will help," Sylvester promised. "It may not kill you, but I'll still take great pleasure in putting my hands around your throat once I'm out of here."

"Which, thankfully, is never going to happen."

Both Sylvester and Tobias turned towards the voice of Sister Marian, who strode into the room with an air of supreme confidence as the two Templar Knights flanked her. Sylvester scowled at the smug, all-knowing grin on her face and almost spat.

"I must offer my thanks, Tobias Reubens," she said, looking towards his cell. "You were looking for Sylvester Lelvenshire, and we were hunting both of you. It worked out quite nicely in the end, don't you think?"

Sylvester leaned towards Tobias' cell as far as his own bars would allow. "I knew you had to be mixed up in all of this," he spat. "Whatever the hell it is!"

Sister Marian smiled, but said not a word to him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Reubens," she warned, keeping her attention focused on the dead man in the cell to her right. "You see, we know all about your magical ring, and the undying properties it bestows upon you. The sending of a dead man to his final rewards is most assuredly not beyond my abilities. If I see your hands so much as slip than ring an inch from your finger..."

Sister Marian tapped the crucifix medallion on her ample chest. "Has anyone ever attempted to exorcise you before, Mr. Reubens? Even with that ring on, I doubt very much you'll be able to resist the strength of our Lord."

Tobias merely smiled and tapped the Star of David on his collar. "I have my own faith to sustain and shield me, Sister," he replied. "Nice try, however."

"Don't bother testing my patiences," she threatened, as he slid the ring off. "You won't risk leaving your ring behind, so returning to your ghost form is futile."

"It is," he admitted, as Sylvester watched, amazed. "But, you see, there is one other option you haven't taken into consideration."

Now intangable, Tobias flipped the ring out the barred window behind him, which lead to the outside. Sister Marian was taken aback by his recklessness, but quickly regained her air of confidence as Tobias floated towards the center of his cell.

"As you said yourself, nice try," she returned, smugly. "But the only way out of your cell is through me. The walls of your cell were coated with holy water prior to your arrival. There is no way for you to pass through them. You're still trapped in there, and in just a moment, your precious ring of power will be mine."

"Did you think to do the ceiling?" Tobias asked, as his body began sinking through the ground. "Or, for that matter, the floors?"

Sylvester watched through the side window in his cell as Tobias melted through the floor, disappearing from sight with a final wave. Clutching the bars, he felt himself slide down the side of the wall as laughter overtook him. It should have made him furious, and to tell the truth, a minor fraction of him still was. Yet Sylvester couldn't help but admire the simple brilliance of the as-of-now revealed ghost's escape. Sister Marian and her Templar Knight guards looked towards him, their faces masks of disapproving hatred.

"Take that one to one of the rooms in the back," she ordered, turning around. "Do whatever is necessary. I want to know how much he knows first before we kill him. I'll be waiting back at the church to recruit more of your brothers. Locating that ghost is now our top priority."

The two Knights looked at one another, grinning from ear to ear, as the Sister left the jail. The door she slammed shut echoed the sudden, growing worry in Sylvester's stomach as they walked over to the bars, leering at him.

"Time to have some fun, tall-ears."