Chapter 128: Trust

Gascoigne stepped in front of Mara as the first Abomination came over the rocks. The thunder charge was still echoing between the slopes, and she had expected him to turn on her when it exploded. He might demand to know where she had found it or what she thought she was doing. Instead, he pushed her behind him, took the axe-shovel in both hands, and waited for the creature to reach them.

It had too many arms to move cleanly through the narrow space. Hands caught at the stone on either side, pulling its swollen body forward while the smaller limbs reached ahead. Gascoigne’s lantern swung from a hook at his hip, lighting the creature as it gathered itself to jump. A faint grey outline appeared along the edge of his weapon.

He swung once, striking beneath the creature’s shoulder. Deep holes opened across its chest and along its reaching arms, each surrounded by ragged flesh. Far more of its body fell away than the iron had touched. It looked as though someone had dug through it, removing chunks wherever the weapon passed.

The Abomination hit the ground at his feet. Gascoigne stepped onto one of its hands, turned the axe-shovel, and drove the glowing edge into its chest. Something cracked inside it. The remaining limbs stiffened before the body began breaking apart, and he pulled his weapon free while looking back up the slope.

“Stay behind me.”

Mara kept her hand on her dagger as another creature came around the rocks. It was larger than the first, with shoulders that nearly filled the path and thick plates covering the front of its body. Gascoigne let it approach before stepping aside and striking its front leg. The axe-shovel opened a hole through the joint, dropping the creature against the wall.

He hit it again before it could turn. The grey edge tore through the plates as easily as it had through the first creature’s flesh. Two short blows took him deeper into its body, where he found the core and broke it.

Mara watched the Abomination collapse. Rook would have cut its leg and moved, drawing it after him if it could still follow. He would have trapped it beneath something, driven it off a ledge, or taken away enough limbs that it could no longer reach them.

Gascoigne finished everything he struck. He did not need to drag a creature into position for someone else or hold it down while Mara found the courage and strength to use her Imprint. The grey edge remained steady, and whenever an Abomination fell, he was already watching for the next.

Three smaller creatures reached them together. One climbed over the others and used their backs to throw itself toward his head. Gascoigne caught it across the middle, folding its body around the shaft as holes opened through its ribs and belly. Strips of flesh stretched between them until he flung it against the rocks and brought the blade down through the creature beneath it.

Mara stepped back when a severed hand landed beside her boot. He was brutal in a way she had not expected from the man who had offered them cigars and directions. Even when something screamed with a voice close enough to human to tighten her stomach, he showed no hesitation. He struck until he reached the core, Culled it, and moved on.

Whenever a surviving fragment caught the light, he crushed it beneath the iron head. He gathered nothing from the remains. Whatever value the bodies held mattered less to him than making certain they stayed down.

More creatures came toward the sound of Mara’s charge, and Gascoigne kept clearing the path. Dark stains spread along one side of his coat. A claw caught its hem, but he cut through the limb before the creature could pull him backward. He never looked at Mara to complain or mentioned the explosion, and his silence began troubling her more than an argument would have.

By the time they reached a broader stretch of rising ground, the nearest creatures had been dealt with. Others still moved among the rocks below, scraping and calling to one another as they searched for a way up. Gascoigne rested the axe-shovel against his shoulder and reached into his bag.

He took out several small red canisters. The first went down a narrow cut behind them, while the next bounced between two stones farther to the side and vanished. He caught Mara’s attention with a motion of his hand, then led her uphill before either did anything.

They had gone some distance when the first canister began popping. The sounds came in a quick, uneven series, like firecrackers thrown among the rocks. Another started farther away, drawing answering cries and the scrape of bodies changing direction.

Mara glanced back, but Gascoigne kept walking. He knew how to draw them away and had carried the means to do it all along. She watched his bag settle against his side before following him over the ridge.

Beyond it, a narrow road descended along the mountain. Parts of its outer edge had broken away, but the remaining ground was firm enough that Mara no longer had to test every step. She could finally look ahead without worrying that her injured leg would slip beneath her.

Gascoigne stopped beside a bend. He waited for her to approach before turning, though she remained several paces behind him.

“That stunt you pulled. You think it will save him?”

“It bought him time to think of something.”

He studied her for a moment. Mara kept her hand near her dagger, although she doubted that concerned him after what she had just watched him do.

“You put a great deal of trust in a man with that much on his arms.”

A short laugh escaped her. Gascoigne frowned at the sound, apparently finding nothing amusing about what he had said.

“You don’t know anything about him. You saw his Brand and decided that was all you needed.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think you could have asked him before shooting him.”

“The deaths of thousands, at least. You can argue about the circumstances. You cannot argue with the mark.”

“Apparently, I can’t argue with you either. Not to mention, it isn’t as fun as arguing with Rook.”

His voice had remained steady throughout the exchange. He seemed willing to endure her anger, provided she eventually accepted the conclusion he had already reached.

“I have met men with Brands large enough to cover most of an arm.”

“Like Rook’s?”

Gascoigne paused before answering. His gaze briefly moved toward the slope behind them, where the last few pops from a canister echoed through the rocks.

“No. Smaller than his. Every one of them had spent a lifetime giving the Brand reasons to mark them.”

Mara folded her arms carefully over her bandaged forearm. The pressure hurt, but she kept them there and waited for him to continue.

“Go on, then. Tell me.”

“Men who ordered others to kill until they no longer bothered counting the dead. Men who built weapons for the sole purpose of destroying people they would never have to look at. Rulers who sent whole countries to war and remained safely behind their walls.”

He shifted the axe-shovel against his shoulder. The grey outline had faded, leaving the stained iron looking ordinary again.

“Some were mad. Some were perfectly reasonable when you spoke to them. A few were kind to the people they liked. That never changed what they had done.”

“And you think that describes him?”

“I think you’ve seen the part of him he wanted you to see.”

“Rook isn’t one of those men.”

“How would you know? Were you there when he was alive?”

“No.”

“Then you have his word.”

“I have his memories.”

Gascoigne’s expression changed slightly. Mara held his gaze, refusing to let him dismiss the answer as easily as he had dismissed everything else.

“I told you in the cave. I saw what happened to him.”

For the first time, he seemed willing to wait for her to finish. He lowered the axe-shovel from his shoulder and rested its end against the road.

“What happened?”

She thought of the white room, the restraints, and the doctor hiding the mark on his arm before going home. Then she remembered Rook sitting upon the old man’s table, looking at her after she had allowed a stranger to open memories he had repeatedly told her to leave alone.

She had already made enough decisions about his past. Gascoigne’s willingness to listen did not give her the right to make another.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

He breathed out through his nose. Whatever patience her mention of the memories had earned was already beginning to disappear.

“I cannot help you understand if you refuse to speak plainly.”

“You haven’t been trying to understand.”

Gascoigne looked down the road, then lifted his weapon and began walking again. His pace left little room for further discussion.

“Come. We have farther to go.”

Mara stayed where she was. She watched him take several steps before speaking, making no attempt to close the distance.

“You know I have no reason to follow you, right?”

Gascoigne stopped. When he turned toward her, the patience had gone from his face.

“And I have no reason not to go back and finish what I started.”

Mara’s fingers closed against her sleeves. For a moment, she wanted to reach for her dagger. The thought came so quickly that she had to force her hand to remain where it was, while Gascoigne watched without moving.

She believed him. The man who had made room for them in the cave had also put a weapon beneath Rook’s jaw while she tried to stop him bleeding. He had looked at the wounds and continued demanding that she leave. Whatever kindness he offered her did not extend to Rook.

Gascoigne turned away again and resumed walking. This time, Mara listened without interrupting as he explained where they were going.

“The next Bastion on this road is Twelve Hundred and Twenty. I know people there who can take better care of you and arrange for someone to take you to Yama.”

“You said Thirteen Hundred and Nine.”

“That was when I didn’t trust you, and I was right not to tell you the correct number.”

“You’ve had doubts since the start.”

“Always. And it worked. Even if your boyfriend survives, he’ll have no proper lead to follow.”

Mara smiled, after all, if it’s tracking, Rook is far more scary than this old man thinks. Not to mention, for Rook, to simply trust someone’s words at face value isn’t something he’d do.

“I’m not going to Yama with anyone other than Rook.”

“The man you call Rook is dead, Mara. If that was even his name.”

She said nothing. Every step Gascoigne took carried him farther from the cave, and for now that was enough reason to keep him walking. Mara followed him down the road.

Finally Rook has awakened his imprint… what do you think the implication of such an ability would hold?