Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 69 - Butchery V
🕑 Added 2024-10-07 16:00:15 +0000 UTCEars ringing, I lay on the ground, the dirt road rough underneath me as I groaned.
I could remember the explosion, just as I’d begun to turn. I’d been far away but the forced must have shoved me to the ground. I turned over, getting me hands underneath me. Dust swirled around me, and the compacted surface of the crappy road broke up the explosive force that rocked it. The intersection the wagon had been at was still covered, filled only by dust. No screaming. No sounds at all actually, even as I dragged myself an agonizing foot.
I tried to get up. Pain immediately sent me back to the ground. The force had broken my splint, the metal rod snapped in half on one side of it’s u-shaped design. My broken leg sent pure agony up my leg. I gave up on trying to move it, instead crawling towards where the side of the road must be.
It was slow going, not helped by what was scattered across the road. Nails, a mixture of rusted and pristine scattered about. Whoever had set off the bomb had included their own, nasty shrapnel into the mix, and I thanked whatever devils or other things might be watching me that none of them had struck me.
Someone touched my shoulder and my hand went for my revolver, drawing it as I rolled onto my back.
Above me Varrow hurriedly backed off, saying something I couldn’t hear.
“I can’t hear you,” I said, pointing at my ears with my free hand as I put my revolver back into my coat.
He frowned, then pointed at his own, scowl deepening.
Hopefully that would come back. It wouldn’t be as good as it was before, not until I examined the middle ear bones and see if I could repair the damage undoubtedly done. I had a potion, but using that would be...it probably was the best choice. Leg first, though.
I tapped the thigh of my broken leg and immediately regretted it as the pain flared up again. Varrow looked down at it, nodded, and then immediately moved behind me, grabbing me under my shoulders.
Not what I’d meant, but probably best to find someplace away from the explosion to-fucking hells!
Varrow wasn’t gentle, and I cursed futilely at him as my broken leg scraped across the dirt surface of the road. After what felt like an eternity of agony we reached the wall of a house before he finally let me go. I gulped air while he headed off into the settling dust before returning with the remnants of my splint.
The u-shaped piece of metal that formed the frame had been snapped, which essentially made it pointless to try and repair. Best we could do is scavenge some wood for a temporary one. I shook my head at a waiting Varrow, then rapped my knuckles on the wood wall next to me, prying a little at a plank with my fingers. He nodded, then started to work on it.
Property damage, but as my entire body ached, I couldn’t really force myself to care about that.
While Varrow worked on getting a plank free of the building, I had nothing but time to think while my body ached over the latest series of injuries done to it. The hells had that been?
I was not nearly full of myself to think that had been directed at me, even if I had been tracked. Set off too far from me, far too indiscriminate of a weapon. An entire wagon of gunpowder might not be the worst weapon to use on a Diabolist, but it is hardly the best targeted. No, this was a random attack aimed at the marchers, but clearly without care if anyone in the Quarter was killed as well.
There was another explanation for who in the Quarter had the resources to pull off something like that, but why Versalicci would want this…..maybe. If he wanted the pressure in the Quarter ratcheted up, back to when his organization had it’s heyday. Drive the entire quarter to desperation so his numbers of recruits could soar like they had back when I’d been part of it. All he needed to do is make it look like what was already expected of us Infernals had occurred.
That explanation made increasingly more sense the more I thought on it. That was a motivation, unlike the Shapechangers, who I couldn’t think of a reason for doing this. There was also the possibility of a third party, but I dismissed that idea. Without additional information, speculation would just lead to nowhere useful.
Varrow had finished ripping the board off the house, and I began working on cutting strips out of my coat. Another one ruined. I should just start bringing random strips of cloth around at all times. Tightening it made the pain worse but I could actually get back on my hoof. With that done, I pulled a small bottle from my coat.
I drank half before passing it to Varrow, an itching building in my ears before, with a sudden pop, ambient sounds returned.
“You couldn’t have done that at the start?” Varrow asked, his voice a bit tinny in my ears as they itched.
“Do I look like I’m made of money?” I replied. “Believe it or not, Dawes keeps a very tight leash on what I’m allowed to requisition, and I wanted to make sure I could get back on this leg before splitting it.”
I stepped away from the support of the wall. My head swam, and more than my leg ached. I didn’t have nails in me, right? I didn’t think so, but I’d taken a litany of smaller injuries each crying out for me to rest.
Between this and the party, I might insist on having an entire week where I did nothing but lay down, read, and eat tea. The thought of that was entrancing enough it almost drew me away from reality.
Unluckily, the pain was there to bring me back. Each step brought fresh agony as I walked towards where the wagon had been.
Still I headed for the wagon, towards what had once been one of the Quarter’s major roads. Which meant it actually had cobbles, although those had been blown all about by the blast. How many barrels of gunpowder has been spent on this? Guessing from the number of buildings with their fronts collapsed in on themselves, more than enough.
“Harrow, what are you doing? We need to leave before more people arrive.”
A good point. But curiosity won out, mainly because where was everyone? The overall silence had remained even after my hearing had been fixed.
“I want to take a look,” I said. “Make sure of a few things.”
“We’re going to be knee-deep in those marchers in a second,” he hissed at me. “And if not them, Watch looking for someone to blame.”
“True. Just a quick look. Then shelter at your place, maybe?”
“Too risky. Your new place.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said as I finally made it to the area of the explosion.
Bodies were scattered about. Broken in many ways, burnt, nails protruding out of skin. Mostly marchers and watch, I noted clinically as the dust settled. Infernals had been on the outer edges, so there were less bodies. More streaks of blood, probably from people who’d ran, crawled, or limped away from the carnage. No one here seemed to be among the living, so I ignored the scattered limbs and broken corpses as I headed for the source of the blast.
Less bodies here, most of them flung away by the force of the explosion. Those that were left were the worst off, taking the full force of the explosion. And the full force of the metal shards and scraps packed in as shrapnel. I found one of the drivers of the neighboring carts dead. The only mercy is it might have been quick given the wood puncturing the side of his head, brains leading out around the hole.
Where the wagon had been there was not a scrap of wood left, but there was something blown into the dirt, a pattern marring the cobbles of the Quarter’s main thoroughfare. A Flaming Goat’s head.
Probably not Versalicci then. He would want the Quarter under pressure, but anything that would direct attention on him wouldn’t be good for him. Making himself more of a nuisance was a recipe for the army being brought back into the capital to root him out. He wasn’t suicidal. This was part of the Changer plot, but why?
The involvement of Infernals as their scapegoats, I’d assumed it had just been because we’d make easy ones for them, but was there another reason? Because this targeting felt deliberate and beyond the scope of their earlier actions.
I checked the residue forming the symbol. Ash mixed with grease was my best guess after touching and feeling it. There was no magic of any kind in the symbol itself, and the lack of any magic was another sign pointing away from the Black Flame. You didn’t stick around to do dumb stunts like this with Versalicci, assuming he’d even want a signature on a job like this.
This was strange. It was almost as if framing the Black Flame was as much one of their goals as whatever they wanted out of Lord Montague, but what? I hadn’t been with the Flame in five years and I’d never known everything Versalicci did, but there was absolutely nothing I could think of that would involve shapechangers with the Flame.
I was checking for corpses for the two Infernals I’d spotted getting off the wagon before it exploded. Although, even accounting for potential shape-changers, it wasn’t that easy I thought as I leaned by one corpse. The right skin color, but the explosion had make identification a bit of trouble I thought as I pulled the head up by the few scraps of hair still on her head. A few shreds of skin remained on, the rest shredded off by the nails. Guessing from her lying face-down in a pool of her own blood with a severed spine? Not a quick death.
Varrow was checking some of the bodies now and I hoped no one else stumbled upon us. Old habits died hard, but the last thing I needed was getting into a scuffle with the watch over his sticky fingers.
“Could you not for a few minutes? Watch will be here eventually.”
“They aren’t here yet,” Varrow said, a scowl coming across his face. “Actually that’s a bit off.”
He wasn’t wron-
The earth rocked with a thunderous roar, and I barely kept my footing. My head swiveled about till it spotted another plume of dust going skyward, bits of wreckage flung out from the exploision.
No. Hells damn them, no!
Varrow was pale as he began to move towards one of the streets. The ground shook again.
They’d burn the entire district down tonight if they could. Assuming enough of them survived. I moved after Varrow as fast as I could, leg throbbing with every step. First things first, get out of here. Take Varrow with me, and if either Dawes or Tagashin protested I’d see if I could fix them up with some fake horns and red skin then toss them in here for a night.
The swirling dust had settled entirely now, revealing further down the road on both ends. Empty. Strange. Where was everyone? Run perhaps? With the time taken to get the splint in place, there should have been more than enough time for them to do so. But the idea that the Watch would desert their posts at a time like this was...troubling.
The earth shook again. I hurried after Varrow, limping as quickly as possible before he got too far ahead. Hopefully, we can make it out of the Quarter.
Author's Note: A shorter than normal chapter. Somehow recovering from camping has ended up doing more to impact my writing than going camping in the first place.
Comments
gostsamo
> but the forced must have shoved me force > I turned over, getting me hands underneath me. my hands > It was slow going, not helped by what was scattered across the road. Nails, a mixture of rusted and pristine scattered about. scattered twice > where I did nothing but lay down, read, and eat tea. most of us just drink it > I walked towards where the wagon had been. > Still I headed for the wagon, towards what had once been one of the Quarter’s major roads. has been + wagon > Less bodies here, most of them flung away by the force of the explosion. Those that were left were the worst off, taking the full force of the explosion. force of the explosion twice > bits of wreckage flung out from the exploision. explosion
