Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 11: Assume It So

Narrow steps led to narrow tunnel. They stood at the bottom, staring up as they might from the bottom of the grave.

"Tug on that chain," instructed Cedric. "It will move the altar back into position, hiding our escape."

"And cut off our air," pointed out Bodkin.

"No, this air is wet, not stale. Doubtless it leads to an opening by the river.

Barnaby and Matilda pulled the chain. The altar declined to move. Bodkin and Val joined in. The altar scraped, rolled... then the chain snapped, tumbling them all backwards. Leaving a strip of light above, their exit not fully hidden.

"Damn," cursed Val. "No help for it. Let's go."

They proceeded down the tunnel. Splashing at times through puddles of dank water.

"Light ahead," declared Cedric.

They pushed through old branches, tangles of bushes out of the tunnel, at last stood blinking in a copse of oaks. The light of dawn just touching the top leaves. Downhill, they spied the river Lethe, its black water looking chill.

Everyone took deep breaths of clean air untouched by the rotting miasma of the shrine.

"All clear," said Val, at length. "Let's move."

"Where's the camp?" demanded Bodkin.

"That way," pointed Matilda. They hurried through trees. There waited their cart, the hobbled mules, the still smoldering campfire.

"I don't credit those folk with much sense," observed Val. "There's no telling what they'll do when they find their hermitess all flesh, no spirit. Let's get on the road fast."

They hitched the mules to the cart, loading what gear lay about. Val smothered the fire.

"Bodkin, take the reins. Matilda, you ride in the back keeping bow ready. Don't shoot just because you see a target. Cedric and Jewel, we walk. If you have any orisons to speed us or slow them, call them up."

She turned last to Barnaby, leaning against a tree, indifferent to this martial preparation. Her eyes met his.

"Master Miller, can we assume you are with us for the present?"

Barnaby gave the slightest of nods to say 'assume it so'.

"Then you keep to the front. If they come out of the trees, your axe will be better use than my knife."

For reply, Barnaby drew Dragontooth. Still wet.

They hurried the cart to the road. No one in sight; yet.

"Which way?" asked Bodkin. "Back to the city, or north to the tower?"

"North," declared Matilda.

"North," added Cedric.

"Agreed." That, from Jewel.

"My view as well," declared Val. "What about you, miller?"

"Let's get the Lucif's flaming fuck away first," said Barnaby. Looking up and down the road. "Talk later."

The Society of St. Benefact stared surprised. It was not a Barnabish thing to say. Then Bodkin snapped the reins, setting the cart rumbling down the road. The rest trotted alongside, eyes wary for ambush.

An hour down the road, Matilda called out. "I see a fellow on horse, backaways. Seems to be alone."

Val stared behind. "He's keeping his distance. Might be trailing us. Or might have nothing to do with us."