The King's Scarlet by John Danielski

Author:John Danielski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penmore Press LLC
Published: 2016-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

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Pennywhistle, Dale, Manton, and Juanita stopped at a tiny hamlet just after dawn, 4 leagues away from the Grandees and the militia headed to Los Lobos. They needed rest, and now that they were no longer in the mountains, night travel was safest. The place bore the welcoming name El Corazón, the heart, and was but a dot on the map.

It was the circling hawks that first alerted Pennywhistle. He recognized them as carrion feeders. The stench drew him on.

They rode into an eerily silent necropolis, deserted and in ruins. Stray weeds blew down the arid main street. The few buildings had been blasted apart and most of the inhabitants murdered. No one had done anything to clean up the mess. It reeked of death, and bodies lay rotting on the hardened dirt thoroughfare. All of the bodies bore signs of predation. Crows had plucked out most of the eyes.

Dogs scattered at their approach but did not move too far off. They had clearly been feeding on the corpses. He guessed they were domestic animals turned feral. They were always more dangerous than wild dogs because they knew man and did not fear him. It was time to put some fear into them. He stopped and dismounted, then shot two of the more aggressive. Dogs were pack animals and he wanted to establish himself as a dominant male, a dangerous beast superior to anything in the pack. The dogs ran off howling. He had bought perhaps a day's respite, but he told everyone to keep a sharp eye out for their return.

He carefully examined one corpse and his woodsman's eye detected an unexpected shape to the bite marks. Wolves! They usually avoided humans, but played havoc with corpses and unattended horses. They always came at night, and since the sun was up, they were no danger for now. Still, if they stayed, he would have to keep the horses close.

Juanita said it reminded her of Sodom and Gomorrah after the Lord's wraith. Typical, thought Pennywhistle. The Lord had at least wiped things clean with his fire; the authors of this ghastly massacre were very, very human. The animals were merely doing what their natures demanded and cleaning it up. He wondered what these poor devils had done to merit obliteration. El Corazón was a town with its heart cut out.

He directed Dale and Manton to find a sheltered spot for their camp, one that could be defended against dogs. He told them to take Juanita with them since he wanted to spare her any more grisly sights. Alone, he walked down the street, looking at the human remains. He had seen far worse on the Bellerophon at Trafalgar. He spotted two hogs chewing on a child's body. He fired the Ferguson at fifty yards and shot the first sow in the head. Her companion ran squealing off. He reloaded rapidly and killed the second pig at eighty yards. Last night's exertions had left him with a ferocious appetite, and he expected it was the same with the others.

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