His Fateful Heap of Days by John Wiltshire

Author:John Wiltshire [Wiltshire, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The dogs were ecstatic to see them.

Nikolas was fairly sure the four of them were equally pleased to see the dogs.

As he squatted to greet Radulf, Ben exclaimed, “Look—your ankle!”

Nikolas grunted. He was bleeding—two long tears and blood soaking into his sock.

Tim ventured, “On the cliff—when you saved me? You scratched it as you leapt forward?”

“Yes. Thorns. Like Ben’s hand. That is all.”

Nikolas knew it wasn’t his best deceit ever—he could see that not one of them believed him. But he wasn’t about to tell them what he’d seen appear at the top of the steps, what he believed had caught him just as he’d scrambled into the moonlight. Some truths were untellable and were best exchanged for lies.

He suddenly felt sucker-punched, and it wasn’t from the long slog back to the vehicle, which they’d conducted in silence by mutual consent. He could see similar exhaustion etched on all their filthy faces. The prospect of a drive back home in the dark didn’t appeal. He sat on the edge of one of the beds. Ben, letting the dogs back in from their quick nip outside, sank down alongside him.

Squeezy immediately suggested, “Group shag to cheer ourselves up a bit?”

Nikolas laughed softly. It was the least believable thing the annoying one had ever said, and even Squeezy seemed defeated by his own insincerity. He collapsed onto the other bed with a theatrical groan.

Nikolas’s ankle was throbbing, his heart still pounding unpleasantly. He lay back on the soft bed, felt Ben curl protectively around him, and then he knew no more.

§§§

The clip-clopping came into Nikolas’s dream, and he woke abruptly in the dark, still hearing its echoes. He could see the other two men in the opposite bed, just a hummock of blankets.

“What did you see?”

Nikolas wasn’t surprised as Ben’s whisper dispelled the last vestiges of the dream. Sometimes he and Ben were so in sync Nikolas wondered if they were more one man than two. “The goat. In the robes.” It wasn’t like him to tell the truth about anything, and he’d decided not to mention this encounter, but Ben, warm and protective and folded around him, encouraged such confidences. It had happened once or twice before.

Ben was quiet for a long time at this revelation. Nikolas heard him swallow and he realised at the same time that he was terribly thirsty too, and that his head hurt more than his ankle. As if reading his mind once again, Ben murmured, “How’s the scratch?”

“I’ve had worse.” It was unfortunate really, Nikolas supposed, reminding Ben of his most recent injury—and what it had led to, so he added, “It’s not poisoned. Not sepsis. Trust me, I’d know. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Let’s drop this thing now, Nik. You said it has nothing to do with us. Let’s leave it and forget we ever found that bloody thing.”

Nikolas nodded, but he was thinking about Martin’s words to him.

Ben’s arms tightened around him, and at the same time they whispered, “Go back to sleep,”

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