The Faith Eaters, Chapter 12: Venom and Dreams

Jargon made it to the third floor landing without stumbling. The fifth before he fell. One hand gripping the rail, his body twisted and he tumbled forward. His knee struck a step solidly -- it would later swell and bruise -- but Erin managed to grab him by the back of the collar and prevented his head from hitting the floor. She eased him to the stairs so she could shift positions. Bending at the knees she draped his left arm over her shoulder, centered his belly high on her back then stood, slowly. She bounced him once to settle him firmly into a fireman�s carry and he groaned quietly.

�I�m doing the best I can,� she muttered, and continued up the stairs.

He opened his eyes to a dizzying world of angles and flat surfaces. The inner thigh of his left leg ached as Erin�s skinny shoulder dug into it with each step. He tried to focus on the pain. To clear his vision. But the world continued to spin. He closed his eyes and...

...Smoke rose from the valley floor below. Occasionally someone would escape from the burning village only to meet the Brotherhood Troopers who had formed a tight perimeter around it and the rattle of gunshots would echo through the hills.

From the flames of one fire, into the lead of another, Jargon thought, his face contorted in anger. A hand gripped his shoulder and a voice said, �It�s all right, Brother. You will become more familiar with how the game is played. Over time.�

�I see how the game is played, Brother,� Jargon spat scornfully. �And I refuse to be one of the tokens.� He turned on his heel and...

...Erin sat in a chair by his side. A complex tangle of tubes and hoses connected them, blood, pure and clean, flowing from her; dark, viscous poisons draining from him. A man moved into Jargon�s view, reached up and pulled a plastic bag full of vile fluid from its rack, detached the hoses and replaced the bag with a clean one. The man moved away and Jargon heard the screech of rusted metal, the roar of flames, then the clang of an iron hatch and...

...The sword tip pressed against his throat, piercing the skin. A trickle of blood worked its way slowly down his neck and soaked into his collar. Jargon�s eyes met the Inquisitor�s with a steady gaze.

�Who do you pray to, Guerin?� he asked.

Guerin�s eyes narrowed. �I pray to the Light of the Cardinal, and give thanks for the blessings of his service.�

�No. You pray to a man. A man who cannot hear you. A man who does not know you. A man who cannot save you. I have looked into the eyes of God,� Jargon said coldly, �and I saw defeat.�

�You are a heretic,� Guerin spat, and twisted his sword hand slightly.

�No. I am a pragmatist. And my faith is dead.�

Jargon pivoted and...

...Erin sat slouched in the chair, the tubes and hoses detached, small bandages over the holes on her arms where the needles had penetrated. The Old Man brushed a lock of hair from where it had fallen across Erin�s forehead and she startled awake. �Go lie down,� he told her quietly. �You need to sleep. I�ll watch over him.�

Erin blinked slowly and nodded. �OK. But you�ll wake me if anything changes.� The comment was half statement, half pleading question. Sam Nodded. With a last concerned look at Jargon where he lay unconscious on the bed, Erin shambled out of the room and...

...Jargon stared at the blood on the walls. His eyes played slowly across the room to the man on the floor, the metal bowl on the table, the bed and the broken, clenched hand protruding from beneath it. He moved to the bed and turned it on end. The muscles of his jaw knotted and his eyes blurred with tears as he withdrew a small knife from his belt and cut the woman�s bonds. He caught her as she fell free, her lidless eyes rolled back in her head, mouth open in a silent, bloody scream. Lowering her to the floor, Jargon knelt, cradled her in his arms, and sobbed. His shoulders shook and...

...Erin was once again perched in the rickety chair. �He�s gonna make it,� she stated.

�Yes,� Sam said. The Old Man placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. �He�ll live. But the pain is going to stay with him for a long while.�

�I know,� she sighed. She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest, heels hooked on the edge of the chair. �I know.�