Part of him had wanted to end the man then and there, as he had dangled. The Hanged Man had listened to the drunken toasts of the celebration. He knew that vengeance for the innkeeper and his wife would come from the death of this Colban. He had hungered for the man’s death.
And yet…
And yet, the part of him that remained William Rhys had stayed the killing blow. He had watched through the patched roof, spying on the Reeve and the young girl. He had seen the love they shared for each other. And he had remembered Mary.
And something about the words the innkeeper’s wife had spoken struck him as well. The innkeepers had been innocent. And yet they had suffered for the horrors visited upon this land and its people by another. Monsters, she had said. What really plagued this land, and was it not there, at the feet of that unknown vile being that true blame for their death lay?
As the Hanged Man passed the low stone wall of the old churchyard, he found the answer to his riddle. The dark earth of the churchyard cemetery had been disturbed and here and there, the corpses of the dead lay scattered and defiled. Old bones gleamed white in the moonlight, while the sickly sweet smell of rot from a fresh body sullied the air. At the far edge of the yard, where the stone wall abutted against the edge of a dark forest, the girl he had seen in the tavern was struggling for all her might against a creature from nightmare.
The thing was shorter than a man by at least two hands, its body pale and sinewy with savage looking muscles. Thin strands of hair dangled from its head, and its eyes were narrowed as it pulled and dragged the girl toward the forest.
And it was not alone.
Four more of the things scrambled and darted through the grave markers. As they caught sight of the Hanged Man, they hissed and growled and began to circle toward him, a wolf pack on the hunt.
The Hanged Man readied himself for the attack. Motion behind him set him on edge, but almost immediately, he was able to discern the labored breathing of the Reeve he had almost killed. The man had followed him across the village and now saw his love being dragged off into the night by something unholy.
“Aileen!” Colban yelled helplessly.
The woman looked toward him, her eyes wide with fear. “Colban! Don’t let them take me!” she screamed out, and then she was gone, swallowed up by the dark branches of the trees as the ghoulish creature carried her away.
Colban the Reeve darted forward in desperation, but one of the creatures was already moving toward him and tackled him to the ground. The other three seized the distraction to charge the Hanged Man.
But the Hanged Man was already moving, the length of rope uncoiled from around his arm. At the end of the hangman’s rope, a heavy round stone had been knotted and tied into the rope itself. It had been William Rhys’s grave marker, but now, he used it as his weapon. The Hanged Man spun the weighted end of the rope in a tight circle, and then, as the first of the creatures leaped for him, he shifted out of the way and brought the stone rocketing down on the thing’s shoulder. The snap of breaking bones cracked in the night like thunder.
As the creature collapsed in pain, the Hanged Man was already turning to meet the others rushing in. He used a length of the rope to wrap around a clawing arm, and then pulled forward savagely. The ghoul fell heavily to the ground and the Hanged Man raised a booted foot and brought it down viciously on the neck of the thing, ending it.
But doing so had drawn his attention away from the third of his attackers, and this one had slipped behind the Hanged Man. It jumped now from atop one of the grave stones onto his back, trying to sink its vicious teeth into the flesh of his neck.
The Hanged Man snapped his head to the side, knocking into the creature, and getting it off balance enough for him to reach up and pull one of the thing’s ferociously clawing arms. He dragged it from his back, and then with his other hand, he spun the weighted end of the rope around and around his arm until the heavy round stone slapped into his open palm. Then, he swung, smashing the stone against the side of the creature’s head, killing it in one powerful blow.
As he shrugged the body off him, he turned to look for the fourth of the ghoulish things. But instead, he saw Colban rising shakily to his feet, a blood stained knife clenched tightly in his hand. The Reeve’s face and chest were scratched bloody, and he seemed unsteady on his feet. He looked past the Hanged Man, toward the dark woods where the girl had been dragged.
“Aileen,” he said, his voice half choking with a sob.
“She’s gone,” the Hanged Man said.
Colban shook his head emphatically, blood dripping down from his wounds. “No. Have to find her. That thing took her. She’s alive.”
The Hanged Man ignored his words, kneeling down to examine one of the small creatures that had attacked them.
Colban came forward, looking down at the body that the Hanged Man was studying. “What manner of horror is it?” he asked. “Has Hell itself opened up to spit out demons to haunt this land?”
There was a pause, and then the Hanged Man spoke in that ragged, ruined voice. “It is a man,” he said.
“What?” Colban replied in shock.
Pulling back the lips to examine the teeth, the Hanged Man shook his head. “Not even a man. A boy. No more than twelve summers.”
Colban stared down in disbelieving horror. “That thing is human?”
But the Hanged Man ignored him. He was up and making his way across the cemetery, toward the dark forest. Colban rushed to catch up.
“If you mean to pursue the creature that took my Aileen, then I will accompany you.”
The Hanged Man turned and once again, those red eyes latched onto Colban’s own. “You will stay here, murderer,” he rasped. “I’m not done with you yet. You still have the blood of an innocent man and woman on your hands. You and the rest of the men in this town who travelled to that inn. You all will answer for that.”
But Colban stared back, holding himself tall as blood streamed down his face. “But the girl is innocent. The rest of the men in town are drunk. The girl will be dead before I can rally any other assistance. If they took her alive, they must have some purpose for her.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “What you say is true. And I will answer for the deaths of the innkeeper and his wife, in whatever manner you deem just. I will stand for all the other men as well, taking their crime onto myself. But I will see my Aileen safe and home first.” His eyes darted back to the dark forest that loomed before them, where the girl had been taken. His bravado faded, and the fear of a man for the woman he loved was all that remained. “Please,” he said. “Have you never loved someone?”
The Hanged Man stopped. He remembered the look of despair on his Mary’s face as she had been forced to watch him on the gallows. The pain, the helplessness. He saw it mirrored here before him, written in the anguish of this man. He began to walk toward the forest once more.
“Try and keep up,” he hissed. “I do not tire, and I will not put her in further jeopardy because you are weak.”
And with that, he headed off into the darkness, Colban rushing to catch up.