***
The Hanged Man strode forward into the light of the cave, bonfires burning on each side of him, and the song of a hundred souls begging for justice, calling for vengeance, was the cadence of his march. The noose around his neck tightened, almost as if in anticipation, and the coiled rope around his arm writhed and slid like a hempen serpent. In his hand, the heavy round stone that had been his grave marker grew warmer, the rope twined around it. All traces of William Rhys slipped to the back of his consciousness. Now there was only the Hanged Man.
He walked boldly out amongst the monsters of the cave. The feral progeny of the behemoth on the throne hissed and growled at him, but even they were cowed by this strange intrusion in their most secure lair. They gathered together like angry, frightened animals at his back, but he ignored them. He walked forward smoothly, his cloak low over his face, but his red eyes clear. They stared straight ahead at the King of the Cave, in direct challenge. Then, the Hanged Man stopped and raised his arm. His finger pointed straight forward, in condemnation at the figure on the throne.
The bloated thing laughed, a wet, guttural sound. And then, he leaned forward and spoke. "So, little meat. You come, here to our home," he said in broken, stilted words, mangled by his massive jaw and cruel teeth. "Foolish meat." He stood up slowly, unfolding his enormous bulk from his seat on the throne. He was heads taller than the Hanged Man, his body huge and powerful beneath the layers of blubbery fat. He slapped one of those huge hands against his chest, with a sound like a thunder clap. "Once was like you. Man. Weak. But then became strong." He smiled, the teeth vicious and cruel looking, bits of flesh from his last meal still clinging to them. "I fed," he explained simply, gesturing to the human bodies hanging like hams in the cave.
The Hanged Man stared at his adversary, and the song of the wrongful dead sounded in his soul. He stretched his arms out to each side in mocking invitation and spoke. "Come then, fat man. Come and prove your strength." He bared his teeth in an expression that was half smile and half snarl. "Come and have a taste."
With a roar, the monstrous bulk of the King pounced from the throne, covering the distance between the two of them in a blink of an eye, faster than anything his size should be able to move. But the Hanged Man had anticipated the aggressive rush and stepped to the side, the rope around his arm uncoiling and sending the heavy round stone knotted at the end hurtling forward. It smashed into the chest of the King with a sharp smack, and the horror growled in pain.
The King whirled a massive fist around, and the Hanged Man barely ducked under it. It collided with the stone wall of the cave, sending rock crumbling from the impact. The Hanged Man twisted away, gaining distance away from his colossal adversary.
Around them, the cannibal court of this monstrous king began to screech and surge against each other as something beyond the fight caught their attention. The Hanged Man caught a glimpse of the Reeve, standing in front of the girl, knife in one hand, flaming brand in the other, swinging both desperately to keep the creatures at bay. Dozens of the feral things attacked the man, but he fought on.
Before the Hanged Man could do anything other than mark the danger the young couple was in, the King was upon him. Seizing the momentary chaos of the distraction, the King rushed him, and this time, the Hanged Man was not fast enough. The bloated man-eater grabbed him in a monstrous embrace and then bit his teeth into the Hanged Man's shoulder.
Roaring, the Hanged Man swung his left arm up, smashing it against the side of the King's enormous skull. A resounding clang of metal on bone sounded in the cave. Beneath the Hanged Man's cloak, a bright silver bracer gleamed on his forearm in the firelight. He had originally taken it from one of the cruel knights who had murdered his family, but now he wore it as protection and weapon. He slammed the metal covered arm again against the temple of the behemoth that held him, and then twisted out of the grip as the King howled in pain.
The Hanged Man stumbled back, and the King of the Cave spat a mouthful of flesh on the ground in disgust. "You taste of ashes and rot, Little Meat," the King growled. "Like dead leaves and grave dust."
The Hanged Man drew himself up taller, and began to spin the weighted end of his hangman's rope at his side. "Savor the taste, monster," he said in his rasping ruin of a voice. "It is your final meal."
Again, the King charged forward, and again he swung his fists out wide, expecting the Hanged Man to dodge to the side once more. But this time, the Hanged Man came directly forward, straight at the lumbering behemoth. At the last moment, he leaped into the air, over the charging shoulder of the king, as the monstrous cannibal closed his hands on empty air. The Hanged Man landed lithely behind the King and then shifted the length of rope coiled around his arm. A loop of it had caught around the huge bull-like neck of his foe. Now back to back, the Hanged Man spun around and jumped off the ground, putting both legs up against the broad back of the King. He pushed with all his strength, tightening the noose around the King and choking him.
The King of the Cave became enraged, flailing around wildly, trying to shake the Hanged Man from his back, even as he gasped for breath. But the Hanged Man was ready to end the monster now. He brought the heavy weight of the burial stone back to his hand with a sharp twist of the rope, and it landed in his palm with a smack. Then, with a fearsome roar, he smashed the round stone directly into the temple of the King, the same spot he had struck before. Again and again, he pounded at the cannibal's skull, till he heard the cracking of bone beneath his blows and felt the wild swaying of the behemoth slowing. Blood flew in the air. The King fell to his knees in defeat, but still, the Hanged Man struck on, his arm rising and falling like a blacksmith hammering steel into a blade. One hundred blows, for the hundred souls of the dead that cried out in savage triumph as he took vengeance upon their murderer.
At last, the Hanged Man stood victorious over his enemy. Blood and ichor dripped heavily from the stone in his fist and fell to the floor in thick drops. Around him, all was chaos. The family of the cannibal King, overcome with terror at seeing their monstrous patriarch struck down, began to flee the cave. They swept down tunnels, and out into the pool that the Hanged Man and Colban had entered from. Their keening whines of fear echoed in the cave, sweet accompaniment to the exultation of the wrongful dead now avenged, that echoed in the Hanged Man's head.
Finally, when the creatures had fled and all was quiet for the first time, the Hanged Man turned toward where he had seen Colban the Reeve fighting. The body of the Reeve was marred with cuts and blood, his eyes staring blankly ahead, and his chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. Even from this distance, the Hanged Man could tell the man’s wounds were fatal. But beside him, the innocent girl Aileen that he had vowed to save was cradling his body and weeping. Overcome with sorrow, but alive.
The Hanged Man walked over to the couple. Colban the Reeve saw him approach and looked up. Beside him, the girl, Aileen, shifted in front of the man, putting herself between the Hanged Man and her beloved.
“You saved her,” Colban whispered, a trail of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.
“You are no coward,” the Hanged Man said.
Colban nodded once. “No, but I am guilty. The deaths of the innkeeper and his wife, those are on my head. I accept responsibility. Do not punish the other men of the town. Let it end with me, and with that creature you bested.” The struggle to speak became too much and he coughed violently.
The Hanged Man inclined his head in agreement. The Reeve had answered for his crimes against the innkeeper and his wife. Vengeance was satisfied. He looked over to the sobbing girl. "Bring the villagers here," he said, and she looked up in sadness and fear. "Bring them here so they may bury the bodies of those who suffered at the hands of these creatures.”
The girl gazed at him, tears staining her eyes, but she tried to meet his gaze with courage and strength. "I owe you my life," she said, her hands still holding onto the body of her beloved. "And I will do as you ask. But what
of those who have no body left to bury," she said in a whisper, as if even to speak of such blasphemous things was difficult.
The Hanged Man nodded. "Bury a hundred bones. Bury them deep in consecrated ground, and those taken here in fear and horror will rest easy."
With that, he turned his back on the young lovers, allowing them their final moments together, and began to make his way out of the cave.
Dead Man.
He stopped. A voice on the air, a whisper on the wind. One of the spirits of the deceased called out to him. Faint and fading, difficult to tell even if it was male or female. But it called to him.
Dead Man. You brought us vengeance, Dead Man. A boon for you.
"I need nothing from you, spirit," he said aloud, despite knowing that the spirits of the dead could not hear his words.
A boon. In your once living heart, you seek a woman. Seek her still, Dead Man. She is not with us. Understand? She is not with us, Dead Man.
In that moment, the man who had once been William Rhys, who had died and been reborn as the Revenant of Revenge drew a deep, shocked breath.
His beloved Mary was alive.
The adventures of the Hanged Man will continue in The Hanged Man: The 17 Dice.
You have just finished reading
THE HANGED MAN: THE HUNDRED BONES
by Mark Gelineau
This story is part of the Single Shots Signature Series.
Edited by Tommy Hancock
Editor in Chief, Pro Se Productions-Tommy Hancock
Director of Corporate Operations-Morgan Minor
Publisher & Pro Se Productions, LLC-Chief Executive Officer-Fuller Bumpers
Cover Art, Design, and Logos by Jeff Hayes
E-book Design by Russ Anderson
Visit the Pro Se Press website at https://www.prose-press.com for more New Pulp novels and short story collections
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