The brilliant morning had turned into a somber night...
It took Jostice, Grotknot, and several men to lift Rynan and place him from the train to the coach. The coach shifted under his weight.
"What happened to him?" Quincy asked from behind the reins.
Jostice said, "no questions..."
The boy wrinkled his nose, "what a day... First bounty hunter and now this."
Jostice turned towards Leslie, "take Boone with you to the hospital. Grotknot and I will bring the Yurk to the jailhouse."
She nodded. "Will and Boris will be there. Tell them I sent you...You shouldn't have any issues." She wrapped her arms around the man. "Be careful."
Jostice slowly pulled them apart, looking into her eyes. "You too...Be on the lookout. They may try and finish the job."
Leslie grabbed Boone's hand, tugging him into motion. They climbed into the carriage; Jostice shut the door behind them, tilting his hat.
Boone eyed Grotknot who stood with his shoulders arched, legs wide, and head down. "I'll be seeing you soon..." He waved.
The boy nodded slowly.
"Hold on," Quincy said, whipping the horses. They jerked into motion.
From the train station to the hospital was two miles away though travel was slow and anginous; the city streets was a in a stir like an ants nest; riddled with carriages, horse riders, and towns folk and guest, wandering around aimlessly in excitement for the tournament.
"Move," yelled the coachboy, waving his arm, "Damn tournament has the whole city in a frenzy!"
Boone scanned his surroundings, sitting quietly while a crow swooped down from above, perching on the back of the coachboys seat. Its black eyes rolled downward, looking upon Rynan; rattling his beak and fluffing his feathers.
"How peculiar," Leslie said. "I've never seen a crow with such courage."
Quincy turned and swatted the bird and it took flight. "Must be a hungry bugger. Don't worry..." He watched it soar and perch on a facade that read Good Grocery. It cawed. "It won't be a bother from there."
Leslie took Rynan's hand into her own, and placed an arm around Boone, bringing him in close. "He'll be alright, ya hear? We're nearly there."
Boone's hands trembled and he brought them together, working to rid off the rattle. His eyes burned and ached, knowing the tears lost inside the train were brought on by losing Ma Jean, Jerocobish, and his closest friend in matter of thirty minutes.
He caught Leslie watching him and he turned his head, keeping her from noticing his pain.
She leaned in, her voice aching. "I want you to know I'm going to catch them Yurks...and serve them a side of justice they've never had before."
Boone looked at Rynan who drew in labored breaths, eyes hidden behind his eyelids, skin white as northern snow. This wasn't the look a sleeping giant, but that of a dying boy. Boone winced.
Leslie held him closer while her warmth ran through him. "We'll get your Pappy back, too. I promise."
Boone spoke soft and harsh, "how can you be certain," his tongue slipped; "he's not already dead?"
"Don't say that...you know your Pappy is stronger than that." Leslie leaned back into the wooden bench, rubbing Rynan's hand hard enough to break skin. "We've got one of their own...Jostice and Grotknot will get him to talk."
"Yurks don't barter or have you never heard?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"It-it doesn't matter..."
Leslie smiled warmly, "It does to me."
Energy passed through his arms and his hands vibrated in his lap. He clenched his muscle's trying to rid off the jerks, drawing air through his nose and out his mouth. After several breaths bis hand stopped.
The boy asked, "Have you heard the tale of Crafty Cam and Mork the betrayer?"
Leslie's scarlet strands shook with her head while light touched her dark eyes. "Can't say I have."
"Great tale indeed," Quincy said. "One of my favorites-"
"I hadn't asked you," Boone snapped.
Quincy eyed him over his shoulder then mumbled, "bunch of jerks today..."
Boone shifted his attention to Leslie. "Crafty Pete was the best bounty hunter north of Primpin Mountain...Maybe even of the world! That is, until he'd gone after Mork the betrayer."
Leslie leaned in with each word.
"Ya see, Mork killed a farm boy-"
"Farm boy?" Quincy said sternly. "I'm a farm boy and no way a Yurk could kill me."
Boone's eyebrows furrowed. "Nobody asked you for you opinion...Just keep your eyes forward and the horses on track."
Quincy puffed his pipe, looking towards the carriages who had his own halted in place, "sure thing, Boss."
"As I was sayin'... Cam chased Mork through Primepin mountains where they dueled; and though Mork was a strong advisory, Cam shot him in the cheek leaving him scared." Boone said. "Then chained him and began to bring him down the mountain." Boone pointed north. "But a storm came in over head; a strong blizzard that had the men fighting for their lives. In order to survive Cam made a deal with Mork: if you help me survive I'll set you free - and Yurk agreed - and when they got down the mountain, being man of his word, Cam set him free...That is, until Mork shot him in the back and killed him - hints why they called him Yurk the Betrayer."
Leslie rubbed her chin, finding her next word. "And that's why Yurks are known to be liars?"
"Liars and betrayers - you can't trust none of them."
The boy in the front turned back, smirking. "I've met my fair share of Yurks and they've done me no harm. In fact, I've made a deal with one just a few weeks ago, and they seemed plenty trustworthy to me."
Boone asked, "As I said, who asked you?"
Leslie fidgeted with the bandana wrapped around her neck; Boone squinted looking upon bluish-black marks on her olive flesh. She tightened the rag.
"What happened?" The boy asked.
"It's nothing," she said.
"A birthmark?"
Leslie raised an eyebrow, "no, just a bruise. Nothing to be concerned about-
The wagon rocked and came to hault while the horses panted and mouths foamed white.
"Two Goppies..." The boy said, holding out a hand and puffing on his pipe.
"Two?" Leslie asked."Should be no more than one..."
"Well, I got to make up lost coin, and so, I've got you here in a haste."
"A haste?" Boone climbed down from his seat, boots slapping the ground. "Took nearly an hour!"
"Would've taken two had I not known the roads so well..."
Leslie nodded then pulled two coins from her pocket and dropped them into the boys hand. "Thank you." She then climbed down from the coach.
Boone looked up at the building and it appeared as sickly as Rynan. It had an old worn down porch, a pair of large wooden doors that were falling off their hinges, and more brick chimneys than the boy could count on one hand. The focade had peeling paint and letters that Boone read slowly.
"Alchme hospital - to cure hexes, poisions, and curses."
Boone's hands fell to his stomach that twisted while he imagined the Stir Doctor; an old, wrinkly witches with a long, warty nose, and a sharp heckle. Inside, was a cottage filled of jars of dead creatures and cauldrons that were brewed blood spells and smelt of musk and rot.
Suddenly a few men appeared, each one with skin dark as ash, wearing robes that were red as the light coming through the door. They ran to carriage and hoisted Rynan from his slumber. They walked up the steps and disappeared inside.
Boone and Leslie followed.
They came through the doors and stopped. Their faces wrinkled. What the boy imagined was exactly what was inside; jars everywhere! Stacked on shelves in rows that wrapped around a large room while a dozen or more fires heated hissing cauldron, giving the room a scarlet glow.
Boone's nostrils flare at the smell of sweaty socks and old porage while a heat made his skin wet. He popped a button from his shirt, freeing his neck.
"Set him down gently," Leslie said, as they lowered Rynan onto a bed.
Boone glanced between jars, grimacing. There were bat wings, toad legs, large and small eyeballs, blood and more blood, hairless animals, rotted vegetables, green goop that looked like ogres snot, earwax, rottersroot, a giant's tooth, and...He fixated on water-filled jar in a corner; inside was a long, spongy looking critter with beady black eyes peering in his direction.
The boy cocked his head, crouching as he took a step closer. He stopped, tugging on his bill to remove it from his eyes and blinked several times. "What is it?" He whispered taking another step; a third, a fourth, a fifth; with each step the spongy creature expanded as skinny, clear appendages extended from his torso. Boone stopped a foot away. He took another breath and leaned his face closer to the jar; the creatures wormy body whipped as the liquid turned tar black.
Boone stumbled back, his body colliding with something solid. He twirled around and snapped his head back. There looming over him like a statue was a boy with midnight skin and face made to bring fear in those around him, with a head and chin thickly braided with beads as red as his robe.
"It's called a Psycrasite," the boy grinned.
"A Psycrasite?"
The boys head jerked and eyes blinked right then left. "Indeed..." He chuckled. "Good for many alchme spells."
"Oakot!" Yelled a harsh, raspy voice. One that sounded as though he'd devoured fire. "Come here this instant!"
Boone watched the boy make haste towards a man who could only be the Stir Doctor: He wasn't the warty-nosed witch he imagined, but an ugly man nonetheless, with black hair with strands of gray, that stood like flames. Around his eyes were round spectacles too large for his face while beneath his nose was a pointed stash.
"Are you scaring the guest again?"
"No sir-"
"Are you certain?"
Leslie rose a hand, "he wasn't disturbing anybody."
Boone walked over, nodding.
The man raised a caterpillar-thick eyebrow. "Very well... Help me turn this boy."
Oakot crouched and grabbed Rynan, pulling on his body where the man large eyes squinted behind his lenses.
"Tear his shirt..."
Oakot dug his fingers into the bullet-holed cloth, yanking and tearing the garments and exposing Rynan's back flesh; around his shoulder blade molted-black skin that webbing outward.
Leslie placed a hand over her mouth, "it looks like an..."
"An Eye!" Boone blurted, staring at the dark, marked flesh.
The doctor shook his head, toying with his stash. "Very interesting..."
"What is it, Doc?" Leslie asked.
He grumbled, "looks like he's been shot by a decayer..."
"What's a decayer?"
He swallowed slowly, "A slow death..." the doc waved to his robed staff. "Get the boy up stairs and quick... He needs to stay cool while we prepare the ointment."
"Doctor-"
"Sheriff..." The doctor grabbed her hand. "Stay with your brother. Allow me to do the rest."
Leslie hesitated then nodded, following them up the stairs as the doctor lead the way.
Boone stood with his head down, twiddling his thumbs. "Rynan..." He whispered. Something cracked behind him; the boy spun on his heel and there on the sill were crows with eyes dark as ink. Boone leapt to his feet and ran towards the window, "get out of here!" He yelled as they took flight, disappearing towards the rooftops.
He breathed heavy hanging onto the window sill. He stood there, fighting tears, taking breaths that wore down his lungs.
Boone turned towards the stairs and proceed towards them; two sets that run upwards and downward. He place boot down on the step whe. crack rattled from the attic. He peaked a head down.
A blackish-gray creature with dark eyes and wormy tail stood on the bottom step, sniffing the air and climbing in towards the basement.
Boone watched as the creatures skipped into the bottom room, tail trailing after him. Suddenly there was a rattle of metal, a squeal, and a crunch then silences.
Boone's hands trembled at his sides.
The boy slowly descended the steps until he hit the bottom; he pushed the door open and it creaked open. A rotting, oily-burnt smell caught his nostrils while the light behind him cleared the shadows of the room.
Boone squinted standing frozen in the doorway...
Metal screeched across the floor while harsh, long breathes echoed.
"Is somebody there?" Boone asked.
A silhouette appeared from the shadows, ten paces away, with eyes white as smoke. It twisted its head, bared its fangs, and screeched running towards him.
Boone's eyes widened...
Ten paces away, five paces away, four, three, two...
From behind him an arm reached over his shoulder, grabbing the door and slamming it closed.
Boone turned around to find the red cloaked boy staring back. His lip curled.
"What is that thing-"
"Never go down there," the boys head jerked. "You hear me? Never..."