Madness and Pandemonium

Death In Harmony: Part Seven of Twenty-Nine

Death In Harmony is the fifth in the Tales of The Lesser Evil and this is the seventh chapter.

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This is a fantasy series—not quite grimdark, but dark nevertheless—with complicated and believable characters doing their best to survive in a world simply indifferent to their existence.

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Madness and Pandemonium

The past: Youlbridge

It had begun like any other day, feeding Kadan, talking to the staff of the inn, laughing, deciding what songs to rehearse for the evening’s entertainment, what story she would tell. Nothing untoward, nothing terrible.

Lunch was roast pork, slow-cooked and teased apart until it melted in the mouth. The Maze Fighter was known for the quality of the food, as well as the cleanliness and comfort of its beds, so lunch was shared by both regular patrons and several travellers who were staying at the inn. By the time they were calling for second helpings the rumours arrived.

‘I heard someone had seen someone in an alley over by the Rivergate, they were on the ground, twitching, foaming at the mouth.’

‘Well I heard they had giant boils, all bursting and foul-smelling.’

‘No, it was a woman in the Street of Perfumes, she went mad with the pain, started attacking people, biting them. Took six to hold her down, they were all bitten too. The Guard had to kill her.’

‘It was a house on the Westwall, they hadn’t seen this family in days, had to break down the door and found them all dead. They’d choked on their own blood. All dead, covered in weeping sores.’

The rumours continued, but everyone agreed something bad had happened to someone, somewhere in the city, at some time. Rumours, Flin knew, never meant shit until too late, by which point the truth was often the last thing that mattered.

In this case, the truth arrived swiftly, three days later, with a panicked crier running down the road to the square in front of the Southern Gate, close to The Maze Fighter. He barely paused for breath, before climbing the steps to the platform beside a tall statue of a rearing unicorn, furiously tolling his bell and calling all nearby to come listen.

In hindsight, Flin wondered if that had been wise.

It was plague.

Perhaps something had bred in the sewers and streets below the city, the dry winter enabling the rats to breed faster, allowing the waste and rubbish to build, escaping the usual flooding in spring. Perhaps something was carried in from another city. Perhaps someone had robbed the wrong tomb, cursed or infected with ancient evil, disease, or both. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps—whatever the origin, by then it was too late, and people began to die.

Immediately after calling his news the required three times, the crier leapt from the platform and ran straight out the city gates. Several people in the stunned crowd followed, knowing the guard would soon receive orders and the city sealed. Flin also briefly considered running, but knew she could not make it back to the inn in time to collect her baby, and there was no way she was leaving Kadan.

Sarah and Mariea made a decision to close The Maze Fighter immediately, to board up and wait out the plague. They had their own water source and were well supplied and handsomely stocked, enough for them, their family, and their staff, including their resident entertainer and her baby. They would hide behind locked and barred doors; there would be no leaving until it was safe, and no one was coming in, it was simply too much of a risk.

Candles and lanterns were kept low, the fires only lit at night so the smoke could not be seen, and a watch kept on the street from a spyhole in one of the upper windows. It was a strong and sensible plan and, in a city as cultured and advanced as Youlbridge, Flin was sure it should have worked. However, with plague gnawing at the populace, starvation and despair setting in amongst those unable to find food, trapped behind the city gates, the plan failed.

Which is how Flin found herself, her pack, a quiver of arrows, bow, lantern, instruments and, finally, her baby being lowered into a tunnel beneath the inn. The bells had struck midnight and all was madness and pandemonium outside.

Some starving family had seen a light in The Maze Fighter, or perhaps smelled smoke after dark. They had decided they were entitled to what food the inn still held and their calls outside, along with the crashing of their attempts to break in, attracted enough attention from other plague-carrying, hungry people, that it was simply a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

Neither Mariea nor Sarah wanted to leave, which meant their daughters refused too, with even the young stable boy pulling his belt knife to defend their home. Flin wanted to stay too, to try and reason with the crowd, but they would not hear of it. It was too dangerous for Kadan; if the mob broke in he could easily be killed or, perhaps worse, catch the plague and die a painful, protracted death.

Grim-faced and angry at having no alternative, Flin agreed, and swiftly made ready to leave. They gave her provisions and made sure she carried an extra blanket, the thick wool the city was famous for would be worth the weight. Sarah counted out her wages, even giving her a bonus, laughing about how she both deserved it and, if the worst came to the worst, they would not be around to spend it. Flin wept and hugged them all in turn, then she was lowered into the dark, below a city tearing itself apart in fear and death and disease. The hatch above her was closed, plunging her into black.

She lit the lantern with her flint and steel, reciting the directions she had been given to escape the city, tying them in with a simple tune and rhythm. She was pleased her memory was superb, as the way was complex and not marked.

Flin drew a deep breath, pulled on and adjusted her pack and the sling holding Kadan to her chest, attached the quiver to her belt and held the bow in the opposite hand to the lantern. Then she started walking.

Plague heightens terror; the knowledge that a disease could swiftly set hold in the flesh with little predictability, affecting rich and poor, weak and strong, woman and man, old and young, is horrifying. As she walked, Flin did not know whether she had escaped the worst, or whether further horrors lay ahead. She tried not to think about her friends, and what might happen to them.

That night was one that stayed fresh in her senses, often resurfacing in dreams, year after year, waking her in a sweat, horror in her mind and hands that shook until she finally calmed her breathing through conscious, concerted effort. Even then, once she had soothed herself, she saw the images clearly, leaping back unbidden and unwanted. At other times she would catch a faint scent and it would spark another memory, tumble her back to the sheer terror she had felt.

The Maze Fighter had promised another way, had reminded Flin that there were good people, but it also taught her that to be close to someone meant the loss was all the more unbearable. She kissed Kadan and whispered to him.

‘Just you and me now baby. We will be safe, no one will hurt you.’ Even as she said the words, she wondered if they were true.

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