Page 133 of The Simurgh

‘But look at what it has done to you.’ Pitch’s voice cracked and he was not ashamed of it.

‘Truly…I will heal. A bite of my flesh was quicker than a cut of the blade to sever each of those souls from the Sluagh. I’m sorry for all this.’

Gods, if the man weren’t bleeding so profusely Pitch would have slapped him. ‘You are torn near to pieces, and you are sorry for it?’

‘For making you so fearful.’

Silas stretched to reach the floating scythe.

‘Let me do that.’ Pitch pressed the roped handle into a flesh-stripped palm.

‘Tank..u…’ Silas’s troubled speech grew more so.

Which only added to the chill Pitch already felt with being in the water.

The scythe transformed from its newest iteration back to the bandalore. But the ankou made a discontented sound and another shift took place.

The familiar plain ring returned to his finger, this time with two contrasting shades of dulled silver running in parallel, denoting the union of the dual scythes. Pitch watched on with something very close to melancholy. Conscious of his own bare finger.

‘I hate to have to say this, my dear, but we must move you. The cave is flooding. We need to get you back on your feet.’

Silas chewed back groans as they undertook the gargantuan effort of getting him upright. All the while the tunnel allowed the slew of rainfall into the cave with greater and greater ferocity.

Pitch kept his flame beneath his skin, just enough so they could see what they were doing. It was dead-of-night dark beyond the glow. He tried to ignore the heat coming from the ankou as his wounds continued to bleed.

The raven croaked, and took to the wing. Flying off into the same darkness the murder had emerged from.

‘Follow her,’ Silas grunted. ‘Her time is not long. We must move quickly.’

A strange twist of fate it was, from the Fulbourn where Macha had done her utmost to lead them astray, to here where she was their guiding light. Or shadow, rather.

‘Is this alright?’ Pitch had his arm about Silas’s waist, his fingers gathering the waistband of his trousers that had mostly survived. He had no idea how best to hold onto Silas, considering most all of him had been pecked at by maniacal beaks, the white hint of bone even visible in places. ‘Does that hurt?’

‘Everything hurts, I’ll not lie to you. But that won’t bring me undone.’ He made a soft, but pained, sound. ‘Perhaps don’t pull them up so strongly though, it’s rather delicate on certain parts.’

Pitch stared at him in horror. ‘They got you there as well?’

‘A nip or two.’

‘Those cunts are lucky you killed them all. They’d not wish to face me to explain why my favourite cock has a mark on it that I’ve not made.’

Silas’s laughter must have pained him, but Pitch was still glad to hear the strangled chuckle. He was not so pleased when the ankou deflated a moment later.

‘They knew not what they did…Christ, it was awful, Pitch. Their hopelessness. The way they were used, and knew it too. She was consuming them slowly, and they felt every moment.’

‘I assure you, Sickle, it was no picnic to witness your anguish either.’ The back of Pitch’s neck, where Silas rested his arm, was sickeningly warm and wet in the thicker way of blood.

‘I know that could not have been easy for you. To be asked to do nothing.’

‘I think perhaps,’ Pitch cleared his throat. ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. To see youin harm’s way, and hold back. And it was less asking, than being told I must watch you suffer.’

‘Izanami?’

‘I’ll not forgive her for that. Don’t ask such a thing of me again, Sickle. I’ll not submit to your goddess a second time.’

They waded through a strengthening current. The water pushing at their backs as the cascade from the tunnel roared louder. Macha’s raven had disappeared into the bleakness ahead.

‘There is no one left,’ Silas said softly, as Pitch steadied him for the umpteenth time. ‘We have bested all of them, the Herlequin, the Watcher, the Morrigan…and Lucifer saw off the Archangel. With the simurgh the way ahead is clear now.’ His began strongly but by the time he spoke of the way ahead he was slurring again, and his working eye so heavy lidded Pitch thought him asleep on his feet.