XVIII
Necropolis
Feeling a crunch under his feet, he glanced and saw that, to his dismay, it was an elongated bone that had been broken when he stepped on it ... And as he focused his gaze below, where the land that bordered the little fortress, there were not only bones scattered on the ground, but also some elongated figures hung in nearby trees or either nailed to the ground with stakes protruding out of their mouths, placed not only in the weathered stone entrance that delimited the 'garden' of the castle, but also around... Darkwing clicked his tongue. "Very much in the style of Dragul's, but no more than a poor imitation."
"Is there the so-called vampire we're looking for? Madame... whatever is her name?"
"Madame Medusa, kiddo." The mallard replied, giving the rabbit a sideways glance before reloading his crossbow. The rabbit also loaded his weapon, wondering how they would manage to cross the wall of skeletal and gnawed monsters, standing on the round esplanade that served as a 'entrance.'
They had decided to wait several hours after the avalanche, not only to rest and recover, as well as to make their targets believe that they had managed to make them flee or disappear, but also to calm the spirits between the two foreign hunters of Robin Hood's group. After the hostile exchange, Darkwing and Oswald, after some soothing words from the priest bear, treated each other in a courteous manner, to avoid any other confrontation in order to achieve the mission... But Oswald wasn't satisfied deep down: He was still annoyed, of course... But he was also surprised by the attitude of his mentor.
Why the mallard had reacted like this to the rabbit's question? Who was that girl? ...Was it related to what the hunter duck had come to murmur in his dreams?
...Because Oswald had reached, thanks to his sensitive ears, on some nights when he wasn't able sleep yet, some single words between the snores of the mallard when he slept; After nights in a row hearing things like "But mother, I don't want to go to school, King doesn't stop bothering me!", he managed to hear Darkwing muttering a curious random sequence of colors several times... which was always the same:
"...Yellow, blue, red, blue, purple... Blue, purple, green and yellow..."
...And that left the black rabbit extremely confused: He had heard his friends say all kinds of nonsense while they slept, especially Felix and the cinnamon and banana cakes, but when he thought of his master, especially when he remembered that tormented expression in his mask... Definitely something had happened between Darkwing and that girl in the compass' portrait... Maybe something horrible like what happened to Fanny, Ortensia's friend...?
"...How will we overcome that monstrous barrier?"
Alan-O-Dale's sudden question snapped Oswald out of his reverie: The troubadour rooster was gathering what appeared to be powders in a cloth bag, which, by the smell, Oswald could tell that it was gunpowder... It had some whitish particles badly mixed with the gunpowder, which the rabbit recognized as one of the strange chemicals that his master had in his saddlebags, used mainly to neutralize thieves in crowded places. It was precisely Darkwing who was inserting the white powder, using a cloth to cover his beak. Beside him, Robin Hood said:
"I point to one of the walls of the entrance, there they'll open the bag and it will disperse, but... We won't be affected?"
"Well, we'll have to run holding our breath, Robin, just like you did when you made me believe you drowned in the castle pond," Little John replied with a grimace, looking at the strange and misshapen package, now tied with an arrow. Darkwing rubbed his hands vigorously.
"We'll wait a few seconds while the narcotic takes effect and head toward the double doors. Be prepared for what's inside... Oswald?"
The rabbit nodded: "Yes, I'll be ahead to gain ground." He said decisively. His master nodded, so Oswald got into position.
Immediately, Robin Hood raised the bow with the smoking package, throwing it away at the group of monsters, arcing over them, spilling some of the dust on them. The moment the arrow hit the ground, the smoking cloth bag exploded, making an unmistakable firecracker sound. The abominations that were next to the homemade smoke bomb began to disperse, tumbling and screaming, then began to collapse or fall to their knees. Instantly the group started running towards them, freed by Oswald, who was holding the two daggers he had, bathed in the water that Friar Tuck had just blessed. The rabbit darted toward the larger ghoul, leaping up and driving both blades into its throat, swinging them both ways to rip through flesh before it could defend itself or even move. Behind him, Darkwing fired bursts of crossbow arrows in one fluid motion. Behind them, Friar Tuck threw a bucket of holy water that, to Oswald's astonishment, burned the ghouls' greyish skin like acid, ending up being savagely beaten by Little John with his huge claws... After the "Watch out!" from the priest bear, they all turned to see Nutsy, the vulture, pointing a crossbow from the top of one of the walls of the entrance, being shot down a few seconds later by Robin, hitting him with a direct arrow to the head.
"Oo-de-lally, you bloody traitor!" The fox exclaimed, lowering his bow and firing at another monster that leapt towards him. "Now, John!"
"I was born for this!" the hunter bear cried, running with all his might towards the stone doors, carrying a log between his claws, crashing against them and, after two blows, the metal bolts snapped out of their places, finally pushing the doors down with help of the parish priest. They all ran inside, Oswald and Darkwing last. The mentor looked at his acolyte with an unfathomable expression: Among the shattered bodies of ghouls, there was an intense smell of...
Oswald, also unsmiling, showed him the gasoline container (1) that he had carried with him, now dripping almost empty. "Done, sir."
"Perfect." Darkwing handed the rabbit a silver lighter. "Do the honors. Don't burn yourself." Oswald grimaced and took it, taking a step back and as if throwing a ball, he threw the lighter towards the stone esplanade where the bodies were, igniting everything in a matter of seconds in a kind of wall of fire, surrounding the place... Looking back at him, Oswald saw Darkwing's blue eyes glow almost cruelly from the fire. "...This will give us a few seconds. Hurry up, kiddo."
Oswald said nothing, just sighed and hurried into the shadowy fortress as well, behind his master.
Inside, the darkness was sordid, barely covered by a few petrol lamps, which didn't quite cover the penetrating smell of blood around, which added to the torn tapestries, shattered furniture and bones scattered through the bare corridors... Robin Hood stifled a snort: "This doesn't sound anything like Prince John, that bastard was always looking for luxuries to cover himself in, it's as if... As if..."
"Is not like himself anymore?" Friar Tuck replied dryly, who was at Oswald's side, holding a crucifix with his outstretched arm and had been murmuring Latin prayers that the rabbit did not understand.
"So killing him in order to save his rotten soul, there's no doubt about that," Darkwing interjected dryly as well. At that moment, they were all grouped back to back, having Friar Tuck in their midst. Oswald stood between his master and Little John, wide-eyed, waiting for any hostile move to empty the bullets just blessed by the priest. Then Robin replied:
"The fortress isn't very small, but I think we could cover by splitting up and..."
"No," Oswald interrupted in a low voice: his ears were pricked, and a serious expression was on his face, although his eyes were closed, as if he was meditating. The fox was silent, staring at him. The crushing feeling of silence spread to the stark walls, interrupted only by a few currents of icy air making the broken windows rattle. After a few seconds, Oswald opens his eyes and says in a low voice, "To the right, down the hall, there are noises... They're like grunts."
Little John growled, "Are you sure, little one? He, if that's the case, then we'll have a fight for a good while."
When they reached the end of the dark corridor, walking as quietly as they could, they noticed that it was a kind of inner garden, the Keep (2) of the castle, where the moonlight could be seen on the snow. After neutralizing a couple of guards who were noted to be in a kind of hypnotic trance ("Vampires can have slaves without direct need for the blood's slavery, but only those of high rank can do that... That makes us suppose that the Leech is near." Darkwing whispered to Oswald harshly, hinting that he has to be ready...), the group reached the inner esplanade of the compound, looking at what was in front of it in amazement:
"Holy God...!"
"What is that supposed to be that?!"
"Shit, hide!" And at those words they all threw themselves to the ground, remaining behind some shattered statues at the foot of some stairs that led to the center of the Keep.
In the center were a succession of bodies and heads buried in stakes, leaving the already rotten and blackened flesh exposed to the cold air. The crows, although they abounded outside the fortress, here it was as if they formed almost a cloud to peck at any piece of meat that was within reach. They were all almost petrified. Robin whispered:
"I see why the locals said we were crazy to come here. How many have failed before us?" Beside him, Little John, who had drawn a spyglass, pointed:
"Look at the bottom there: That's... The old sheriff? But... what the hell is he doing?"
Oswald took a better look: He was a big, dark-robed wolf. A quick look allowed him to verify that he was a vampire, especially when he saw him lick his lips almost noisily, revealing his fangs. He was leaning over a strange structure that was shaped... like a doll? The black rabbit was amazed and fascinated: Sure, he had seen dolls before, especially in Emily and Ortensia's houses, as well as in the windows of some stores, but this one was gigantic, like the size of a mountain troll, even surpassing Little John or Friar Tuck by two heads tall... And the expression on his painted face was terrifying, like a clown taken from Hell. And in addition, the doll was executing almost erratic movements... How could they defeat something like that? Little John gave a low grunt.
"Heavens, those automatons (3) make them uglier and uglier, eh? As they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. We should immobilize it before going to dear sheriff."
Oswald frowned as he saw the clown automaton stamping strangely... Then his gaze went to the legs, which were moving precariously on the snow, noticing with his hearing that they were vibrating as if they were going to collapse... Then he grabbed one of the ropes used to tie Nutsy and ran away, shouting from the others:
"Wait, little one!"
"Oswald, what are you doing?!"
Oswald ran like an arrow towards the legs of the monstrous doll which didn't seem to have realized the rabbit's presence... But someone did: The vampire wolf turned to where Oswald was, who was tying the rope in one of the legs of the automaton... Young Van Helsing responded by turning around and threw a white powder at the monster's face, which recoiled between howls of pain. Alan-O-Dale muttered: "What the hell is it...?"
"Yep, yep, yep, I told him to reduce garlic to powder it was a good idea," Darkwing replied, jumping into the charge with a pistol at the ready to help his acolyte. In the center, the Sheriff slapped the air with his eyes blazing red, trying to catch up with the rabbit, which was running around the giant doll's legs. At one moment to another, the contraption came to life, lighting its eyes in bright yellow, looking like a huge Jack-o'-lantern (4) ...A small shower of arrows flew towards the head of the automaton: Robin and Alan -O-Dale brandished their bows while Little John and Friar Tuck brandished sticks high against it.
Oswald backed away as he tried to reload the pistol to aim, as the vampire Sheriff tried to scratch him again, as he had managed to reach his arm. The monster roared: "Taxes must be levied on intruders! That silver coin in your ear will be perfect for Prince John...!"
"Better this on your face!" Someone exclaimed and the Sheriff turned around, just as Darkwing hit him with two blades in the face, splattering blood. "Oswald, get out of the way!" And he continued to lash out at the wolf, striking with the blades nonstop, driving him back. Oswald moved to the side, watching Robin Hood and his friends throw burning arrows at the automaton's face, which was slapping the air, its head beginning to catch fire. The mallard dodged the Sheriff's claws, his white feathers oozing red drops as he struck and kicked the monster, which although it seemed for a moment to back away, then the Sheriff leapt to attack, almost hitting the hunter duck on the beak, causing him to stagger for a moment.
Oswald looked around frantically. He had to do something! Suddenly he saw it... Without thinking he grabbed it and ran towards them. The mallard had retreated back to the edge of one of the walls, avoiding the claws of the vampire wolf… Until a blur of black leaped out from behind, holding a stick against the Sheriff's throat, pushing back. Darkwing looked at him puzzled:
"Kiddo...?"
"NOW!" Oswald yelled. Darkwing responded by crouching down at the sight of the Sheriff's torso, plunging both blades into his chest at once, making the vampire screaming in pain. Oswald dropped the stick and, without thinking, leaned forward, dug his fingers into the Sheriff's eye sockets, feeling the liquid trickle between his fingers, between deafening screams. Darkwing plunged the blades down to the handle, pushing back between clothing, fur and flesh, dissolving in streams of blood... Friar Tuck almost crossed himself when he saw them, it was as if they were trying to see who was more bloodthirsty... And after a few seconds, emboldened by adrenaline, Oswald tore out the Sheriff's eyes as Darkwing extracted the heart with his blades, already from a carcass of flesh that was collapsing in the snow, among the screeches of crows above their heads...
"Sir Hiss!" Robin exclaimed as he saw inside the giant doll's head, seeing how, writhing between the twisted metal and wood, a yellow snake with pompous blue hats and suits, coughing loudly, also showing its enormous fangs. The fox grabbed him by the neck, squeezing him hard. "You have fled committing high treason to the Crown, King Richard claims you! Where is John?!"
"... Issss... Issss Prince John, you inssolent bandit..."
"Oh, do we have to kill another vampire? Where is he?" Darkwing asked in an almost monotone voice, approaching them. Both he and Oswald had large bloodstains on the plumage and fur. Behind them, the Sheriff's corpse was already beheaded and Friar Tuck was pouring drops of holy water over it. At the savage sight, the snake moved wildly, trying to bite the hunting fox, who dropped it to the ground, leaping back... Then Oswald threw a dagger that he had, hitting the snake's throat, leaving him nailed to the ground. After a few seconds of recovering from the shock, the rabbit felt a pat on his shoulder: Darkwing had a crooked smile. "Well thought out, kiddo. I owe you one."
Oswald was going to say that the bird should start with apologizing with him, but he thought better of it. "...Let's wait after the leech to be able to speak calmly, master," the rabbit replied; the mallard nodded.
...
It had been an abrupt change: from passing through vast greenish landscapes that gradually turned yellowish, rivers and lagoons shining under a haggard autumn sun... To an eternal gloom barely fought by gas lamps, narrow hallways where that they made some, like Simba, had to stoop a little to advance... And whose walls were lined with skulls.
Zenox was scared to death, advancing alongside the lion and the bluebird wanting to run away with every step they took, and he saw the skulls along the corridors. Simba had explained that it was a tomb, the longest in the world, in fact: "I can tell from the look on your face that you've never been to Paris, much less its catacombs, eh?"
"Never, sir. It's... Terrifying." the cabbit muttered. The lion chuckled.
"Nothing better than a place of death as headquarters for a brotherhood that works between death... And incidentally, it drives away the curious and thieves." Zenox could only nod, feeling that if he got distracted, he would end up getting lost in one of those ghoulish corridors.
When he had arrived at the so-called 'city of love', the orange cabbit had been dazzled by the number of people, the streets, the imposing churches and castles, and above all the food. However, Simba and Zazú had led the cabbit directly to an abandoned cemetery that was on the outskirts, entering a dark mausoleum that had a kind of entrance inside a tombstone, which showed some stone steps that were lost down, all to the amazement of Zenox. Only with a lamp carried by Zazu that fluttered above their heads, penetrating the cavern that seemed to descend more and more until it reached corridors full of stagnant water... and stone and concrete walls upholstered with skulls: The catacombs. They would continue walking through the winding corridors until they reached some strange old and unlit doors that, according to the hunting lion, was the entrance to his kingdom... The so-called 'Pride Rock': A kind of extremely spacious room, dominated by a wide raised atrium where there was a kind of ornate wooden chair where another lion was sitting, also imposing in appearance, but with a totally black mane and dark orange fur, who had given Zenox a cold look with his piercing green eyes that had left the cabbit almost paralyzed.
Simba stepped forward, still clutching one of Zenox's scrawny shoulders under his mighty paw. "Uncle Scar, I brought a 'tribute' that may interest you..."
"You said that last week with some weasel hunters and although they were good at picking locks, it's nothing we cannot do," the other lion, Scar, replied without even looking at him, his eyes fixed on the claws of his right paw that he was filing... Then he gave the cabbit a cold look, who made an effort not to shake... "So I doubt that a long-eared pipsqueak could do anything for us, even replace Mondo-"
"But this one has an ability that makes up for his size," Simba replied dryly, squeezing Zenox's shoulder, then pushing him forward. "Show him, kid."
Zenox stepped forward, facing Scar and his 'throne', which, the cabbit noted in amazement, was made of bones and skulls that gleamed macabre in the dim candlelight. Trying to calm himself and concentrate, Zenox clasped his hands, frowning and imagining that something would come out, even a faint flare... The minutes passed and still nothing. The candles on the candelabra didn't even tremble a little; Scar drummed his claws on one of the forearms of the bone throne, with a bored expression: "If you came to apply as the guild jester, that's what we have Zazu for..."
Then coughs and little laughter began to ve heared, making Zenox more nervous... He felt his legs start to shake. Then a huge purple multi-armed chameleon snorted in annoyance, approaching Zenox, pretending to grab his arm, exclaiming:
"Enough of the games, you better get lost... Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" He jumped away, grabbing himself one ogt his arms. "What the fuck did you do to me, you...?!"
"Gentlemen, look at his hands!" Mr. Zazu exclaimed pointing at Zenox, or rather, at his hands: He was giving off smoke as if they had been under boiling water. The poor cabbit couldn't even react... Simba had told him that they weren't going to lynch him as if he would be in the Church... But now he has just accidentally injured a member, already condemning him to...
"...You don't seem so boring anymore, little pipsqueak."
Everyone fell silent at the purr of Scar, who was looking at the cabbit with one paw resting under his chin, outlining a sly smile. The purple chameleon gave the cabbit a death glare, but leaned back, blending into the background. Simba stepped forward again. "That's what I wanted to say, Uncle: Something interesting."
"I'll judge that, nephew." And with a gesture, he made Zenox come closer... Until he took one of the cabbit's wrists with an iron grip, making him almost jump, the smoke from his hands continued to come out weakly "Hmmm... Do you have any idea where you got these powers, kid...?"
"...My name is, Zenox, Zenox Fiamma, sir," the cabbit murmured in a small voice. Scar clicked his tongue.
"Until you have a rank, you won't be recognized, child. Answer. My. Question." The lion added with a dangerously silky tone. The cabbit gulped.
"...I never knew where I got these powers from, sir. I was afraid to show them, because I believed that..."
"...That you'd be mistaken for a demon?" Scar asked in an almost musical tone. He paused for a long time, causing the other hunters around him to whisper uneasily. The chameleon from before, still hidden, growled:
"If it's a demon, it would be ironic for it to get precisely where we kill them..."
"It's not funny, Randall," Simba growled back. The chameleon gave a sinister laugh.
"Oh, it seems that the little prince already reserved the pipsqueak for himself as his acolyte, but what a pity. I wanted him to practice some of my scares~"
"Save your child's play for later, gentlemen," Scar interrupted irritably. Then he leaned towards the cabbit. "...Demon or not, we're always in the race to surpass the other guilds, we'll have to take even the unusual... Who knows, we will even have other kinds of monsters in our ranks." Laughter was heard around, and even Zenox laughed more than nothing so as not to clash or upset his new 'boss'
And so he had begun his life on 'Pride Rock', as a low-ranking recruit. They had assigned him a blanket to sleep on, a bowl to receive his three daily meals, and two changes of clothes that he would have to wash in the river outside the catacombs. According to what Zazu told him the first night: Although Zenox was a direct 'acolyte' of Simba, he would be obliged to attend or accompany any hunter of the guild in case his master wasn't available, even if he was just holding the saddlebags of the hunter on duty that was 'carry' him during the mission. Although the blue bird had assured him that he wouldn't be doing servant jobs such as cleaning or cooking ("We have a couple of cooks although nobody eats inside here; and well, as a 'royal butler', I usually demand that everyone should collaborate with not making the chambers too dirty" Zazu said with severity.), Zenox would have tasks of his rank, such as collecting wood, stones... Or leeches to have them ready for those who need them... As well as going to the homes of clients who have requested services from the guild and charging them... So, no monsters unless they were giant sewer rats. All while practicing how to handle pistols, knives, daggers... What could better channel that strange firepower.
Zenox had quickly realized that this power was, in effect, his 'guarantee' to survive in the guild and learn to be a hunter in his own right, even if he was reluctantly 'educated' by the other members, whom from the first day they kept giving him suspicious glances, although the cabbit couldn't blame them...
Instead, everything was better when he left the macabre corridors in the company of Simba, walking the most dangerous streets of Paris so that he would learn to guide himself and hide in the shadows, promising that soon they would go to explore terrain of all kinds, from forests to deserts to put him to his limit... Although the lion wasn't kidding when he said that he was really going to put him to his limit, leaving his muscles almost on the verge of tearing... It was in those moments where they could go to a bar for a beer (or the drink that Simba had made him become quite fond, which was rum with a lot of honey) and talk a little, during which Zenox had told him almost his entire story.
...And about that power, Zenox could barely generate a small ball of fire between his fingers, although to be fair to him, he could only 'practice' while riding the carriage, more dedicating himself to talking with his new teacher, learning about of his long and illustrious career, ("I reached the limits of the world where the snow is eternal, fighting against ice colossi, as well as the depths of the green hell, learning with head hunters... You will learn a lot with me, and you'll perhaps go further than me." Simba said) as well as telling him about his life, how little he remembered of his childhood, and especially of his dear friends... Although in reality he spoke more of the young Van Helsing, of whom Simba had shown a strong interest the moment the orange cabbit had mentioned him:
"...We thought we lost him the moment he passed out, with all that blood all around..." Zenox muttered wrapping his hands around the beer mug, looking down. "I just wanted to scream and cry, just like Felix: He never done something like that, never...! And he still managed to kill him...!"
"...That means the 'talent' is really within blood and lineage. After all, the Van Helsing Clan were always exceptional in their missions... At least, until the great doctor Abraham Van Helsing, because after him... It was as if a flame has been lowered a little... Like yours, huh?"
"Sir, I do my best!" Zenox exclaimed in distress. Simba gave him a disapproving look.
"Well, one must push oneself beyond what one can actually do. That is what not only hunters have done, but also artists, explorers and inventors: If they had stayed in their comfort zone, we would still be in a world of darkness." Simba replied, lifting the glass of the gas lamp on the table to light another cigar. "You'll have to work hard to outstrip your friend, if you say he started more than a year ago." "...He makes it sound like it's some kind of competition... And I can't imagine competing against Oswald." Zenox thought with a grimace, leaning down to take another sip. The lion leaned back. "Oh, Zazu, if those demanding orders from my uncle hadn't occurred, we could have passed through the little town before and had two acolytes! ...I imagine the guild that took Oswald must be happy to have such a rare piece in their ranks."
Zenox raised his head, looking thoughtful. "...Oh, I couldn't say that, sir. Mr. Darkwing never told us what guild... S-SIR!" The orange cabbit screamed, jumping up from the table, knocking over the beer mug: His mentor was coughing violently, leaning his massive body forward, as if someone invisible would have beaten him. Beside him, Zazu patted him. "What happened?! Are you okay?! There's a...?!"
"No. Just... Sit down, Zenox." Simba ordered in a hoarse but penetrating voice, which the cabbit did immediately, with a scared face... Which increased when he saw the hunter lion raise his head and give him a strange look. "...And don't say that name. Not here."
Zenox automatically looked around him, just as his mentor had urged him to do whenever they were indoors. Unlike others they had visited before inside the Frankish kingdom, this bar was full of hunters, hunters from Simba's guild. Zenox, almost breathing heavily, looked at his master, who had a frowning and abstracted expression. "Sir... i-if I can as..."
"...So he was in Sighiosara. The bastard stopped hiding," Simba murmured to Zazu as he picked up the cigar from the ground again, smoking a long drag, then he looked at Zenox. "Oh yeah, I know him, little one. Many of us know him. He was a hero; we have to admit it... And, a few years ago, I'd even have been envious that your little friend Oswald was his acolyte... But now..." He closed his eyes. "What a way to kill a career from the start."
"But... why do you say that, sir?" Zenox said in a whisper, wondering if it was a good idea to know more. The lion glanced at him before grimacing bitterly: There was contempt in his eyes... and pity.
"...We fight against the evil of the world, but the world itself have many things that can bring about the downfall of a man: Money, power, gambling... Or women. You see, Darkwing, a hunter of very high rank, with prestige and renown... Well, he lost his damn head." Simba paused. Zenox's eyes were wide open, hardly breathing. "...He stupidly lost his head for a fucking girl and that caused his fall, committing an unforgivable crime against ours... Against my brotherhood, in fact. Just like the story of King Herodes and the whore Salome against John the Baptiste (6)" Simba's fierce eyes were shining... "Mundane ones will despise us at the same time as looking for us, they'll call us scavengers, they'll tell us whatever they want... But we never stab each other. We are a big brotherhood."
Before the whole discourse, Zenox was silent, feeling his heart beat wildly... "What... what did he do?"
Simba's expression was brutal... "He killed one of my best men treacherously and for no reason. And according to him, it was a duel... No, Zenox. It was a fucking cold-blooded execution."
Zenox couldn't ask any more, feeling his hands tremble under the table... but shaking for what reason? Anger? Because of fear? That must be... Fear. Fear for Oswald: He had received a few letters from the black rabbit, in which he had told him some things about his master... And when saying 'some', they were really very few, only highlighting the eccentric at the time of expressing himself, how demanding he was when training ... And how cruel he was when he killed monsters or road robbers, or when he executed a vampire child in front of Oswald's eyes... I mean, Zenox knew that the way of the hunter, that is, the path that he was now on, paved with blood... But...
"Partly I'm sorry you knew it this way, but partly this would be a good... Encouragement for you, don't you think, Zenox?" The cabbit raised his head, surprised. "...What better encouragement to overcome your little friend in the career of better hunter than seeing the kind of monster that is his mentor..."
"...We all have something of a monster, something of darkness in each one of us, and it depends on us to still stay in the light" Zenox muttered in a quiet voice. Simba whistled appreciatively.
"Impressive, little one. Where did you learn it?"
Despite the painful whirlwind of emotions inside him, Zenox managed a weak smile, clasping his hands as if to pray, "...A very dear person who had picked us up from the street, saving us from the darkness... She was our small light." And frowning a little in concentration, his hands shook and between his fingertips, a medium-sized fireball emerged, sizzling loudly. Simba smiled and patted his acolyte's shoulder.
"It's like it's an unpolished gem, sir," Zazu commented almost enthusiastically. The hunter lion nodded, watching the fireball dance between the cabbit's fingers as if it had a life of its own.
...
...Felix was almost a ball on the ground, unable to process what had happened. Everything was ruined in a matter of seconds. And he witnessed in the front row as his 'driver' on his 'train of fortune' derailed to a horrible end. The funny thing is that the chain of events that had come to that hadn't been exactly good either: He had finally gotten used to the heat of Turkey, as well as enjoying its landscape and its food, always walking hand in hand with his 'benefactor' Budd Fludd, who held him tight when teaching him everything useful about business... And that was, in addition to negotiating services and haggling possible prices, insisting on reaching a business agreement, making up details and hiding possible failures.
...And hiding possible flaws was essential if the potential buyer to close a deal was Flintheart Glomgold.
Felix had been introduced as the jocular and savvy little assistant to the merchant dog to the plump elderly duck and strange garb of hat and green plaid skirt, who had arrived in the country a few days later, descending from a ostentatious carriage, giving them an indulgent look. extending his right hand, where a diamond ring shone: The black cat realized that the duck had an amazing vitality despite his age, giving him an energetic squeeze.
"I'm certainly looking for profit opportunities... Profits that will make me outgrow old Scroogie. Yer master says it has an interesting source of oil."
"Of course it is, my dear sir. There is nothing like that that I intend to show you!" Mr. Fludd exclaimed before Felix could open his mouth, giving the tycoon duck a squeeze. "If you want you can accompany us to our 'Headquarters', it would be an honor."
"Headquarters? More like a camp," Felix thought with a grimace as he imagined the caravan of tents that had been set up next to the well where they had established themselves. Well that, according to the merchant dog, would be a step forward to gain a large slice of the market.
When they had reached Turkey, Budd Fludd had led Felix to a mountain from which a strange wisp of steam was rising; Was it a volcano? He had read about them and was even excited to see one, but the dog stopped him, taking him to a corner of the top, showing him what it was: A small crater... full of crystal clear water, which was the source of that strange white steam. Felix was amazed, he had read a little about hot springs, which even had healing properties... and he was even willing to try one when comes the opportunity, despite his natural aversion to water... But then he saw Budd Fludd holding a little mouse in his hands.
"Shall we take a dip, Felix?" And without another word he had thrown it into the small lake, falling into the water in a funny splash... And after a few seconds, the little mouse emerged from the water with his hair down, his flesh raw, and his eyes bulging, letting out terrible screams as he tried by all means of going up or looking for a point to escape from the water... Until it sank again, dissolving to an inert mass of raw and bloody flesh. Felix ended up vomiting: "What... What... the hell happened?! But what happened...?!"
"The vitriol liquor (5) is vital if we want to get into the oil carriage... Yes, it's dangerous, as you have just seen, but it is a powerful source... A source that will give us a lot of money."
"A lot of money to be able to melt a living being?" Felix replied, still squatting on the ground and coughing, still shaking in horror. "Who would want something like that?"
Mr. Fludd gave him a mocking look. "Stop whining, Felix. This is not only to 'disappear' certain annoyances, it is also a source of power for any country that wants to get out of the backwater quagmire of fucking whale blubber (6)."
Felix didn't understand why anyone would want to trade in water that could literally melt flesh and tissue horribly in a matter of seconds, but it was obvious that not only Budd Fludd, but also Flintheart Glomgold himself were raving about 'acid', as he had come to understand, which was not much, and he was thinking to send a letter to Miss Ortensia so that she could give a more amiable explanation to the pile of words that both the dog and the duck had given him in a rush... When a scream of horror had brought him out of his thoughts: the moment that he appeared, the WHOLE episode should be about him."
His benefactor had led them to the camp, talking non-stop about what benefits Glomgold would have from allying with him, that he was perfect to do business with anyone and that his 'protégé' Felix was perfect to convince with all his blarney. Felix had introduced himself and talked more about what he had managed to sell, from concentrated lemon juice as a disinfectant to graveyard powder as a weapon against vampires. The scotch duck had given him an appraising look, as if the cat was a piece of meat... But when they reached the 'kettle of water' and Mr. Fludd began to enthusiastically show him the power of acid when he took another mouse out of his coat to throw it inside... The mouse had managed to get out of his grip and bite his hand with force, making him cry out and with it, step on a part of the ground that gave way. In a matter of seconds, Budd Fludd fell in front of Felix and Glomgold, who could do nothing, landing headfirst into the crater, splashing water... Or rather acid everywhere, to the point that Glomgold had thrown himself and Felix at the ground so that it wouldn't fall on them, and the kid was shouting:
"SIR! SIR! NOOO!"
"HE... LP... ME...! I... MEL... TI... G! " The dog bellowed between hideous dripping sounds, his clothes disintegrating in seconds, just as his brown fur began to smoke... and to melt into a gigantic red bloody stump, until finally sinking. Glomgold was holding Felix who was pretending to jump into the boiler, screaming hysterically:
"SIR, I SAID THAT THAT WAS UNSTABLE! SOMEONE SAVE HIM, PLEASE, PLEASE...!
"Lad... Let him go. There's nothing to be done now," Glomgold rasped, rising to jump in a frenzy and somewhat comical, believing that a few drops of acid had fallen on him. Felix stayed on the ground, covering his face, still seeing the horrible image of his master dissolve on his retina... Then he felt a hand pat him on the shoulder, snorting. "Well, this was... Tragic, but ye have to move on. Lads, we will take this source of vitriol, we will go to the capital to negotiate!"
And Felix felt the Scotch duck move away from him. A new feeling overcame the horror: panic. Now what was going to happen to him? He was practically stranded in foreign land thousands of miles from his hometown! The once-confident and reckless black cat was terrified of being alone, penniless, and without his friends to communicate, so his survival instinct kicked in, making him finally to leap up and yell:
"WAIT!"
Flintheart Glomgold turned impatiently, as he was talking to one of the assistants who had come with him, a blue-robed oriental man that was carrying a paper clip, who was looking at him too, but with clear disdain. He supported his cane with force "Yes? What do you want, lad?"
"I'd like to serve you, sir. I have nowhere to go, I can be of much use to you." Felix declared with all the poise he could get from his shattered nerves... The assistant gave a nasty laugh in his face.
"And just yesterday we received report that we lost about ten children in the coal workhouse in Alsace, and this starving little man comes to us like out of the blue..."
"No, I'd like to work in business, not in a workhouse," Felix interrupted crudely, trying not to show any hesitation. The duck raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The assistant grimaced mockingly.
"You? What could you do, brat, but carry the mail or make tea? Mr. Glomgold is too important to waste time with an insignificant being like you and..."
"I can give you information about the business Mr. Fludd was planning to do after making deals with you! Like, for example, Patch of Heaven, Dixon Ranch and...!"
"Enough already! Mr. Glomgold, this poor devil is only talking nonsense, he must be disturbed for what happened... Good grief, a filthy child talking like that to..."
"Hush, Mr. Chi-Fu," Glomgold croaked suddenly. In his eyes hidden behind the round glasses there was a gleam of curiosity that the cat knew well. "Ye, lad, do ye have that information?"
Mr. Chi-Fu began to sputter furiously as Felix, after asking him for a moment, rushed to the tent where he had been sleeping with Mr. Fludd since his arrival in the country. "Mr. Glomgold, this is a waste of time and money! Are you really going to listen to...?"
Felix couldn't hear anymore, his mind was going a thousand an hour as he searched each and every one of the documents and dietary books (6) that Budd Fludd had made him read so that he would understand where they were going to go... The merchant dog had jotted down a dozen company names, postal addresses, and even details of their sizes in proportion to their possibility to do some good business. In the end, he had everything kept in an iron box closed with a key, and although the dog had never removed it from his neck and therefore, the key had 'disappeared' along with his owner, Felix had managed to pick the lock with a metal hairpin that he had kept in his saddlebags... Blessed be the nostalgic whim of not having gotten rid of the instrument that he had used in other times to enter inside in houses of others to steal the first piece of food they found. Of course, the seconds it took to open the box took a fucking eternity, to the point that his racing heart almost prevented him from breathing well; They might leave if this took too long, they might not find this possible life-saving float for him valuable enough...
...But fortunately, Mr. Chi-Fu continued ranting at the moment that Felix, on the verge of collapsing with anxiety, held out a black accounting book to the bird's feathered hands, almost panting. Glomgold just took it and started flipping through it... After a few seconds, he grunted:
"...I had thought ye were lying when ye said about 'Patch of Heaven' and even better, 'Dixon Ranch', since those properties are the ones I've been fighting to get for a long time, but no matter how hard I try, I've not been able to buy it... But this has even business notes with the owners... Well, well, well." The duck fixed his sharp eyes on Felix, evaluating him severely, the cat returned his gaze firmly; "...Not only did I not imagine that a simple merchant had this little gold mine in his hands... but also that his 'protégé' hadn't had any problem to hand it over to me for a profit and to save his ass... That, laddy, would make ye a traitor, ye know?"
Felix gulped. Yes, of course he knew. He knew that this was too damn low against his benefactor, just when he had sponsored him, he had taught him so many things that he didn't know, not only about merchants, business and money, but about the people as a whole and how feelings were always present in the eternal game of power... Just when right now his benefactor was nothing more than bloody particles and broken bones under that infernal cauldron, but..."In order to ensure a possible future for me, under these circumstances, then I'd give anything... And get anything you can order me. Mr. Fludd used to order me to convince others and... deceive other merchants and potential prospects in the town where I lived before." Felix finally replied, with a concerned tone. Chi-Fu snorted.
"Nice story, brat. But if you intend to get something out of this..."
"I like ye, lad; I like yer poise... What's yer name, again?"
"Felix, Mr. Glomgold. Felix Sullivan." The duck nodded, his eyes looking at the cat, now in a different kind of light. Felix, although he seemed undaunted, internally he was desperately pleading with whatever was in the heavens... As well with the Providence. Finally, the old Scotsman duck closed the black account book with a crafty smile.
"...It seems that I not only have an unexpected source of business, but also a possible 'weasel' who can not only guide me, but also get into it..."
Felix blinked in confusion, but at the same time immensely relieved. "Weasel?"
Mr. Chi-Fu started ranting again. Felix closed deals with an energetic handshake with Flintheart Glomgold, determined to do everything possible to be in this game of power and, perhaps, win it.
What the black cat didn't know until that moment, was how this new adventure that he would now undertake would become intertwined with the lives of his two best friends...
...Or rather, their two mentors.
TBC
Author's Note:
(1) Gasoline or diesel is a hydrocarbon that is obtained through a petroleum distillation process. The first distillation of oil is attributed to the Arab sage of Persian origin Al-Razi, inventor of the alembic, in the 9th century. It wasn't until the 18th century when refining methods began to be perfected, obtaining derivatives for greasing machines.
(2) Keep: English name given to the tower in the middle of a castle. This has the peculiarity that it is surrounded by an open green field.
(3) Automata (from the Greek automatos: 'mechanical device that works by itself') are the forerunners of modern robots. The first appearances date back to the 12th and 13th centuries. Automatons reached their peak in the 18th century, when, thanks to the development of clockwork mechanisms. Between famous automata designers were Leonardo DaVinci, Jacques de Vaucanson or Pierre Jaquet-Droz.
(4) Jack-o'-lantern (Jack's Lantern) is the name given to traditional Halloween hand-carved pumpkins. It takes its name both from the natural phenomenon will wisps and from an Irish folk tale of a man named Jack who by deceiving the devil was condemned to eternally roam the earth carrying an infernal fire inside a hollow turnip.
(5) Simba refers to the New Testament passages of Matthew 14: 1-12, Mark 6: 14-29, and Luke 9: 7-9, in which to win the favors of the Philistine princess Salome, King Herod commanded to behead John the Baptist, whom he had previously imprisoned at that time.
(6) Sulfuric acid (also called vitriol or vitriol liquor) is an extremely corrosive chemical compound. It's the most compound chemical in the world, used both in the oil industry and in agrochemicals. It can be found in nature when a sulfur deposit comes into contact with water.
(7) Dietary: Book in which the daily income and expenses of a house or small business are recorded.