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16: To The Gallows

Thume trudged forward through the muck, inwardly cursing Bantam and it's poorly maintained thoroughfare.

"I'll be glad to be rid of this stupid town, tell you what." He muttered. To his left, Dopesmoker and Ursula nodded in agreement. He supposed the sergal had more reason than most to itch at staying nearby, but every day they spent still Thume felt surer and surer Mason's men would find them. Fletcher might have forgotten how delusional his father was, but Thume hadn't. The Baron wanted his head, and Thume couldn't relax until they'd put the Firespine Ridge between them and Mason.

Even then. He thought. From the corners of shadows, invisible faces glared at him, grinning manically. Thume shook his head and ignored them. Fletcher needs you sane kid. Stay in the now.

"Do you have any clue where they might be Dope?" Ursula asked timidly, pulling down her duster's hood and glancing around.

"I dreamt the two came here. But why, or the specifics that lie therein I wasn't privy too." The strange, matted creature said, his voice echoing against itself, as if he were speaking to them through a metal can. He wore a drab oilskin coat, the corners stained and torn, the fabric hanging off him. Every now and then Thume caught sight of a slender, filthy tail swinging below the hangings of the material.

He'd dragged Dope with him by force, the fortune teller seemed to know far too much about what was going on, and Thume wanted to keep him nearby. When Ursula had heard that he and Dopesmoker were leaving to fetch Fletcher, she'd insisted upon coming to collect her friend. Clementine and Nobu had tried to tag along too, but at that point Meridian had forbid anyone else from going. The plan was to grab Fletcher (and ideally Lyric, but Thume was less concerned with the uppity jackal) and meet up with the circus on their way to Kallinger. Simple enough.

Thume shivered. Oracen Drast. The name resonated in his mind, a chthonic and haunting chime, as if sung by demons in his past. That man had always been insane, but it wasn't a surprise to Thume that he'd amassed a following of similarly minded lunatics. He shuddered at the thought, shoving away old memories, his head aching at the even a whisper of them. For a sociopath Drast had always been charismatic.

"You could have led with that y'know." Thume muttered. "Instead of wasting my time with this mystic power and... name bullshit." He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. After all this time, that name still held power over him.

Telos. A voice in his head said, a voice not entirely his own.

"It wouldn't have mattered. And would you have believed me without the preamble?" Dope replied absently. Thume was getting real tired of the distant, wizened old man act.

"Does'at fool boy Lyric always wander off like this?"

"Nobu said he does it all the time." Ursula added. Thume sighed, trying not to imagine her and the leopard together. "But that it's usually between shows, and not this often."

"Gonna put a damn leash on him, right after I smack some sense into his thick head." The goat mumbled to himself. Leaning closer to Dopesmoker, he whispered; "Why would Lyric want to find this cult? What do they have that he wants? He ain't a Sleep addict." Thume had tried not to think about it, but there was only one way someone could be producing Sleep - and it had to be tied somehow to Oracen Drast. There was only one place Sleep came from, and that's part of the reason it was so valuable.

"He's drawn to violence, and the Mesa does nothing but revel in it." Dope replied, as if commenting on the weather. "I expect a better question is why haven't they been on his radar before?"

"They can't be that old, there's no way." Thume said.

"You know them, don't you?"

"I didn't say that." Thume replied. "Did you see it, mystic?"

"I didn't need to." Dope said calmly.

Thume groaned, trying not to lose his cool. "I know they're the ones that must be making Sleep. I have a history, with that particular drug."

"A former addict? I didn't pick it." Dope replied. Thume narrowed his eyes. Was that... amusement in the strange creature's voice? If it was, it was sardonic at best, but it still felt weird to have any laughter aimed towards his past.

"Not exactly." Thume said, glancing away.

---

"I was never gonna kill you." Lyric spat, glaring at the shepherd. He was sat on his ass, a row of iron bars between him and the smug dog. His paws were still locked behind his back, and his butt had gone to sleep on the cold concrete floor. The cell stunk of piss and sweat.

"Of course you'd say that." The mutt said. Lyric knew from a few hours earlier that he was called Mica. "It ain't make one lick'a difference."

"Open your damned eyes. Anyone with half a brain coulda told I wasn't with either of those damned gangs!" Lyric exclaimed. "Listen, that cult the kid escaped from? I know where they are. And I'm gonna kick in their door and piss in their cereal, but I can't do it if you leave me tied up here on the goddamn floor!" He growled the last words, pulling against the restraints. His side was wet from where some of his old stitches had popped, blood leaking into his shirt.

The shepherd shrugged. "Right, right." He said, yawning. "It ain't up to me now partner. You're convincin' the wrong person." He glanced to the side as a door further in the building slammed shut. With a grin, he returned his glare to Lyric and grinned. "Speak of the devil eh?"

Lyric frowned, heart sinking as a tall, narrow-shouldered raccoon walked slowly into the room. The black and white furred man wore an ostentatious tricorn hat on his head, chest fur stuffed beneath a too-small grey button-up, with a faded yellow vest pulled over it all. He wore high leather boots, shined to a reflective point, with jingling spurs on the heel. His bushy tail swished behind him lazily.

"Well, howdy there." Baron Aleksandre Vellem said in a thick accent, his mouth creeping into a smile, paws burrowing themselves into trouser pockets. "I'm told your name is Hal."

Lyric licked his lips. "Shit." He said.

"Shit is right friend." The Baron said. "Been a bit since we heard from you, but I ain't forgottin' what went down in the warehouse. Why, pretty funny how half my hard-workin' men of the law take a dirt nap, while you just waltz on out free huh? We was told that lizard git would be there, and he was sure thing, dead as a fucking doornail."

"I didn't kill any of your men. I was an independent party stuck in the middle."

The raccoon scoffed. "Oh yer innocent then? So why didn't yer come forward before? No, I lost near half my guys and had no reasonin' why. And now my men nab you here... funny like I said. Just what exactly was you wantin' with that there boy? Ain't he been through enough?"

"You want the truth?"

"Nothin' but."

"I'm gonna kill the people that did that to him." Lyric said, shaking his head as the raccoon laughed. "That warehouse gunfight, it was a bloodbath between the lizard - some kid named Malen, and a wolverine named Nadine. She runs the Race and Rust game 'round here, let me go, I'll tell you where she's based outta."

"Give us a minute pal." Baron Vellem said to the shepherd, motioning to the door. The dog left, and the raccoon came forward, kneeling before the bars. "I know all about Nadine, don't you worry your fuzzy little head, she'll get hers. Truth is? You and your lot plunged this city into chaos. People are afraid to walk the streets, there was talk their good Baron couldn't protect them no more."

"You've got no real proof."

"Proof don't matter out here, this is the South son." The Baron said. "And these are uncertain times, the last thing any good Bantam citizen needs right now is a damned coup."

"No one is questioning..." Lyric began, but the raccoon cut him off.

"But they are. Or they were." His lips peeled back, revealing a row of tiny, yellowing teeth. "The deal was; an easy grab, that reptile kid for some breathin' room. I'm a reasonable man Hal, fair's fair. Instead, I get two dozen dead law, no kid to hang, and Nadine's in the wind. I had to take a deal with Ylara fucking Kallinger just to keep order round these parts!" He was snarling now, gloating brutishly, spittle flying from his lips as he snapped the words out. "So, 'fore you can do much more damage, we're gonna hang ya. And not in a months' time, or anything romantic like that." He stood, dusting himself off.

"Don't do this." Lyric begged. He was starting to feel desperate now.

"I ain't playin', or negotiatin'." The Baron smiled again, his eyes empty. "You'll be necked at sundown boy, and then things can finally go back to normal."

---

Fletcher had been waiting for hours when he finally saw Lyric. In the few hours' time, he went and bought breakfast for him and Lyric to have after, found a kid who would brush the ferals for a few silver pieces, and had a small nap.

He admitted something was wrong when Baron Vellem appeared, his surprisingly modest carriage slowing to a stop outside the sheriff office. Eventually the Baron exited, returning to his carriage and leaving, with still no sign of Lyric. He and Fletcher had met some seven years ago, but all Fletcher could remember from it was his father mocking Aleksandre's tricorn hat. He didn't know what to do. He could go in, maybe end up in trouble himself, and accomplish nothing. Maybe he could go back to circus for help, but what help could they really offer? He felt frozen, the minutes ticking by.

"Damn it." He muttered, chewing at his nails.

Eventually Lyric was dragged outside and dropped in the mud, two guards looming over him as another carriage was dragged up to the sheriff office. This one was tall and wooden, little more than a cage on wheels, with wrought iron locks and thin wooden slats to peer out through.

Lyric met his eyes and shook his head, but Fletcher approached anyway.

"Beat it boy, 'fore we throw you in with him." A guard in Kallinger colours barked at him. Fletcher bristled, but quickly regained himself, staring curiously at the jackal laying in the mud.

"Sorry sirs, I just got a job with the good Baron's paper." He paused, struggling to remember the name. "The Bantam Bustle?" That sounded right.

"Even more reason not to talk to yer. Fuck off." A second guard said, as they hauled Lyric to his feet, shoving him toward the back of the prison carriage.

"I jus' wanna know what the deal is. Please, anythin' for me boss." Fletcher begged, stepping closer. One of the guards turned, raising a paw to backhand him, when his friend stepped in and grabbed the upturned paw.

"Hold yer horses, he's just a dumb kid." He said. "Boy, look, he's a piece of scum what caused the death of good, honest men'a the law. If ya know what's good fer ya you'll keep back, this one's fer the gallows. Now scram."

"Hanged?" Fletcher whispered, his stomach bottoming out. "What, no!"

"Believe it boy." One of the guards said, laughing as they stepped to the front of the carriage. "We see our names in that paper you'll get yours too!" He cried from the front. Fletcher blinked, hoping the tears wouldn't be visible. He rushed to side of the carriage, pressing up against the slats.

"Lyric!" He whispered. "What do I do!?"

"Oi, get back kid!" One of the guards shouted.

"I don't know." The jackal said. "There's a wolverine, name of Nadine, in a dive called Harriet's Hideaway. She... owes me a favour, sort of... if you can find her, she might help. Otherwise..." He shrugged despondently.

"No, no... no this is wrong!" Fletcher insisted, as the carriage began to move.

"Otherwise, Fletch." Lyric said calmly. "Find Beau Riddon for me. End this whole mess. You were a good friend to have." Fletcher choked back a sob and tripped, sprawling into the mud, dirt spraying up against his chest. From his paws and knees he watched the carriage roll away, rounding the corner to some other pre-gallows jailhouse no doubt.

No. Fletcher thought, wiping tears away from his eyes. What was he supposed to do? Who the hell was Nadine?

He eventually got himself out of the mud, wandering through the town in a daze, listening to criers on street corners talk about the hanging to be held at sunset. Most of the people didn't care, and Fletcher found himself hating them. After he didn't know how long, he found himself sitting by the mounts again, waiting, tears slowly rolling down his face. It felt so inevitable.

"Fletcher?!" He looked up to see Ursula. Ursula? He stood, confused as the sergal ran over to him. Behind her trailed an angry-looking Thume, followed by Dopesmoker. "We've been looking for you for hours!"

"Boy!" Thume cried. "M'here to drag you back to camp. Meridian's pissed." Fletcher shook his head, it all felt so stupid.

"They're gonna hang him." He said, sniffing as the tears started again. "And I just let him walk right in there alone, like a fucking idiot." The others glanced between each other.

"Wait, do you mean Lyric?" Ursula asked. "Who's gonna hang him?"

"The law!" Fletcher exclaimed. Dope and Thume exchanged a nervous look.

"Ah shit." Thume said, spitting. Fletcher stood, coming closer to the goat.

"What if _we_went to Baron Aleksandre?" He asked hurriedly. "Told him who we are, said we'll go back to my father if they set Lyric free!"

"That ain't a good idea boy." Thume said. "For one, your father'll shoot me dead the second I set foot in his presence. Two, Aleksandre and Mason never played nice. Yer daddy didn't have many friends, Fletch. More likely Vellem'll just keep us hostage and neck Lyric anyway."

Fletcher felt for one of his revolvers. "Then maybe we have to get him out ourselves." Thume put a hand on the coyote's shoulder, squeezing. "It's not right what they're doing, you can't hang someone that fast!"

"Look, son, I know you have feelings for the fella, but... we can't shoot our way through a damned town. I ain't like it either, but maybe... Maybe we oughta just turn around, and go."

"How can you say that?" Fletcher demanded, his eyes wide.

"That's not really how we do things, Thume." Dope said slowly.

"No, look." Fletcher said, wiping at his eyes. "They're saying Lyric killed lawmen, which we all know ain't even half-true. I don't think it'd be so wrong to break the law, if it's fer a right cause. We already did it once when we left Gallentry anyways, and Thume you know the Baron's round these parts ain't done anything right anyway." He was almost babbling, his words like taking a staircase three at a time.

"Fletcher." Thume said slowly. "You're not thinkin' straight boy. Even if we decide, aight, we'll go in there like a couple'a outlaws - kill half the guards, set Lyric free, what then? They've got more guards, half of Kallinger is here now too. And it'd be you and me, Dope and Ursula don't know how to fire guns."

"I do." Dope said, sounding mildly offended.

"Fine then." Thume replied tartly. "But you're not the spryest chicken in the shed."

"I ain't saying we shoot our way out Thume." Fletcher replied quickly. "I'm sure plenty of these lawmen are good folk anyway. But, Lyric said to find someone called Nadine, out of some place called... er, Harriet's Hideaway." He was getting excited now, a plan forming in his head.

"Oh, we passed that place." Ursula said. "It looked awful."

"And then what huh?" Thume asked, his tone implying the question was rhetorical.

"We cause a big distraction, maybe with this Nadine's help. In the craziness, we grab Lyric and run like hell." Fletcher answered, eyes wide, fingers trembling.

"You're gonna get arrested is what, and then you'll be up there with him." Thume snapped, grabbing the boy's shirt. "Is that what you want Fletcher? To die for some fella ya hardly know? If they don't arrest us, they'll just shoot us dead. No, I ain't letting this happen." Around them, people on the street gave the group a wide berth, preferring to keep their own to their own and ignore the aggravated goat.

"Does Aleksandre have a buggy? One like my father's?" Fletcher asked, his mind going back to the day they'd shot the Orikabu. A lifetime ago.

"I... I don't know." Thume replied.

"Maybe." Dopesmoker interrupted, stepping between the two. "We should meet with Nadine and see what we can see. If it's to be done at sundown, we haven't got much time left." He looked to the left, as if seeing someone who wasn't there.

"I don't like this at all." Thume said. "I think we should head back to camp, see what Meridian has to say, she's dealt with Lyric's hijinks before."

"Well, you're in the minority here, and we don't have time for that. Either help us, or leave." Fletcher said firmly, pushing forward. He felt electrified, certain that _this_was what he had to do.

In a smaller place, certain that Lyric would respect him for it.

"You gotta lot of fucking nerve kid." Thume hissed. "I know you're all hard up for the jackal right now, but maybe try to remember where you'd be right now if I hadn't gotten us in with Meridian." He poked Fletcher in the chest. "That's right, you'd be crying in the bath, desperately trying to get it up enough to fuck Neremiah Ablish's shrew of a daughter. So watch yer fuckin' mouth."

Fletcher bared his teeth, stunned. "How dare you?" He whispered. "What a cruel thing to say."

"Well you need a taste of some gods-damned reality." Thume grunted. "These ain't games we're playing. If we screw up, those guards will kill us. If we're not careful, your father's goons will find, and then kill_us. For all we know, this sow Nadine might take one look, then _kill us too."

"I'm not giving up on Lyric." Fletcher said firmly. "He's... my friend. And I came here to give him backup. So that's what we're doing." He glanced at Dopesmoker and Ursula, who nodded. "And I do have a plan, and I think it will work."

---

"I owe who a what now?" The ornery wolverine asked, leaning back in her seat, boots up on the table edge. After mentioning her name at the bar, the bouncer of Harriet's Hideaway had ushered Fletcher into a somehow seedier back section. It was mostly empty, save for the wolverine herself and a few other skulking ne'er-do-wells. Ursula, Thume, and Dope had been made to wait outside.

"His name is Lyric, he said you owe him a favour." Fletcher said. "They're gonna hang him at sundown. I can't let it happen. He saved my life, twice, I owe him." Nadine looked the coyote up and down, licking her lips.

"What does this sod look like then?" She asked slowly, hefting a large knife in her paws. One of her arms was hanging in a sling around her neck, left eye hidden beneath an eyepatch. Her muzzle had a large scar running up it, and when she opened it Fletcher saw she was missing some teeth. "Describe 'im."

"A jackal, little shorter than me, wide shoulders." Fletcher paused, blushing. "Um, he's well-muscled... brown eyes. His fur is darker around the muzzle and his paws are kinda dusty-looking." The wolverine's eyes narrowed, and she lurched forward, slamming the tip of her blade into the table.

"Wait." She said. "Is this friend of yours missing a tail?"

Fletcher grinned, amazed he'd forgotten Lyric's most obvious detail. "Yes! Of course! You do know him!" Nadine barked a short laugh.

"Yeah. I knew 'im as Haldrick, and he killed my best marksman, beat me nearly to death and demanded I give up my allies for him, then left me in the ass-end of nowhere." Fletcher paled.

"Oh."

"Oh is right." Nadine spat. "He's got a funny sense'a humour if he thinks not killing me after butchering my men and double-crossing me on a deal is called a favour. I say good riddance, let 'im be necked."

"He told me to find you. You have to help." Fletcher felt panic rise in his chest, the quiet optimism he'd been building again crushed.

"I ain't have'ta do nothin' kid." She said, chuckling. "This fella's the reason I can't use this arm, reason I got halfa kitchen's wortha glass in me legs too."

"Will you listen to my plan?"

"No. I ain't gonna go to war with the Baron for an enemy. If he were here instead'a you I'd shoot him in the face. Thanks to your pal, I've been stuck up in this bar ever since that warehouse showdown. Now I was _planning_on usin' his supposed stash to fund my way outta this shithole, but it were all lies ain't it." She sniffed, looking away. "So fuck you, and fuck Haldrick. Or Lyric, or whatever he calls himself."

"You wanna get out of Vellem?" Fletcher asked quietly, leaning forward. "We can get you out. And I don't need you to go to war, just set a few fires. Ideally nobody dies."

Nadine stared at him. "Did he screw you? He seemed like the type to put it up the ass, an' you're so slim you're almost a girl."

"Excuse me?" Fletcher asked, blushing. "We're... we're just friends."

"Right. I bet you loved his cock huh?" She laughed. "Shit, my life is a damned paperback sometimes. I s'pose you want to take down the big bad death cult too huh? Rob the Curse of all their weird Dead World tech?"

"I just want Lyric back." Fletcher said.

"Aw, love. Quaint." Nadine said snidely. "Look lad. This entire damned Province is after me head. The Baron knows who I am, and the second I step foot outside I'm gonna get gunned down where I stand. He blames me for the warehouse goin' bad as much as he do yer bed-buddy, as if I knew them lunatics were gonna start tossin' molotovs."

"My name is Fletcher Fulbright." Fletcher said, leaning forward. "Lyric and his friends got me out of Gallentry, when my father had all of his men on the lookout for us." Nadine paused.

"You can't be." She whispered. "So... I could just take you back to yer daddy then, huh? Bet he'd let me stay in Gallentry in exchange for you." Fletcher blanched as she leaned in hungrily.

"No, you don't want that. My father's insane. He's half as likely to kill you as pay you." He sighed. "Come with us. We'll get to Kallinger and you can go wherever you want after that."

The wolverine went quiet.

"When you plannin' to do this here jailbreak?" She asked.

"Well they're gonna hang him at sundown. So, er, real soon." Fletcher admitted, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I want somethin' else too." Nadine added, turning her nose up, upper lip pulling back. "I wanna shot at Lyric when we're free. Git deserves a punch in the mouth fer what he did to me."

"Um, I guess?" Fletcher said, frowning. "Can't kill 'im though." He laughed nervously.

"Okay, Fletcher Fulbright." Nadine chuckled, shaking her head and standing. "Can't believe I'm goin' along with this. You give me a shot at Lyric's stupid mug, get me outta bloody Vellem, and I'll help ya get lover-boy back."

"Thank you." Fletcher said, relaxing, a huge weight settling off his shoulders. "But we're just friends, really. But I think my plan will work."

"Sure kid, but I've got a few ideas of me own y'know." She rolled her good shoulder, the joint popping. "And a few toys to help it get done."