The Prophecy Machine

The assailants, Finn saw, for reasons of their own, had paused at the head of the alley when their foes came up against the fence. Maybe it was lunchtime, Finn decided, and wondered then, just how the fellows ate. Did they take time off, or simply hope they might run into food?

The old man had decided to sit and scowl. A basic mean spirit, or inherent constipation, was apparently a family trait. Finn had seen this sort of thing pass down for many generations before.

“Are you all right?” Finn said, moving up to Letitia's side. “You're not hurt or anything?”

“No, I'm not hurt, Finn.” Letitia slumped against the alley wall. Her hair was in disarray and her cheeks were smudged with soot. Somewhere along the way, she had picked up one of the enemy's broken sticks.

“I'm not having a good vacation so far, but I haven't been injured or killed, if that's what you want to know.”

“Good,” Finn said, “I know this is wearing. I'm extremely sorry, love. As you say, the trip's not going well, but I'm certain our luck will turn soon.”

“Why?”

“What's that?”

“Why would our luck turn soon? It has not turned since we closed the front door on Garpenny Street. It has gotten worse by the hour, and worse than that since your new friend came along.”

“He is hardly a friend, I think you know that. I can't abide the man. Fate has thrown us together, and I can't help that. As soon as we rid ourselves of him, I'm sure our fortunes will change.”

“I know that, dear.” Letitia showed him a weary smile. “I am simply so tired of ships, and those dreadful Yowlies, and now him, and that disgusting, smelly old man. Our chair is still in the street, did you notice that, Finn?”

“I did, yes.” Finn picked up a rag from the alley and wiped the blade of his sword. “They're milling around up there. I expect they'll have another go at us soon.”

Letitia refused to look. “What have we gotten ourselves into, dear? Do you have the slightest idea? Who are these people, and why are they doing this? Why did they want to kill the old man?”

“I don't know. I can't even guess. There is much here I do not understand at all …”

He would have said more if their aggressors hadn't suddenly renewed their advance, shouting and waving their poles about.

“Have a care up there,” Sabatino called out, “they're a witless bunch, but they never give in.”

“I can see these things for myself,” Finn said, more than a little irritated, “I don't need your constant advice.”

If Sabatino had a cutting reply, it was lost as the horde of yellow-hats poured down the narrow alleyway. If anything, Finn thought they were angrier, and even more determined, than before.

Why they had paused at all, he couldn't say. They were no more organized than before. Some ran backwards, some ran into walls. Some tripped and fell, and were trampled at once by their friends.

Still, Finn was greatly concerned. Numbers counted, and even an army of the totally inept would overcome a pair of skilled swordsmen in the end.

“I don't like the look of this,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, “We are severely outnumbered, Finn.”

“And how would you know, hiding behind my back? The view can't be very good from there.”

“I have ears of a sort, as you're aware. Those creatures make a great deal of noise. Finn …”

“What?”

“I don't think we're going to get out of this.”

“That's your opinion, is it?”

“It is, yes.”

“Then I'll ask you to keep it to yourself.”

“You don't have to snap at me, I'm only trying to help. If I were you, I would seriously consider the-”

Julia's words were lost as Finn, with a frightening shout, charged up the alleyway to meet his foes head on.

The ragged fellows looked puzzled, bewildered, somewhat dismayed. They weren't prepared for such outlandish behavior, never having encountered it before. People you were after ran away, they didn't come at you.

Finn slashed with a will, cutting them down, driving them back. They shrieked, fell, clutched at their wounds, doubled up and died.

Still, it was clear that a greater force than pain, a stronger drive than fear, drove these creatures on. Though Finn had never fought in the great eternal War, he had stood his ground in more than one encounter before. He knew that look, that fierce unthinking will of the zealot, the man who gives his life because some greater fool has told him his cause is right, and all others are wrong.

“Damn you all,” Finn yelled, his arm so heavy he could scarcely lift his weapon, barely fend off a man who came at him with a stick. “Take your stupid hats and die somewhere else, just keep away from me!”

If anything, Finn's words seemed to stir his enemies to greater fury than before. They jabbered, chattered and boiled, frothed at the mouth, struck out at Finn. Poked one another, dropped to the ground, got up and came at him again.

Like stirring a nest of ants, Finn muttered to himself, buggers got about as much sense, you ask me …

The yellowheads shouted, yelled, clawed and kicked and scratched, kicked one another to get at their foe …

And, in that instant, Finn felt an awful chill, saw, like a dream yet to be, how it would happen, exactly how he'd fall, how deep the wound would be … he heard Letitia cry, far, far away …

“Back, back!” he yelled, his mouth dry as sand, the words grating in his throat. “Get them out, Sabatino, get them out of here now!”

He slashed out blindly, knowing it was useless, the final act upon him, over and done.

Bitters and Blood, I don't even have the last lines, they belong to some fool in a pointy yellow hat …

They knew it, felt it, smelled the sweet scent of death. Their voices rose in an awful manic din, in a cry, in a moan, in a wail that chilled him to the bone …

Finn backed up and stumbled, caught himself, lashed out again. Risked a final glance at Letitia, couldn't see her anywhere. The horde came at him in a blind and thoughtless fury, jabbing one another with their sticks, crushing one another against the alley walls.

Finn winced as a pole struck the side of his head. Saw double for an instant, shook the fellow off. Kicked out and caught one in the gut. A gaunt, one-eyed bruiser got through, poked him in the chest. He gasped, jerked the point out. The man grabbed him like a spider and brought him to the ground. Another piled on, then another after that.

“Damn your rotten breath,” Finn growled between his teeth, “What do you bastards here eat, garbage, offal, slops in the street, maggoty meat?”

He went under then, fighting and cursing, striking out with his fists, his sword no longer in his hand. He was finished, there was no use fighting anymore, but giving up never crossed his mind. He tore at the pile of smelly flesh, fought with every ragged breath, jammed a broken fist into someone's vital part, kicked at a head, elbowed a crotch.

He wondered what would happen to Letitia, wondered what they'd do when they got her, didn't care to think about that. Wondered, for an instant, why that pompous lout, Sabatino, didn't come and help. Knew, at once, that the highborn brute had left him there to fight, left the simple-minded craftsman to hold off the louts while he got his precious self away …

“Goodbye, Letitia,” he heard himself whisper far away, “Goodbye, Julia Jessica Slagg. If you can hear me now, know that I'm sorry I made you, for this is not a world fit for human, Newlie or even a loud-mouth lizard made of copper, spit and tin … I could have done better if I'd used better wiring, purified mercury, and gold in your head …”

“Will you stop your jabbering, Finn!”

The crackly voice came from somewhere in the small of his back, or farther down than that. “Get off of me,