“You’ll do no such thing,” Blade stated. “The Morlock family has caused enough sorrow and comitted too many atrocities as it is.”
“Who are you to judge us?”
“Like father, like daughter.”
Endora took several steps toward him, her fists clenched in anger.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? And what do you really know about our family history, about the incredible hardships the Morlocks have endured? We were cut off from the rest of the world. To survive we had to resort to incest.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Blade said sternly. “The Morlock clan has practiced incest for centuries.”
Astonishment made Endora blink. “How did you know that?”
“I can add two plus two.”
“You’re smarter than you look. Angus underestimated you from the beginning. He thought he could play with you, have a little fun before he finished off the three of you.”
“Where’s your father now?”
“I don’t know.”
Blade made as if to strike her with the rifle. “What did I tell you about lying?”
Recoiling in fear, Endora licked her lips. “Honest. I don’t know where he is at this very minute. Probably in the control room.”
“The what?”
Realizing she’d given away too much, Endora shook her head. “I won’t say another word.”
“We’ll find him with or without your help,” Blade said, walking to Hickok’s side. Kneeling, he gently shook the gunfighter’s left shoulder.
“Nathan, get up.”
Slowly, groaning in pain, Hickok opened his eyes and gazed in confusion at his surroundings. “Where am I, pard?”
“In Morlock’s castle, remember?”
The mention of the madman sufficed to bring Hickok around. “Yeah,” he said, sitting up and touching his temple. “Where the heck is the tin man who clobbered me?”
“It was Elphinstone, and he’s out cold,” Blade said, pointing at the unconscious brute.
The gunfighter spied the Blackfoot’s prone form. His eyes widened, and he scrambled over on his hands and knees. “Geronimo!” He looked anxiously at Blade. “Is he hurt bad?”
“No. He should wake up shortly.”
Hickok glared at Elphinstone. “I get first dibs on gorilla puss.”
Endora stepped in front of her brother, put her hands on her hips and adopted a stance like a protective hen. “You’re not to touch a hair on his head.”
“Don’t fret none, lady. His hair will still be in one piece when I’m done with him.”
“We didn’t ask you to come here,” Endora said, incensed. “Why can’t you go away and leave us alone?”
“You already know the reason,” Blade said. “We can’t turn our backs on the serfs and overlook all the atrocities your family has committed. We’d never be able to live with ourselves. And your family will never let us leave in peace, anyway.” He paused. “What happens next is inevitable.”
“Nothing is inevitable.”
“You’re wrong. It’s inevitable that all of us must live with the consequences of our acts, and the Morlock clan is long overdue to reap the results of decades of tyranny and savagery.”
Endora cocked her head. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen. Why?”
“You must be older than that.”
“Don’t let his fancy words fool you, lady,” Hickok interjected. “He talks that way every now and then, usually after he gets through readin’ one of those books by the Greek guy who ran around dressed in a towel.”
Geronimo moaned, and his eyelids fluttered. “Nathan?”
“Right here, pard,” Hickok said, leaning over his friend.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Another cut. That’s two I owe you.”
The Blackfoot’s eyes opened, and he struggled to sit up, still woozy from the blow. “Where’s the—” he began, then saw their attacker lying on the floor. “What happened?”
“The big guy took the tin man down. Elphinstone is the one wearin’ the armor.”
“Let’s find something we can use to tie him up,” Blade proposed, surveying the room.
“I won’t let you,” Endora stated.
“You can’t stop us,” Blade said. “And we’re not leaving him loose to sneak up on us when our backs are turned.”
“I’ll keep him right here.”
“Not good enough, Endora. We can’t trust you, either.”
“Then why don’t you tie me up, too?” she asked scornfully.
“We will.”
The patter of dozens of feet filled the corridor, accompanied by much giggling and tittering. A general commotion ensued with pale figures jostling to see who would stand the nearest to the doorway.
“It’s the wimps again,” Hickok remarked. “What the dickens do they want now?”
“Oh, outers!” came a high-pitched taunt from a pale throat. “Come out and play with us, won’t you please?”
“Yeah,” chimed in another. “All of us are here to play pincushion, and this time you won’t scare any of us away. So be nice and come out and die.”
Chapter Nineteen
Blade stepped to the doorway and saw dozens of smiling serfs packing the corridor, blocking any possible escape. Every one carried a knife. None made a move to harm him—yet.
“Hello, Pard.”
The youth glanced to the right and recognized a pair of friendly, beaming faces. “Tabitha. Selwyn. Not you, too?”
“What do you mean, sir?” Tabitha responded. “We like to play pincushion as much as everyone else.”
“But pincushion isn’t a game. All of you could be killed.”
Tabitha chuckled. “Not us, sir. Why, unless we’re eaten or chopped into itty-bitty bits, we just curl into little balls for a couple of hours and wake up as good as new.”
The full extent of her insanity staggered Blade. He sadly shook his head and scanned the rows of fragile, thin figures. “You don’t understand about dying. You don’t know the first thing about pain and suffering, Please, please, put down your knives and go have fun in the forest.”
“But we can’t sir,” Selwyn said. “The great mast wants us to play pincushion with you, and that’s what we must do.”
“What if my friends and I don’t want to play?”
“You must, sir.”
“We don’t want to hurt you.”
The serfs laughed, exchanging amused looks, and then, all at once and all together, without a signal to spur them forward, they attacked.
A glittering knife almost ripped Blade’s left arm open as he stepped backwards and tried to shut the door. Fists and blades rained down upon the wood, and the press of bodies kept the door a foot from the jamb, preventing him from doing more than temporarily thwarting the serfs.
Hickok and Geronimo rushed to his aid and added their weight to the fray.
The serfs laughed, giggled and snickered the whole time. As they pounded on the door, as they pushed against the panel in a compact mass, as they slashed at the space between the door and the wall, they did so with the utmost hilarity, and the harder they fought, the more mirth they expressed.
Blade’s muscles were taxed to their limits. He pushed on the door until he was red in the face, but after all he’d been through he was in no condition to withstand the combined strength of dozens of determined serfs, no matter how weak they might be individually. Even his finely sculpted physique wasn’t made of iron.
“They’re gettin’ through!” Hickok declared as the door slowly inched inward and the serfs were able to extend their reach.
In the end it was the knives that made Blade acknowledge the door couldn’t be held. A razor edge sliced into his left forearm, not much more than a prick, but he realized it was only a matter of time before they inflicted a grievous wound. “On the count of three,” he told his companions. “We let go and fall back. Spread out and take as many with you as you can.”