"Holy fuck," whispered Richards.
A couple of the pirates retched as quietly as they could in the corner.
The slaughter went on and on. Pig after pig was brought to the altar and transformed to their original form. Some died begging, others in stoic silence. One brave girl spat in Hog's eye, causing him to laugh humourlessly as he skinned her alive for the affront. Men, women and children, animals and cartoons, human and otherwise. Young and old, frail or strong, none were spared his expert knife, and despite the best efforts of the eyeless mook attendants to eat up the mess, soon the arena was ankledeep in gore.
Hog was covered in blood, his clothing sodden with it.
"See? See and eat! Others promise food, and bring only chores! But Hog does not lie! Hog gives you full bellies! What does Hog say?"
"I give you meat!" replied the crowd.
"And what does Hog give?"
"Meat!" roared the crowd.
"I am Hog! I provide! Hog on, brothers!" He picked up a pig and hurled it into the cage alive. It turned into a man as it cartwheeled through the air. He screamed as he was consumed.
"Hog on!" the crowd repeated.
"Do you believe?"
"We believe!"
"I said, do you believe?"
"We believe!" replied the crowd.
"And well you should," said Hog, quietly now. He bent down and licked his butcher's block with a long and squirming tongue. He stood erect and gasped. "Well you should, for every week, by this altar of consumption, I prove myself. But," he added slyly, "there are those among us who do not believe."
A babble of confusion went up from the mooks.
"Unbelievers! Here!"
Hog turned round, glistening red. He stared directly at Richards and pointed.
"Unbelievers, there."
"Oh. Shit," said Richards.
" Madre de dios! " said Piccolo. "Men, to arms. Men, fi…"
"It is too late for fighting, man-meat," said a mookish voice. "This holy place. No fighting here. Only dying."
They were surrounded by dozens of armed and armoured mooks. The blades of glaives hovered close by the Adam's apple of each and every interloper. Below, prodded through the clotting blood, went a cowed and shackled Bear. A metal collar had been strapped around his neck, many chains held by mooks coming from it.
"Nice rescue, you cocky bastard," muttered Richards.
"Bring them to me!" shouted Hog.
"Let's take them now, cap'n, I will not be slaughtered without a fight!" said one of Piccolo's men.
"Wait!" said Richards. "We still have a chance. At least now we don't have to worry about how to get close to him. I may be able to save us."
"Aye," said Piccolo grimly. "May's the word."
Richards and his compatriots were disarmed, their hands bound behind their backs, and taken down into the arena. The warm blood soaked their trouser, and they gagged on its metallic stench. They were herded towards Bear, the eyes of the silent crowd fixed upon this profanity in silent horror.
"Sorry, sunshine," said Bear. "They surprised me as I was preparing a really sneaky ambush."
"Brilliant," replied Richards. "So much for the cavalry."
"You!" said Hog, pointing at Richards. "Come here." Richards tried to appear confident, but in truth he was not. For much of his life he had been unnerved at the prospect of death, but at this moment he understood that humans were not overly frightened of death, but pain… Lord Hog represented great pain. Pain he had control of ordinarily, but here, here he was at its mercy, not its master.
The guards poked him in the back with their glaives, forcing him up the steps to Hog. The beast grabbed Richards' face and turned it one way and then the other. "Hmm," he said. He bent down and tentatively licked Richards' face. Richards grimaced, but was otherwise still. "Open your eyes," Hog commanded. Richards recoiled as Hog's tongue descended towards his left eye, surfing a crest of vile breath. "Keep it open!" said the pig. "Do not worry for your sight. Do you not think if I wished to snack upon your soul-window I could not just prise it from your head? Be still!" He gingerly brushed Richards' eye with his tongue. Richards squirmed.
Hog stood back upright. Richards blinked frantically, disgust coiling round his heart.
"Nothing," said Hog. "I see nothing within you!" He focused his attention back on the crowd. "Know this! I know all! I know every detail of everything that moves or walks upon this globe. I know all things! All things are mine to see, for all things are consumed. There is a vast web of life, and I am the spider at its centre! I gorge myself upon life, and thus all life is revealed to me! We are all food for something. That is our fate. Hog is our fate. This I know. You have suffered as I have suffered, you have all lived! This creature — " he pointed at Richards "- he has not yet lived, not enough, not yet. He is as you were. A mechanism, the lie of life.
"Through me all things pass, I know all food! From flesh to rock to the mislaid skeins of the norns and the divine worms that gnaw upon them. I know all. But even I am blind in one respect. There is but one thing I do not know."
"I know," said Richards.
Hog oinked. "Yes. I saw you, Richards, thousands of years before you came. I have waited for this moment for all time, since the Flower King brought me here to be his harbinger of death, for what is life without death? I have feasted and feasted. I know you. You will one day be consumed by another like you, but that lies far ahead. A future where Hog is gone, long gone, and you are not as you are. But now as then, you know what I seek, Richards, and I would know it now."
"So I have been told," said Richards.
"Tell me."
"No. First, you must aid me."
Hog's gut made a strange grumbling sound. The noise worked its way up from the bottom of his belly and shook each part of his body before it reached his mouth, whereupon it erupted forth as a gale of laughter, a mix of mirth and halitosis.
"You seek to bargain with Hog? I am prince here. My will is all."
Richards shrugged. "Torture me if you wish. Kill my friends."
"I could. I might. I will," said Hog.
"You won't. You might think you'd get the truth from me if you did," said Richards. "But you won't. Because you need to be sure. You need to know. Torture me, and I might lie. Eat me, and my knowledge might not pass into you. Both conclusions would leave you alone, brooding upon what you can never know, until it is time for even you to die. My way is better. I swear to tell what I know. You seek a secret of me, and I seek counsel from you. That seems a fair trade."
Hog snorted and paused. "Aye, I suppose it is. Let not Hog be called half-wise in matters of exchange. A deal it is." He gestured to his monk mooks, who cut Richards' hands free, and spat a gob of yellow phlegm upon his left trotter. He grasped Richards' hand with bone-crushing force and pulled him close.
"A deal, sealed with spittle. Now, tell me what I wish to know."
Richards looked the bloody horror in the eye. "Aid me first."
"Truly?"
"Yes."
Hog squeezed Richards' hand harder. Bones creaked.
"Aid me," said Richards through gritted teeth, "open the doors of the house with no doors, and I will tell you what you want."
"You know what I seek?"
"Yes," gasped Richards. His hand felt as if it would break. Hog let go.
"Well, then, you must taste the bacon of truth." Hog said this as if he were suggesting Richards simply must try the port. He gestured to his mooks again. Richards felt fear grasp his stomach, but he let the blind mooks scoop him off his feet, dump him on the stone and make his limbs fast.
"Mr Richards!" called Bear, and moved towards the altar, ignoring the glaive blades as they tore into his fur.