Nocturnal

Long Live the King

So many.

All along the ledge, down in the trenches, on the cracked deck of the old shipwreck: his people, his kind. How had he gone his whole life without knowing this feeling? His heart felt like it might swell up and choke him, push his lungs out of his chest. So much love.

“Sly, I don’t know what to do.”

A big, strong hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got your back, my king. Everyone is here. This is your time. Are you ready?”

Rex glanced to the right, to the ship cabin and the ledge above it where Firstborn sat in his golden throne. If Rex was going to claim his birthright, he’d have to face that frightening creature in the fur-lined cape.

Rex took a deep breath, then nodded. “I’m ready. Yes. Let’s do this.”

“Can you jump?”

Rex looked over the edge — at least a thirty-foot drop to the meandering trenches below. “I can’t jump there. That would kill me.”

The big hand patted his back lightly. “I’ll show you how to do that later. Pierre?”

Strong hands slid around Rex’s sides, lifted him, set him behind a big, skewed-jawed head. Then Pierre dipped, and leaped.

The ceiling came so close Rex had to duck tighter into Pierre’s fur. They soared under rocks, bricks, broken pieces of wood and jagged bits of rusted metal, then they were dropping down fast.

They landed on the shipwreck, Pierre’s big body rattling the dry wood. Sly thumped down on their right, Sir Voh and Fort on their left. Rex slid off Pierre’s back. They stood in the middle of the deck, near to the big mast. This close, Rex saw that the mast was old wood with human skulls all around it, running from the base right up to the T-bar with all the lights. Sly ran to the ship’s cabin and disappeared inside.

Rex looked up and around at all the strange faces peering down at him from the ledge above. Everyone was standing now, looking down — clearly, this was something new to them.

Sly came out of the cabin. He carried a man in a white robe. The man wore a mask from the Saw movies and held a trumpet in his hands.

Sly set him down in front of Rex.

“Blow,” Sly said.

The man with the Saw mask did as he was told, blowing a long, single note.

Sly waved his arms, turning quickly to face one side of the cavern then the next. “Attention! The moment promised to us is here! This” — Sly turned and pointed at Rex — “is our king!”

A murmur rippled through the cavern. Rex felt anxious at being put on the spot, excitement at being the center of attention in a good way for once, and pride at knowing he was here to help these people, to lead them.

Then, a too-deep voice echoed through the cavern.

“The king? Impossible.”

Rex looked up toward the throne. Firstborn stood on the ledge, looking down. The man with a big head stood on his right, the black-haired woman on his left.

Rex noticed Pierre take a step back.

“He cannot be the king,” Firstborn said. “Sly, what lies do you speak?”

“No lies,” Sly said, more to the audience than to Firstborn. “Everyone, come and smell the truth!”

More murmurs of excitement. People started jumping off the ledge, sailing through the air to land on the deck. Such strength, such agility. They gathered around Rex. So many shapes. So many sizes. So many colors. They sniffed him. And after sniffing, they all whispered the same thing.

The king.

Some were as scary looking as Pierre and Sly and Sir Voh and Fort, and some were even worse — like the one with the blue scales that looked like a boll weevil. But some looked like regular people, men and women with unwashed hair and multiple layers of ragged, secondhand clothes. They could have been the bums and street ladies Rex saw every day; some of them probably were.

They sniffed, they whispered, they reached, they touched.

Rex’s heart filled with love.

“Enough!”

Firstborn’s roaring rang off the cavern walls and ceiling. Everyone stopped. Everyone looked.

The black-furred man jumped off the ledge. He sailed through the air, his fur cloak trailing behind. People scrambled out of the way, giving him room to land. He hit the ruined ship’s deck with a thud, knees bending to absorb the shock, left hand pressed flat to the ground.

The big-headed man came down to his left, the black-haired woman to his right.

Firstborn slowly stood, rising up to his full height. He was as tall as a basketball player on TV. Six-foot-six? Even taller than that? This close, Rex saw the gray lining Firstborn’s mouth, and streaks of that same color running from his temples to above his ears. He looked old.

“So, this tiny boy is our king?”

“He is,” Sly said. The snake-faced man again played to the crowd. “Can’t you all feel it? Can’t you all smell it?”

The crowd murmured with excited agreement — excited, but cautious. Rex saw the way they looked at Firstborn. They all feared him.

“Smells can be faked,” Firstborn said. “This boy is just a human.”

Rex saw many people shaking their heads.

Firstborn stamped his big boot, rattling the boards beneath. “He is human! You are all being tricked!”

There was anger in Firstborn’s voice, but also desperation. He sounded like one of the kids in school who — when caught in a lie by a teacher — just kept repeating the lie louder and with more intensity, hoping to wear the teacher down.

Rex knew he needed to say something, but he couldn’t even form a word. Firstborn seemed so powerful, so … cool.

Now Firstborn played to the crowd, raising his arms, turning and staring at anyone who would meet his gaze. “What all of you smell, it is a ruse. It is impossible!”

Then a new voice, the cutting hiss of an old lady. “And how do you know it is impossible?”

The crowd parted for a woman wearing a long gray skirt, a brown sweater and an orange scarf tied over her head and under her chin. She was kind of fat and hunched over a little bit. Everyone fell quiet as she walked across the deck. Firstborn watched her approach, but her eyes were only on Rex.

The woman stopped right in front of Rex. Rex didn’t move. She put her hands on his shoulders, leaned in and took a big sniff. Her eyes closed. She leaned back.

“Finally,” she said. “We have waited for so long.”

Firstborn’s gray-speckled lip curled up, showing the sharp teeth behind. “Not you too, Hillary. This can’t be the king.”

She turned on him, wrinkled eyes narrowing. “And how would you know that? How would you know this boy could not be the king?”

Firstborn started to answer, then stopped. All his power seemed to vanish.

She stepped closer to Firstborn, reached up to shake her bony finger in his face. “You say it is impossible because you have killed babies that could be the king!”

The crowd gasped. The mood of the cavern seemed to change instantly. Rex stood very still — it suddenly felt like something bad was about to happen.

Firstborn spoke in a calm voice. “That’s ridiculous. The only babies I killed are the ones that came out human. We have enough mouths to feed as it is.”

“You lie!” Hillary wheeled to face the crowd. “I have seen Firstborn kill the babies, the babies that could be kings, the ones” — she pointed at Rex — “that smelled like him.”

Firstborn laughed, but the sound was hollow, forced. “And if I killed these babies, Hillary, then how is it that this boy stands here claiming to be king?”

She spoke in a low hiss that was easily audible over the silence. “How do I know? Because for eighty years, I have been taking the ones that could be kings and sneaking them out of Home. This boy, the one who stands here, I made sure he made it to the surface thirteen years ago.”

Firstborn stared. He blinked, slowly, almost as if he couldn’t understand what Hillary was saying. “You took them out? You know not what you have done.”

“But I know what you did,” she said. “You kill our kings because you want all the power for yourself!”

“Don’t be insane,” Firstborn said, but the crowd’s growing roar drowned out his words. A circle of strange bodies started to close in around him. The big-headed man and the black-haired woman pushed back against the crowd.

Firstborn stood tall. “This isn’t about power. This is about keeping our kind alive. A king will lead you all to your deaths — I will do what has to be done.”

The big, black-furred man’s eyes locked on Rex’s, and in that moment Rex felt the depths of Firstborn’s rage, knew that the creature wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone in this cavern to get what he wanted.

Rex saw a brief sneer, then Firstborn rushed in, claw-tipped hands reaching out. The tall creature bellowed a roar that rooted Rex to the spot.

Sly and Pierre shot forward and slammed into the oncoming Firstborn, stopping him short — the points of his black claws swiped just inches from Rex’s eye. Firstborn’s knee shot up, snapping Pierre’s head back. Two black-furred hands lifted Sly as if the snake-man weighed nothing at all, then threw him hard into the crowd.

Rex had never imagined someone could be that fast, that powerful.

As Firstborn turned again to attack, a shadow passed over Rex’s head — Fort stepping over him to block the way.

From Fort’s back, Sir Voh raised a tiny hand. “Save the king!”

The crowd roared and rushed in. Bonehead swung and hit a white-scaled man, but then went down under a pile of bodies. A normal-looking man reached for the black-haired woman. She reached for the chains on her hips but the man was on her before she could get them. She ducked a punch, then shoved her hands against the man’s chest — there was a flash and a loud crack. The man twitched violently and fell. The woman turned to do the same to her next attacker, but a blanket-clad person hit her from behind, knocking her to the deck. In seconds, a dozen people covered her, twisted her hands behind her back.

The crowd cautiously closed in on Firstborn.

He let out a primitive growl that made people flinch away, then reached for the guns strapped to his thighs as he once again rushed at Rex.

Fort stepped toward Firstborn and swung his big right fist. Firstborn sprang high — Fort’s punch whiffed harmlessly beneath. Still arcing through the air, Firstborn aimed his pistols. Rex moved by instinct, diving between Fort’s barrel-like legs, hiding under the bigger man’s mass.

Firstborn fired, bam-bam-bam-bam-bam, trying to adjust his aim even as he descended, but it was too late for him. When he came down, dozens of hands reached up to grab his feet, his legs, his arms, his chest. The leader of Marie’s Children went down under a kicking, punching pile of bodies.

Sly stood. “Kill Firstborn! Kill him for the king!”

Bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder and the leg, Fort lumbered to the pile of bodies. He tossed people aside until he reached his giant left hand down and pinned Firstborn facedown on the deck. Fort put a knee in Firstborn’s back, then grabbed the man’s wrists and held them firm.

As strong as Firstborn was, he couldn’t move.

Sly walked forward. He picked up one of Firstborn’s pistols. His snake mouth smiled and laughed as he pressed the muzzle against Firstborn’s gray-streaked temple.

“I’ve been waiting for this, asshole,” Sly said. “Been waiting a long time.”

The crowd shouted for blood.

Firstborn looked at Rex. The green eyes looked lost, desperate — the brave knight, brought low.

Rex held out a hand. “Stop! Don’t kill him.”

The crowd’s murmur died away.

Sly didn’t move the gun. His smile faded. “But he has to die, my king. He just tried to kill you.”

Rex couldn’t shake off Firstborn’s words. The tall man had said his murderous ways weren’t about keeping power. Why would he say that? He could have been lying, but it didn’t seem like he was.

Sly looked down at Firstborn. “He must die,” Sly said. “Him and all his rules, and the way he treats us!”

The crowd murmured approval — they wanted Firstborn dead almost as much as Sly did. But they weren’t thinking straight, none of them were. Rex knew he had to step up. His destiny began right now.

He walked forward and held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the gun.”

Sly stared back for a moment, then once again smiled wide. “Of course. The new king should kill the old ruler.” He handed the gun over butt-first.

Rex took it. He’d never held a gun before. It was heavier than he’d thought it would be. It felt good in his hand.

Firstborn was pinned down and overwhelmed by numbers, yet even now he seemed more dangerous than all the rest.

Rex squatted on his heels. “Firstborn, you said I’d lead everyone to their deaths. What did you mean?”

Sly shook his head. “Just shoot him already. Don’t let him speak his lies.”

Rex looked up at him. “Sly, be quiet.” Rex didn’t even recognize his own voice — such command, such confidence. Sly’s eyes narrowed in frustration, maybe even in anger.

Rex again looked down at Firstborn. “Tell me. Tell me what you meant.”

Head craned to the side, Firstborn stared back. There was no fear in his eyes. “You aren’t the first,” he said. “The kings bring disaster upon us.”

Rex looked at the gun in his hand. He could kill this man and be done with it. He would be king, but he didn’t know how to rule. Firstborn had been in charge for how long? Decades? Centuries? Firstborn was tough and strong and smart — he wouldn’t die in some accident like Rex’s dad had.

Firstborn would always be here.

Rex set the gun on the deck’s dry, splintered wood. “I am your king, Firstborn. Say it.”

Sly grabbed Rex’s arm. “No, my king! You can’t let him live! He will try to kill you!”

Hillary walked up, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were praying. “Sly is right,” she said. “Firstborn killed the other kings. I have seen him crush babies in his bare hands when he thought no one was looking.”

Firstborn said nothing. He just kept staring.

Rex felt a new strength surging through him. All these people, they were his to command. This was his birthright. If he wanted Firstborn to follow, then Firstborn would follow.

Rex stared into the slanted green eyes. “You killed babies. I’m not a baby anymore. I am your king.”

Firstborn managed to shake his head. “It cannot be.”

His nostrils flared, then his eyes widened. Had his pupils dilated? In that instant, Rex knew what to do — he didn’t know how, but he knew. He held out his right wrist, pushed it close to Firstborn’s face. The black-furred man tried to look away, but he was pinned facedown on the deck and there was nowhere to turn.

Rex reached out with his left hand, simultaneously pinning Firstborn’s head to the deck and tightly covering the black-furred mouth. He shoved his right wrist closer.

Firstborn held his breath.

“I am your king,” Rex said. “Things will be different this time.”

Rex waited. Firstborn could avoid it no further; his nostrils flared wide as he drew in a big breath. Rex sensed a calmness spread over the pinned man.

He’s yours. Just like all the others.

A desperate, sandpaper voice whispered at his ear. “At least make it so he can’t just kill you and take power again. Remove his temptation and he’ll follow.”

Yes, that was smart. If Rex suddenly died a day from now, a month from now, the people would again fall under Firstborn’s rule. Take that away, and Firstborn would truly be his.

Rex stood. He felt like a different person. “I am the king now,” he said, turning slowly to look at each and every one of them. “I am king, and you all have to do what I say. My first command is this — if anything happens to me, if I die, then all of you will kill Firstborn. Do you understand?”

Many heads nodded, but not enough heads. Rex’s lip curled into a sneer — who did they think they were dealing with?

“I said, do you understand? You hear me talking to you?”

His words echoed off the walls. Was that really his voice? Could it really be that loud, that powerful, or was that a trick of the confined space?

Now the heads nodded, nodded and looked away from him as if they were afraid to meet his eyes. Maybe they should be afraid, at least a little.

Rex looked at Fort. “Let him up.”

Fort stood. So did Firstborn.

Off to Rex’s left, Hillary knelt on one knee. Like living dominoes, the others did the same, everyone dropping until only Rex, Sly and Firstborn stood.

Sly stared at Firstborn, then Rex, then he, too, knelt.

Some of the kneeling people were still taller than Rex, but Firstborn towered over them all.

The big creature moved closer.

Rex stepped forward to meet him. To stare into the man’s eyes, Rex had to look almost straight up.

“Kneel,” Rex said. “I am your king.”

Firstborn snarled. Sly started to rise, as did Pierre, but Rex held up a hand to stop them.

This was real, this was destiny. Rex was the chosen one. He stared up into Firstborn’s eyes. Rex feared no one. Everyone would submit to him. Everyone.

Firstborn’s snarl faded. His grayed muzzle relaxed. He tried to hold eye contact, but he could not — he looked away.

And then, Firstborn knelt.

“My king,” he said. “Welcome home.”

The cheer of the people rang off the cavern walls.