#knell

With a timidity unbecoming of him, Marion raised his hands and reached for the bridle. The horse lurched but came to an immediate halt.

"What should we do with it?"

Knell turned, the ashy glass in the eyeholes of his hood concealing those glaring, golden discs within.

Marion understood the silence between them. He felt he had a decent knack of understanding what the silences meant, from time to time.

"I cannot ride it. Embarrassing, I know. Father mocked me for it quite a bit."

Knell stood partially facing him. Behind the hood, his eyes flitted between the horse and the cart. The cart was not built for a horse, it had been adjusted for Knell's height and made to be pushed from the inside of the bar.

Knell turned back toward the town, and the wheel squeaked again.

They came to the fallen rider and Knell kneeled down, righting his body to face upwards. He produced a small steel rod from a wrinkle in his gown and pushed around at the face and swollen neck of the deceased.

The muscle was tough. The eyes were riddled with pussy conjunctivitis. His nasal passages filled with solidified mucous.

Large scissors cut away at his clothes. Thin of mass and blotchy with smaller clusters of hives over the torso. Knell stood, reached into a small box in the cart and sprinkled a white powder onto the corpses chest.

Another silence.

Knell turned to Marion and pointed behind him. Marion turned, and a grinding of steel ignited the powder on the body. Instantly it was engulfed in a sun-white flame and Marion understood why he was told to turn away. Marion was glad not to have his sense of smell on this occasion.

"Will this happen a lot- in there, I mean?"

The flame danced on the glass eyeholes. His shoulders shifted with a sigh.

I hope not.

He motioned to the horse, flicking gloved fingers toward it before returning to the cart and pushing onward.

They continued on. Knell pushing his squeaking cart, and Marion following on foot with a horse.

Somewhere in the town, a large bell rang out twice.

"Someone is still keeping track of the time." Marion said.

The cart squeaked.

The horses shoes chipped at a stone in the road.

The sky was clear except for the smoke, and there were no birds in the air above the town. They were ransacking the grain field nearby.

The cart squeaked.

They stepped on.

The cart squeaked.

The horse drew a long breath.

A low rumble started inside Knells suit.

The horse chewed at the bit mindlessly next to Marion, who adjusted his grip to avoid the foaming spittle.

Knell came to a stop.

"I said lose the horse."

"Oh. I did not hear you. What should we do with it?"

"We?"

"Well, I rather imagine that it has become our responsibility to take care of it."

"Our? Responsibility?" his voice was muffled from within the suit.

Glass discs stared at him from inside the cart's handle. He raised a hand with two fingers extended. With great caution, Marion approached and picked one.

Knell retracted his arm slowly and stepped under the now raised handle of his cart. He took the bridle from Marion's grasp and simply let it go. The horse stood for a moment.

A burst of imminent violence rippled through Marion's mind.

"Wait!" He said, raising his arm between the horse and Knell. That was enough to spook the horse, who took a few awkward steps back before turning and starting back down the road.