Blood Red Road

by Moira Young

  Then I catch the look that passes between ’em. Jack’s mouth twitches an they bust out laughin. I glare as they hoot an slap each other on the back like a couple of idiots. Bloody Jack. There he goes agin, makin me look like a fool.

  Very funny, I says. Couple of hyenas. Go on, laugh it up.

  I turn to leave but Ike’s long arm shoots out an grabs my wrist. Aw, don’t, he says, wipin his eyes. Stay. We don’t mean nuthin by it, do we Jack? It’s jest us havin some fun. You don’t hafta marry me … not until yer ready to, that is.

  I guess that’ll be never then, I says.

  He clutches his heart. Wounded! he says. He drags my stool back to the table. Sit, he says. Have a drink. Tell me what brings you to the One-Eyed Man.

  He lifts a jug an pours a clear liquid into three chipped mugs.

  I stand there with my arms folded over my chest.

  What’s the matter? says Ike. You got a face on you like a slapped polecat.

  I don’t like people makin fun of me, I says.

  Dangerous an prickly, says Ike. You got yerself quite a handful here, Jack.

  I ain’t his handful, I says.

  She sure as hell ain’t, says Jack.

  Ike raises one shaggy eyebrow. You sure yer sure about that? C’mon, he says to me. Siddown. Drink.

  I sit.

  Jack lifts his mug. Me an Ike do the same.

  To Molly Pratt, says Jack.

  Ike scowls at him. Watch yer mouth, he says.

  Jeez, Ike, says Jack. All I’m sayin is … to Molly Pratt.

  Ike looks sly. Leans in an waggles his eyebrows. To Molly Pratt, he says, an her frilly red bloomers.

  One helluva woman, says Jack.

  One helluva pair of undies, says Ike.

  Then they throw their drinks down their necks.

  I take a sip. Fire races over my tongue, down my throat. Tears spring to my eyes.

  Jack pounds the table with his fist. Gasps like a landed fish. That’s smooth, Ike, he says. What is it?

  Pine sap vodka, says Ike. Down it in one, he says to me. That way you cain’t taste it.

  I take a deep breath. I down it in one, like he tells me to. The fire hits my belly an starts a slow burn.

  Now, says Ike, let’s git down to business. I know you, Jack. You only ever show up when you want somethin. What is it this time?

  Freedom Fields, says Ike. Well well. Innerestin.

  What d’you know about it? I says.

  No more’n anybody else in this part of the world, he says. I heard about it.

  He looks at Jack before he says it. A quick flick of the eyes, that’s all it is. But it’s enough to make me think he might know more. I’m jest openin my mouth to ask him when a boy comes up an plonks three bowls of stew on the table. I’ll bide my time.

  This boy ain’t seen no more’n fourteen summers. He’s thin an peely-wally, like he don’t ever see the light of day, an he’s all elbows an ears an big clumsy feet. Ike reaches out to ruffle his hair.

  Thanks, son.

  The boy gives Ike a shy smile, ducks his head an hurries away. We tuck in.

  I never knew you had a kid, Ike, says Jack.

  Oh Tommo ain’t my real son, says Ike. He showed up a few winters back. Found him one mornin, huddled in the lean-to with the horses. Starvin … you could count every rib.

  Where’d he come from? says Jack.

  No idea, says Ike. When I asked him, all he said was, “He told me to wait fer him. I waited an waited, but he never come back.” I found out later it was his pa told him to wait. I took him in. What else could I do? Follows me around like a dog. He cain’t hear, but he watches yer lips while you talk. Unnerstands most things that way. He’s a good boy, Tommo. A hard worker.

  Cain’t say I ever thought of you as the fatherly type, says Jack.

  Ike shrugs. Life’s full of surprises, he says. He fills my glass. Gives me a shove with his elbow. Go on, he says, drink up.

  So, says Jack, Freedom Fields. Whaddya think?

  I dunno, says Ike. Business is good. I don’t really wanna—

  Rule of three, Ike, says Jack.

  Ah, says Ike. Well … I cain’t deny that the rule of three applies here.

  What? I says.

  I saved Ike’s life three times, says Jack.

  That means my life belongs to Jack an he can pretty much call the shots, says Ike. I ain’t ever heard of anybody goin that far. Usually it’s more like … callin in a favor.

  But the rule of three’s a … a joke, I says.

  A joke? says Ike, starin at me. Where’d you git that idea?

  Told you, says Jack to me. So, Ike. We could sure use yer help. Will you come with us?

  Sounds like it’s up to you, Ike says to me. He’s yer brother. D’you want my help?

  I look at him. Built like a mountain, with a steady, dark gaze. A good man. Dependable. Those was Jack’s words. An he knows more’n he’s lettin on.

  So does Jack, fer that matter. Maev was right. There’s secrets in them moonshine eyes of his. Jack vexes me. He bothers me. I wish my heart didn’t beat faster every time he comes near me. But I trust him. Even when I cain’t bring myself to speak to him.

  As fer Ike, if Jack says he’s okay, that should be good enough fer me.

  Ike waves a hand in front of my face. Saba, he says, I said d’you want my help?

  Yes, I says. I believe I do.

  He takes a big mouthful of stew an starts to chew. While he chews, you can see him thinkin. Jack an me watch him fer what seems like a long time. Finally he swallows. Wipes the ends of his moustache. Then, We’ll head out in the mornin, he says. Let’s drink on it.

  Somethin tickles my nose. I swat at it without openin my eyes. There’s a giggle.

  Go ’way, I mutter. There’s a poundin inside my head. My mouth’s dry as a dust bowl. I groan.

  Another giggle. Then somethin wet drips onto my forehead. I open one eye. Emmi’s head hangs above me, upside down. She’s holdin a drippin cloth over my head. I shove it away. Movin makes my head even worse. I groan agin.

  Rise an shine! she says.

  Leave me be, I croak.

  Time to git up! she says.

  I cain’t move, I says. There’s somebody poundin on my brain with a hammer.

  That’s what you git from a heavy wet, she says.

  Whadda you know anyways, I mutter.

  I know that you drank too much of Ike’s hooch, she says. Jack says to give you this. It’ll help yer head.

  I drag myself up to lean on my elbows, moanin the whole time. Emmi pushes a tumbler into my hand. I sniff at it.

  What is it?

  Jest drink it, she says. Down in one.

  Where’ve I heard that before? I says. But I do like she says an throw it down my neck in one. I gag. Ohmigawd that’s disgustin! What is it?

  Boar’s blood an a raw pigeon egg, she says. Jack says it’s good fer a hangover.

  Jack says, I mutter. I look around. There ain’t nobody in the tavern but me an Em. Where is everybody?

  Loadin the horses, she says. An Ike sent all the no-good lowlife bastards packin jest after dawn.

  Hey! I says. Watch yer language!

  But that’s what Ike called ’em.

  I don’t care. You ain’t Ike. Now gimme a hand up.

  With Emmi’s help, I git slowly to my feet. I ain’t never felt so vile in my entire life. Mouth like the bottom of a weasel nest, legs like soggy string an a head full of rocks. At least the poundin in my head’s startin to ease some. Maybe Jack’s foul brew’s doin the trick.

  As we shuffle over to the door, I can see it’s a bright sunny mornin. We step outside an the light stabs at my eyes. I lift a hand to shield ’em. I squint to see what everybody’s up to.

  Good mornin, I croak.

  Ike whistles. Ash laughs.

  Uh oh, says Epona. Poor you.

  She stops loadin her horse.

  Come with me, she says. She takes my arm an leads me over to the wa
ter barrel. Sorry about this, she says.

  Then, without another word, she shoves my head unner the water. I rear up, gaspin, an she shoves me unner agin.

  The shock of the cold water’s like a slap in the face. When I come up the second time, I yell, What the hell’d you do that fer?

  Sorry, says Epona. Guess I should of warned you.

  Anybody else did this to me, I’d come to cuffs with ’em, but Epona’s a good-hearted soul. I know she only means to help.

  It’s all right, I says. Thanks. I … I feel a lot better.

  An, to my surprise, I do.

  I dunk myself a couple more times, then rinse off my shoulders an arms. Jest as I’m finishin, Tommo sidles up. He hands me a rough cloth an keeps his eyes on the ground while I dry myself with it.

  When I’m done, I touch his arm. He looks at me. He’s got the most beautiful eyes I ever seen—deep brown, almost black, with long dark eyelashes. Eyes like a deer. Too beautiful fer a boy really.

  I smile at him. Thanks, I says. His thin face flushes pink. He ducks his head an scurries away.

  Jack’s voice comes from behind me, makes me jump. He ain’t got a chance when you smile at him like that.

  I turn around. He’s closer’n I thought. My stupid heart skips a beat. He leans aginst the wall with his hands in his pockets. His eyes ain’t moonshine silver today. They’re darker, more like stone.

  Very funny, I says. I busy myself foldin the cloth.

  Tommo’s a lonely boy with a soft heart, he says. Find somebody else to practice yer smiles on.

  I dunno what yer talkin about, I says.

  Then let me make it clear, he says. Pick on someone yer own size, Saba.

  What? I says. Like you, I s’pose?

  We stare at each other fer a long moment. An then I’m lookin at his lips an I cain’t seem to look away an I cain’t seem to think about nuthin but how they felt aginst mine. Then he says, No. Not like me. I don’t want yer smiles eether.

  It’s like he’s slapped me in the face. I cain’t think of a thing to say.

  He goes to load Ajax.

  I stand there, starin at nuthin.

  Like always when Jack’s near, the heartstone floods my body with heat. But this time, I shiver too. From the coldness in his eyes.

  I figgered Ike ’ud board up the tavern to keep it safe till him an Tommo come back, but he says he ain’t got no intention of ever comin back. All he does is shut the battered old door to keep the weather out.

  So that’s it? I says. Yer leavin it, jest like that?

  Oh it won’t stay empty fer long, he says. Somebody’ll come along an take it over. That’s what happened to me. On the road, lookin fer a place to sleep one night an came on this place. By the look of it, bin empty fer years. Next mornin, I had the notion to sweep the floor an before I knew it, I was runnin a tavern. No, I bin here long enough. Me an Jack talked about it last night. After we find yer brother, him an me’s gonna hit the road agin. Take Tommo with us.

  He nudges me in the ribs. To be honest, he says, I got a lady waitin fer me. The most glorious creature that ever drew breath.

  Not … Molly Pratt? I says.

  He presses his hands together an raises his eyes to the sky.

  Lips like ripe berries an curves to make a man weep with joy. I want her to meet Tommo. It’s time I settled down. An I got a notion I might turn out to be a good family man. Don’t say nuthin to Jack though. He’ll make my life hell.

  But … what about him? I says.

  Jack? A family man? Ike hoots. That’s a good one!

  No, I didn’t mean that, I—

  Hey Jack! Ike calls. What is it you always say?

  Move fast, travel light an never tell ’em yer real name, Jack says.

  That’s the boy! Ike winks at me.

  I got a funny feelin inside me. A flutter in my belly. Jack gone. Not bein able to see him no more. I hadn’t really thought about it before now. What might happen after we find Lugh.

  Ike! calls Jack. Saba! Move it! We ain’t got time to stand around yappin.

  I bin so busy listenin to Ike that I ain’t noticed that Jack an Emmi an Ash an Epona’s already on horseback, ready to go. Tommo’s on the sturdy little donkey, holdin the reins of Ike’s big piebald mustang.

  Nero caws impatiently from his perch on Jack’s shoulder. Traitor bird.

  We’re comin, I says.

  Ike looks up at the head on the faded tavern sign. Gives it a shove an starts it swingin.

  So long, you one-eyed bastard, he says.

  Then him an me mount up an we move out.

  Seven days to midsummer.

  I cain’t stop thinkin about Lugh. Worryin about how he is. Worryin that he might be hurt. I wonder if he thinks I ain’t comin. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. Lugh knows I keep my promises, knows I’d grow wings an fly to the moon to git him back, but it’s bin so long he might think somethin’s happened to me. He might even think I’m dead. I’d hate it if he thought that.

  Ike an Jack both swear that the quickest way to Freedom Fields lies through these mountains, the Devil’s Teeth. There is another route, the one that’s most used, but it ’ud mean retracin our steps almost back to Darktrees. So here we are, an all because Jack jest had to have Ike join us. He better turn out to be worth the trouble.

  This may be the quickest way but it ain’t well traveled an no wonder. These ain’t mountains that deal kindly with people who try to cross ’em. They’re steep an jagged with no way of keepin to the high ground. They force us to climb up an then lose the height we jest gained by climbin down agin. It ain’t good ridin country, that’s fer sure. The goin’s so hard that we mainly hafta walk the horses.

  An it ain’t jest the mountains. There’s the fog.

  It come down on us the day after Ike closed the door of the One-Eyed Man an it ain’t showed no signs of liftin. It lies on the mountains night an day, heavy, dank an bone-chillin. It swirls around our legs an strokes our faces with its clammy fog fingers.

  I hate it. I cain’t stand it if I cain’t see the sky. No matter how bad Silverlake was, at least you could count on big skies, always high an wide, comin right down to meet the earth. A person could breathe there.

  We go along without talkin fer the most part, huddled in our cloaks, heads down. When somebody does say somethin, they talk quiet. Even big Ike with his boomin voice talks soft. A normal voice sounds too loud, almost shockin, in this muffled fog world. There ain’t no birdsong. No rustle of animal feet. It’s like we’re th’only souls alive.

  Emmi’s made friends with Tommo.

  They ride along together. He talks to her in his strange hoarse voice. Or he’ll use his hands an fingers to speak. She seems to unnerstand what he means, jest like he’s talkin like normal folk do. Like it ain’t no different.

  It’s gittin so’s they’re almost brother an sister, Tommo an Em. I’m glad. It’s good fer her to have somebody near to her own age. An she’s lookin happier, not peaky like she’s bin fer so long. Ever since we left Silverlake really.

  But it’s all changed between Jack an me.

  It started at the Wrecker city an got worse after he pulled me outta the river. The last time we spoke to each other was when he told me not to smile at Tommo.

  We’ll say one or two words if we hafta, but he don’t tease me no more or let his hand brush aginst mine an both of us make sure our eyes don’t meet. It’s like I only dreamed that he held me an kissed me till my spine melted.

  Well, what did you especk? Every time he came near you, you pushed him away.

  Oh, it’s a waste of time thinkin about Jack. Soon I’m gonna be back with Lugh. Then him an Emmi an me’ll find ourselves somewhere good to settle. A place that’s green an kind, by runnin water. Maybe near to Mercy. An we’ll be a family agin. That’s all I care about.

  I shiver an pull my cloak around me tighter.

  It’s so cold in the fog.

  Even colder without Jack’s smile.

&nbs
p; It’s bin two whole days of fog but it’s finally startin to thin out some. It ain’t lifted entirely, but the wind’s picked up an it’s gone all wispy, like long gray feathers driftin lazily around us. The air’s still cold an dank. Hard to believe it’s the middle of a summer afternoon.

  That’s when we come upon the hanged men.

  Four of ’em. Danglin by their necks from nooses tied to the branches of a big, lightnin-black tree. They turn gentle in the breeze, their faces an hands gray where they bin covered with wet ash that’s dried. The fog winds itself around their bodies.

  We pull up. Fer a long moment we sit there an look. Nobody says nuthin. Epona’s horse snorts.

  Then Jack gits down from Ajax. He walks over to the tree an feels the hand of the nearest man. He crouches down an checks the ground. He shoves his hat back an looks at Ike.

  It’s Skinny Nick, says Ike, an uh …

  McNulty, says Tommo.

  That’s right, says Ike, McNulty. An the two fellas who was with ’em. They was all at the One-Eyed Man the night before you showed up. Left together on foot the next mornin.

  They bin dead fer at least a couple of days, says Jack.

  They must of crossed somebody, says Ash.

  Yeah, says Ike, that’ll be it. Poor bastards. He clicks to his horse an leads the way past the hangin tree. I hold back while th’others go on. Wait while Jack swings hisself onto Ajax.

  You an Ike know who done it, I says.

  Yup, he says. A little nerve jumps at the corner of his mouth.

  Was it the Tonton? I says.

  Looks like it, he says.

  Why’s there ash on their hands an faces? I says.

  Uninvited guest ain’t ezzackly welcome at Freedom Fields, he says. Sometimes the Tonton hang you, other times they’ll cut yer head off an put it on a spike. But they always put ash on the face. It’s how you know yer in their territory. Wise man sees that, he turns around an gits the hell out as fast as he can.

  But we ain’t turnin, I says.

  No, he says. Wisdom ain’t a virtue I ever aspired to.

  Ever since we come across the hanged men, I cain’t stop thinkin about Vicar Pinch. About DeMalo an the rest of the Tonton.

  With every step, we git closer to Freedom Fields. Until now, I ain’t gived much thought to what we’ll be up aginst. Who we’ll be up aginst. But now I do.