by J P Nelson
The shield connected a solid blow and sent Fhascully reeling. A dagger blade suddenly extended from the forward edge of the shield with a shickt-t-t sound. Coroas executed a backhand swing with his sword, which was parried, and then thrust hard with the shield-dagger.
Fhascully side-stepped from the thrust and parried the dagger, but was pinned against the rail of the ship where it was tied to the Qua’Korr. Coroas had the point of his sword in a drawn back position to thrust his opponent’s neck, and then he paused. His words were quiet and meant for Fhascully alone, but he spoke with a sneer.
Fhascully slapped his free hand against the menacing sword tip, across his opponent’s face, following through with a forearm strike which smashed hard against the flat of the blade. Coroas reeled as his cheek was laid open to the bone. Fhascully kicked the man back and followed with a slice to the torso, a blow which would have gutted him like a fish if not for his leathern armor.
A spinning movement by Fhascully was followed by a thrust into the torso; the point of his beautiful blade finding purchase, but not quite running the man through. Coroas came back with a wide swing of the shield, but Fhascully staggered as much as ducked and seized the disk with his left hand.
Pulling the shielded arm toward him, Coroas lost balance. With a mighty downward swing, Fhascully severed the arm at the biceps. Blood from fighting between crews, as well as Coroas and Fhascully, covered the deck. Fhascully slipped and fell to his knees as Coroas fell over the far side of the ship, screaming and still holding his sword.
What remained of the oppressing crew surrendered as Serge and a mate helped the exhausted and bloody Fhascully to his feet. Before him lay the shield and severed arm.
He pointed to the shield and declared with halting breath, “I … want that … if … you please.”
Fhascully was covered in a network of cuts, but his side wound was nasty to see. Ervis yelled, “Quickly, a man with bandages, we have a grievous wound here!”
“It … it is nothing … I have had … worse …”
“To shite, man. You are losing blood by the pint!”
Fhascully saw a fellow crewman leaning against the main-mast, holding a wounded arm. Feebly, he tried to push free of Ervis and go to the man saying, “We must … we must tend …” he slumped in Ervis’s and Serge’s grasp. If they had not had hold, he would have collapsed to the deck.
Kravieu was at his side as they sat him on a crate, then winced at the sight of the wound. A man was binding the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood as Fhascully’s head reeled.
Kravieu took Fhascully by the face and spoke with a firm tone, “Hey! You! Stay with us! You are too stubborn a scoundrel ...” He did not know what to say.
Fhascully’s shirt removed, someone was heard to say, “My gods! Look to the scars!”
Another voice remarked, “I thought the man was a tub, there be no blubber about him. Not big, mind you, but see those arms …”
The side bound, they got Fhascully on a stretcher and aboard the Qua’Korr and to his quarters. Kravieu held the man’s hand in a tight grip. Afraid to let him sleep for fear he would not awaken, he declared, “Son-or’a-jym, Franklin … you put on one splendid show. What did you say to the bastard?”
Weakly, Fhascully replied, “I said … you talk too damn much.”
Chapter 36
THE BODY OF Coroas was not found and the four remaining ships made their escape, but the day was an overwhelming victory. Coroas’s vessel was fairly won as a prize, and a solid vessel it was. What remained of the enemy crew was taken below. In Stevens they were spitted by stake and posted upon a hill overlooking the cove.
Ervis was heralded a hero, while on the Qua’Korr, Fhascully became the center of attention.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“When did you lose your weight?”
“Shikes, you are good with that blade!”
“Can you teach me how to fight?”
“A fighting physician, how fine?”
“Can I see your sword?”
“Where did you get that sword? I have never seen such.”
“Did you learn to fight in Vedoa?”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“You should be an officer. Why are you not an officer?”
To the latter, Fhascully blandly remarked, “Because … I do not wish to be an officer.”
Kravieu held them off, “Gentlemen, Mister Fhascully is in dire need of rest.” When the drape to their quarters was closed, he checked Fhascully’s dressings and stitches, “It still amazes me how neatly you laced your own wounds, and there is no infection at all. It appears you are mending well. Does this hurt?”
“Ou-u-w! Yes! That hurts.”
“Baulder-dash … you are acting like an infant. Here, let me---”
“Stop. I can do it myself. You have the hands of a crocodile.”
Kravieu chuckled and sat upon his hammock, “Do you have good knowledge of intimate nature with crocodiles?”
They were quiet as Fhascully put a poultice of herbs on one of his wounds. Kravieu added, “You should not be so morose and sullen. Ervis is alive due to your intervention. And a fiend is slain.”
“I doubt that. He is a hearty sort.”
“So, you did indeed know him?”
More quiet … then, “Yes, I knew him well.”
“You do not wish to talk about it?”
Fhascully was looking at the floor, then he glanced up, “With all regards, Etmond, I would rather not. I speculate he is not finished, but he is finished here.” He looked to the drape and added, “I wouldst not have to speak of past days. I just … I just …”
“I understand. I will pass the word. You get well.”
Fhascully winced in thoughts, “Etmond?”
“Yes?”
“Am I a coward … a coward for not wanting to … to speak …?”
Kravieu’s smile was kindly, “No, I would not say you were a coward on any count.” He shook his head gently, “There are some things a man simply does not wish to remember. I would say you have earned the right not to remember them.”
The corner of Fhascully’s mouth took a slight turn into a partial smile. He offered, “You are a good man, Mister Kravieu.”
There was a moment of implied surprise, but before Kravieu could respond Fhascully added, “She was a good woman, and you were fine for her.”
Kravieu pursed his lips and nodded, “Yes, yes she was. She loved you dearly, you know?”
“As I loved her.”
Again quietness as they remembered, each in their own way, laughter and wit, gentleness and strength.
Fhascully said, “I promised her I would look after you.”
Kravieu’s eyes began to mist, then he brushed them as he replied, “You are doing a terrible job. Look at you.”
Fhascully could not help but grin. He began to laugh, then held his side, “Ou-u-uw … that hurts.”
___________________________
Ervis continued up the east coast of the Bay, making port at Indow, then west to Johnstone Isle, finally to Grindstaff. He didn’t really expect Jha’Ley to be there waiting, but after tarrying for some time he began to become concerned; Jha’Ley was dependable and precise.
His orders were to stay in Grindstaff after the one year mark, until the expedition returned. But when the winter snows began to fall Ervis started to worry.
The folk of Grindstaff were happy to have the Qua’Korr and the crew back in town for the winter months. There were some women folks around who were also quite pleased. Ervis lost two of his crew to the matrimonial customs of the region.
All seemed to be a normal season of snow and ice … until well after the Winter Solstice. Two months into the year 5143 ED, a woman burst into the Bon Ton desperately seeking Fhascully, “My ba-bee, my ba-bee… he is ver’ seek.”
The woman had run more than a mile down a snow crusted trail to get help. Fhascully took her by the arm and asked, “What is
wrong?”
“He … is cry much … he …” she grabbed her forehead and fluttered her other hand, “… hot, he ver’ hot … cou-cou much …”
Fhascully looked to Kravieu and said, “Let us go, quickly.” Fhascully ran to his makeshift office and grabbed a bag full of herbs and ran to follow the woman.
Upon reaching their abode, two children of about eight and ten were at the door crying. One grabbed their mother as she tried to get in to her baby. Reaching the infant’s crib, she began to wail as she picked him up and held him close to her breast. There was no haste for examination; Fhascully could tell the child was gone.
Kravieu’s heart went out to the woman as Fhascully gently said, “Please, my lady, perhaps I can learn the cause if I may but …”
Kravieu spoke to her in her own language, and explained the need for an examination; the child may have had an illness which could affect her other children. As she finally consented and handed her baby to Fhascully, he became instantly horrified. It wasn’t the visage; it was what the infant represented.
Her baby must have only passed within moments, for his skin was still raging hot. Even had they been able to save his life, the damage to his little brain would likely have been severe. What caught Fhascully’s attention, then Kravieu’s, was the blue pallor of his skin and the vast amount of black substance oozing from his nose and mouth.
Fhascully sat back on one knee and put his forearm against his mouth and nose, the smell was overwhelming. He looked about the two-room dwelling. The windows were sealed and the fire blazing. The woman was one of many widows and made a living making soap, butter, and cheese.
“Etmond, please quickly, go check the livestock.”
Kravieu left quickly as Fhascully studied the children. Both seemed to have runny noses, but the younger, a girl, sneezed and was a bit flushed in the cheeks. The woman coughed, then blew her nose, sneezed, then blew her nose again. The handkerchief, it was dark.
As if just remembering courtesy, she gave instructions to her eldest, a boy, who hurried to a pot and poured some steaming amber liquid. He brought the mug to Fhascully; it was a savory mug of tea.
Tea?!
Fhascully’s mind began working feverishly as he stared into the mug. The lad looked to him as if he had done something wrong. The man tried to indicate all was well, just give him time to take sup. He reached up to feel the lad’s forehead. No fever.
“What is your name, good fellow?”
The boy did not understand.
“Name? You … name?” Pointing to himself, “Fha-scul-ly.”
The boy pointed to his own chest and said, “Tah’Haeny.”
Motioning for the girl to come to him, he determined she was of great fever, unlike her brother. The mother again coughed, this time she spat black into her handkerchief.
Kravieu entered the room, paused, then walked softly to Fhascully, “The calf is dead, the cow seems unwell, and the dog did not bark. It lay there and looked upon me. The goats, however, the goats are lively and one billy wanted to play.” He started to take Fhascully’s tea for a sup, but the latter put his hand on Kravieu’s hand to stop him.
Fhascully led Kravieu outside and breathed deeply, then asked, “The fellow who came up last week via sled ...”
“Maxell …”
“He boasted of tea he brought which had been imported to N’Ville. He said it had come from special blends, grown on some island.”
“Yes?” Kravieu was hearing but not following.
“Do you remember Doctor Wesney’s lecture? The Gerardo Plaque which tracked up the east Sahrjiun Mountain ranges, seven years ago?”
Kravieu’s memory was beginning to kick in, his face showing apprehension.
“No one could determine its source, but it was believed to have been transmitted through some form of foodstuff, and it was traced to N’Ville.” Fhascully glanced inside, and then back to Kravieu, “What food is carried to such a distance across land, save personal victuals?”
“Tea … and some select spices. Consumption of coffee is growing upon intellectuals in Dahruban as nut, pressed cake, and in drink form, however, it has not made way this far north, as yet. But Maxell brought no spice, that he proclaimed, nor coffee.”
“Etmond, the plague wiped out two towns and six villages. The city of Kynear was decimated by over three quarters. Had it reached Teamon, there is no telling what effect it may have had around the Phabeon Sea.
“The children went first, then adults and cattle. Many dogs died … but take note, goats and cats are totally unaffected.
“We need to find Maxell immediately.”
Fhascully gripped Kravieu’s arm, “I think we are looking at the start of a Gerardo outbreak. We need to know where he passed off the tea, if that is indeed the source.”
“He could not have doled large supply, as he traversed by sled. And he is nigh to as hoarding as you, Franklin.”
Fhascully glanced at Kravieu’s face, then shook his head. “Must you always be in good humor?”
Kravieu shrugged, “It is a flaw.”
“I am going to run to town for a sled. Do not drink the tea; I fear it will hasten the effect.”
“You wish me to stay here?”
“If this is the plague, we have both been affected, and the power’s which be knows who else.”
“How is it transmitted, then?”
Fhascully opened his hands, “I do not know. The disease begins by simple consumption, but once it manifests, it is contagious by other means. Whether by contact, breath of familiar air … it is not known.”
“What can be done, is there anything?”
“You must have gone for feeding during the lecture. A cleric at Wadsworth Keep, in the northern Tremount, found a solution. He must have stopped it, for there was no record of spread northward, which makes me wonder about this outbreak. But we have no time to tarry.
“Explain the windows must be open, we must get fresh air in the home, and no TEA!” Fhascully was backing down the trail, “See if any of the goats have milk! Better, see if there is any fresh butter!”
Turning to town, Fhascully began to run. He thought, ‘Let us see what shape I am in, now.’
___________________________
A townsman named Assis had just hitched his team of dogs when Fhascully came running into town. Without explanation, Fhascully emphatically asked, “Do you know Maxell’s home, and can you get me there quickly?”
“It is good, yas! Let we be go!”
Once to the homestead, all was closed up and only a couple dogs could be heard barking from behind the dwelling. Fhascully sent Assis to the back while he entered the home.
There was no sound of movement inside, and the door was ajar. Only two feet away was Maxell’s body strewn upon the floor; he was dead, and had been for days. He was heavily bundled, which was indicative of cold chills, and an armload of firewood was scattered about where he had fallen. Dried, black mucus coated his mouth, nose, and front of his body.
Fhascully surveyed the small dwelling. Maxell had been neat, very neat. Everything had its place and was well maintained. There was a split wood table, two chairs, a tier of bunks …
On a counter beside the cook stove sat a stone jar. Walking to it, Fhascully lifted the lid and saw several packets of nicely wrapped tea. Lifting one out and carefully bringing it to his nose, it was not the aroma of the green tea commonly used in the region. It was tantalizing, but Fhascully deemed this to be the harbinger of death.
His first thought was to burn it, but wait, it might could be researched. How, he did not know, but it was a possibility.
Assis came to the door, first looking to Maxell, then to Fhascully.
“You come see.”
Quickly out the door and to the back, he saw several doghouses, but none of the dogs were tied to them. They were all in the barn.
Inside only two of the sled dogs were up and barking. Three dogs were down and breathing black foam. One was obviously dead. The
rest of the sled team was clearly sick.
Fhascully was talking in quiet tones, making sure to document this in his mind for putting to quill later, “This is not transferred by tea consumption, although the infecting agent must be within the tea.
“Once a host is infected … how is it transmitted? It is not by exchange of body fluids.
“Can it be by touch? It is possible, I think most likely by breathing air of the host. These dogs are not in current contact with each other.
“Why did this not happen sooner? Because … because Maxell did not broach his own tea until reaching home. Or perhaps he had other tea, and simply had not depleted his store.
“Maxell was frugal.
“Would he have made gifts of this tea? How far down the line would he have close friends, friends he may share his treasure with?”
Maxell was gruff and harsh of word, but he was well liked and would set down his own chores to help anyone in need. He was known to share meat and split wood for the widows of Grindstaff. Some were said to reward him in special ways, but that was irrelevant.
Fhascully felt chill run his spine … the man liked Kaeya and often came to the Bon Ton.
He looked back to the dogs and again began his quiet discourse, “The dogs must have all been exposed at the same time. Why then are they not all sick?” He became a bit excited, “Because all creatures are not affected with equal intensity. Some are, of course, more resilient than others. The two barking, did not Maxell make boast of his pair which hold strong wolf blood?”
Musing a bit, he said, “Wild creatures? Are they immune?”
He looked to the corral gate, which was down, but inside were three caribou eating from a roll of hay. Inside the barn was a sleigh.
“Assis? Do you know if these deer are trained to pull?”
