by J P Nelson
U’Lahna took his arm and pointed. Within a not-so-distant-view was the house on Rich Hill. Once all were accounted for, he said, “Very well my fellows, we have made discussion as to our course of action. Let us proceed.”
The house was built to resemble a low rising barn of two levels. Fhascully took note the windows were boarded up from inside. On one end, two large doors were set to house not one, but two carriages. Three stone throws away was a smaller barn where the horses were stabled.
A check revealed the horses were being tended and tracks led back and forth to the house. How would anyone make trek to the town without being seen? It was Mn’Gaes who found the tunnel through a massive mountain laurel thicket. The laurel was well covered in snow and gave hidden access to the ravine next to the town. Fhascully thought, ‘How clever, if even only by accident. Someone has obviously made way through a path used by animals.’
The path had not been used by only one person, either. Mn’Gaes showed how others had travelled through toward the house, but only two led away. “Some big people, some small come here. I think they are led.”
Fhascully asked, “Small? Do you imply children?”
Jose Coco muttered, “Why that son of a bitch …”
Back at the house, Klaus was able to quietly sidle up to see light flickering behind more than one boarded window. Fhascully could see the foundation had cracked in places, allowing the flooring to sag. At center, in back of the house, there was an old door leaning irregularly against the base.
Fhascully looked to Klaus and Serge standing close by and whispered, “This house does not have a cellar, or basement.”
Ever-so-gently, the door was lifted away, revealing a gap under the broken foundation leading to the stench filled fissure below.
Fhascully looked to U’Lahna and asked, “Can you …?”
She took his hand. He had a strong feeling about what they would find. Suddenly he felt himself dissolve. He began to yell by reflex, but found he could not. It was as if he grew … huge … and floated in the air … sort of.
Fhascully felt everything start moving around him … wait … it was he who was moving around … swirling in the wind as if, as if he were the wind. He became aware of U’Lahna’s embrace, only this was not how he had several times envisioned it could be. Together they wafted into the fissure, deep into the ground past rotting roots, old cans, various types of refuse, even fresh human body waste.
He thought, ‘What do you know? They have sewage plumbing.’
How they would see was not a problem, Fhascully had vision through her shared elvin sight. Becoming solid was not necessary. He saw what he needed.
Back up on the outside, he was full of cold wrath. War was war, but this … but this ... he drew his sword.
Serge asked in low tones, “Mister Fhascully?”
“A visage you should never have to observe. Corpses, at least one man, a woman, and children … children unclad.”
He waited not, walking to an entrance door at back of the house he heard the sound of music. It was bad, a piano out of tune with notes receiving treatment in halting, slow fashion. The player had ill trained skill and the sounds were accompanied with shrill singing. Some female had a high opinion of her range, as she was overly loud, strained, and off key just enough to be infuriating to a musician.
With a glance back to ensure readiment, he kicked in the door.
The back room must have been a form of parlor. Along one side was an upright piano with a white haired woman playing. Her head was thrown back as she strained to hit notes too high for her voice. On a broken couch, a man of at least four hundred pounds sat in center. To one side of him, on same couch, reclined a dark-haired woman of comparable girth.
Another woman with prematurely gray hair sat on a stool with an adoring look on her face staring at the woman at the piano. On a stuffed chair was a young man with a haggard, aged woman cuddled on his lap and her hand inside his shirt.
A crashing sound could be heard in another room. Fhascully gave a curt nod to Kyle, who with Serge ran to said room. Another crash, and Kyle ran back and said, “He is getting away.”
Jose Coco was standing at the door and exclaimed with a laugh, “No he ain’t. He done got caught.”
In the meantime everyone in the room just froze, except the woman at the piano who just turned and made a grimacing face.
The fat man looked up in fright as the young fellow under his wife tried to push her off his lap. The woman at the piano demanded, “Who are you? You are not allowed in here. This is my domain.”
Fhascully pointed his blade to the struggling young man and calmly said, “You stay put,” to the woman he said, “You, shut up.”
Walking up to the man on the couch he said, “You, you call yourself a physician.”
Guy put his hands up and whimpered, “We-we can work this out.”
Klaus was looking through the many books on a large shelf. Then he found something laying on its side, began looking through it and glancing to Fhascully said, “You need see this.”
Taking the log book in left hand, Fhascully found a scrap of paper used as a pagemark. He read the entry.
Closing the book and brandishing it, Fhascully looked back to Guy, “These are Doctor Pena’s notes, a real doctor. Not some clown who dropped out after his first year of school.”
Guy frantically looked to his wife, then whimpered in astonishment, “How could he know …”
Fhascully was irate, “What did you do, kill him so you could attract his clients?”
The woman at the piano wagged her head, straightened on her seat with self importance, then spoke with authority and a high pitch in her voice, “My son is important, he---”
“I said … shut up. You are all of fraudulent nature,” Fhascully pointed his sword at her in punctuation, “You have been run out of previous locales at point of blade, now come here among people over which you feel superior in hopes of living as royals. There are harsh folk here, but they are builders. You …” he blew in disgust, “you build nothing. Rather, you are parasites, consuming what you can, destroying what you can not.”
Guy’s wife remarked with indignation, and a distinguished Vedoan accent, “You cannot speak upon us in such fashion. I am---”
“The haughty, self-righteous daughter of a librarian in Merceil. You do not recognize me, do you? I am Fhascully, Doctor of Natural Science, your father and I took tea upon occasion. I believed him to be foolishly entwined of the Pharsee Religion, but he impressed me as an otherwise good man.”
Clearly, she was trying to make recognition and everyone else was quiet to hear.
“I wore a different name at such time …” Serge later spoke of a cruel glare to come across Fhascully’s eyes, “… you were but a teen. My ears touched words you levied upon your father, words making declaration I was not of sufficient status to warrant company; words which ring well unto this day, ‘Father, his clothes are rough and manner unpolished. He is certainly a lout whose presence will only soil our floor and tarnish the air. Even now his odor gives my stomach to roll with revulsion.’
“Do you now make remembrance?”
Serge could see she then recognized the man, Fhascully.
He sneered, “Now I stand before you, bearer of Science Doctorate in three disciplines, awarded of such University where you could not qualify.”
The woman shifted uneasily as Fhascully paused, “Such things sets the view into different light, does it not?”
He tilted his head to Guy, “Your father made mention his displeasure of the glib-tongued charlatan you wed; a drop-out from an institution of remedial learning whose fingers were best suited for dipping the trough.”
Her eyes grew wide as Fhascully slowly circled his sword toward her. When he pointed the tip in her direction she drew back upon her seat cushions, astonished, “I-I-I am a citizen of Vedoa … I … you are a physician, and friend of my father …”
“I … am not … a physician,” he gla
nced to Klaus, then Serge, “Should I put quill to brochure, or emboss emblems of gold and silver upon my sleeve?” He looked back to her in scorn, “Your father is past his return to the soil, and we were acquaintances only, not friends; I am therefore not burdened with interest of your welfare.
“Should I return you to Vedoa, it would be to court where you would be tried for your participation by elected association with these …” he glanced around the room, “… these vermin.”
Fhascully was seething, not in a wildly thrashing manner given to those of vile temper and sudden rage. No, his anger was worse, more dangerous. His was an anger trapped and hidden within the recesses of his soul; an anger of which he had yet to meet and resolve. But those in the room could feel it.
Serge saw, and marveled the aura radiating from the man did not melt his … wait … where were his glasses? He suddenly realized the glasses were missing. Such a small thing, but … Serge could not remember ever seeing him without his glasses.
Fear washed the woman’s features as the point of sword eased closer to her face, her husband watching in petrified horror as he tried to slink away from the ominous edge of steel.
The naturalist’s gaze slowly swept the room, taking each of the Mahrites into close scrutiny, then leveled his gaze at the elder woman, “You call yourself Holy Mahry, a title I am sure chosen of self, but there is nothing holy of you.”
He continued his gaze around as if addressing an enclave, “You pass judgment upon those who perform action deemed unseemly for trade of coin, yet performed with honest declaration. However you have sold your own souls for glitter and a semblance of prosperity---”
“We have money, we can pay you---”
“You … have … nothing …” Fhascully turned to the speaker, the woman he recognized as Belliu, “… nothing of value … Your coin may be spent, or taken from the vandals of night, but your honor and integrity is what you are.” There was a long pause, “And you, all of you, have none.”
With the book, Fhascully indicated direction of Woolburg, “Down there is a woman who has tendered her flesh to pay room and board, but has far more the honor any of you could ever display. And she shall be renowned for her deeds, as you shall be scorned within annals of history.”
He returned attention to Guy, “You killed the good doctor, and took his books. To help reference solutions to what you had not the discipline to learn, no doubt.
Fhascully waved the log book again, “Within these notes you read what he learned during his practice in Quandell, where it was he who assisted in development of remedy for the Gerardo Plague.”
He stepped to stand before Guy and spoke through clenched teeth, “You knew … you knew and let these people die. And you had the solution all of the time.”
The woman at the piano, Mahry, had her chin in the air as she declared, “They are hicks. They are not like us. We are good and holy people who deserve---”
Fhascully ran his blade deep into Guy’s middle as his wife shrieked and fell onto the floor. With a sneer Fhascully said, “I bet ten to one you do not even bleed.”
Guy screamed in agony and cried, “Baby doll, honey, help me … I’m hurt!” Planting his foot against Guy’s massive girth, Fhascully pulled the sword free. He eyed the wound and remarked, “I did not think so. It will take you a while.”
Looking up to the rafters of the ceiling, then back to his companions, Fhascully said, “Tie them, arms behind back and make them secure.”
Mn’Gaes dragged Etrej to the door, Jose Coco shoved him inside as he fell before Serge’s feet. Vater held a sack, “He was carrying this.”
As they pulled Etrej to his feet, Kyle saw a pouch hanging from his belt. Grabbing it, Kyle said, “I know from whom this came.”
Etrej complained, “But she just left it out there for anyone, she knew I would take it. I don’t understand---”
Kyle backhanded Etrej in the face, and then tore the pouch loose. Putting hand in, he found the shills and examined a handful. In anger, he dropped the coin in bag and slapped Etrej in the face again as his rage grew. Etrej reeled and Kyle slapped him once more.
Marta squealed and sobbed as she was bound, “But we have done nothing.”
Fhascully looked her in the eye and said, “You observed and gave aid in cover of knowledge. You are more guilty than they who performed this action.” He looked to them all, “Now you shall reap your just reward.”
To the men he said, “Tie them, allow feet to touch the floor beneath, but just barely.”
He looked to Kyle, “Take those shills and make proper marker for the old woman.”
Fhascully looked about, “Let us take what is useful … leave the gold and coin, it is currency of blood.” With a sneer he added, “Let them enter Hades with evidence of their ill gain.
Serge came around the corner, “Mister Fhascully, there is a larder filled with butter and honey.”
Looking to Guy, still holding his belly yet to show of seeping blood, Fhascully said, “May your souls be cursed and made to suffer for all eternity. This event,” he looked hard to Guy’s wife, “your names, the thousands who perished because you withheld knowledge of remedy for your own edification and auspices of ill-garnered wealth, shall be transcribed into Vedoan history.”
Mahry began to scream and cry, “No! You cannot do this to me, I am Mahry, I am born to better things … do you hear me … I am---”
“You are a delusional fool.”
The woman kept screaming, but Fhascully turned his head as if she was not there. Serge took note at the ease of which he deafened his ears.
Throughout the rooms, possessions of many kinds, clearly ill gotten, were found strewn into corners, hung upon the walls, piled upon tables. The two carriages were filled and Mn’Gaes became like a flurry of snow and whisked to lead readied teams across the bridge.
As the last of the goods were removed from premises, it was only Fhascully and U’Lahna left. All were wailing and gnashing their teeth. Etrej begged, “I’ll do anything, anything you want. I’ll get on my knees for you and---”
Fhascully punched him in the jaw, then said, “You have schemed your last. You would let these people, some of who showed you favor, die and collect their goods as spoil. You are a coward, bully, and abuser of those who cannot defend themselves … be thankful … I do not have the time to do unto you as you deserve.”
Fhascully took a moment to survey the room and the seven who hung from the rafters. They each were yelling, screaming, making declarations as he looked on with detachment.
He then looked up and spoke into a realm beyond, “May each of you, the unnamed sister, Doctor Pena, the old woman killed for her twenty shills … you children … the unknown souls who have been prey to these wretched creatures … may you feast upon their demise, or move to what light there may be … but may you have peace.”
Walking to the door, he looked back and said, “May you all burn for eternity, your souls to sojourn here forever, in this place, in this fissure of filth.”
As they walked outside, Fhascully looked to U’Lahna, “I have not asked if you were of accordance with me.”
“I have given not argument, nor held hand to stay action. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
She put out her hands, then focused deep. Words were spoken which Fhascully did not recognize. A greenish, glowing light grew within her chest, then through her arms, and rushed forward into the fissure. A tremendous explosion erupted as she grabbed him, then leaped into the air.
Landing on their feet on town side of the ravine, Fhascully again marveled at U’Lahna’s ability. Looking to what had been called Rich Hill, they saw flames engulf the house and could hear the screams of those inside.
It did not fall all at once, but slowly. They watched the house cave in to drop piece by piece into the fissure below. As the last beam fell, sheets of fire engulfed many acres with a mushroom effect.
Fhascully remarked, “Look, U’Lahna, as the fire settles and
continues to burn. It is as if it were a lake of fire.”
After some time watching, she looked up at him and asked with a subtle glint of humor in her eye, “So have thought you, many times of how my embrace should feel?”
He suddenly felt a cold chill go up his spine. As he glanced down to U’Lahna, Fhascully thought, ‘Oh shit. What else did she see in my mind?’
___________________________
As Jha’Ley gazed at the immense barrier of ice, he felt an overwhelming wave of despair roll through his soul … and if him, how many more of those aboard the two ships. With only a moment’s hesitation, he snapped himself into motion.
“Mister Seedle, quickly, I need full away-teams outfitted to scurry this ice for report. Drop both monomoys, you will command one and Sergeant Dessi the other. Outfit a third for me on ready alert to board Waddles.”
Wasting no breath, Jha’Ley said, “Mister Dalton, brief the crew for a full coastal exploration of this sea; set course south-by-west.”
Seedle did not hesitate; he grasped what Jha’Ley was doing on the instant. He began moving through the crew, seeking faces and calling names.
Jha’Ley continued, “Bosun Caroll, I want Lebracio dropping Waddles ten minutes ago. We are going to visit Captain S’Getti, then return to pick up our away-team.”
Toagun was standing beside Jha’Ley at bow and began moving to the Waddles at stern. But the commodore called him back, “Mister Sealer, you have just been commissioned as warrant officer, level two, based on your previous experience. You are as of now the only warrant officer on this expedition. You are in charge of fishing.”
Toagun gave him a wide eyed expression, then it settled upon him, as well.
“I need you to choose three men from our working crew to serve under your command. One will be promoted as your mate. We need fish, now. Smoke ‘um and store ‘um.”
“Mister Yeau?! Where is Mister Yeau?”
