by J. Thorn
Screaming beasts, black and red in color, stormed from the sickly structures and emptied the countryside like locusts. They ran towards the men shouting guttural calls and swinging weapons of stone and wood.
At first the men froze in fear, dying in their boots. Once the initial shock had passed, the men loaded their pieces and drove sharpened steel through the chests of the attackers. Several pockets of tumbling armor and black paint ended with a report or the sound of a sword striking a metal breastplate.
The struggle continued in the village commons as the armed men slaughtered the Naturals. The flood of red and black demons slowed as more bodies fell motionless to the ground. The odor of gunpowder permeated the night, and smoke hung over the killing field. Cries rose out of the darkness, a mixture of unintelligible garbling and requests to be sent to Him.
Sicklemore observed the battle with his ears, as his eyes proved of no use in the night. He remained at the rear of the regiment, as instructed by Captain Russell. He stood as wounded men stumbled back through the regiment and towards the vessel, bleeding from their limbs and their faces. Those closest to death ran while attempting to shove their vitals back into their bodies.
***
“One hundred and seventy four,” said the commander. He wrinkled his nose, not willing to comment on the captain’s wound.
“Ours?”
“Twelve.”
“How many do we think escaped?”
“Maybe a handful, Captain. Not many. You need to see this.”
The commander walked Russell past stacks of dead Naturals. The men tossed the bodies onto the pyre, which threw sparks of regret into the night sky.
They continued across the village center and stopped under a massive oak tree. Russell stopped and looked around, but he saw nothing of note.
“Don’t have time for games, Commander.”
The commander pulled the captain a foot to the right and stared into his eyes. Russell heard a ping as a drop of liquid struck his armor. He placed a hand on his helmet and held it up to a torch. His palm turned red. He stepped back and held the torch above his head, squinting and counting the arms hanging over the platform.
“Has anyone climbed it?” The captain asked as he pointed to a knotted rope dangling on the backside of the trunk.
“Not without your command, sir.”
The captain yanked on the rope and began to climb. Halfway to the summit, his muscles burned, reminding him of the long voyage spent on the ship. When he crested the floor of the platform, he was shocked to see that the four corners each held a candle, the flame not visible from the ground. Two bodies were spread across the floorboards, one male and quite large while the other appeared to be that of a young girl. They wore white feathers, bloodied by the splatter of the piece of lead that had shattered their skulls. He turned to the edge and vomited. The captain climbed down the rope and looked at the commander, who stood brushing pink chunks from his coat.
“Looks like their leader and possibly a wife or concubine.”
“Shall I have men bring them down?”
Before the captain could answer, the commander spun and raised his sword at the darkness. A sapling moved, and two shapes stepped from behind it. The captain’s flickering torch revealed two white faces. The commander dropped his blade and sighed as he sheathed it. He turned and strode back towards the battlefield, leaving the captain with the two strangers.
“Earlier than expected, but always welcome,” said Jaithe. Kelsun peered at the captain from behind his uncle’s shoulder.
Chapter 15
“The bodies up there, they seem like they mighta been important to the beasts.”
“The Naturals,” said Jaithe.
“Call ’em what you will. They’re like dogs to me,” replied Captain Russell.
Jaithe looked at Kelsun and pointed at the platform in the tree. “Go,” he instructed.
Russell and Jaithe stood aside as Kelsun scampered up the rope, the rags dangling off his thin body. The captain gawked at Jaithe’s appearance, starting at his feet and moving up to his head.
“You people are worse off than us. Scurvy don’t rot like that.”
Jaithe looked up as Kelsun swung one leg over the platform. White lines shot across his neck in the creases where the dirt could not hide.
“The werowance and the princess,” said Kelsun, with his head hanging over the platform.
Jaithe sat on the ground and wiped his brow.
“Mean something to you?” the captain asked.
“Their commander and his daughter.”
Russell opened his eyes wide and gestured for Jaithe to explain further with an exaggerated motion.
“Naturals,” Jaithe continued. “They have inhabited this land for generations. Although there are various tribes, nations, if you will, the slain man in the tree was the leader of this local tribe. His people called him ‘Werowance,’ and thus we did as well. His daughter, although young, appeared to have sway over his decisions.”
Captain Russell chewed on his cigar and swished the powdery snow around with one leg. “So why did they come through the trees like demons, hollerin’ with arrows flyin’?”
“Not a fortnight past, I arranged a truce with the werowance. There had been some misunderstandings, and we feared attack from the Naturals. In addition, our victuals faded with the light of the Season of Life. We had hoped to share in the stores of the Naturals until more vessels arrived.” Jaithe looked up at the captain and stood.
“That don’t explain why the dogs barked at us.”
“We welcomed the Naturals into our homes, our hearths. The children played while the women instructed ours in the ways of this land. Men moved freely between camps and no longer feared reprisal for the freedom. Then a few days passed. The Naturals emerged from the woods and massacred the village. I lost two of my own children, and they dragged my eldest daughter off by her hair.”
Captain Russell’s face creased. He reached out to Jaithe and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I have spotted several members of the council, but most of them were too busy burying their dead,” Jaithe said.
“What caused these dogs to bite?” asked Russell.
Jaithe could only shake his head and shed tears to the frozen ground. “We’re grateful for your arrival.”
Russell beamed and straightened his back. “I shrink from no crucible, be it that of man or beast.”
***
Kelsun let the old men chatter below him. Let them fill each other with lies and tales of bravado, he thought.
The body of the werowance faced him, the man lying spread eagle on the platform with his head turned to one side. Kelsun inspected the dark spread underneath and noticed that it had not yet frozen. The princess lay curled on the opposite side as if suffering from terrifying dreams. Curling wisps of heat floated off the bodies as the cool air dropped like a blanket. The wind wailed and shook the tree.
He used his boot to push the right arm of the werowance to the side. A smudge of black paint came off the dead man’s skin, revealing a brown streak underneath. The shaved side of the werowance’s head faced up, and his long black hair spread out to mix with the drying blood. With the varying layers of war paint, Kelsun could not find the mortal wound. The belt of scalps had fallen off the corner of the platform and snagged on a nearby branch. Kelsun glanced at it and turned as he felt a shifting in his bowels.
He stood over the princess. Hides and furs covered her lithe body. He found no apparent wound, but, like her father, she lay in a pool of her own blood. Kelsun bent down and reached out to touch the side of her face. Shyla’s long lashes gathered ice crystals as the snow swirled about the platform. He placed his face inches from hers, felt for warmth, and discovered none. Kelsun caressed her cold chin. With his index finger, he touched her top lip. A jolt of cold death shocked his system. He turned her face up towards his, mesmerized by her dark skin and high cheekbones. Kelsun moved closer, his mouth approaching hers.
He set the chin of the princess back down on the platform when he noticed a string of rawhide around her neck. He reached for it and pulled it out with both hands. A golden amulet dangled from the end, two bright jewels radiating from the center like the eyes of the heavens. Kelsun froze. He stared at the amulet, unable to drop it and still unable to move.
“Kelsun.”
He looked at the ground with bared teeth. His eyebrows angled, and he stifled a grunt. He turned back to the amulet that thrummed in his hand, looked into the face of the princess, and turned away in revulsion. The amulet made her dead face warp and waver in the scant moonlight. Before Jaithe could climb the rope and steal the amulet from him, he yanked hard at the rawhide. It popped off the neck of the princess. Kelsun held it high and smiled. He jammed it into an inner pocket and leaned over the side of the platform. Captain Russell and his uncle stood below with their heads moving in casual conversation.
“Yes, Master,” he shouted.
“What have you, boy?”
Kelsun smiled and wiped the sweat off his brow as the gods of the Dark Time swirled in white blankets around him. “The werowance and his daughter, both dead,” he said.
“Do their earthly shells contain anything of virtue?” asked Jaithe.
Kelsun paused. He shook his head and felt the warmth of the amulet over his heart. “Nothing but the mortal wounds that took them from this plane, my lord.”
***
The men stepped through the bloody snow and over sprawled bodies strewn across the frozen landscape. The vessels sat offshore in a torrent of wind-driven snow squalls. Jaithe followed Captain Russell past the burning pyre of fallen warriors. Kelsun kept close to his uncle as he maneuvered through the battlefield.
“How many did you charter to the Commonwealth?”
Captain Russell spat out a piece of leaf stuck to his tooth and shrugged his shoulders. “Laborers, soldiers, or gentlemen?” he asked.
“Women, children, families?” Jaithe replied.
Russell chuckled. “The company expects to turn a profit from the Commonwealth. They are not interested in building a society.”
“Then they should send families, unless they expect the laborers to mate with the gentlemen,” replied Jaithe.
The captain bellowed, his laughter skidding across the frozen sands. A few of the soldiers who had been watching the fire burn turned to face him.
“That would be a sight I’d rather not have commissioned to mine eyes. I suspect we have our share of all walks, well beyond the second unit.”
Jaithe looked up, his lips moving in silent computation. “Sounds like the two hundred you brought should double the size of the Commonwealth. Might make it nearly impossible to get through the Dark Time on our dwindling provisions?”
“I’d say you should be thanking us for the military reinforcements. Can’t imagine the beasts coming back at you now, especially with their yahoo burning.”
Jaithe looked at the body of the werowance as three soldiers pulled him from the tree and dragged his body towards the fire. He glanced at Kelsun. The body of the princess had transfixed the boy, locking his eyes like iron shackles.
“No, I’d say you’re right with that observation. I’m assuming the women and children have not disembarked?”
“You would assume correctly, Master Jaithe. I don’t desire to see the skirts and shorts slaughtered by the beasts before we can secure the Commonwealth.”
“The Naturals,” said Jaithe.
“Pardon?”
“We call them the Naturals,” Jaithe repeated.
“I think you can call them gone.”
Jaithe clenched the tip of his tongue between his teeth, tasting the salty flow of his own blood. He looked again at Kelsun and noticed that the boy’s gaze had not left the body of the princess from the moment the men had dragged her from the tree. His face fell and his lip quivered when the body hit the flame. A flash of pain raced across Kelsun’s face and shook him from the daze.
“Master Jaithe, I feel I need to rest,” said Kelsun.
Jaithe dismissed the boy with a flick of his wrist and turned to face Russell. “On the morrow, Captain Russell, I would be honored if you and your commander would come with me on a tour of the Commonwealth. We can secure the land and remove the women and children from the crafts.”
“If you can drag me out from under the bottle, good man, I’ll be at your side.” The captain strode off towards the boat, accepting a flask placed in his hand by a servant. He cocked it back and staggered sideways through the blinding snow. Pockets of light appeared on the decks of the ships as the women ignited the nightly fires. Jaithe put his arm around Kelsun and trudged through the village center, up the trail to the cold, dark caves.
Chapter 16
“The roasting flesh nauseates me,” said Patience.
“Would you rather be faced with these profane corpses?” asked Vera. The floor shifted under the forming ice.
Patience thrust her head through the porthole. “I think I’d rather inhale the smoke from the pyre than I would the stench in this hole.”
Vera looked at the stains on the floor and nodded. The women slept in fitful starts, covered in blankets like moss on the forest floor. Cries escaped from the infants under the mounds.
“I cannot lay in this filth for another night.” Patience took a voluminous gulp of air from the porthole and straightened her head-covering before sitting next to Vera.
“I can still see her, the afterbirth, the stain on the floor,” Vera said.
Patience shook her head. “Don’t be dwellin’ on the tragedy of the voyage, or it’ll eat you from the inside out.”
“I can feel my ribs.”
“Comin’ back,” said Patience.
Vera collapsed on her back, staring at the slow drip of the water burrowing through the seams of the deck. She looked around at the ghosts of the voyage, shivering from the memory of the souls lost on the way. “The sailors speak of fantastic riches. Mountains made of gold and sapphires covering the land.”
“Oh, Vera, you silly child.”
Vera sighed with red cheeks and a quick frown.
“The men boast of the Commonwealth as if it were a heavenly place, full of the proper sort. Otherwise, how could they convince wretches like us to make the journey?” asked Patience.
“Might I find a husband in the Commonwealth? That is the treasure I chase over the Great Sea.”
“Of course. I fashion the Commonwealth can provide fine men, such as Captain Russell.”
Vera’s face fell and she shrank low as if tasting the bitter hops of a poor man’s ale.
A clamoring on the deck above ended the conversation. Thundering steps shook the deck as if a bear were trouncing across the ship. Heads jutted out from under the blankets as the other women awoke to the noise. A ragged sailor slid down the rope ladder and almost landed on Vera. He pushed her to the side, the eternal voyage having dispensed with the remains of his civility.
“Cappem’ says we stayin’ heya.” He scampered up the ladder as quickly as he had descended. Vera and Patience watched the last of his boots disappear overhead.
***
Kelsun scampered through the damp air until the light of the cave no longer reached his eyes. He took deep gulps of the wet, cold mist inside the mountain and reached out to the walls that ran with the tears of the ancients. Kelsun remembered the path he had first traveled when the vessels dropped anchor on the beach. A fuzzy vision of his father appeared in his head but faded before he could cast a meaningful eye on the details of his face.
The distant noise of crashing water tangled with the sound of the whistling wind rushing from the earth’s heart. Kelsun was certain that others had drilled towards the core, but he had no desire to follow their path. He found a crack in the wall and squeezed through into the darkness. The open space suffocated him, and he dropped to all fours. His hand
s found the lighting rod inside his pocket, and he tried three times before he was able to place the ember on it. The rod glowed like a beacon in the chamber, and Kelsun moved it to a tree branch that had been wrapped in cloth and dipped in lard. The glow of the surface paled in comparison to the oily beam of the torch, which corrupted his tongue with a bitter pall.
Kelsun turned and set the lit torch against the wall. The flame cast shadows in the chamber as far as the darkness would permit before it devoured the light. He pulled the amulet from beneath his undershirt and held it towards the flame, the cuts of gold glistening like the capped waves of the Great Sea during the Season of Life. Kelsun held the amulet in the air by its rawhide string and let it spin back and forth. His dry tongue stuck to his teeth, and his heartbeat accelerated as the medallion swung closer to his skin. The boy closed his eyes and fought a wave of nausea. The floor of the cave buckled and pitched like the deck of the ship that had brought him across the Great Sea.
He opened his eyes and pulled the string over his head until the amulet rested on his chest. At first Kelsun felt the warmth of the golden shape, writhing in the relief it brought from the wet dark. But then the comfort turned to mild irritation. An energy thrummed through the medallion and drew an itch to his chest.
Kelsun’s eyes fluttered, and the torch ignited into a ball of flame that threw blinding flashes into the chamber. The boy drew his hands back as the light withdrew. Kelsun shook his head, as he now floated upon the Great Sea.
The Moon Goddess watched from high above, casting a narrow beam of white onto the placid waters. Kelsun looked at the raft, strung together with the trunks of saplings and cut reeds. His clothes smelled of sweat and urine while hanging from his bony limbs, and he felt the pangs of starvation with a distant pinch, as if he were seeing himself suffer through the eyes of another.
“It must make you vulnerable before you can accept the message.” The voice pitched Kelsun towards the edge of the raft. The snag of his torn pants caught one of the planks and kept him from falling into the water.
