Box of Runes An Epic Fantasy Collection

by J. Thorn

  ***

  The captain walked each pace with one eye on the trail and another looking over his shoulder. He felt the Naturals watching him in the same way that he felt the glacial serenity before a squall.

  By the time Captain Russell reached the base of the trail on the back face of the mountain, the feeling had faded. He turned one last time, expecting Sicklemore to be standing behind him. When that did not happen, he stepped high on the slope and climbed towards the summit. Without being encumbered by a full pack, and empty handed without gold, he planned to be back in his cabin before nightfall.

  Right after a stein of ale, I’m gonna need to find me a new lackey, he thought.

  ***

  “That’s right, Captain.”

  “You can prove it?”

  “Sure as I’m standin’ in yer presence.”

  Russell sighed and rubbed his creased forehead. The drink had softened his judgment but not his resolve.

  “What’s yer standin’ on the council?”

  “Good, I should think.”

  “You ain’t done nuthin’ to tarnish yer reputation?” The captain asked the question by slurring the last word.

  “Nuthin’ no man forsakes when the dally rises to the occasion.”

  “Any scabble involved? That could start a fight I ain’t yet ready to partake in.”

  “Between ‘riginals, sir. That’s how I see it. And maybe the company, them bein’ cheated out their gold.”

  Captain Russell set the stein to the side and grabbed a green bottle from his bureau. He yanked a cork from the top. The flowery aroma of expensive grapes followed the audible pop. He reached for two glasses, the only two that had survived months tossed around the cabin. He poured the amber liquid into one glass and then did the same for the other. Toman licked his lips like a dog with his eye on an injured rabbit. The captain pushed the cork back into the bottle, set it on the table, and lifted both glasses into the air. His grimy fingers left black smudges on the clear crystal. Russell pushed one towards Toman, who accepted with eyes the size of the Moon Goddess.

  “Gonna seal this conversation with a libation. Means yer yellow soul ain’t got no right to backtrack on the talk or falsifyin’ what ya told me today. It’s what men do, considerin’ you to be a man, and all.”

  Toman nodded and heard nothing the captain said. He imagined the sweet taste of the wine on his tongue and did everything he could not to ram it down his gullet. Russell grabbed Toman’s shoulder with his free hand and shook. A few drops spilled from Toman’s glass, and he winced as if cut by the blade.

  “I gotta have ya swear to the story, and ya gotta provide the evidence. In the eyes of King and company, it better play out accordin’ to yer story. You know it’s yer neck if it don’t.”

  Toman managed to get his eyes to the captain’s and lifted the glass to his lips. The aroma filled his nose, drowning out the odor of dried blood and sex in the captain’s room. “I’ll swear on Him, Okine, the King, or any other deity you wanna conjure. I seen the evidence with my own eyes. Council ain’t gonna be able to ignore, not less they wanna shit on the Commonwealth. Besides, company ain’t gonna let it go, not releasin’ profit to those that wanna pilfer.”

  Captain Russell put the glass to his lips and downed the wine with one gulp. It burned his throat and his chest, and settled the tension in his head. Toman followed the captain’s lead. A tongue flickered out of his mouth and lashed at the drops of red on his chin like a serpent tasting the air.

  “So be it,” said Captain Russell.

  Chapter 24

  “I’m head of the council,” Jaithe whispered to Aiden.

  “Gotta writ and a witness,” he replied.

  Toman stood in front of the group, smiling with the parchment in his hands. He shuffled his feet to a silent tune.

  “Ain’t no business of the newcomers. I be here to keep the peace, in the name of the company, and all,” Captain Russell said.

  Jaithe glared at him and sighed before turning back to Aiden. “I will not permit the scabble to drag my family through the dirt.”

  “Fighting the written word’ll do nothing but promote suspicion,” replied Aiden.

  Jaithe turned and straightened his hat. He nodded at Shella, instructing her and Brinton to step aside and allow the men to do their duty.

  “I’d ask for the respect given to a councilman representing the Commonwealth, the company, and the King.”

  Toman pushed past the captain and threw his arm around Jaithe’s shoulder like a python embracing its prey. He winked at the captain and the other scabble pretending to conceal their chains and weapons.

  “Much respect’ll be given to you and yours, seein’ as how this’ll play out. The council protects its own unless, of course, there be physical evidence to the contrary.”

  Jaithe stared into Toman’s eyes. He heard the bitter tang of the words and they turned his stomach. “For the good of the Commonwealth, of course,” he replied.

  The captain raised his hand, dispersing men throughout the cave. At first, gentle hands turned and prodded. The momentum of the search picked up, and within a few moments the investigators had overturned satchels, pots, and baskets. The violent movements dispersed the taste of sweet basil in the air, the dried herb being the last remnant of luxury enjoyed by the family. Toman stood against the wall over the bedrolls. He made eye contact with a man covered in filth. The subordinate’s white eyes thrust out of a face smeared with soot. The man hobbled towards Toman and bent down to unfurl the first bedroll.

  Shella pulled Brinton to her chest and stroked his head. She pushed her fingers through his blond locks, knocking his cap to the side. She felt his silent sobs burrowing into her apron. Jaithe watched the captain, who stood crooked, knocked askew by drink. He picked at his teeth and belched like a bellows over burning coal. Jaithe stared at the man from underneath the brim of his hat. The captain nodded through bloodshot eyes and spoke.

  “Might we have satisfied the writ, Councilman? ‘Magine the family’s gonna want to put things right after the intrusion.”

  As Russell spoke, the cretin under Toman’s feet rose. He held the gold in his hand like a beating heart torn from the chest of the enemy. The sparkling flakes rivaled the stars above. Toman snatched the rock from the man.

  “Might we hear the nature of the find, Master Jaithe?” asked Toman.

  The captain straightened up, and his face tightened as if doused with a bucket of water drawn from the frozen river. He pushed past the crab-like men fawning over the family’s broken possessions.

  “Gold,” said the captain.

  “The nature?” Toman asked, streamlining the inquiry.

  Jaithe looked at Shella, who returned an equally blank expression. Brinton raised his chin and shook his head at Shella.

  “‘Tis not ours,” replied Jaithe as if the ground below him had begun to slide towards the Great Sea.

  “‘Tis of your roll,” replied Toman. Jaithe stood, expressionless and without explanation. Toman unfurled the parchment and held it close to his face. He pretended to read what he had memorized. “The council doth hereby grant its powers this writ of entrance to the domicile of Master Jaithe in order to process such search as deemed appropriate by the council on behalf of the Commonwealth and the company, having sworn word of concealed gold, hidden without catalog and recognition from the King. Should such contraband prove to be present under such inspection, it shall be seized and the offender restrained until the council can prosecute and try the offender under the laws of the Commonwealth.”

  “Whose roll?” asked the captain.

  Toman looked over the parchment and cleared his throat.

  “Furthermore—” he began before the captain cut him off.

  “I asked whose roll it was, Toman.”

  Russell looked at the men as they shoved remnants of herb from Jaithe’s pipe into their pockets.

  “The wife,” replied Toman.

  Jaithe stepped forwards and laun
ched his right hand into the air. His fist whistled until it smashed the cartilage of Toman’s nose. Toman brought a hand up to his face as the first wave of blood cascaded over his lips and off his chin. Two men flanking the captain swung their chains over Jaithe’s wrists and slammed him into the wall. Toman gagged and spat blood near the fire, where it sizzled on the glowing embers. Jaithe turned his head and felt chilling moisture on the side of his face.

  “There is no need to shackle her. To do so would bring dishonor to our name.”

  Toman stood and punched Jaithe in the back. He threw repeated blows to the shackled man’s kidneys. The captain spun Toman by the shoulder and pushed him away.

  “Escort the lady to the village center, bound by her good name alone.”

  “He goes, too, the lout with the childish temper,” said Toman as the blood congealed in his beard.

  Jaithe kept his head low, sucking breath and trying to recover from the blows. The captain walked to Toman and spoke into his face.

  “Ain’t what the writ says. Less of course you wanna read all of it?” He asked the question by spitting out the last three words.

  Toman groaned and spat at Jaithe before Russell grabbed his arm with bony fingers.

  “No, guess it don’t say nuthin’ ‘bout the master of the accused,” said Toman.

  The captain shrugged and waved his arm in the air. Several more scabble appeared and extended their reach to Shella. The men holding Jaithe released the chains and let him collapse to the ground. Brinton refused to let go of Shella’s dress, and Jaithe crawled to him and pulled him from her.

  “We will be down, my love,” he said to Shella. She nodded through silent tears and followed the men from the cave.

  The captain waited for Toman to leave and for the other henchmen to go as well. He tossed the gold back and forth between his hands, feeling the rough edges and following the streaks of light created by the flakes in the rock. Jaithe turned and slid down the wall, cradling Brinton in his arms.

  “It don’t do nuthin’. Men seem to be willin’ to die over a rock.”

  Jaithe stared at the captain in silence.

  “Ain’t here ta wreck your family or ruin your missus. Don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout yer Ways, His plan, or yer standin’ with the council. Don’t care ‘bout none of that. Got me wrapped up in the contract of the company, the slimy bastards. The word on the parchment meanin’ more than a nod and a handshake.”

  Jaithe sat.

  “Yer own man is linin’ ya up. Takin’ yer wife to the courtroom over the rock found in her roll. Whatcha got to say on the matter?”

  “I’d say you’ll answer to Him on judgment day.”

  The captain sighed and shoved the gold into his pocket. “You ain’t gettin’ it, Jaithe. If you’re hidin’ finds in the mountain, now’s the time to speak of it. And if you ain’t, ya best git yer followers together, ‘cause some of the ‘riginals be sidin’ with the scabble. Neither way gonna serve yer means, nor the Ways.”

  “Don’t tell me what’s going to serve the Ways. You’re ignorant of it all.”

  “You’re right, sir. Don’t care nuthin’ ‘bout yer wild superstitions and righteous bullshit. If me hands be forced, I ain’t much comfortable in lettin’ innocent folk hurt, neither. But I got a contract I gotta uphold, and it ain’t with no creature in the heavens. It be with men of means, faceless ones that ain’t above the takin’ of a life for the prospect of the flaky rock.”

  Brinton stood and placed an overturned kettle over the fire. He grabbed the water pail and headed out of the cave towards the well.

  “Is Toman in the pocket?”

  “He be on the council, Your Council.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  Russell stood. Before leaving the cave, he turned to face Jaithe. “I’ll see to yer wife’s accommodations, that she gets her squares and a pail a day.”

  Jaithe spat and began picking up the remnants of the belongings strewn about the dark cave.

  ***

  “Who’s decidin’ on the bench?”

  “Should be the council.”

  “Should be the company.”

  “Don’t know what ya got spinnin’, Toman, but I ain’t lettin’ an innocent woman hang.”

  “Who said anything about a hanging, Captain?”

  The men shuffled in single file in front of a man who had served the court before crossing the Great Sea. He had ensured that they could read, especially the writ and the summary of the offense, before selecting them as seats on the bench. He wanted ten, but would settle for seven, even if it meant adding scabble to the seats.

  “We need men of the cut, Mr. Deale. Need to make sure Mrs. Jaithe gits her day.”

  Toman looked at the captain and nodded at Jeremy Deale.

  “And that none of the rest of the ‘riginals or the scabble think they can smuggle the proprietary rights of the company and hold ’em as their own.”

  Deale shrugged as the quill in his hand did not stop moving. He removed his woolen hat and placed it on the table next to a stack of parchment, rubbing his hand across his forehead and slightly touching the valleys of a widow’s peak. The gray fleck in his beard spoke of earned wisdom, the kind one acquires through painful experience. His cloth undershirt hung loosely underneath a wool overcoat, which hid the deteriorating muscles of a man once vibrant with the power of youth and now succumbing to the inevitable march of nature. The captain and Toman shuffled in front of Deale’s desk like gnats on a humid night.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, “you have nominated me to see through the fair and just trial of one Mrs. Shella Jaithe, accused of embezzlement of gold from the company. Such evidence being seized in the presence of her person leads one to assume that the scales of justice sit perched in one defining way or another. However, I shall warn you, good men of the Commonwealth, that the law bends to none. The process stands on its own merit, destined to provide the answers you so desire.”

  “To punish the Jaithes for their stealin’. That’s what ya mean, don’t it, Mr. Deale?”

  Deale glared at Toman and turned towards the captain. “Most of the men coming through my process tell me, on the sly, of course, that they find nothing sinister or peculiar about Shella Jaithe other than the family’s spinning preoccupation with the Ways. Being a virgin to the Commonwealth, but not considering myself scabble, I cannot say I favor the peculiar notions of the Jaithes or any other family, for that matter. What say you, Captain Russell?”

  “I’d say that the scales of justice often tip towards the plate holding the most coin, whether that plate is seen or unseen. What say you, Justice Deale?”

  “I’d start by saying that ‘Justice’ be a title conferred on men of merit and learned ways, neither of which I can claim at this point in my life’s work. However, should there be a lack of title for the individual presiding over the trial, I might be able to acquiesce to the requests of the Commonwealth and reply to the title of Justice.”

  “Might you be able to acquiesce to persuasions of men?” The captain asked the question as he turned to face Toman. Toman curled his hat in his hands, and his face turned the color of the skies burnt by the setting Sun God.

  “I can assure you, Captain, that no man upholding the law can afford to fill the hidden hand and expect to escape the scars left by such a transaction.”

  “I’m sure ya got lots more scabbleheads to vet ‘fore Mrs. Jaithe gits her day. We won’t be keepin’ ya another moment.”

  Jeremy Deale replaced the cap on his head, touched a hand to the brim, and nodded at the captain and Toman before turning back to his quill and parchment. The captain turned and headed towards the pub with Toman bouncing on his heels, dragging his tail between his legs.

  “He’s gotta rule on her,” Toman whispered.

  The captain placed a finger on his mouth and led Toman into the pub. The thatched roof lent a musty smell to the room while shielding the floor from most of the sunlight. The wind nudged the stru
cture into creaky musings and cold drafts. Most of the scabble had not yet returned from their prospecting or building projects. While the barkeep dragged barrels in from the ship’s hold, the captain and Toman sat at a table, the only souls in the tavern.

  “If she done hid that, why didn’t Jaithe know about it?”

  “Maybe he wants her to fall?”

  “Ya think? Ya think a man chasin’ the Ways and lookin’ to serve Him is gonna set up the mother of his children to take a fall for one piece of rock?”

  “It’s what they found, ain’t it, Captain?”

  “What was found and what was placed be two different matters.”

  Toman sat back in the chair and looked at the captain.

  “You fixin’ yerself with the scabble on this matter? Gonna cost you a seat on the council should they acquit,” the captain said.

  “Gonna secure me a seat with the company if they don’t.”

  Captain Russell leaned across the table and grabbed Toman by the throat. “Don’t think I like yer motivations in this matter, Toman. Should Mr. Sicklemore walk through that door, I’d guess he’d not like ’em much, neither, and he gots quite a way of showing it.”

  Toman gasped as his face swelled and his skin lost its color.

  “So you and I is only gonna have this talk once more, from this point on. If the Jaithes be stealin’ the gold from the company or hoardin’ it with the Naturals, I’ll be behind the hangman leadin’ Shella to the gallows. I’m the company employee, and I gots to honor that position. But, if it should be known through the trial that the woman had no part in it, that some vile hand planted the rock for personal gain, well, that might lead me to some violence I done forsook to be in my distant past.”

  He shoved Toman by the neck. The man’s thin frame tumbled from the chair and splayed across the floor. He smelled wet boot and tasted the slimy trail of leaf juice spit on the floor the previous night. Toman sat up and straightened his coat. He used the chair to get up, turned it over, and sat back down at the table. He gasped and rubbed the red marks left on his neck by the captain’s hands.