Box of Runes An Epic Fantasy Collection

by J. Thorn

  Jaithe shrugged as he continued to stack dry wood on the opposite wall. Shella and Brinton busied themselves with the packing of satchels and burning of refuse.

  “One might surmise you’re leavin’ the Commonwealth.”

  “One might be correct in that conclusion,” replied Jaithe.

  “I understand the sense of insecurity you must feel.”

  Jaithe stopped tying the satchel at his feet and wiped his face with a cloth. “I don’t think you do.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Past the Commonwealth and into the wilds, probably on the heels of the Naturals.”

  “Do you think that is safe?”

  “Do you think the Commonwealth is safe?”

  “What of the land grab? Are you going to let the scabble run rampant over legitimate claims?”

  “You told me yourself that you suspect the scabble are fronting for the company. Let them have it.”

  Ford felt the conversation sliding down the current of the lazy river, soon to be around the bend and out of sight. “Can I be of service to your family?”

  Jaithe looked at Ford from head to toe before responding. “I don’t think you’d be of service to anyone in that condition.” He reached into a satchel and tossed a cut of dried meat to Ford before continuing the piling of the wood.

  “May I stay here in case Rayna or Kelsun return and be looking for you?”

  Jaithe looked at Shella as she shuddered at the mention of the names.

  “When we vacate, the cave belongs to the mountain.”

  ***

  “Guessin’ you ain’t here for the victuals.”

  Michael Sicklemore stepped out from behind Captain John Russell until they stood with shoulders touching like two granite mountains unmoved by time.

  “I always keep my promises, Toman,” replied the captain.

  “I ain’t had nuthin’ to do with the scabble plantin’ the rock. You gotta believe me, Captain.”

  “Ain’t gotta do nuthin’ but die, and that ain’t happenin’ today, Toman.”

  Sicklemore maneuvered past Toman and stopped in front of the back door, sealing off the only other exit from the one-room cabin. Russell sniffed at the air and winced. The hovel smelled of urine and stale vomit.

  “What a palace. I’ll bet the ladies love comin’ here and spreadin’ their legs for ya. Makes ’em feel like queens,” he said.

  Toman giggled and wiped the sweat from his face. “What’s it gonna take?” he asked the captain.

  “For what?”

  “To git me on the right with you.”

  The captain looked at Sicklemore. He unsheathed a dagger from his belt and began to twirl it in time with his thoughts. Sicklemore removed his as well but kept the blade poised and pointed at Toman.

  “A man can’t trust a man who’s willing to send a woman down the river.”

  “Listen, Captain. The scabble ain’t nuthin’ but fools. I told the man to put the rock in the master’s roll, not the woman’s. I can’t be held responsible for the stupidity of these cretins, can I?” A bead of sweat broke on Toman’s forehead despite the frigid air of the Dark Time.

  “I believe he just called you a cretin, Mr. Sicklemore.”

  “Don’t go countin’ you two with the scabble. You be part of the newcomers, the high-brows,” Toman said. His voice wilted and quivered with each word.

  “We all be wantin’ a taste of the yellow rock. Ain’t that right, Toman?” asked the captain.

  “Why, yes, sir, we all do. We all strive to make the better of our lot, patience withheld on occasion.”

  “Then who you cavortin’ with, Toman? I know you ain’t smart ‘nough to scheme on yer own.”

  “Nobody, sir. Nobody else.”

  Sicklemore backhanded Toman with the hilt of his dagger. The blow knocked Toman’s jaw askew and sent him tumbling over a chair. He looked up at the captain with a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth.

  “Mr. Sicklemore’s gonna enjoy this conversation should he have to verify its authenticity with blows,” said the captain.

  “I’m tellin’ ya, Captain, it’s just me. I was hopin’ to get the Jaithes outta the way and clear me for head of council, where I could wield influence with the company. A matter of cleanin’ house.”

  Sicklemore struck again. This time, his fist landed on Toman’s nose with a wet crunch. The blood flowed from the man’s nose and over his top lip.

  “What do you know ‘bout cleanin’ house, ya filthy swine?” asked the captain. “I’m givin’ ya one more chance to serve it up and let us know who be yer minions ‘fore Sicklemore puts the knife to yer vitals.”

  Toman struggled to get to his feet and looked at Sicklemore with drawn eyes. “Patience be helpin’ me with the dealin’s.”

  The captain laughed and slapped Toman on his shoulder. “Ya see, man? Coulda saved yerself some pain. What be the whore’s role, and how ya been keepin’ her secret? Most of the scabble thought she been eatin’ with Vera beyond the Commonwealth.”

  “Been helpin’ to secure alliances against the Jaithes and others standing in the way of the gold.”

  “I’ll bet she be gittin’ you to say whatever she needs when her mouth be on yer dally.”

  “Yeah, Captain. The woman got ways with her tongue that’ll make a man forget himself.”

  “Imagine she might even get ya to connive ‘gainst yer own ma, if the situation so called for it.”

  “Right, Captain. Right you are.”

  “Hell! I’ll bet there ain’t no man alive that you wouldn’t sell down the river when she be straddlin’ ya, mounds in yer face.”

  Toman snickered and laughed as the edge of the cliff drew near. “No, Captain, I guess not. She gots the powers of womanly persuasions.”

  “I’ll remember to stay clear of Patience.”

  The captain nodded at Sicklemore, who lunged forwards at Toman. His blade slid into the soft flesh of the other man’s neck. Toman’s eyes widened, and he sputtered a mixture of syllables and blood before collapsing to his knees. The captain bent down low and stared into the dying eyes of Toman.

  “Ya done served yer purpose. Back to the dirt ya go.”

  ***

  “Did she dip da stick?”

  “Said the opportunity never arrived.”

  “The sorry wench ain’t got nothin’ to serve this world. Ain’t worth the dagger polish to cut her throat.”

  Bourne shrugged and turned to look at Abbot. The woman sat with her head in her hands, her chest heaving in silent mourning.

  “Ya know what the heathen did to her man?”

  Patience rolled her hand around as if irritated by the notion of listening to the story.

  “They done tore off his skin whilst he was still takin’ breath.”

  Patience winced. “You seen Toman skulkin’ about?”

  Bourne shook her head.

  “Heard any speak of him?”

  Another shaking.

  “Damn that limped-lily coward! Ain’t good for much more than a minute’s ride on that tiny pricker.”

  “What we gonna do ‘bout the Jaithe woman findin’ her innocence?” asked Bourne.

  “I can’t think with yer slap yappin’ all the time.”

  Bourne stood and walked over to Abbot. She pulled the woman’s head to her apron. Patience stood and paced about the cave, her arms flailing while she mumbled to herself.

  “I can’t show myself, bein’ eaten by wolves and all. Soon as I do, the guise is up, and we ain’t getting’ none of ten.”

  “Maybe I can bring Toman here so we can come up with another plan of gettin’ the Jaithes out,” Bourne said.

  Patience looked at her and smiled. Her crooked teeth struggled to cover the blackness of her mouth. “Take her witcha. Can’t bear to hear any more infernal whinin’. If she had spread ’em for Deale we wouldn’t be scramblin’ right now.”

  Bourne and Abbot left the cave and headed down the trail for the villag
e center. Patience threw a pail against the wall before settling into a rickety chair. She looked at the inside of the cave and shook her head.

  Been better off lettin’ the men take me for coin than puttin’ up with this wretched place, she thought.

  “By the grace of the Almighty, He has raised Patience from the dead and delivered her from the sharp jaws of the wolf pack. Praise the Ways!”

  Patience stood to look at the two figures entering the cave entrance. The crystal blue sky of the Dark Time made the inside of the mountain seem especially dire.

  “Who calls on a woman alone?”

  “Suggestin’ I be actin’ improper?”

  “No, not suggestin’ that at all. I’m askin’ who I might be sharin’ time with, is all.”

  By the time Sicklemore and Russell stepped in front of the fire, Patience had identified the men.

  “Servin’ a man some warm herb is a kind offerin’ none could refuse.”

  Patience looked about the cave for a satchel of herb. She stopped next to the fire to stoke the wood underneath it. The captain sat on a chair, but Sicklemore remained in the entrance to the cave, his legs spread apart and ready for anything.

  “Ain’t my domicile, but I’ll scavenge it for ya.”

  “Much appreciated,” replied the captain.

  Patience dropped a few leaves into the cauldron and managed to find three mugs hanging on hooks between cracks in the rock. She stirred the pot and spread her apron out before sitting down across from Captain Russell.

  “Don’t care nuthin’ ‘bout how you ain’t dead. I’m here to talk about Toman and what you got goin’ with him.”

  “Don’t know a Toman.”

  The hand came from the darkness and landed on the side of her face. Patience toppled off the chair like the beginnings of a mudslide. She looked at Sicklemore standing over her and wondered how he had covered the ground so fast without being seen

  “The blow seems to have jarred my thoughts. I think I do recall a skinny, vile councilman by that name.”

  The captain held a hand up to Sicklemore, who backed away towards the opening of the cave while the captain helped Patience back to her chair.

  “Ya been usin’ yer slit to work a piece of his action?”

  “Why? You interested in it?”

  The captain laughed and pinched his nose with two fingers.

  “You ain’t funny,” Patience said.

  “And you ain’t takin’ ‘nother breath unless you start talkin’.” John Russell’s face froze in a sneer. He dispensed with the comedic insults and waited for Patience to continue.

  “He said he’s got a line on gold stashed by the Naturals. Claimed Jaithe helped the werowance hide it and that it still be there. More than enough gold to use on the pavin’ of the streets of the Commonwealth.”

  “Yer take?”

  “Three of ten.”

  “Did you say three?”

  “Yes, sir, three. Have a few other loose ends to be tied up, but when all is said and done, I’d be claimin’ three of ten.”

  Russell huffed and rolled his eyes. “He woulda cut yer throat and danced on yer dead bosom before cuttin’ you three of ten. Men like Toman ain’t past burning the bridge from both ends, if ya get what I’m sayin’.”

  “He’ll give me my cut. He can’t pass on me slit.”

  “Many women gots slits and many gots one that don’t stink like yours.” Russell bent at the waist and wiped a tear of laughter from his face.

  “If ya came here to insult my womanly attributes, I’d say ya done as much.”

  “I came here to tell you that whatever deal you struck with the skinny councilman be hereby terminated.”

  “What gives you the authority?”

  “The authority of the terminated.”

  Patience sneered and threw her apron into the fire, where it sizzled and erupted with bright yellow flames.

  “That son of a bitch dealt me in. I want my cut.”

  “I believe Mr. Sicklemore will be tendin’ to yer desire for a cut.”

  Sicklemore reappeared next to Patience, the new flames burning hot and fast while reflecting off his blood-stained blade. She snickered and held one finger up to the captain.

  “Words to pass ‘fore yer passin’?” he asked.

  “Words fer you, ‘fore you bring reckonin’ on another.”

  Captain Russell held his hand in the air. Sicklemore froze in position, knife bared and ready.

  “In da throes of passion, Toman confided in me of information you might find useful in yer quest for the riches.”

  “What makes ya think I’m questin’ the gold?”

  “What else ya doin’ here, lookin’ for the Ways?”

  The captain decided to get to the business at hand. “Say what ya know, Patience, and if it be of hand to us, you may take a few more dillies in yer slit ‘fore ya pass on.”

  “Toman kidnapped the Jaithe boy, Kelsun. He got ’em secured and hidden. Seems that if you offed him, I be the only one that can speak to his last known whereabouts.”

  The captain dropped his head with a loud sigh.

  “Either of ya boys wanna go at me goods?” asked Patience as she hiked up her dress and grinned like a jackal.

  Chapter 27

  Kelsun sniffed the air and feared for the blaze that caused the smoky draft. He turned around and saw faces morphing from the rock and clouding the trail like a flock of black crows deadening the sky. He tugged on the rope and felt Samada’s anchor as they continued upward.

  “A fire burns,” he said.

  “In your head. It is the mountain trying to hold you down and prevent you from leaving. It would settle for you to remain alive and live forever in the dark, but prefers to rot your corpse.”

  Samada kept walking, and Kelsun could feel touches of the spirits on his ears and the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and attempted not to think about what Samada had told him.

  “We have one more day of travel, but it will be the most difficult. As we get closer to the surface, the mountain will become more desperate. The demons move from the outside to within. You are more vulnerable to the blade held by your own hand than you are any phantoms moving through the caverns.”

  “How do I protect myself?”

  “Give me your blade.”

  “And go unarmed?”

  “It will guide your own hand across your throat if you do not. I shall await your decision.” Samada stood with his arms crossed.

  “You are not susceptible to the guile of the mountain demons?”

  “No,” replied Samada, unable or unwilling to speak more on the matter.

  Kelsun handed his dagger to Samada and shivered. The moving phantasms subsided. However, bitter whispers began to ooze from the rock. At first, they came at him like fireflies at dusk, hovering and brushing past his face with a lover’s kiss. He looked at Samada, who had turned and continued to walk up the tunnel, each foot dragging his tethered burden closer to the surface. Kelsun shook his head as the voices rose and swirled through the air. He began to catch words, a name, a curse. The current of the sound blew harder, pushing the boy’s head upright and forcing his eyes shut.

  “Ain’t lettin’ ya out without a promise.”

  Kelsun shook his head as if the voice would fall asunder like heavy snowflakes from his shoulder.

  “A pact be the only way. Save the eye for the eye,” said another voice.

  “Don’t bother with the riddles,” Kelsun replied.

  Samada continued his pace through the tunnel, appearing oblivious to the conversation.

  “You keep yer soul for the price of two.”

  “That is not a bargain.”

  “On the edge of a cliff?”

  “So say you,” replied Kelsun.

  The ground dropped from beneath Kelsun’s feet, and he shut his eyes against the blinding white glare cast across his gaze. He felt the cutting wind of the Dark Time tearing at his clothes and violating the last of his bodily
warmth. The rope disappeared from his waist, as did Samada before him. He stopped walking at the edge of the cliff. His worn boots overlooked a drop thousands of feet to the valley below. Kelsun breathed the clouds and exhaled ice chips of despair.

  “So say I,” said the voice.

  Kelsun nodded and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he found his feet in motion again, following Samada through the black cave.

  “My tally?” the boy asked the voice.

  “Jaithe,” it replied.

  Kelsun bit his bottom lip before responding. “If it must be so.”

  “There is more,” said the voice.

  Kelsun whimpered with his ears flat to his head and his tongue lolling to one side. “Sounds like an eye for two.”

  “It is the only path to salvation.”

  “Who else?”

  “Rayna.”

  “She lives?” asked Kelsun with a mixture of relief and regret.

  “To pass by thy hand.”

  “And if I do not agree to our pact?”

  “You’ve been to the edge and took a look down.”

  Kelsun nodded and spat into the dusty gray powder on the cavern floor. He watched the saliva ooze and bubble before being absorbed by the soil. Samada continued moving, never turning around or speaking to Kelsun.

  “Maybe I wrap the rope around my neck and jump. Maybe I tell you to fuck all on your pact.” Kelsun puffed out his chest, feeling the gritty pride of using a forbidden word.

  “For?” asked the voice.

  “Reasons, and not much else,” said Kelsun.

  The wind blew up around his collar and stung his bare neck. Several voices whispered and danced about his head before they settled into a common voice.

  “The Ways must be halted, buried in the ground like the great kings of the past whose kingdoms have fallen into vice and decay. The man and his eldest female child carry the power to resurrect the Ways at the expense of the Old Ones. The pales bring a reckoning beyond their capacity to understand its ramifications. If the Ways are not snuffed like a rabbit in the snare, they will proliferate, rape, and spread unchecked across the land. Okine blesses the Sun God and the Moon Goddess and spits upon the thought of the Commonwealth and its future empires, full of metal, concrete, and evil.”

  In front of him, Samada nodded once and raised his head. He spread his arms out and shouted to the mountain. “Remove me from this trial and supplant my feet upon the good earth. I’ve agreed to your pact and wish to deal with the phantasms no more.”