by Walt Socha
He slumped as he continued turning, pausing when he faced east. The moist rocks of Bald Hill glistened in the evening sun. Would he be able to see the seven cairns with the binoculars? Certainly not the shallow graves that lay miles beyond at Brocc’s?
It didn’t matter. Just more dead people. He longed for the solitude of the open ocean where the vast emptiness would mask his own. Dangerous but peaceful. And lonely. But at least on the ocean, he wouldn’t be plunging a sword into some fool’s gut. Sighing deeply, Larry focused on his immediate surrounds. The trampled grass around Rory’s pile of rocks had recovered, springing upwards to the sun. Maybe he should build a plaque. Forge something in bronze? Some copper was available from the Great Lakes region to the northwest of Haven. Tin he could maybe get by trading with whoever ran the island to the east nowadays. He rubbed his face with his hands, wincing as the movement stretched the wound in his left arm. No, the last thing he needed was to deal with another island of death.
“You blame yourself without need.” Teltina’s voice sounded at his side.
“So many dead.” Larry fought to keep his voice steady.
“More if you had not come here.”
“Rory would be alive.”
“Rory died saving us both.” Teltina placed a finger on the copper disk hanging around his neck. “He died a man.” She looked up to stare in Larry’s eyes. “I heard his last word. He called you father.”
Larry rubbed his face with his hands. That memory chilled his core.
“You gave him hope. A home.” She pulled his hands down, forcing him to look at her. “Do not minimize what you did for him.” Teltina turned, pulling him around to face the Hurley field. “If you must feel responsible for something, be responsible for this.” She dropped his hands, gesturing toward the players and spectators. “You are not just a forger of metal, but also of a people.”
Out on the field, Fergus, two small sacks of rocks hanging from his shoulders as a handicap, batted the ball while dodging Garvan’s swinging hurley. The crowd roared as Garvan stole and deflected the ball to one of his teammates.
“I have talked with Jessie,” Teltina said. “And with Matuso before he died. They say you came here to prevent a great death in the future. They explained, but I don’t understand. But if that is your destiny, you cannot avoid it.” She faced Larry. “And it is an honorable destiny.”
Larry opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand.
“Matuso spoke of a future where leaders are chosen by the people. Where there are no slaves. Where illness can be cured.” She smiled. “Those are worthy goals.”
“I can’t even remember how many men I’ve killed.” Larry’s voice broke.
“I think that destiny and goals can be hard gods.” Teltina’s face fell. “Although I can no longer judge gods. Mine have abandoned me and my family.”
“We do not have gods.” Larry watched Teltina’s face—all angles covered with sun burnt skin. This woman was capable of laughter and joy, yet hard enough to kill. “We only hold belief in each other.”
“Matuso had spoken to me of your beliefs,” Teltina said. “He was a kind and learned man.”
Larry’s shoulders sagged. Joe and Alita would be devastated when they learned about the death of their eldest son.
“If Matuso could return from the world of the dead, what would he do if he knew that you blamed yourself for his death?”
Larry snorted. “He would kick my ass.” He narrowed his eyes; this woman had a gift of seeing.
Teltina turned at another cheer from the crowd watching the Hurling match. “What is next?” she asked, her eyes on the game.
“We will repair our two ships over the winter,” Larry said. “Both will leave in the spring after crops are planted.”
She kept watching the game. Her face was unreadable.
The silence demanded to be filled. “Deirdre has expressed interest in traveling to Haven with Fergus to study medicine. I think Jessie will stay here with Anya and start a school with the help of our two newly freed slaves. And almost half of our men have expressed interest in staying, both to farm and to trade.” Silence returned as Larry fumbled for more words. Movement across the field caught Larry’s attention. A small figure broke from the crowd and ran around the end of the field. Agnes raced to meet her. They met, hands gesturing in greeting. After a moment, Agnes pointed toward Larry and Teltina. The girl, now close enough to be recognized as Fennore, stared for several breaths before she waved.
Larry squinted. Did a small grin grow on the young girl’s face? Then both girls screamed as someone scored a goal. He turned to face Teltina. She still stared in the direction of the playing field, although her eyes now appeared to be unfocused. “At least one ship will return by next summer with supplies,” he said. “Especially gunpowder. In case our agreement with Ragnar needs to be reinforced. And to help us deal with the abbey.”
After several breaths, Teltina turned to face him. “And you? Will you return?”
Larry bit his lip as his heart rate spiked higher. “Maybe I won’t leave.”
She looked down. Swallowed. Stepped forward half a pace then looked directly into his eyes.
Heart pounding, Larry held out his hand. It shook. He didn’t care.
A shy smile erased years from her worn face as she took his right hand in her left.
He swallowed. “Will you stay for dinner?”
She glanced at the players and spectators. “As their guest or yours?”
“Only mine.”
She shifted her gaze back to his. “Yes.” A few more years disappeared.
Hands tightly clasped, they turned to watch the game.
[end]
About the Author
Walt lives in Portland, Oregon with his artist wife Gretha and two cats (named Schiz and Zoid). When not writing, he plays jazz piano, performs labor sacrifices to the food chain goddess in the vegetable garden, and cleans litter boxes.
For more information:
www.waltsocha.com
[email protected]
More About The Crossover Series
Book three, tentatively titled “Collapse,” takes place a decade after Contact (and three decades after Conflict) in what is now know as the Yucatan peninsula. For updates, sign up for Walt’s newsletter at:
http://www.waltsocha.com/stay-in-touch/
Several references can be found at:
http://www.waltsocha.com/suggested-references/
Blog articles on life and technology in the middle ages and on the making of the Crossover Series can be found at:
http://www.waltsocha.com/blog/
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