Coyote Chronicles

by Anton Le Roy

  “Yes, yes, I know, old one,” I answer, “I’m going, keep your feathers on!”

  Walking back towards town upon muddy earth and thick grass blades. The snow has gone, having receded back to the mountains where it will quietly wait until the winter comes again. I follow the sounds and smells of a busy market with the sun a bejewelled dazzle behind a cluster of silhouetted town buildings. Not far from here I saw a man I thought I’d never see again. A man I was half tempted to let die.

  Suddenly someone is running to me from the fields to my right. “Aunty, aunty!” she calls, her face flushed and eyes glittering bright above a wide smile. Occasionally bouncing high enough to be seen from the tall grass is an accompanying rabbit. “Wait for me!” she calls again, bounding up to me and almost falling over me in her energetic state.

  I laugh. “Careful, silly!”

  She giggles and thrusts a handful of weeds upwards. “I picked some things for your potions!”

  “Oh, thank you, Eve. Here, can you carry the other things I gathered?”

  She nods happily, the rabbit at her feet and then others come; six more bunnies following in a line to stand around her like a fluffy gang of bodyguards. I chuckle to myself and then more so when I hand her the small sack.

  “Not too heavy?” I ask.

  “Nope! I got strong arms!” With tongue protruding she hefts the sack up and we all walk back towards town.

  “Thanks, Eve,” I say again, stroking her fair hair.

  “It’s okay. I made another friend today,” she answers.

  “Yes, I can see!”

  “I hope we won’t be late, Aunty.”

  “Oh no, we have plenty of time.”

  “Yeah.”

  It’s a slow walk and then all of a sudden we’re within the frenetic market street bustling through the throngs of people. Quite how the bunnies find their way and don’t get trodden on or stolen is a ceaseless wonder to me – must be a crafty set of animals. A sudden pause as I hear something called from a woman selling cheese.

  “Did you say Juakim Cheese?” I ask.

  “Aye, my lady, all the way from the Gadrobi Range, a very fine goat cheese eaten by all the fancy types, you know.” How curious.

  Buying a block we continue on, the smells of spices and cooking and dyes and leathers like a succession of heavy walls, until at last getting free of the crowds and approaching an outdoor eating area attached to the side of a tavern.

  My feet stop walking.

  “What’s wrong, Aunty?” asks Eve. “Is your tummy funny again?”

  “No, Eve, please just wait a moment.”

  “But they’re just over there! We wanna go say hi!” Her bunnies hop about in mutual excitement.

  “Shush, darling, I want to watch a little while.”

  She tugs at my clothes. “Why?”

  I don’t answer, how can I describe to her something complicated and yet basic and raw enough to leave me rooted to the spot? I want to just stand here and remember this moment, sample it and not rush through. It’s hard not to smile sometimes.

  Two men and their things. The breeze idly picks at the scrolls and old books and sea charts and the map on the table. The map the breeze would take for itself if not for the items weighing it down: a knife, a couple of tankards and a strange bronze amulet. Then those items are removed and for a brief moment the map is free to be taken, to be stolen by the silent fingers of the breeze. I almost find myself wishing it would snatch it, although I know that’s foolish. The chance is gone; the map is rolled up and bagged just like all the other items.

  Gregor grabs a tankard and downs the last of his ale, eying us over the tankard with a raised eyebrow. He slams the tankard down, opens his arms wide, puffs his chest and then produces an almighty, and quite lengthy, burp.

  “Gregor is funny,” giggles Eve hysterically.

  Gregor grins at her, pats his tummy and pulls a funny face, making her laugh some more. Oh, Gregor my dear old friend, you’re the lodestone, like that familiar reassuring presence of weight in your pocket when carrying something important to one self. Strong, loyal Gregor. I’m sorry I couldn’t cure the evil that now floods your veins: that which tries to turn you into something you were never meant to be. I tried with potion and spell and all I could do was keep your new desires at bay, to push it down deep enough that you could at least have a sense of normality. It was a doomed fix. Gradually the effects of my potions and spells faded over time until they were quickly having less and less influence. Now is the time to go out into the world and find a cure elsewhere. I pray that it can be found.

  The second man is now speaking to the owner of a horse and carriage. A flash of gold for payment. How my breath catches as the sun blazes behind him, turning him into a thing of holiness. That outline of a figure I know so well can only be one person. The way he wears his clothes, his weapons, his armour and his items and the way he stands. Even the way he now fusses over the carriage horses, arrogantly changing how the owner (who still stands there in bemusement) had fitted the straps. I’d hated him for a while when he was laying there in the field covered in blood. It’s funny how easily hate can turn back to love.

  How did he return? How could he be standing here with us? Oh, he explained it all to me. Not that he needed to explain much. Somehow I’d seen. Somehow I’d heard. Somehow I’d ridden the thoughts of the Coyote and somehow I knew. Besides, there was never any doubt that even death couldn’t stop him. This is a man unlike any other. This is a man capable of such incredible things and he’s mine. We’ve spent a year together in Broken Naile and what a beautiful year it’s been.

  “Are you going to come over or what, lass?” he calls, his back to me.

  Although he talks to me it’s Eve that giggles and drops my bag to the floor and scampers over, her faithful rabbits in tow. Gregor snatches her up on the way, swings her around in the air a few times until she can barely breathe through the laughter and then when back on solid ground she runs on and hugs Veteran’s leg. I eventually follow her.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” Gregor smirks, “Why’d you land yourself with that old sod anyway?”

  “Simple really, because I saw him before I saw you,” I reply. “I was easy pickings back then, could’ve been anyone’s if they were quick about it.”

  “Damn,” he chuckles, “Just my luck, eh?” He gives me a big hug and a slobbery kiss on the cheek.

  Hugimun lands on the carriage and caws a few times.

  “Your bird can’t come with us, you know,” says Veteran, still fiddling with harnesses.

  I snuggle up to him from behind as Eve detaches herself from his leg and returns to play with Gregor. “We could both come.”

  “You know that’s not possible!” He finally turns to me and strokes the breeze blown hair from my face. “You know you can’t, you’re the one who decided that!”

  Yes, I know, still doesn’t make it easy. All the things strapped to him dig into me but I don’t care while I hug him hard.

  “You have to look after yourself, right?” he says, gently stroking my belly. “And Daida.”

  Yes, I know. Over the past year, as well as helping Gregor I’d been close to curing poor father, his health was returning and it looked like we’d beaten the cancer. Then, just like with Gregor, the potions and spells failed and the cancer came back harder than before. I’ll never stop trying to save father although I do wonder if some things were never meant to be. I hope at least that he can live long enough to see what me and Veteran have created; that which grows inside of me. “I bought you some food,” I say handing him the bundle, “Juakim Cheese.”

  Veteran stares at it for a while and I hope that for once he’s thinking of memories and not regrets. “Thanks.” A smile and he’s that young man again that turned my world upside down.

  A big kiss on his lips to taste him so that I can remember him properly when he is gone. It’s a taste I know I’ll find again one day, very soon. “Go, or you’ll never leave.”

&
nbsp; Gregor packs the last of the bags onto the carriage and clambers up onto the carriage seat. Veteran stares at me for a few moments.

  Veteran. His reputation has grown since the Red Dogs yet few know the real man. How many faces has he worn over the years? How many other adventures has he supposedly had? He’s just one of many in a crowd. Just another soldier, another traveller, another sword for hire and where he walks he leaves his mark on the world. Perhaps his name will never die, long after his body turns to dust. Perhaps his sword will still sing for eternity, his deeds still amaze and his legend live on. And he shall truly become immortal.

  I care not for that because I only care about the present and the time we’ll have together. The Coyote did more to him than bring him back to life. Veteran seems younger somehow, in body and spirit. I get the feeling that there’s something left over from the Coyote to grant him such a thing. There’s something else that affects him too: happiness. He’s faced his troubled past and is at peace with many of those ghosts. He has his best friend by his side. He has me. I stroke my rounded belly: he has this too.

  He leaves me now, he has to leave because the road has always been his temporary home, and I know with clear certainty he’ll return. This time he’ll not take anywhere near as long to return to me. This time he has a good reason to leave. He has a best friend he needs to save from the darkness. There’s a cure out there, somewhere. And this time he has a good reason to return to me.

  Veteran jumps up onto the side of the carriage and turns to regard me with a playful wink. There, in his eyes, the strange flash of green. My heart flutters and the town dogs all suddenly howl. Go. Go and do what you do best.

  Just don’t balls it up this time, you dear old fool.