“Yes, for instance, Artus often takes his boat by there to fish,” replied Henwen.
Ah, Lauseanna thought, he must have seen something valuable in the caves. Was it the creature itself or was the creature simply blocking the way to it?
It did not make sense that Artus would use villagers to kill the creature if he wanted it for himself. Using the villagers to kill the creature so that he could then access whatever it was that he actually wanted made much more sense. So, there was something Artus had seen in or by the caves from his boat that made him want to go into them, but he must have also come across the creature as well, thereby dissuading him from going in, himself.
“Where is your husband now?” Lauseanna asked.
“Awaiting word from the mainland of a knight who has been travelling the coast recently. If the villagers are unsuccessful in killing the creature tonight, then he hopes to bring in this man to do the job,” replied Henwen, standing and collecting the cups to put them in the wash basin. “I am not certain who Artus is expecting tonight, but he should know by the evening who is going on the hunt and will meet with them in the town square before setting off to the caves.”
The wise woman nodded and headed to the door.
“By the way,” said Henwen, not yet opening the door, “Could you send me over some herbs for tea that would relax one into sleep? This baby keeps me up and I just need it to stay put and sleep through the night.” She winked.
Lauseanna raised an eyebrow, almost certain the tea was not for the baby. “That will only solve one part of the problem, though, I am afraid, and just enough for tonight.”
“Indeed,” said Henwen, again patting her belly and resting her hands on it. “But it would solve the problem for now. Can’t have the baby making more trouble for himself than he can handle.”
Now Lauseanna was completely sure Henwen was not talking about the baby. Artus may have run the town, but Henwen obviously ran Artus. The wise woman finally understood why the headsman’s wife was being helpful.
“I will send you some over. Just a pinch in the drink. No more.”
“Great,” Henwen replied, smiling.
Evening colors bloomed across the sky in purples and oranges. Lauseanna stood near the corner of the blacksmith’s workshop, covered in a dark grey cloak which itched like hell but kept her better blended into the shadows. She had a clear sight of the town center, which consisted of its main shops around a cobblestone square. During the day, the square held market stalls but, in the evening, they were taken down till the next day. A few young men stood amongst themselves, armed with nets and daggers. The wise woman pressed her lips together in a frown. The young men were barely past boyhood and obviously had no idea what sort of weapons were needed to fight a beast. There was no large wild game on the island of Anglesey, just livestock and fish in the ocean. Anger rose like bile in the back of Lauseanna’s throat. The headsman would sacrifice these boys just like the other men to get what he wanted in the cave.
With the young men, the headsman’s second stood, watching for any sign of Artus, but the sun was climbing lower and lower, the purples and oranges in the sky deepening to dark blues and reds. Artus’s second was older, bald, tall, and well built. He looked more like a typical headsman than Artus but had no aspirations to rise in station. A young woman came from the other direction. She waved and smiled at the young men, who jabbed at one another playfully to vie for her attention. She kept walking, though, till she reached the older man and handed him a letter. She stayed long enough for him to read it and to acquiesce to whatever it said.
“No hunt tonight, I’m afraid,” Artus’s second said to the young men. “The headsman has taken ill and needs to rest. Furthermore, the knight Sir Kay has sent word that he has agreed to hunt the beast, and he shall be here by tomorrow evening.”
The headsman could not remember most of the night before. He recalled coming home in the afternoon, conversing with his wife over dinner at how disappointed he was that only three young men volunteered to hunt the creature of the cave, and then nothing. In the late morning, upon finally waking, his wife told him how he had suddenly come down with a fever and soon fell into a deep sleep. He could not for the life of him remember feeling ill, but he did feel more well-rested and refreshed than he had in years. His cod porridge tasted exceptionally good that morning and he kissed his wife with such fervor that had she not already been very pregnant, she knew she would have become pregnant that day.
Sir Kay arrived when the sun was high in the west, with his own men and boat. The knight towered over all the other men and his red hair crowned his head as if made of flame.
Lauseanna watched from afar as Artus and Father Galeran welcomed the knight and took him and his men to the inn. She sensed in him a power that worried her. He was no ordinary man.
From this distance and in the masculine apparel she sported, she was certain they would not recognize her. She knew the hunters would wait till nightfall to begin their mission. The caves’ waters were not shallow enough to enter until the sun was lower in the sky. Even then, the waters would be high and perilous, but she was determined to be in the caves before they were. She mounted her horse and started her journey to the caves.
Sir Kay and the headsman marched across the craggy moor.
Originally the priest was to come along, as he was certain the beast must be some hellish demon, but in the end, fear won over faith and he was too shaken with distress to aid in exorcising the demon from the town. They’d left him quivering over a bucket of his own vomit at the inn.
The headsman prattled, adding little of value and nothing of substance. He claimed there was a beast in the cave responsible for the disappearances of three villagers, but was there truly? They could have simply drowned, slipped, and hit their heads. It mattered little either way. The headsman had offered coin for the slaughter of this beast. That and the pelt of the creature were payment enough for Sir Kay.
The headsman prattled on about a precious herb. A plant. Something of great worth. “We have ventured here to secure the root,” he said. “The men. My men. My friends. They died for this…”
Sir Kay turned to the headsman and scowled. “What inanity is this? A plant?”
The headsman twisted his hands about his cap. Serfs. They were all the same. Below his notice. Were it not for the promise of gold, Sir Kay would have dispatched the man on the spot.
“A magical plant,” said the headsman. “One that will bring wealth and healing. The beast stands guard at the mouth of the cave where the root is to be found…”
“Your name?”
“Artus, sire.”
“Artus. You are a fool and a knave.” The peasant had mentioned nothing of this when they’d been negotiating terms. “Your fee is doubled.”
Artus started but thought better of whatever he was about to say. He nodded. Crestfallen. “My men wait yonder…” He pointed out into the open water which lapped at the far side of the cave. “Should the beast run thither, we may head him off and…”
“Yes, yes. I see.” There would be no fleeing beast. No ship heading him off at the pass. Sir Kay did not mean to share the spoils of his hunt. He knew how these lowly villagers operated. They looked to rob him before they’d even paid him.
The headsman pointed out the entrance to the cave.
The knight paused the headsman’s rambling with a wave of a hand almost as wide as the headsman’s face. “I thank you for your service. I shall journey on my own now and recommend that you meet my crew at the dock so they may take you to the ship, as I know you will want to aid in fighting this creature should it escape to the water.”
The headsman blanched and stuttered, “Well, I thought I would go back to the village and await your return.”
“Nonsense,” said Sir Kay, clasping his large hand on the measly shoulder of the other man, making the headsman wince. “No need to be so humble. Think of the glory!”
“Heh,” replied Artus, wishing he had st
ayed at home with his wife, who was baking a delectable cherry cobbler when he left. The house had smelled of warm butter and melting sugar. He had promised her he would come home after showing the knight to the cave, but he should be safe enough on the boat with his men. There was no way the beast would survive the knight. And so, he made his way to the dock pretending he had some semblance of pride.
Lauseanna had not been to the northern shore caves in a handful of months. She admired how the waters of the lagoon at the end of the caves glowed iridescent blues and greens under the pale moonlight which filtered in through a large crevice above. Flower shrubs and vines had sprouted about the place, intermingled with bleached bones of fish and fowl. The creature had been eating well, it seemed.
The wise woman had not seen the beast since arriving at the lagoon, but she knew that it would be out exploring the ocean. Its favorite time to hunt was at night, in the peace of solitude while luxuriating in the warmth of the land breeze.
She pushed aside some bones and sat cross-legged by the ledge of the shimmering underground water. The ground was damp, but she was already soaked from braving the cavern path still half-full of ocean. The hunters were waiting for the water to recede so they could walk the path to the lagoon, but she would make it so they could not pass. She had not used such magic in a while, but for her feral friend, she would try.
Lauseanna closed her eyes and inhaled a full breath of salted air accented with floral perfumes. She leaned her hands into the water, feeling the cold substance envelop them. She listened for her heart, felt it pulse down her arms, into her fingertips, till it beat in time with the ebb and flow of the water. Perspiration beaded on her forehead. The wise woman breathed in deeply again and pushed the air out of her lungs as she imagined pushing the water up in the cave’s path to the lagoon. With every exhale, she pushed the water up and up, till the ocean touched the ceiling.
She opened her eyes and wiped the sweat off her brow, panting as if she had just run miles. A shudder trailed down her spine as if she felt a chill, but her forehead felt feverish. None of the hunters were mermen, and so the lagoon should be prohibited to them as long as the waters were high.
Lauseanna crawled to a large stone to rest her back on while she recouped. As she began to close her eyes, a movement in the lagoon forced them open.
The knight loomed like a phantom in the waters, eyes near colorless under the veil of moonlight, hair darkened to the hue of blood by the water that drenched it. The knight and wise woman looked at one another for several heartbeats till he began to make his way to her. Lauseanna stood, uncertain of what to do. She did not understand how the knight could have gotten through and she did not think she had enough energy to fight him with magic. She was certainly no match for him physically.
“How?” she asked him, as he stepped closer to the edge of the water.
“Fire and water do not encumber me,” he replied, finally reaching the land. Bones crackled under his step and he examined the remains of the beast’s prey. The corner of the side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
“The headsman said that there was a beast, but I did not fathom it would be one such as you. What are you? A selkie? A guardian of this place? You and your magical herbs and trickery.”
“Magical herbs?” Lauseanna quirked an eyebrow at the knight.
Sir Kay pointed to the scarlet bell-shaped flowers which bloomed from shrubs by the lake’s edge. The incandescent water saturated their petals with haunting light, making them seem otherworldly, but the plants were simply foxglove, a common enough herb in the fields of the island.
“The headsman wants those and needs you gone,” said the knight, drawing his sword from its scabbard at his hip. “Should you try to escape me, my men await by ship nearby and you will be caught in good time.”
Sir Kay waited for the mystical woman to make a move, wondering what sort of magic she would unleash upon him.
The woman made a quiet noise deep in her throat for several seconds and then erupted in full-belly laughter.
Sir Kay did not know whether to think the woman was mad or wicked.
“Artus…” Lauseanna said, unable to fully speak through her giggles, “Artus thinks that these plants are worth something?”
The knight said nothing, but simply stared at the woman. He was unaccustomed to being laughed at, especially by those he drew sword on, and more especially, by women.
Lauseanna threw her head back in laughter, and finally calmed her amusement enough to speak with the knight without giggling. “Unless he wishes to kill himself, it is of no value to him. And should he want it nonetheless he could easily find it in the fields, perhaps where his cows shite. Foxglove is particularly fond of manure.”
The foxglove at the feet of the knight started to bend as if seeking the sun. Lauseanna looked up to see an inky black silhouette with eyes like rubies forged of hellfire, looming on the lip of the cavern’s opening.
Sir Kay lowered his sword, befuddlement stealing his concentration.
“So, there are no magic herbs here…” said the knight “And you? You are no creature then?”
Lauseanna smirked.
“I think that depends on whom you ask, but am I the creature of this place? No.”
“And so, there is one? A beast?” said the knight, eyes alight with the prospect.
Lauseanna gave him no reply.
The headsman would not have to go overboard after all, thought Sir Kay. Almost a pity.
“Then its pelt shall be my reward,” said the knight. “And maybe I shall take care of the village witch for extra.” He raised his sword again to Lauseanna.
The low rumble of a growl reverberated down the walls of the cavern.
Sir Kay had but a blink’s time to register his fate as the beast gracefully leapt from the ledge onto the unsuspecting man. The faerie cat’s monstrous paws landed on the knight’s broad shoulders, knocking the sword to the ground and sending them both into the lagoon with a thunderous splash. The pair thrashed in a struggle that ended with a quick cry from the knight and a spill of metallic red in the water. The coppery smell of blood perfumed the air like a newly bloomed malevolent flower.
The cat’s black head bobbed out of the water’s surface, with Sir Kay caught in its mouth by the hand. As the feline dragged the man’s body to the shore, a veil of murky red blossomed in a trail behind it.
The cat released the body from its mouth once on land and shook itself dry, which only caused Lauseanna to again become wet.
The wise woman wiped her face with the sleeve of her dress, unamused but not angry. The feline almost toppled her over as it rubbed its solid body against her legs, the top of it coming to her waist. Lauseanna’s heart felt like a butterfly caught in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins from the events moments before, but the cat’s affection calmed her nerves.
“Hello to you, too. Been a few weeks. You’ve grown!” she told the faerie feline. It rumbled a purr that vibrated up through her chest and plopped itself in front of her, like a humble house cat.
Lauseanna stroked the beast’s head, making sure to give it a good scratch behind its left ear, just as she knew it liked. The cat blinked slow and languidly, obviously content in its catch and her presence.
“Still more to do before your dinner, I’m afraid. There’s a whole boat of fools for you to maraud and apparently, I have some pruning to do. Though, after tonight, no one should ever think to come here again. Your home will be safe from these fools. But better be safe than sorry. Mind giving me a lift to the top?”
Her feline friend rose and waited for the wise woman to climb on. Lauseanna laid herself along the back of the cat, holding it by the thick of its slick fur and tightening her legs against its hips. The cat leapt along the crags of the cavern walls and then out of the lagoon, where the foxglove awaited pruning and the boat of fools awaited marauding.
Erika Santiago Domeika is a UK based Latina-American writer. She’s a recovering psychologist who has
recently rejoined the fiction writing world. Her favorite genres to write are speculative fiction, fantasy (particularly with dark elements), and period pieces. Her least favorite things in life are unkind people, math, and green beans.
Find out more at facebook.com/erikasantiagodomeika
47
Shipyard Cat
by Grayson Walker
Aliens beware, this ginger feline is hungry!
A story in The Fringes: Edge of the Universe series
Chapter One
“MROWR.” I paced back and forth, orange, striped tail twitching angrily, my empty food bowl staring up at me. It had been two days since the Port Authority dragged the Alphorians kicking and screaming from my ship for smuggling Sovereignty-controlled Pallasite Peridots. And I was hungry, ravenously, stomach eating itself, I’ll-die-if-I-don’t-get-food-soon hungry.
Infernal, irritating, ridiculous creatures. I knew I had just finished the last of the dry food pellets an hour ago, but I was hungry! How dare they get hauled off to prison without making sure I was cared for?! It was bad enough when I could see the bottom of the bowl yesterday, but empty?!
“MROWR!” I bared my teeth and flexed my claws. I would not die of hunger alone on this ship.
I stalked back up to the food machine, a glass and metal contraption built atop a counter the bipeds always used to produce food. Focusing my mind, I willed the door to open to reveal a lovely, frothy bowl of milk, or some tuna. Mmmmmmh, tuna! I started to salivate, imagining the treats awaiting me as soon as the silent provisioner bent to my will.
I closed my big yellow eyes and focused again, searching for the spark, the little flame in the mind of others that I could reach out and control; it had to be there somewhere. But the hunk of metal just stared at me, screen blank, no lights, no sounds, no doors opening. No spark for me to control.
Hellcats: Anthology Page 81