by J P Nelson
One of the men recovering within the tavern remarked, “Your mandate is rather strong, my friend. Such words are harsh and not typical of a doctor or healer.”
Tired, irritable, wary of challenge, yet attempting to be of a casual tone, Fhascully replied, “My friend, I am not a proper doctor, or healer. We,” he motioned to the crew with him of the Qua’Korr, “are a military unit of Vedoa, here to wage war on one of the most deadly foes to enter the land. You have seen first hand what it has done to your town, consider if it should spread beyond to say … Hilderkai, Chequor, or Dahruban?”
Fhascully walked out on the boardwalk in front of the tavern.
The fellow followed and made response, “A proper doctor you may not be, but you best by far the medicine of that fool who resides upon Rich Hill.”
Fhascully watched him walk off and back into his own life, as Nicole walked out with two mugs of steaming tea in hand. She offered one to Fhascully.
“Thank you, Nicole.”
She smiled and took sup of her own mug.
Fhascully could not help notice how much better Nicole looked over when they had arrived. Young though she was, she had the bearing of much wisdom and ran the tavern-hospital with smooth efficiency. He was not needed here; therefore he spent most of his time out in the field.
The moment was quiet as he became lost in thoughts, taking the occasional drink. Fhascully handed his mug to Nicole to hold as he drew his telescope from its case on his side. Opening it to full length, he took view across the distant ravine to what was called Rich Hill. This was not his first view, but thus far he had not yet seen hint of light. Therefore, it was not a priority.
If one could light a candle, they were alive. Well … for the most part, anyway. Fhascully knew one too many stories involving undead creatures lighting candles, sometimes as a lure for the unwary. He had been an unwary such at one time, but that was another tale.
He knew there were likely folks out there who may not be able to light candles, but he, they, the team, were limited on what could be done. He made the choice to save those most likely to be saved, first. Then they could work their way back. It was a gruesome call, and not one to be relished, but he had made many gruesome calls before.
Fhascully could not explain why, but the house also had a strange, unsettling look to it.
“Nicole? What do you know of those upon Rich Hill? Does indeed a physician live up there? As yet, we have not crossed the evident bridge to get there. We could surely use his help.”
She raised her eyebrows once, then set her shoulders as if preparing to dive into a pool of ice, “If they are alive,” Nicole slightly tilted her head at a forward angle, “they would not lend any assistance.”
Fhascully scrunched his forehead, “Oh? Even with this plague? I see even some of the riff-raff has taken a change of heart. Have you noticed some of those searching for spruce, and going out to the outer camps?”
“Doctor Guy, Her Eminence Holy Mahry, and their small band of followers help others only when it helps themselves; especially when it allows them to shine in glory.”
“Woolburg is not an old settlement, where do they come from?”
“I have a friend, had a friend, who knew them well. The first mine was on Rich Hill, but it proved a bust. The name is a jibe at the mine’s failure. There was a deep fissure and it was there the folk took their refuse for years. Anything bad or rotten was dumped into the fissure.”
Fhascully was taking a longer look at the distant house. “I see no fissure. Where is it?”
“It is under the house”
Fhascully put down the telescope. He was no architect, but he suddenly had a hunch where the story was leading, at least part way.
Nicole continued her tale, “On the other side of the hill was a shack where a girl named Emma was born. My friend knew her and watched her grow. He said she was no better than she needed to be, if you understand my meaning, and as soon as she was able to straddle a man to take her from the country, she did.”
Fhascully looked to her as he listened.
She turned to look at him as she spoke. He noticed she had lovely brown eyes. Nicole was not slim, but nicely curved in all the right places. He liked the way her freckles patterned across her face and into her neck, her shoulder length medium brown hair was even now blowing across her face.
Nicole puffed at her bangs, then Fhascully took his mug and she brushed the right side of her hair behind her ear. He thought, ‘If I were at least ten years younger …’ Even as he made thought, he had to admit here was a true woman; strong, not one to shirk, rising quickly when the need arose, full of courage … as his father used to say, she was one to ride the river with.
She began again, “When the iron mines began booming years later, she returned. This time she had a different man, Baron Etrej. Only he was not a true baron. He wanted to be a baron, but in truth he was not.
“They bought Rich Hill for a song as it is worthless; it is not even good for growing crops. There is naught there but young scrub trees, planted by Etrej. He planned to sell them for Winter Solstice festival celebration, as is common in Nahjiua, but he had no knowledge of caring for the trees and too arrogant to listen to those who knew.
“From the beginning, it was thought they were good people. They spoke well, carried themselves as if possessed of wealth, and became active in the Church of Pines. She often quoted scripture from the Book of Pharsee and prayed really long prayers when in public, so she appeared to be very religious.”
Fhascully remembered another saying his father often made, “The mark of religion is constant practice of a set of rituals. Religion is not of itself good or evil. Many are the religious folk who would steal the food from an old woman’s mouth.”
As the thought crossed his mind, he remembered one of the men making comment how one house revealed an old woman with slit throat. Kyle was his name, a trapper, sometimes miner and in his younger years had gone away to serve in an army where he rose to sergeant. He had made purchase of cloth from her, only just before he became sick. He paid with a sack of twenty shills he had pressed himself. He knew where she kept her coin and the pouch was gone.
Fhascully directed his attention back to Nicole, “Etrej bought mule, plow and drag sled from old man Hackny and managed to cover the fissure of refuse. When asked why, he said he was to build a home. Those who knew well of home building told him this was folly, but he insisted he knew best. He did finish the building, but the craftsmen say his work is foolish. The place is of appeal to the outside, but inside it is weak.”
Fhascully thought, ‘It would have to be, built upon a refuse pile. There is no solid base for foundation.’
“As the iron mines of Woolburg grew, Etrej began the attempt of selling land parcels to the unwary, with promise of great riches beneath the soil. My friend then remembered a man of Etrej’s name in Nahjiua, a man well known for swindling schemes. He left each town just before being caught, but unwelcome for return to any.
“My friend remembered also, suspicion of Etrej rendering acts of unseemly nature with orphans and old women. But none would step forward to levy proper accusation.”
Fhascully’s eyes narrowed and he absently touched his sword.
“Etrej commenced making trade here by only credit, then he began to frequent the working girls of various taverns. In short time he was banned from these and he found girls-of-the-line wherever he could. The word is he spent what profits he had on such girls; not spirits or gamboling, but the girls.
“His presence came to be forbidden at all places of trade until he tendered payment of credit. Come to think of it, he never paid for the mule and sled, either.
“He was even banned from the Church of Pine. Then the landquake, happened. There are those who say his house on the hill took compromise on the inside, where it cannot be seen. Since the quake he has not been seen. Common thought is he died in the trouble.”
Fhascully thought, ‘A damaged foundation could explain
the eerie sensation received when looking upon it.’
He asked, “So, he has not been seen since?”
“No.”
Woolburg was not a small place, but well spread out. Many reports were being made of houses missing valuables … a table where a candelabra would be showed a void among dust, where a ring should be on a finger only white showed upon the skin, small wooden boxes which would hold jewels or an heirloom were empty. The situations had largely been attributed to vandals, but Fhascully was not so sure. He was not an investigator of the law, but he was an investigator, and he was curious.
“And what of the woman, you called her, Her Eminence Holy Mahry, and Doctor Guy? How are they connected?”
“Before Etrej was forbidden from the Church of Pines, she was seen only occasionally. When she was, she was being chauffeured in a large red carriage and acting as if a queen.
“Mingling with what she called, the common people, did not happen. If an event took place where she might gain recognition, she would send a platter of food with her name embossed upon it. Should she make an appearance of any kind, she embellished it with great drama and attention to herself. Anything she did, especially in the performance of a seeming good deed, was done to put her image over as a perfect and wonderful person.”
Nicole passed a cool look, “But she was nothing of the kind.”
“It sounds as if you harbor personal grudge against her.”
“When Etrej was forbidden from their church, they established their own which recognized her as Her Eminence Holy Mahry. Their followers became known as The Mahrites.
“Only the most self-righteous people took interest, but she was ultimately too snooty even for them.
“I have witnessed members of this group act virtuous in public, but scorn the poor and sick when they think they are not seen. They walked past hungry, homeless children with noses held high.
“In the square, I watched a woman in ragged clothes confront Mahry. She said, ‘Do not turn from me Mahry-Emma Dau’Kermit, Holy Mahry my ass. I remember when you whored the line like me and begged for more. You sold your favors to any who might give your station to rise, then scorned our mam and pap of their dirt floor.
‘You turned your head of your hungry siblings as I earned coin to help provide bread for the table. Yet when troubles beset you, you came to my house …’
“The woman grabbed Mahry by the sleeve as others watched the spectacle, ‘LOOK to me I said, I am your sister who fed you when hungry and housed you when without shelter. My husband and sons are dead, my home is now burned and all I have is lost, yet you refuse me even a tattered cloak or a pair of your worn shoes.’
“The holy woman turned her head with a snarl and said, ‘Leave me you wretched soul. I have no sister who looks like you.’
“As she turned to walk away, the other woman yelled, ‘You are a hypocrite and fraud, you worthless whore of coin. The day shall come when you shall be found out and fall. You will remember me then …’
“The woman in the ragged clothes was not seen again.”
Fhascully was quiet. Nicole was clearly angry. Perhaps she had been trading her body for coin, but she had a code; she cared about the common folk. There was a potential here far beyond her current state of affairs.
She continued, “Doctor Guy arrived just before the quake. There was another doctor here, I knew him.”
She paused, as if waiting for a comment. Fhascully gave none and she added, “Not as a client. Well, not mine. He came to the tavern and we talked from time to time. Doc Pena was a good, old man. He came here from Quandell about four years ago because …”
Fhascully held up his hand, “Where did you say he came from?”
“From Quandell, why?”
He shook his head, “Please, continue.”
“Doc Pena was a good, nice older man who only wanted to help others. But not long after Guy showed up, Doc Pena disappeared. His office was ravaged and no sign of him was found. His clothes were in his room and horse was still in the stable.”
“Was there no investigation? Do you not have law here?”
“Not since Toagun Sealer cleaned the place up.”
“Toagun Sealer was here?”
She raised her eyebrows, “Oh yes. Do you know him?”
“As a point of fact, I do. Not well, but I know him.”
“As the iron mines grew, so did the roughness. He was called in almost three years ago to tame Woolburg. He tamed it, quite well; killed seventeen men, four with his bare hands, within four days.
When he finished, the town council asked him to leave, saying he was too violent. They then appointed a new town Pohduf. He, however, was among first to pass of the illness.
“The new Pohduf often turned his head and many things went without due attention. He claimed there was no evidence as to what might have happened to Doc Pena. But most of us believe he found passage in the Mahrite cellar.”
“I thought the house was built upon a … oh … I understand.”
“If you were to see Doctor Guy, you could quickly discern he is not a sound physician. His girth is so large he needed special chairs made, and his wife is not much better. I once saw him attempt to give her an embrace. He could not touch his own finger tips. His own health is in constant state of illness.
“What school he may have attended did not teach him as much as most folk already know, here in the mountains. It was only a matter of weeks before we knew him to be a glib speaker of words, many of which he did not understand, and no maestro of medicine.
The joke became that he must have read a book, but did not comprehend his reading. By time this winter season began, only those following Holy Mahry were giving him call.
When the sickness began, Guy and wife crossed the bridge to Rich Hill.”
Fhascully once more put telescope to eye and surveyed the distant place. More than the house, he searched all about the hillside.
“How often does anyone cross the bridge?”
She thought, “Never, not in a long time; perhaps not since the beginning of this season. There is nothing that way. Beyond the hill is territory most beasts cannot traverse and many of the hills are of barren clay. There are remains of an old washer house for an iron mine on a road no longer in use. The road dead ends in what they call a dry run. There is nothing there but a hollow leading to the rotting remains of the shack where Mahry was born.”
Fhascully casually remarked, “You know much of this family ...”
There was no answer.
Closing his glass, Fhascully asked, “How many followers?”
“Very few … there is Belliu who collects husbands and lovers, but is currently married to a man younger than her children … a widow named Marta, who worships Mahry as a goddess … the so-called Baron Etrej, if he is still alive … Doctor Guy, thought to be son of Etrej and Mahry … and Guy’s wife, who comes from somewhere on the east coast.”
After a few moments of contemplation, Fhascully said, “I believe it is time we inspected Rich Hill. Have you seen U’Lahna?”
Chapter 40
FHASCULLY STOOD IN the square facing a large oak tree. He was in the company of ten armed individuals, preparing to make an interesting journey. There was U’Lahna, one of her elvin Ko’Sharr whose name is Mn’Gaes, Serge, two of the crewmen, Klaus, Vater, Kyle, and another of the recovered men from the tavern, a young hunter named Jose Coco.
U’Lahna was speaking instructions, “You each must hold hand of your fellow. Do not let go without you hear my words. It will be … not of comfort. But pain will not bring or make of suffering.”
One of the crewmen asked, “Mister Fhascully, are we truly sure of this? Can we not just sneak upon the house?”
Fhascully had his own misgivings, but he would not show doubt to his man, “Yes, this is a certain thing,” he glanced to U’Lahna, “I have seen it done. We spoke of the distance to yonder house. If they be watching, we should be easily seen from a far distance.”
&
nbsp; Kyle commented, “And they may not even be alive. But this way is safer. Yes, my lady?” He was the only one who seemed excited of walking straight into a tree.
She nodded to him with a smile.
Fhascully took a deep breath, “Then let us be at it.”
He made sure it was he who took U’Lahna’s hand. Next was Kyle. In her right hand she held the spear. Tipping the point to the huge tree, Fhascully saw it push inward as if into a veil, then she walked in.
Inside the tree, Fhascully felt as if he were suddenly enveloped by a wooden texture wrapping around him as thick syrup. He fought to control panic of claustrophobic nature and squeezed both hands hard. Her own grip sent a wave of reassurance through him, and he thought the man behind him felt it as well, and so on down the line.
Farther and farther he walked into firm nothingness. All was dark. Many sensations swept through his being, the constant thing was the smell of rich, warm wood. It wasn’t unlike the smell of a freshly cut oak tree. Fhascully thought, ‘Oak, of course. Go figure.’
What was he stepping on? How could she see? How long---?
Suddenly, Fhascully was stepping into a forest rich with the smell of spruce … Liukena Spruce, to be exact. How had they missed this upon their arrival?
Still stepping forward, Kyle came out behind him looking bewildered, “Damn me, what an experience!”
Fhascully exclaimed as Klaus stepped out next, “It is unnerving, is it not, Mister Kyle?”
Looking about, the forest was full of the spruce, improperly planted as an orchard, definitely not cultivated for eventually cutting and sale as a tree for decoration. And surely, they were all scrubby and hidden by the other much taller evergreens.
But, Fhascully smiled, loaded with needles and there must be acres upon acres. Perhaps enough to make remedy twice over what was needed, at least for the town folk. Etrej may be a fool and swindler, but his action of greed had inadvertently provided them with what they would need.