by Craig Zerf
Nathaniel glanced over at the two girls and Gramma Higgins was right. They did look, ooee, so fine indeed.
The marine laughed. ‘Where you camping, Gramma?’ He asked.
‘We’s back in the bushes there,’ Gramma pointed. ‘Come, I shows you.’
Nathaniel picked up his sack of goods and the four of them followed Gramma back into the shrubs.
Nathaniel was impressed. The camp was secluded; a light screen of branches laced between trees ensured that, unless you actually walked into it, it was out of line of sight. There was a small depression in which the remains of a fire smoldered softly. And perhaps twenty meters away, there was a fast flowing stream that ran with enough volume to avoid icing up.
The marine asked the girls to fetch more firewood while he built up the fire with what was available. Then he took the two rabbits that he had trapped the night before from his sack and skinned and jointed them. He threw the meat into a pot with some water and left it to simmer while he went for a walk to look for more ingredients. At the same time he set four rabbit snares along the trail.
It didn’t take him long to find a ring of large mushrooms. He picked them and then went down to the steam to pick some bulrushes. He cut out the white stem of the bullrushes and then went back to the camp where he diced the mushrooms and bullrush stems and put them into the pot. Finally he harvested a large handful of nettles and those went into the pot to provide a spicy, peppery taste.
He let the stew cook for an hour and then served it up.
At the end of the meal Gramma Higgins burped long and loud and then laughed. ‘Better out than in, I always says,’ she said. ‘Now, Nathaniel, dat was the bestest meal I have had for a long time. You is one serious genius at finding foods in the outdoors.’
The other girls agreed.
After the pot had been cleaned they sat around the fire a chatted. Actually, they sat around the fire and listened to Gramma talk.
She told Nathaniel about their journey and how they had stayed alive thus far. It seemed that their continued existence had been brought about mainly by hiding. Staying out of harms way and scrounging a living off the land.
She finished by asking the marine where he was heading.
‘North.’
‘Dats it? Just, north. No specific place?’
Nathaniel thought for a moment. ‘Far north. Scotland.’
‘Why?’
‘Many reasons. Firstly, I reckon if I find a place that’s so rural and backwoods then it won’t have been affected by the pulse. Secondly, well, I’ve sort of been told to go there.’
‘By who?’
Nathaniel laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Try me,’ said Gramma.
‘An old, blind, traveler lady and some druids at Stonehenge,’ he held up his hand to show Gramma the scar.
‘They gave me this.’
Gramma stared at the symbol. ‘So when were you at Stonehenge?’
The marine shook his head. ‘Never been there. It happened in a dream.’
‘You got a scar from a dream?’
‘Yep. Told you that you wouldn’t believe me.’
‘What’s not to believe, my boy,’ disagreed Gramma. ‘I believes. Why would you lie? I just wonders what’s in store for you when you gets north.’
Nathaniel grinned. ‘Me too, Gramma. Me too.’
Gramma stood up, her knees popping as she did. ‘Well, girls,’ she said. ‘It sleepy time. Come on, Milly, you too.’
Milly kissed Nathaniel goodnight and followed Gramma and the other two girls to their shelter.
The marine sat next to the fire, staring at the flames. Then, as was his habit, he concentrated and tried again to conjure up the ball of flame that the old gypsy had shown him. But, once again, he was unsuccessful. However, he kept at it.
‘Dat’s not how you do it.’
Nathaniel started in shock. Gramma Higgins had snuck up so quietly that he hadn’t heard her.’
Hey, Gramma,’ he said. ‘You move awful quite for an old bird.’
Gramma chuckled. ‘Me old but me not cold. At least not yet.’ She sat down opposite Nathaniel. ‘I see’d the Obeah man, voodoo priest, do that once.’
‘What?’
‘You trying to make light. Or maybe fire, I’s not sure. I’s gifted but only wid da sight, me I can’t conjour worth crap. Only I can see. And I see’s that you ain’t doing it right.’
‘What am I doing wrong then?’ Asked Nathaniel ‘I’m concentrating as hard as I can. I believe. What’s my problem?’
‘Your problem, my boy,’ said Gramma. ‘Is dat you concentrating too much. Much too much. First you’se gots to clear your mind. Relax. Then dissipate. Let you spirit flow from you body and meld wid da trees and da earth and da sky. Be all. Be everyting. Do it now.’
Nathaniel sat still and let his mind flow. He could feel the whispering of the trees, he felt their ponderous heart beat as they drew sap through their veins. He felt the awesome solidity of the earth; he felt its age and its life giving properties. He soared into the sky and listened to the winds exaltation as it flew across the heavens. He was nowhere. He was everywhere.
‘Now,’ said Gramma. ‘take a little bit of energy from all that you feel. A little wind, a tiny portion of sap, a pinch of the Earth’s great power. Reel it in like a fisherman pulling in a net. Bring it close. Closer and closer. Can you see it?’
Nathaniel nodded.
‘Good,’ continued Gramma. ‘Now bring it to you right hand. Pull it in. Hold it in the palm of your hand. You see it there?’
Again Nathaniel nodded.
‘Right,’ continued Gramma. ‘Now tell it what you want it to be.’
And out of nothing came light. And heat. And, suspended above Nathaniel’s right hand was as small ball of flame. Shimmering and coruscating. Spinning slowly as it crackled and hummed. The marine closed his hand around it and it winked out of existence.
He smiled at Gramma.
‘Thank you, Gramma Higgins.’
The old lady waved his thanks away. ‘Was nothing. You’s got da gift, my boy. You got it most powerful dat I ever did see. You be careful with it. Fire burns. Fire gets outta control. And fire can destroy as easy as it can warm. Next time you do it, try something else. Maybe ice.’
The old lady rose once again and headed back to her shelter.
Nathaniel curled up next to the fire and slept.
***
The next morning Nathaniel rose before sunrise and spent an hour tapping Birch trees for their sap. Then he collected a sack of Burdock roots and walked back to camp.
For breakfast he made his Burdock root and sap porridge. The meal was hot and nourishing and sweet. Gramma Higgins was amazed.
‘Boy,’ she said to the marine. ‘You’se one star in the cooking area. If I but be fifty years younger I be testing to see you as good in the bedding department.’
Adalyn and Janeka both giggled loudly. Milly looked puzzled.
Nathaniel laughed. ‘I be jus fine in that department, Gramma,’ he said. ‘Just fine.’
‘Well,’ Gramma continued with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘You’se is mighty tall. I jus hope dat all be in proportion.’
‘Gramma,’ observed the marine.’ If everything was in proportion den I be over seven feet tall.’
Gramma slapped her thighs and laughed until she started to choke.
Adalyn patted her on the back until the fit stopped and Gramma shrugged her off.
‘Quit be beating your Gramma, Adalyn. Not needs to keep a-thumpin me like that.’
‘Sorry, Gramma,’ said Adalyn with a grin. ‘My mistake.’
Gramma stroked Adalyn’s hair. ‘You’se a good girl. Now clean up de dishes and pots, quick now.’
Within an hour Nathaniel had harvested his rabbit traps and collected four fat rabbits. He gutted and skinned them while the girls decamped and, although no one had mentioned it, it seemed natural that they were a g
roup and would stick together. They walked slowly and easily all day heading north, stopping once, briefly, for a light lunch of boiled sap.
That night they set camp and the marine cooked a rabbit stew. They chatted around the fire. Light conversation, laughs and giggles from the girls. Milly smiled a lot. An oasis of happiness in a world of darkness.
Then they went to bed and the marine practiced his enchantments, calling up the ball of fire with ease. Suddenly, in a fit of childish mischief, he sent the ball rocketing into the heavens like a 4th of July rocket.
Afterwards, satisfied, he curled up and went to sleep.
***
‘It was from over there,’ said the tall man, pointing in the direction of Nathaniel’s camp. ‘Looked like a flare. Or a rocket, shooting up into the sky. Means that there has got to be something of note where it came from. And it’s close now. I can smell the fire.’
‘I can smell food,’ said one of the other men.
The third man merely sniffed the air and nodded in general agreement.
The tall man dismounted and tied his horse’s reins to a low branch.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We go on foot from here on. Quieter that way.’
The other two climbed off their horses and hitched them, to the same branch. The shorter men drew long cavalry swords from their saddlebags. The tall man carried a bolt action .22 rifle. All of them wore long, black fur coats, obviously taken from a de rigueur outfitter in one of the Home Counties. Underneath, stout woolen shirts, jeans and top-of-the-line hiking boots.
They ghosted through the dark towards the camp, rolling their feet slowly so as to avoid crunching the snow. Picking each footstep with care. Their carriage and demeanor spoke of military training. And their appearance did not lie. All three had been dishonorably discharged from the Queens Suffolk Guards for stealing weapons and trading them for drugs. After spending four years in military confinement they were sent on their way. They had stayed together ever since, for some two years now, surviving on state handouts and petty theft.
The pulse and the following breakdown of society was the best thing that had ever happened to them.
The tall one raised a clenched fist, pointed at one of the others and then pointed towards his own eyes. The man nodded and moved forward while the other two men waited.
Five minutes later he came back. They put their heads close together.
‘One bivouac,’ the reconnaissance man whispered. ‘Three, maybe four women inside. No men. It’s a bloody take away.’
The tall man sniggered. ‘Well then, let’s go and help ourselves.’ He stood upright and started walking. Their need for silence no longer needed. For they were kings of the night. They were the evil that men do.
And then – the real night came alive. A shadow boiled up from the ground and became solid. A Man, dressed in rags. A double headed war axe. The sound of metal striking flesh.
The reconnaissance man grunted and fell forward. As he hit the ground his body lay still but his head kept going. Rolling like some obscene bowling ball.
The shadow man moved, disappeared. Reappeared. The battle axe swung again; rising up from low it struck the second man under his chin and cleft his face in twain. Brains and gore and blood fountained skyward.
The tall man raised the rifle. But there was a blinding flash of pain and, when he looked down, the rifle was lying on the snow. As were both of his hands. He threw back his head to unleash a howl of agony but the axeman stepped forward and covered his mouth, stifling all sound.
Then the raggedy man shook his head. ‘No noise,’ he said. ‘It would be impolite to wake up the girls. They need their beauty sleep.’
The tall man felt the axe against his leg, close to his groin. There was a feeling of pressure. Then more pain flowed through him. He realized that the axeman had cut his femoral artery.
And his last living sight was that of two deep green eyes staring at him with utter contempt.
The marine let the body drop to the ground and then set about stripping them of anything useful. Their fur coats, weapons, the taller man’s boots that happened to be a size 13, perfect for Nathaniel, and his woolen shirt. Even the tall man’s blood soaked jeans.
He tied everything in a bundle using one of the coats and set off to fetch the horses.
He tied the horses up next to a low branch near the camp then he went down to the stream. He sat down next to the fast flowing water and conjured up a ball of light. Then he moved the ball, through the air, so that it hovered in front of him. Satisfied, he started to rinse the blood from the clothes using the clean running water.
Afterwards, he extinguished the light and walked back to the camp where he built up the fire and hung the wet clothes over branches near the flames so that they could dry.
He lay down once again and went to sleep, reminding himself to wake up in a couple of hours.
The marine was up just before the sun. The furs and jeans were dry and the cold water had gotten rid of the blood. Firstly, Nathaniel used twine to clumsily stitch the rent in the jeans, then he stripped the rags off his legs and slid the jeans on. They felt stiff and the stitching itched slightly but, compared to his previous rags, they were fantastic. Next, he cut the coats up and, once again, constructed himself a long flowing fur coat and a two blankets.
Then he pulled the rags off his torso, donned the clean wool shirt and tied the cloak on.
The pleasure of his new clothes made him grin and he stroked the fur, marveling at its warmth and softness.
‘From rags to riches,’ he mumbled to himself.
‘Talkin’ to yourself, boy?’ Asked Gramma, who had, once again, snuck up on the marine without him hearing her.
‘Jesus, Gramma,’ exclaimed Nathaniel. ‘How you gets to move so quiet?’
‘Well, you knows what they say, the older the moon the brighter it shines. I see dat you got yourself some new items of clothing. Pray tell, boy, where dey come from?’
‘Some men, last night. Wanted to do bad things. I stopped them. They didn’t need their clothes anymore.’
‘How many?’
‘Three. Look,’ Nathaniel pointed at the horses that were tethered behind to a bush. ‘Horses. Also got a couple of nice swords for Adalyn and Janeka and a little .22 rifle for Milly.’
Gramma stared at the marine for a while, then she spoke. ‘You kill three men last night and I don’t hear but a whisper?’
Nathaniel nodded.
‘You good at what you do, boy,’ said Gramma.
The marine said nothing as he walked to the horses to fetch the weapons.
‘And de raggedy man stepped forth from de shadows,’ whispered Gramma. ‘And, lo, the light showed him in his true form. And the people were afraid, for the raggedy man was Death himself and he came for all.’
She crossed herself and shivered with superstitious awe.
Chapter 16
Commander Ammon was less than happy. He hadn’t seen this coming and, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
‘Orc sergeant Teg came to me last week,’ said Seth. ‘He reported that large amounts of weapons were no longer to be found in the stores. We searched everywhere but they could not be found. So, I cast a minor seek and find enchantment on the stores. We were able to track down the latest batch of missing goods. It appears that a human from the village of Pennance has been taking them.’
Ammon thought for a while. Theft was a concept that the Fair-Folk were not familiar with. They themselves wanted for nothing, the Orcs and goblins were bred for battle and carrying out certain tasks, theft not being one of them, and the constructs did not think at all unless instructed to.
‘What does the human do with them?’
‘It seems to be storing them. Some 50 crossbows, 400 bolts, ten swords and shields.’
‘What for?’
‘I have a theory,’ said Seth.
‘Go ahead.’
‘The word, sedition, comes to mind.’
A
mmon shook his head. ‘I do not understand. What do the humans have to rebel about?’
Seth was as baffled as the commander, but he had given it some thought.
‘They are an independent species,’ he said. ‘Many of them seem to value their freedom above all else. They see us as their leaders and this causes umbrage.’
‘But we are their leaders,’ argued Ammon. ‘Have we not organized a system of trade, have we not stopped the wholesale banditry, have we not provided food? We lead. They must follow. It is for their own good.’
‘I agree.’
‘So,’ said Ammon, ‘What do you suggest?’
‘Harsh discipline. As a race they understand violence. We need to show that we are hard but fair masters.’
‘Corporal punishment?’ Suggested Ammon. ‘Perhaps sixty lashes?’
Seth shook his head. ‘Capital punishment. I suggest that we show him the gallows as soon as possible. We need to stop this before it spreads. As we have seen before, they can be a tenacious and stubborn race and we need to stamp out any possible thoughts of sedition.’
‘Make it so,’ said the commander. ‘Who is it?’
‘A male human called Robert Baker. I shall send a message to Orc sergeant Gog who is in charge of the Pennance battalion. He shall see the punishment carried out by tomorrow morning at first light.’
***
Benny rushed into Jarvis’s room, banging the door open. Breathless.
‘Whoa, partner,’ said Jarvis. ‘What gives with the huge rush?’
Benny stood for a while, catching his breath.
‘It’s about your uncle Robert. Gerry just arrived with a message. He wasn’t meant to read it but, well you know, we all do.’