by J. Thorn
“Don’t get all fussy now, hon. I’m working Jaithe like you are.”
Toman sighed and nodded. “Guess a little of that stuff sticks in a man’s head.”
“How so?”
“Jaithe ain’t no dandy.”
Patience sat up. Her drooping breasts swung over her potbelly and came to rest above her expansive thighs. She pulled strands of greasy hair behind her ears and massaged the open sore on her lip with her tongue. Toman kept on his back but turned his head to face her.
“Ya know how he got here?” he asked.
Patience rolled her eyes and motioned for him to continue.
“The company recruited the toughest men to come here. They sent a few expeditions early on, but none could manage. It didn’t matter how many cannons they sent, the men never returned. At first, they thought it might be that they done chose their lot, what with all the land one can grab out here. But then it became clear that it was the Naturals. They ain’t want no people coming on their land and taking their victuals, their game, their crops, all that.
So I hears they find Master Edward Jaithe to lead the next voyage, the one that landed us here ‘fore your vessels arrived. He ain’t no ordinary man, you see. Jaithe been fightin’ in the Great Wars. The King done decorated him for heroics. Legend has it that he slain a dozen men to save one of his own.”
Patience whistled through her missing teeth.
“Oh, that ain’t the half of it. There’s many men that can take another’s right quick. Out there on the battlefield, in the middle of some wretched fight, soldiers say he found Him. They say he drops his sword right there and starts walking away.”
“Nobody knifed him?”
Toman sat up and snarled. “Let me speak it, woman,” he growled. “As I was sayin’, he starts walkin’. Ain’t nobody in the enemy lines chasin’ him. He just keeps walkin’ all the way off the battlefield, to his horse, to his home. Nobody ever seen him in battle since.
“He comes home to his family, but he’s a changed man. He goes distant and no longer cares what happens in the Great Wars. He tells his woman that he needs to come here, this place, to pursue the ‘Ways,’ serve Him. Says that He is coming down and that he needed to prepare the path. Says it’s happenin’ soon.
“The thing about Jaithe is that everyone knew that he handled the sword, but he handled the quill just the same. He’d command legions in far off places and then write about it for all to read. His brains is like his brawn.”
“How’s he get here?”
“I’m gettin’ there!”
Toman reached for his pipe and packed it with herb. Patience shuffled in the hides. She jumped and hovered over the bedpan while Toman lit the pipe. He closed his eyes to the sights and sounds of her doughy frame in the light of the fire.
“King gets worried that his right hand man done lost his mind. Figures he can’t get rid of him without getting blood on his hands. So he sends word to Jaithe that he needs an expedition leader, one who can set up a government once he arrives.”
“Here,” said Patience.
Toman nodded. “King figures that the Naturals will take care of Jaithe, and even if they don’t, he’ll be stuck here and out of the King’s way. King knows he ain’t gonna get the old warrior back and that it ain’t much of a loss at this point.
“Jaithe hides himself in his home doing who knows what to get his family ready. Nobody thinks they comin’ back from that kind of expedition. To cover all angles, the King decides to fund it through a private venture.”
“The company.” Patience pulled the hides up to her chin, her eyes fixated on Toman while listening to the spinning tale.
“Yep. King hands the company loads of gold, telling the cape merchant to hide it once they arrive. Says that the company gets to keep a percentage for every season the expedition survives. When the company has all of the King’s loot, they’re contracted to send back all commercial profits on the land.”
“The King don’t care much about the ‘Ways.’”
“As far as Jaithe knows, he does. Jaithe been told that’s the reason he’s going. The King knows what a leader Jaithe is but ain’t about to tempt him with gold, ‘cause he won’t take it. He gotta get him here under other circumstances.
“The company, they gettin’ skittish about their investment. They get worried that Jaithe ain’t concerned about establishing a colony or having it grow, that he’s out in the woods at night looking for His return. That ain’t growin’ the company nuthin’. So the only way the company’s gonna rake in their percentage of the King’s loot is by sending more folks.” Toman looked at Patience until he recognized the revelation on her face.
“If the captain gets Jaithe out of the way, the company—”
“The captain’s boss.”
“Right. The company gets the gold.” Toman sat back and sighed. A pang of regret fluttered through his head before he could push onwards with the plan.
“Where is it?” asked Patience.
Toman smiled and waved a finger at her. “Not yet, my darlin’. Ain’t no reason for you to keep me around should I tell you that.”
Patience dropped the corners of her mouth and fluttered her eyes at Toman. “I’d never harm you, Toman. Not after all you done for me.”
Toman straightened up and began putting his clothes on while dodging the groping hands of Patience. “There’s more.”
Patience stopped, her eyebrows pinching upward.
“Only the King and Jaithe know where the gold is stashed.”
Patience slapped him across the face with an open hand, knocking Toman over a chair and crashing to the ground with his britches tangled on his ankles.
“Why you wastin’ my lovin’ motions on such nonsense? Jaithe ain’t never gonna tell no one where it’s at, and the King sure ain’t swimmin’ up on the shore with the bullion in his mouth.”
Toman laughed and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “A lover and a fighter. I like that in a woman.”
Patience stood with her hands on her hips, staring through Toman.
“I got something of Jaithe’s. Something that might persuade him to tell me where the gold be hidin’,” Toman said.
“What could you possibly have that the man can’t pray to Him for?”
Toman reached behind his chair and held up the hat of a young man.
***
“When?”
“Yes, when?”
“The night prior. I thought he slept in the cave.”
Jaithe scratched his head. He bent down low to examine the footprints in the snow.
“Those could have been here for days, father.”
Jaithe held up a hand and shook his head. “The inner prints, here and here, appear to be depressions over earlier ones. See this heel? It moves in the opposite direction from the others. It could be Kelsun, given the size.”
Brinton sighed and drew a pocket of cold air into his lungs. The handle of the sword felt like a dagger of ice, burning his palm with frigid pain. He held his other hand up to his face and peered across the rolling hills.
“The Naturals?”
“Doubtful. I think they have retreated far beyond the domain of the Commonwealth. His track looks normal, as if he walked off of his own accord.”
“But you don’t believe that, do you?”
“I read the signs He sends me. Right now, they say Kelsun went off under his own power, to his own means.”
Brinton nodded and continued down the path. The tracks followed the trail from the summit and towards the valley on the rear side of the mountain. The blanket of snow weighed heavy on the land, but the gray haze relented, allowing pockets of blue to shine through underneath the clouds.
Jaithe stood and scanned the crest of the summit once more before following Brinton. He sniffed at the air, certain that something would resonate. The men hiked down the mountain and picked up the trail near the frozen river. The tracks left remained consistent with Kelsun’s mark. Ja
ithe halted Brinton around midday. They found boulders protruding from the snow and sat, and Jaithe unwrapped a turnip from his satchel and offered half to his son.
“Maybe he wanted this,” Brinton said.
“It does not matter. I am bound by oath to my brother and will honor it.”
Brinton shook his head and bit into the bitter food. He forced the morsel to his stomach, attempting to disguise the taste with a swig of water. “What of Rayna? Are we not bound to her?”
Jaithe stood, his forehead creased and his lips mumbling. “She never leaves my thoughts, ever.”
“Then why are we not tracking her, Father?”
Jaithe paused, unsure how to proceed.
“Answer me! Why are we leaving her to die in this forsaken place?”
Jaithe grabbed his son and placed a hand over his mouth. He shook as tears crept from the corners of his eyes. Brinton began to sob underneath his muffled mouth.
“There is much you do not know, son. They took Rayna and have the power to hide under the very boulder upon which you sit, should they so desire. If He wants to return her to us, he will do so. Until then, we must wait. Kelsun, on the other hand—” Jaithe removed his hand from Brinton’s mouth.
“What about Kelsun?”
“I fear Kelsun has been taken.”
“So has Rayna.”
“If Rayna is being held by the Naturals, she will be safe or die honorably. I cannot speak to the whereabouts of Kelsun or the nature of his disappearance.”
“Say it, Father. I have neither the intelligence nor the experience to understand your cryptic explanations.”
“I don’t either, son. At least not yet.”
The men packed up their temporary camp and continued to follow the river’s frozen meanderings and Kelsun’s lonely trail.
***
Shella noticed the two figures at the entrance to the cave. Her face fell when she realized they were not Jaithe and Brinton.
“Pardon, madam,” said the captain. The other followed behind like a dog with his tail between his legs.
“I’m afraid Master Jaithe ain’t here,” said Shella. She watched the follower come up beside the captain. They stood shoulder to shoulder across the entrance to the cave.
“Ain’t here for him,” said the captain.
Shella scurried about the fire, grasping for an iron ladle and two bowls upside down on a rock, drying in the damp air. She straightened her apron and kept her eyes as low as possible.
“You must be hungry, coming all this way.”
“Guess we are,” said the captain. He nodded to Sicklemore and pointed with raised eyes at the entrance of the cave. Sicklemore dropped his chin and walked back towards the fresh air.
“Would your associate care to partake?” Shella asked. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as her eyes darted around the cave.
“He’ll be fine.”
The captain stood in front of Shella and grasped her wrist in his hands. The hold felt like iron, as if someone had wrapped steel cuffs around her arms. He guided her to a chair, but his grip did not lessen. Shella squirmed and huffed but did not resist.
“Guess I ain’t all that hungry after all,” said Russell.
Shella spotted a lonely ant maneuvering near a crumb of bread and struggling to lift it. She watched as the insect spun the discarded morsel and began dragging it back towards a mound.
Gonna have to stomp that out, she thought.
“Loogamee.” It came out slurred and slobbery in the delivery.
Shella understood and moved her eyes upwards from his shiny black boots, past the holster on his hip, and stopping at the button on his chest. Wiry gray hairs poked and danced about. Shella placed her free hand on her mouth to stifle a gag.
“My eyes,” the captain continued.
The bloodshot circles sunk deep in his face, sitting like rotten eggs over bags of ash underneath. Several scars crawled over his cheek, racing towards each ear. The captain dripped clear mucus from a bright red nose, and his breath smelled of maggot-infested beef salted enough to disguise the rot.
“I didn’t come here to hurt you, my love.”
She shook and dipped slightly to look for Sicklemore.
“And he ain’t gonna do nothin’ to no one, long as I tell ’em not to.”
Shella whimpered and put her head back down. A droplet of water leapt from the pot and landed on the back of her arm with a sizzle.
“I—I need to stir it.”
Captain Russell smiled and brought his hands up to his ears, palms out to face her. “Of course. I don’t want to be the one causin’ a lousy meal, now, do I?”
Shella shook her head as if trying to shake spiders from her hair. She grabbed a ladle and stirred the pot, careful not to let her skin touch the sides. Four red streaks rose on her wrist where his fingers had locked onto the bone.
“How many?” asked the captain.
“Huh?”
Captain Russell drew his right hand up and behind his left ear, cocked and ready to deliver the pain.
“How many years have you seen, darling?”
“Thir—thirty five,” replied Shella.
“Don’t look like you been dragged past twenty some from my point view. Ain’t that right, apprentice?”
Sicklemore’s silhouette tilted his hat in the captain’s direction.
“Imagine you still do a fine job of working on the master of the house.”
“I am a woman of the Ways, sir. I’d appreciate you not using that kind of tone with me.”
The captain raised both eyebrows and stepped back from her in mock fear. He danced around the fire and cowered behind a chair, snickering and giggling under his breath.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
“I need some information. Suppose you can provide it?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you’re asking.”
The captain stood. He walked to Shella and knocked her head-covering to the ground. Russell grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Shella’s head back. He saw streaks of gray moistened by tears.
“I wanna know what you bastards got stashed in dem caves.”
Shella shook her head again, mumbling over her words.
“Do you know who I am?” the captain asked.
She shook and answered with her eyes.
“I’m Captain Russell, commander of the vessels that dropped in your harbor. I been on that sea and back many times, seen many wretched things. I seen my mama and papa’s heads split open by marauders. Seen ’em lying dead in their rolls as the sons of bitches tossed our home. They speared my sister, and I ain’t talking about a blade of steel. I was four, under the bed and watchin’ it all. When they left I had to crawl out and through the blood draining from my mama’s chest.”
Her chest hitched and stuttered as Shella forced the sobs back down.
“By the time I got me my sea legs, I done drained someone else’s mama of her blood. Figure I got at least that much coming to me. Speared myself some ladies in my duty and wasn’t much to spare the men, neither.
“You see, honey, I ain’t above creasin’ your neck with the red line of death. Now, you being the wife of the head of council and all, I can see that bringin’ some undue attention my way. Might upset a few here in the Commonwealth. But then again, we know how savage those Naturals can be. It would be a real shame if one of them beasts snuck in here when the sun dropped below the heavens and done carved you up. Maybe even your family, dem dat’s left, of course.
“I think I’m gonna ask my questions again, just to see what kinds of answers you may have remembered while we was getting acquainted. What’s in the caves?”
The sobs came in waves, making it hard for Shella to raise her head. Russell saw her puffy red eyes and licked his lips.
“My husband, Jaithe, he sometimes comes through after meeting with the Naturals. He knows the tunnels, but you must stay out of there.”
Russell chuckled and whistled a quick, piercing tone. Sicklemore appeared at his side. The captain tipped his hat at Shella and nudged Sicklemore in the arm. He repeated the motion.
“We need to be gettin’ back to check on the deckhands. Ya know they’d be swimmin’ in their own piss, drunker than hell if ya let ’em.”
Sicklemore smiled, but Shella remained stoic, her eyes fastened on the sailor’s face.
“Tell Master Jaithe that we’ll be back to talk and that we’ll bring our quill and parchment, gettin’ ready for any kind of negotiatin’ he may wanna do.”
Shella stood and brushed the dirt from her apron. She wiped each eye with the back of her sleeve, cradling an iron ladle in her hand. The captain and the mapmaker’s apprentice turned and left the cave.
***
When Shella looked up again, she gasped, imagining the frame of the captain approaching. When Burton Ford stepped into the light of the fire, she launched into his arms.
“I thought he was coming back and that he’d do it this time,” she said, her voice muffled in his vest and her tears wrinkling the fabric.
Burton sat her down. He straightened his overcoat and vest and brushed invisible debris away with the back of a gloved hand.
“Terror consumes you, my lady. How may I tame your nervous fears?”
“Have you seen Jaithe, or Brinton, or Kelsun?” asked Shella, ignoring Ford’s question.
He shook his head.
“I fear the dreaded Captain has drawn up a most evil plan, that he cares not for the members of council or the Commonwealth,” Shella said.
Ford shrugged. “There aren’t many on these shores that shoulder the responsibility and custodial duties of your husband.” He shivered and looked to each side of the flame. “May I gather fuel to help you through the chill of the night?”
“Have you seen any of them?” Shella asked again. She clenched a ball of apron in her hands, kneading it like dough.
“Not on this day. But that does not mean they have been idle or lacking in work ethic.” Burton shrugged and waited to see if his words would deliver comfort to Shella.
“Can you head down the trail, towards the valley? Maybe you’ll see something, some sign of them?”
Ford laughed until he saw the hurt it brought to her face. “I am sorry. Heading into that heathen-infested wilderness, at night, in the middle of the Dark Time, why, I fear you’d be sending another party behind me, pulling my frozen bones from the river or plucking my skin from the claws of the brown bear.”