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Kingdom of the Damned: Provocation (KIngdom Journals)

Page 13

by Tricia Copeland


  I follow her to the large boarding house, wondering if I’ll always feel like her little girl. Entering the dwelling, the scent of faerie and humans accost my nose, and my mouth waters. Looking to Will, I note his pained expression. “Perhaps you could wait in the woods.”

  “I will not leave you when there is a possibility the witches will return.”

  “What about the others?”

  “They will stand guard around the perimeter.”

  “Thank you.” I squeeze his arm.

  Elizabeth, Faye, and I have much to catch up on. Twenty-seven years is a lot to tackle in a night. The structure smells and feels like home, and I let my guard down for the first time since the massacre in Asia. I sob into Elizabeth’s chest, staining her nightgown with blood, as I relate the story.

  After a warm bath, I snuggle into my childhood bed with Elizabeth by my side. She describes the night of Henry’s passing.

  “A man came, well not exactly a man. He appeared from nowhere, just after Henry’s death. He said he was sorry he was too late and then disappeared.”

  “It’s likely the same being that broke Sonia’s spell holding Will and Jacob. I have no idea who or what he is. She called him seraph, and he seemed to have dominion over the witches.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” She kisses my forehead. “Rest my child.”

  I slumber for a full eight hours for the first time in weeks, waking as the sun rises in the east.

  Faye prepares a huge breakfast, and we feast on raw eggs and fresh steak.

  “Won’t you join us?” I ask Elizabeth as I pack my bag.

  “When Faye has passed.” She wraps her arms around me and kisses my cheek.

  “Send me word, and I’ll meet you.” I squeeze her tight.

  “It is agreed.” She holds me at arm’s length. “Now, go be a queen again.”

  “Who have you been talking to?”

  “Not talking, just listening. I’m proud of you. Go make me prouder.”

  The nine of us travel south and gain passage to France across the English Channel. Running through the night, we rejoin Jacob and the rest of the group within two days. Some of the warriors are not accustomed to being close to humans and find resting places in the woods surrounding the sea port. Jacob has secured transport to the New World for our group and rooms at an inn next to the harbor for himself, Will, and me.

  Eating at a table, lying in a bed, feels odd after years on the run, and I wonder what lies ahead for us. What will we do once we’ve visited all the tribes? I imagine settling on a large plot, growing rice, barley, oats, raising cattle and sheep, living out my days with Elizabeth, Will, and Jacob. It will be enough, I try to convince myself.

  At first light, we gather at the dock. Our numbers equal three times the crew size, and the captain rubs his hands together as he eyes our group. Jacob and I approach the man as he barks orders to his first mate.

  Jacob bows low. “Captain de Torres, may I introduce Anne Scott?”

  I curtsey and offer my hand. His eyes meet mine as he takes it and plants a kiss on my knuckles. “Miss Scott, your group is bigger than I imagined.”

  Jacob clears his throat. “I told you we numbered ninety. Is that a problem? We loaded your cargo as you requested yesterday.”

  “Yes, my first mate said your team worked very fast. All looks to be in order. I will ask that any weapons be surrendered.” His gaze travels to Will and the rest of our contingency behind us.

  Will steps forward. “We have no firearms, only hunting instruments. If everyone is disarmed, we will agree.”

  Captain de Torres takes half a step back but squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. “We carry the men of the cloth to their missions in South America.” He motions behind us, where some twenty men, dressed in brown robes approach.

  As they reach us, Captain de Torres plants kisses on each cheek of a priest dressed in a white linen robe adorned with gold threaded embroidery. “Father de Molina, we are so honored to have your men traveling with us. We are just meeting our other travelers.”

  He pushes past me and ushers the group of priests up the ramp onto the ship. The first mate and another hand set a trunk in front of us with instruction to place all our weapons inside. I keep my dagger inside my boot.

  I’ve dressed the part of the rich, high-born heiress, and it pains me to pretend to be an entitled lady. Six weeks at sea drags on like it may last forever. We have fresh fruits and dried meats, but I swear the clergymen must be half witch. They smell of oats and honey. Will, Jacob, and I spend the ten-week journey making sure our people don’t eat the priests, refereeing philosophical discussions between Mambi and the ship’s crew, being polite to Captain de Torres at formal evening dinners when he refers to the savage Indians, smiling during church services, and training with broom and mop handles on the deck at night with our army. We sneak in swims whenever possible, harvesting live fish from the sea. Finally, we land at port in the South Americas.

  “Have you been to Buenos Aires before?” Captain de Torres asks as he escorts me down the ramp to the dock.

  “We haven’t.” I smile at Jacob, keeping up the ruse of our marriage. To Captain de Torres and the rest of the travelers, we are wealthy Europeans who have gathered a workforce to build a sugar cane plantation.

  Once we’ve unloaded the ship, our debt to its crew is paid. We make our way inland, finding only one tribe in the interior. A small group living off the land, they report little knowledge of the progress of the modern world when Will and I spend an evening with them. They agree to further communication in the coming years and add a warrior to our army.

  As spring turns to summer, the peninsula grows cold the further south we travel. At the southern tip, small black and white flightless birds, with short legs and long straight wings, litter the coast. Across the strait, snow covers the tip of the land beyond.

  Heading back north, we avoid populated ports, preferring the mountain peaks. Rainy season comes, and we travel into the dense interior forests. The abundance of plant and animal life rivals that of the African continent’s jungles, and we find several tribes tucked within the remote region. They are warier of strangers than the southern tribe and ask that we move on.

  We expected traveling with a large group to be challenging and many times split into smaller teams. On the voyage across the Atlantic, we’d studied maps and planned out routes, so we know where the others will be. Our keen sense of smell helps in this area, and we gather at the northern coast of South America for Mabon.

  The holiday hits me hard, thinking of my family and our recent loss, but I smile and act my part. We all gather for the night, eating, drinking, and thanking the Earth for her bounties. Our journey fits well with the seasons as we make our way north though tropical jungles to the arid desert. The North American land form is large, and the enormity of our tasks weighs on me. Still, the memory of our comrade’s slaughter fuels my resolve, and the story serves to bind our army and the tribes we visit.

  Here, they already feel the intrusion of the European settlers as native peoples are pushed west and inland. About two of three tribes yearn for a life free from war and agree with our philosophies. My group swells to over one hundred as we reach the northern tip of the North American continent in September of the next year.

  Jacob and I sit on the beach, looking out over the sea, the Russian coast low on the horizon across the strait. “Can you smell it? Do you miss your homeland?”

  “Yes and no.” His eyes are trained on the view ahead. “You know you have to stop at some point, right? There will be an end to this mission. What will you do then?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head and look over the waves.

  “Surely you want a home, a family to share it with.”

  “I guess.” Standing, I bend to pick up a shell and fling it into the surf.

  “Will you grieve forever? It took you twenty years to get over Alec’s death. You don’t have to mourn a hundred times that fo
r those we lost. It’s not your fault they died.” He reaches out and caresses my cheek.

  It’s an unexpected gesture, and I take a step back. Will, Jacob, and I are the closest of comrades, but we rarely touch except in combat training.

  “Wow, it’s windy.” I gather my hair in my hands to cover my discomfort. I focus on his eyes. “I know Sonia is to blame for their deaths.”

  “What about a large house on a huge farming plantation? In the south I think, perhaps south of the Carolinas. I read there is much uninhabited land there.”

  “You’ve been reading up. That sounds perfect.” I start up the beach.

  He falls in step with me. “I had a hunch you preferred warmer climates.”

  “Yes, you know me well.” I hold my arms out, feeling the rising sun bake my skin on the rare clear day. “What about you? Don’t you want a wife? A family?”

  “I’ve pledged my loyalty to you. I go where you go.” Looking back to the sea, he hurls a pebble out over the surf, and it skips over the top of the water.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t find a mate.”

  He takes a step towards me. “Can’t you see? You’ve blinded me to all others.” Before I can react, my hands are in his. “You must feel something for me. You wouldn’t have allowed me to come on this quest if you didn’t. We are well matched. Think how happy we could be, mated with a family, a legacy, not just written edicts signed on parchment, but physical beings, the product of our passions.”

  Mind swirling with disbelief, I snatch my fingers from his grip. “Jacob, what are you saying? Where is this coming from? We’ve traveled together as friends for years. I told you I would not have feelings for you.”

  “I think you’re wrong. You focus on everything else, denying yourself love when it’s right in front of you. And for what? Memory of a fallen lover? You do have feelings for me. You just won’t admit it.”

  “I don’t—”

  Jacob’s lips press into mine before I can finish my sentence.

  His mouth is warm and soft, and I give in for a second. The next, I shove him away. “What are you doing? Why would you think you could do that?”

  “You feel something for me. You kissed me back. What keeps you from giving into your feelings? Do you love Will?” Jacob grabs my arm, pulling me to him.

  “Don’t do this to us,” I plead.

  A gust of wind strikes my chest, and Will’s head collides with Jacob’s shoulder. I race after them as they tumble over each other, taking turns landing blows. “Stop, both of you stop.” I tug at Will’s bicep. “What are you doing?”

  “I could smell your anger from camp. What did he do?” Will’s fist intercepts Jacob’s jaw as he tries to stand.

  “Nothing. It was a misunderstanding. Stop, please.” I wrap my arms around Will’s waist and pull as hard as I can.

  Will halts his assault, and breathing hard, Jacob stands upright. “I’ll meet you at the next tribe.”

  “Are you okay?” Will lays a hand on my shoulder.

  “Stop touching me. Why is everyone touching me today?” I wriggle away from him.

  “What just happened?”

  I don’t want Will to know what passed between Jacob and me. Spinning on one foot, I stomp off.

  Will trails me. “I heard my name.”

  “It’s a common one.” Trying to stay ahead of him, I pick up my pace. “People are unhappy. We need to find a place to call home, stop living like gypsies.”

  Will jumps in front of me. “Perhaps Jacob is unhappy?” He raises an eyebrow. “Or you are?” His eyes are fixed on mine. “Are you worried Jacob will not come back? I doubt you were fighting over travel routes.”

  “He will come back. He said he would.” I resume my path towards camp.

  “Tell me. He confessed his love for you, didn’t he?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because it’s been obvious since the day we met him.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I? You’ve trained yourself not to see it.”

  “He thinks I’m in love with you.”

  “Ha, well, he is foolish then.” Will stops and extends his arm to me. “You know I’ll always call you comrade and friend.”

  “Thank you.” As I grip his forearm, he wraps his other around me. “You will see, he’ll be fine when he returns.” He smells like family, and I wonder if it’s because of the tribal connection with Alec or the thirty and some years we’ve spent together. Thoughts of Alec are dangerous, and I release Will.

  “Alec will not always be your strongest memory.” Will bends down to look into my eyes.

  “Why did you bring up Alec? The most intense pictures in my head right now are the bodies we burned in Asia and that damned tea cup.”

  “Aye, the blood in that cup haunts me many nights also. Perhaps news from the teams will help.”

  “Yes, please, tell me.”

  “Several scouting teams arrived in camp within the past hour. We learned many of the tribes moved east from California when the Spaniards began exploration. That’s why we haven’t encountered any tribes near the coast. Like the tribes in the South Americas, groups are being pushed from their lands. Others join the human indigenous tribes fighting against the European colonists.”

  “The settlers will be massacred.” I stop and face him.

  “The Europeans have guns.” Will motions to the beach, and I follow. “It appears that many of the native peoples practice what they call spirit magic. The vampires partner with the native tribes, standing with them against the Europeans.”

  “Witches?” I whisper.

  “Not exactly, perhaps descendants of witches or maybe other beings altogether.”

  Taking a few seconds to organize my thoughts, I look towards our camp. “It’s so different than in the Old World where vampires have been hunted by witches for centuries. Our people do not carry that burden here.”

  “But the European settlers threaten to take their lands and have started hunting what they call Indians. And, I believe we will start to see witches settle in the New World.”

  I pick up the pace. “We need to move fast to start dialogue. It may be easier to foster peace here than in the old country.”

  Will stops, letting me take the trail ahead of him. “The northern tribes keep to themselves, I’m not sure there is much point in visiting each one.”

  “Perhaps it’s the best course to send delegates east as we head south. Let’s start with a list of potentials ambassadors.” As we reach the group, I’m glad for the distraction from the incident with Jacob. My lips still tingle when I think about how his mouth felt on mine. Surely, I’m not in love with him.

  It’s two days before I see him again. Will and I lead the group as we approach a tribe’s lands. Jacob waits for us on the border.

  “Good to see you friend.” Will greets Jacob with our traditional forearm grip. “I’m glad a wolf didn’t get you.”

  “I ate him before he could eat me.”

  I divert my eyes and focus on the situation at hand. The days of travel helped me sort my feelings. I care for Jacob, but as a friend, comrade. Picturing Alec’s face, I smile. His love can be enough for me.

  We forge good relationships in the north. But, while they agree with our accord or sanctity of life, they live in isolation and politics mean little, and they do not wish to be involved further. Next, we head south. In spring of 1602 we reach the western native tribe lands of the Absároke people.

  The smell of the village humans, I call them that because their scent is more human than not, reminds me of witches. A sniff at the air finds me thinking of grass and berries.

  “Not witches, but not purely human. A small group, perhaps fifty,” Will announces as a gale sweeps the prairie.

  “The three of us will approach alone,” I tell Mambi, Gregor, and the rest of our troop.

  Snow litters the high plains. With warm sunshine, the air remains cold, signaling winter prevails. A thousand feet
ahead, we spot seven beings topping the ridge. They carry spears in hand and arrows on their backs. Jacob, Will, and I continue towards them, stopping some fifty feet away and lowering our weapons to the ground.

  Following suit, the center man lifts his hand in the air. “We know what you are and prefer you not come to our village, our leader, Chief Black Crow, will entertain you three villages south.”

  Skirting the first and second villages, we run across the high fields. By midday, we spot three men atop the next hill. Slight in build, their white hair reflects the sun’s light.

  “They’re spirit men,” Will notes.

  “I can smell them. Stand ready,” I call to the group behind me, as Will, Jacob, and I approach the men.

  The center one offers his hand to me. “Thank you for coming.”

  I cut my eyes to Will and then Jacob, whose clenched jaws mirror my apprehension, and hold my palm up. “Greetings. Are you here to take us to Chief Black Crow?”

  “You’ve heard of those with spiritual gifts? Is this why you do not touch my palm?” His raspy voice is but a whisper on the wind.

  “We have.”

  “We’re not like the witches you know. We commune with the Earth and her children. We aren’t a threat to you. I am Flying Brook, and this is Running Snake.” He motions to his left. “And Swimming Lark.” He points to the man on his right side. “Please join us. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  I look to Will and Jacob and back to the three natives. “We are supposed to meet with the Chief.”

  “Please, we have important information. Many lives are at stake. But we can’t speak freely here. Follow us into the valley and we will explain.”

  I weigh my options and nod agreement. Signaling for our army to trail us, we follow them down the hill and into a canyon lined with fir trees. A brook runs through the bottom, and the men stop at an opening to a cave.

  “We go no farther with you.” Will steps ahead of me.

  Flying Brook points to a fire circle. “This is fine then.”

 

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