Purgatory's Shore

by Taylor Anderson

  Lewis had steeled himself for an eruption of frightened and angry voices, full of denial, but to his astonishment, other than a few cries of “What of my wife? My children?” there was only a brief, urgent murmur of something almost like morbid satisfaction. They already know, he realized.

  Reverend Harkin spoke up, still sitting behind Leonor, and his anger had drained away. “Apparently, this has all been better guessed or communicated by the men’s association with our new friends than we expected, Captain Cayce.” He raised his own voice. “This is a different world,” he told the American soldiers, “but also the same in many ways.” He smiled. “It seems the Lord God was busier than we ever imagined, making many ‘Earths’ in his firmament, upon which to plant countless seeds.” He bowed at Varaa-Choon, the somewhat customary glower on his heavy visage now shining with an inner light. “To borrow an example the Ocelomeh warmaster gave Captain Cayce, imagine if you will a handful of musket balls, all similar at a glance, but each slightly different. Some will be bright, others a bit blue or wrinkled or frosty looking, depending on the heat of the metal that made them. Some will turn gray with age, or go chalky white with corrosion. And every one will carry different dents and scratches from the way they’ve been handled, regardless of the fact they all came from the exact same mold, poured by the very same hand!” He waved around. “God has molded these many Earths and must have had a reason to take us from one to another. How else could it occur? Never doubt we have a purpose here. His purpose! And just because we’re not where we were, don’t suppose for an instant God has sent us from Him!”

  “Thank you, Reverend,” Lewis said with a slight smile for the portly preacher. He’d watched the change coming over the man, seen the dour, self-centered preacher growing in benevolence, piety, and purpose. He hoped Harkin was right, that they were here for a reason. It was some consolation for the men to cling to, at least. “Regardless of why or how, here we are. And coincidentally or not, we’ve been handed a worthy cause beyond our simple survival—and it’s a cause our survival depends on. There are monsters aplenty on this world; we’ve all seen them. And though they’re certainly ‘monsters’ of a smaller sort as well, I’m reliably assured the ‘Grik’ you fought are merely a ferocious, hostile tribe, not the ‘demons’ some of you think.” He grunted. “You’ve killed enough of them that I expect you’ll agree with that.

  “But there is a great evil in this land, and the Grik and Holcanos are only its weakest fingers. There’s a fist and mighty sword behind them. You saw the confrontation at the temple, and if you haven’t learned what was said, you will. I think anyone could tell that Blood Priest was just a mask for the great evil that threatens the people here.” Lewis pointed at Harkin. “And the Reverend believes that’s what we were brought here to face. I may not be as spiritually certain as he, but I’m just as morally convinced we’ve been given a better . . . purer ‘cause’ than the cloudy, political, even somewhat divisive one we left behind. It’s one we can fight for together, sure we’re in the right!”

  He paused a moment while this sank in and listened to the surf-like sound of voices, catching occasional snippets. Some were obviously doubtful, and quite a few seemed finally, belatedly struck by the confirmation they were truly stuck here. Most appeared only intently thoughtful, though Lewis saw some nodding their heads. When he resumed, he finally softened his voice somewhat, and the men went silent to hear him.

  “I suppose I’m presenting you with a ‘bright side,’ of sorts, to a terrible situation. I also know many of you left families behind. You had lives to return to, farms, shops, loved ones who’ll miss you. I can’t do anything about that, but Reverend Harkin stands ready to counsel you.” He shrugged. “I honestly can’t say I even know how you feel. I left no loved ones behind at all.” He patted Arete’s neck. “The closest I had was this fine horse, and she’s here.” His expression hardened again. “But I did leave a home and family of sorts, just as dear to me in some ways as yours were to you. My home was all the United States of America, which I’ve devoted my life to defending, and my guiding ‘father,’ after God, was the Constitution I swore to uphold.” He took a breath. “And my ‘family’ has been the army. I hope I still have part of it with me as well.”

  His tone became abrupt, and his eyes flashed steel. “You are my family, as you must become for each other. Our new cause is just, and in any event, we have no choice but to take it up. As I said, our survival depends on it, and we must remain soldiers until it’s won.” He almost smiled. “Still, I want only real and true soldiers in my army. I already see some of you thinking about the terms of your enlistments, how much time you had left—or what does your enlistment for the ‘duration’ mean now? I’ll tell you. Anyone who wants his discharge may go, right now, this very day—and you’ll be free to make your own way in this wild, dangerous world. I warn you, though, you can’t stay here. We’ll feed no apathetic mouths. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it must be. We may soon be making soldiers of every able-bodied man for hundreds of miles, and no shirkers can be tolerated. Even local farmers and craftsmen will likely train to fight while they keep doing what they do, as will the upper classes of Uxmal if I have my way, with no exemptions or substitutes.” He shook his head. “Otherwise, for those who choose to stay, ‘the duration’ must now apply to the fulfillment of the cause of survival.”

  “What of our oaths?” a man demanded. “We won’t be swearin’ no oath to no foreigner!”

  “No,” Lewis said forcefully. “The oaths you already swore remain in effect, to the same flag and Constitution, and you’ll be bound by the same Articles of War. That nation still exists,” he emphasized, “and the ideals enshrined in the Constitution and Bill of Rights are universal.” He glanced at De Russy. “And we hope to ensure they’re recognized here before long.”

  “What about pay? I got two months comin’!” someone else cried amid a brief gabble of agreement.

  “Colonel De Russy? Will you address that?

  “Certainly.” De Russy had laboriously climbed on the ammunition chest atop a limber and now held his hands out. “Many . . . details about our alliance with the Uxmalos, Ocelomeh, and others, we hope, remain to be formalized. During our discussions with Alcalde Periz, he agreed to much in principle, but he’s only had the last few days to begin sorting it out with his people and the alcaldes of other cities. I’m confident all we tell you now—and more—will be part of the, um, ‘Treaty of Alliance’ we’ll agree to with our new friends.” He looked in the direction from which the question had come and smiled. “We’ll try to do something about ‘back pay,’ if we can. There were pay chests in the wrecks. But we’ll see to the welfare of the army first, and paper dollars are no use. People here can’t be expected to trade in them. Silver, gold, copper, even zinc and iron, have value, however, and I advise you to take care how you spend what coins you have until we know what they’re worth. But you’ll be paid,” he stressed, then paused. “Let me be clear. We are and will remain United States soldiers, not mercenaries. We’ll only have a different paymaster for a time. We’ll dress, act, and fight like Americans, and only for the overall ‘cause’ Reverend Harkin believes God chose us to pursue. We won’t get involved in petty disputes between the city-states of this region.” He gave Varaa a look, expecting his words to travel. “Nor will we make unreasonable demands in regards to pay. But Captain Cayce and I concur that if our new paymaster attempts to exert unacceptable influence, he’ll regret it.”

  “Sir,” began De Russy’s Lieutenant Wagley a little hesitantly, “will the regulars and volunteers get the same pay?”

  De Russy glanced at Lewis, as if asking if he’d like to answer that.

  Lewis nodded. “I haven’t made myself clear. From this day on, there’ll be no such distinctions between us. We all have pride in our respective regiments, of course, but all who stay and serve will by definition be both ‘regulars’ and ‘volunteers.’ There’ll be no m
ore foolishness like we had here today.”

  The justice of that caused an upwelling of excitement and satisfaction, though still not exactly enthusiasm. Lewis hadn’t expected to flood his people with happiness, but that they seemed willing to stay together and give this a try without falling to pieces was more than he’d really dared hope. Perhaps true commitment to their cause would come in time.

  “Finally,” Lewis continued sternly, though he didn’t particularly mean to be now. Speaking so loudly in this heat had left him dry and hoarse, and maybe he’d waved his pistol too vigorously? He seemed to have aggravated the pain in his side. “I know you never signed up for this—none of us did. That’s why Colonel De Russy will issue your discharge when this assembly is dismissed.” He frowned. “If you take it, I’ll have to insist you turn in your weapons and leave this camp before morning reveille.” He sighed. “I know it’s not fair, but our old world wasn’t either, and not only will we need all the weapons we can get, we have to start consolidating around known numbers and capabilities even before we begin training the locals.” He shrugged almost helplessly. He really was sorry. “Perhaps you can find work as farmers, teamsters, or put other skills you have to use, but I warn you: the time may come when Alcalde Periz calls you up for his army.”

  He forced a smile. “We’re all in ‘uncharted territory,’ in more ways than one, and for those who volunteer to become regulars in this Detached Expeditionary Force, a few things will be different. The Articles of War will remain strictly in effect, as I said, but we’ll proceed with the election of officers who’ll be required to remember you’re all ‘volunteers’ and keep you better informed of things that affect your daily lives. This army will never be a democracy. Mere favoritism can’t be allowed to rule those elections, and they’ll be subject to confirmation, as senior officers will be selected from those you elect. But we’ll continue to make sure you’re better treated than you might’ve grown accustomed to. Petty tyrants won’t be tolerated in ranks!” He said that as much in warning as assurance.

  Reverend Harkin cleared his throat and whispered to Leonor, who edged her mount slightly forward. “If I may, Captain Cayce,” Harkin said, “now that you’ve laid things out—and likely begloomed everyone—I feel compelled to add a word about the greater purpose God has set us to.”

  Lewis frowned, but nodded. It couldn’t hurt and might help. “By all means.”

  A little self-consciously, Leonor slid down from the horse and handed the reins to Harkin as the fat preacher heaved himself over the cantle and into the saddle. Once there, he had everyone’s attention. “I’ll say only this,” he began in his booming pulpit voice. “I’ve learned a great deal about our ‘bigger enemy’ on this world from Father Orno.” He waved a hand. “Dismiss him as a mere papist as I once did if you will, but he is a dedicated man of God and has many parts—as you saw today. Through him I’ve come to the conviction that we were all carried here by the hand of God.”

  “Not all that bloody gentle about it, was ’e?” grumbled a voice from the crowd.

  “No,” Harkin agreed, “he couldn’t protect us all from the storm any more than He can shield us from the tempest of battle—but the manner of our arrival has prepared us, has it not? For the arena in which He placed us, where He expects us to act!” He spread his arms wide. “Most of you followed the drum to Mexico for national pride or loyalty to the Constitution Captain Cayce so rightly reveres. Some even went because of a popular notion that America has a ‘Manifest Destiny’ to expand from sea to sea and spread its ideals across a continent. To those I say we now have an opportunity to spread them across an entire new world!” He beamed.

  “To the rest of you, I won’t attempt to beguile you with the heady prospect of a holy crusade that moves me, but I’ll appeal to your national pride and the loyalty you owe the officers who led you against the hellish Grik and Holcanos, the friends you’ve made among the Ocelomeh you fought beside, and the Uxmalos who welcomed you here with shelter and sustenance in this terrible land. It has become our duty, our ‘Manifest Destiny,’ to protect them—and their women and children—from a despotic cult washed in bloody pagan sacrifice and a tyrant sinister and depraved enough to make Santa Anna’s odious antics seem like those of a childish bully in comparison! The evil Dominion he leads will sweep all before it if it’s not stopped, and only we can do it. That’s the task I believe God has set us to.”

  He frowned. “But now I’ll appeal to what I hope is a trifling minority, with no ideals or purpose beyond self-interest and survival. As Captain Cayce so succinctly put it, embracing this new cause and winning is the only way you’ll live.”

  * * *

  —

  “THAT WENT WELL, I think,” Varaa-Choon said, blinking something like amusement as she, Lewis, Anson, Leonor, and Reverend Harkin, now on Sal Hernandez’s horse, rode out of the crowd and positioned themselves watchfully near a half-fortified gun astride the road leading northeast, toward Pidra Blanca. Harkin had seemed content to stay and launch a lengthier sermon, but Lewis judged his pitch had been powerful enough. Not only must the men complete the camp; they needed time to think or talk among themselves.

  “I wonder how many takers De Russy’ll have?” Anson glowered.

  “Not too many, Father,” Leonor said with a strange expression. “Not with Mistress Samantha so cheerfully offerin’ to stay an’ write out each discharge for De Russy’s signature.”

  Reverend Harkin nodded enthusiastically. “A remarkable woman. If she shares the prejudice of her nation—and class!—against Americans, she certainly conceals it well. And quite beautiful!” He chuckled. “So much so that I feared some of our men may abandon us just to get close to her. But she’s as shrewd as she is attractive and seems to have taken up our new cause with surprising enthusiasm.” He directed an uncomfortable, somewhat embarrassed smile at Leonor. Even with her so often in his company and that of their top commanders, it took Harkin longer than most to discover Leonor’s secret on his own. Far longer than it apparently took most of their troops to accept a growing awareness of their plight. Father Orno had been incredulous. “I thought you were interested in ‘comparative anatomy.’ ” He’d scoffed. Harkin was less sure what to think of Leonor, but he’d grown enough over recent weeks to treat her as she clearly preferred, as he always had. “And you’re entirely right, my d— I mean, Private Anson. What man could step boldly up to any young lady and proclaim himself a coward?”

  Lewis scratched his itchy neck again. “I don’t think it’s a question of cowardice. . . .” He shook his head. “I wish we could’ve given the men a real choice. They deserve it.”

  “You want ’em to live?” Leonor asked sharply, then answered her own question. “Sure you do. An’ you know they’ll have to fight to do it. You did the right thing.”

  “I hope so,” Lewis murmured, absently rubbing his side. “I hope we all are.”

  “Your wound’s been botherin’ you, I can tell,” Captain Anson accused. Several people knew about it, but only Anson had seen how ghastly it had been. “You need to let Dr. Newlin have a look. He strikes me better than the butchers who tended you after Monterrey.”

  Lewis quickly dropped his hand. “It’s nothing. And Newlin still has plenty to occupy him.”

  Varaa’s tail was swishing behind her, and she blinked at Lewis with something he thought might indicate impatience. “As I’ve told you, your Dr. Newlin is very good at dealing with large numbers of battle wounds. Better than my healers, or those of the Uxmalos. But ours may be better at other things, especially pain relief—and septicity. Not to mention prevention and treatment of local maladies your men may be more vulnerable to.”

  “I understood the exchange of medical knowledge was already well under way,” Lewis said, then attempted to change the subject. “How soon can I give our people leave to enter the city—in small groups, of course, at first. They need a break, and they need to get
to know the people they’re defending.”

  “That’ll doubtless be decided when we attend the alcalde’s reception this evening,” Varaa said, but pressed on. “You should see one of my healers first. Your welcome will be friendly for the most part, and that vile Tranquilo won’t be there—if he even remains in the city—but Alcalde Discipo could be present and may attempt to provoke you. I’ve noticed your patience with fools . . . is shorter when you ache.” She flicked her big eyes at his side and smiled, revealing sharp canines. “It might be best for us all if you govern your temper. My healers can relieve your pain.”

  “Dose me with something like laudanum, you mean?” Lewis snapped. “I can control my temper. And I’ll need my wits intact.” No one knew how dangerously close he’d come to opium addiction while convalescing and how much he feared how attractive its oblivion sometimes was to him now.

  “Yes, we have things like your laudanum,” Varaa retorted, “and you’ll be glad of it when Dr. Newlin’s stock is exhausted. But we also have milder things that don’t dull the senses.”

  “Perhaps another time,” Lewis said definitively, shifting his gaze from the nearly complete and—for the moment—perfectly normal and quiescent camp, out to the surprisingly still waters of the bay to the north. There were even more small craft on the bay than before, darting to and fro in the light, tree-sheltered airs, and he wondered what they were doing. Perhaps Captain Holland would know, he told himself with a spike of concern for the grizzled old sailor, the ship, and all their wounded aboard.