The Pythagoras Curse Part V

Death In The Territories

We spoke little on our journey north. Several times the boy would kick the flanks of his pony and disappear into the darkness, only to return and take up a slow pace beside me and my mare.

I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I found myself praying he wouldn’t find it.

Although his father had given us a blessing of safe passage, there were many of the Indian Nation forced to live in these Territories. Some of them not as forgiving as the father of Long Feather was.

For three hours we tarried along the river, until Long Feather returned from a scouting trip and joined me again.

“I have discovered a place to rest.”

“Along the river?”

“Mountain over there. A cave where we rest until coming of sun.”

A thin crescent of moon was providing very little light. The boy’s eyesight was much better than mine and I knew he was pointing somewhere I could not see.

“Lead the way, my mare will follow you.”

We veered away from the river, passing through thickened brush which whipped and stung our legs. It occurred to me when we came upon a town I should perhaps buy the boy some clothing better suited to our trip. The tall nettles stung severe enough through my jeans. I could imagine what Long Feather was experiencing.

In the darkness, the tiny cave mouth Long Feather led me to seemed black as pitch, uninviting.

It had been over six hundred years since I’d been inside a cave, but I would rather spend a night in this one than out in the open.

I dismounted, then slid my long sword from its sheath.

“Find a place to tie up the horses. Then bring my saddle bags. I’m going to search for firewood.”

After finding a few trees nearby I searched the ground for fallen limbs. They would be dry enough to burn with little smoke which meant we would hopefully be able to make a fire just inside the mouth of the cave and not suffer from clouds of smoke.

It also served as a barrier for marauders whether they be on four feet or two.

After using my sword to chop the branches into manageable pieces I brought them to the mouth of the cave. There I aligned them into a stack, stuffed pieces of dried prairie grass I’d collected beneath the stack and sparked it with my tinderbox. As the dried wood began to catch I ringed the stack with stones.

Long Feather returned with my saddle bags and I withdrew a pair of tin cups, and a small sack of coffee grounds.

“What is this?”

I shook a few grounds in each cup, poured water from the canteen then rested the cups on one of the stones nearest the fire.

“Coffee.”

“What is coff…eee?”

“Something you drink.”

Long Feather reached for the cup closest to him.

“No wait. You must first let it cook. There is food in one of the bags. Bring it out and we will dine.”

I laughed when the boy retrieved a piece of hard bread and bit into it. His eyes widened and he flicked it with his fingers.

“Give me a piece and watch boy.”

I took the piece Long Feather handed me, moistened it with a touch of water from the canteen then took a bite. I handed him the canteen.

“Now you try. Not too much oka, or it will fall apart in your hands.”

He did as instructed and I watched his face brighten as he chewed and swallowed, moistened another edge of the bread and chewed more. In a matter of less than a minute he consumed the entire piece of bread.

“There is dried fruit and meat in there as well.”

When the coffee had sufficient time to boil I pulled a scarf from around my neck and wrapped it around the handle of one of the cups. After blowing on the hot liquid a few times and testing the rim for heat I took a sip.

Long Feather watched intently as I smacked my lips and spit some of the grounds on the floor of the cave. I handed him my scarf and gestured to the remaining cup.

“Help yourself.”

I watched the young boy mirror my every move then take a sip. It was amusing to see his expression contort as if he’d just bitten into stalks of dill weed. As I smiled he returned the cup to the rock.

“It’s an acquired taste for some boy.”

He picked up the canteen, took a sip then rinsed the water in his mouth and spat on the ground.

“Will you speak of your past Great Shaman? What quest brings you here?”

“Ah yes, the quest you spoke of earlier. My quest. It is not what you think boy. Hand me some of that dried fruit and hard tack and make yourself comfortable. What I have to tell you may not make much sense, but it may explain why I am here this night.”

We sat nibbling at the food from my saddle bags, drinking water and coffee as I told Long Feather my story. When I was finished he continued to stare at me, sitting with his legs crossed. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it and closed it once more.

“Speak your thoughts boy.”

“You killed women and children?”

“Yes, it is not something of which I hold any pride.”

“And all these many moons you gave a soul to stay alive?”

“Yes again.”

“But for me it was not the time for you to give.”

“No. We have several days yet before that time.”

“Why?”

“Why did I do it?”

Long Feather nodded.

“To make amends I suppose.”

“I do not know this word a mend.”

“To try and make up for wrong things I’ve done in my life.”

“You believe finding your brothers will help you break the curse of the old man?”

“I do.”

“Then we will find them and you will be free.”

“Perhaps. Find more wood for the fire and then I believe we should rest. I’ll take first watch and wake you when it’s your time.”

Long Feather nodded, uncrossed his legs and disappeared behind the black curtain of night. I spread out my bed roll, but instead of stretching out I sat near the edge of the cave, my hand curled around the grip of my pistol, my back against the cave wall.

Sleep never comes easy for me. Visions of the slaughters of the innocents, the sounds of the old man’s screams, dreams of my own death; they all visit me each night.

I watched as Long Feather stoked the fire with more wood and prairie grass then gestured at the bed roll.

“Sleep fast boy. You’re turn will come soon enough.”

I stared at the darkness outside the cave thinking of all the things I’d done over these hundreds of years of living, wondering why I hadn’t just let the curse take me.

Wondering if I could have withstood minutes of the most gruesome torture I would ever experience in exchange for a lifetime of peace.

When Long Feather began to snore I smiled.

At least one of us would sleep this night.

READ ON — PYTHAGORAS CURSE PART VI

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part VIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII Part XXIII, Conclusion

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