The Pythagoras Curse Part XVIII

In Search of Gerung Brandt

I awoke to the smell of burning firewood and sat up. Long Feather approached offering me a tin cup of coffee.

“Thank you boy. This is sorely needed.”

“Shaman we must go. The leader of this village says white man you seek travels north only a year before our arrival. He also warns of great rains falling from the sky and dingo.”

“Dingo? What is a dingo?”

Long Feather shook his head, “I not know.”

“Where is he now?”

“I not know. All gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“They leave mountain to seek other places.”

After finishing my coffee I helped Long Feather smother the fire then we gathered our things and took the trail back down to the valley. My horse was saddled and ready.

“You saddled my horse?”

“Yes Shaman.”

I mounted and scanned the open range to the north of us. As far as I could see tall grasses wavered against a steady breeze. I heeled the flanks of my horse, then crossed the stream.

Long Feather caught up with me and though I wished for conversation I sensed he had no desire to talk. I rode in silence telling myself I would wait for a better time.

Each day we traveled further north brought with it a day of rain. Rivers we came upon were swollen, the ground hundreds of feet from the banks sodden and muddy.

Though the temperature was hospitable the constant onslaught of rain was not. It became necessary despite the warmth to don our woolen jackets in hopes we could somehow manage to keep our clothing dry.

We discovered we could not.

Sheets of driving rain assailed us; seeping down our necks, swirling into the gaps in our coats between the buttons; soaking through our jeans and our long johns.

We discovered very few places which spared us from the rain.

When we did, we often overstayed our stop in hopes the rains would taper.

They did not.

Days of travel blended into each other, each of us now resigned to let the rain have it’s way with us as we let the horses pick and choose the path which suited them best.

Something we should not have let them done.

When Long Feather’s horse went down I pulled up and quickly dismounted. The boy had been thrown clear and by the time I reached his horse it became evident what had happened.

The horse was whimpering, it’s eyes wide with terror and pain, its right fetlock bent at a sickening angle. A piece of bone, jagged and bloodied had pierced the horses flesh.

When Long Feather reached my side I was reaching for my pistol.

“I must end his pain boy.”

“No, I will.”

I cocked my pistol and handed it to him. It was impossible with the rain to tell if he was crying, but somehow I knew he was.

I could feel the wrenching pain he was suffering as I stared at this beautiful animal. This horse had chosen him, bonded with him and had already done so much for the boy. And now, I could only stand and watch Long Feather end its suffering.

Long Feather knelt beside his horse and laid his hand against it neck. The animal tried to get up, but he pushed the horse’s head down, then leaned in close to its ear.

In seconds the horse stopped flailing and grew still.

Long Feather closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back as he chanted a small prayer.

Then without hesitation he placed the barrel of the pistol against the horse’s head and pulled the trigger.

Despite the constant roar of water assaulting us, the booming echo of the gunshot caused my horse to flinch. I struggled against the reins to control him as Long Feather pulled the trigger back and fired another round.

I finally managed to get my horse under control as Long Feather stepped away and handed me my pistol. After returning it to my holster I mounted and offered him a hand then swung him up behind me.

As I heeled my horse to move again Long Feather wrapped his arms around my waist. I felt him press his face against my back. Then I felt his body lurch against me over and over.

Although there was a steady waterfall pouring off the brim of my hat, I found myself wiping away a set of waterfalls which had sprung from my eyes.

Our travel had been slow enough with two horses. Now, in order to spare my beast the continued rigor of additional weight, more frequent stops became necessary.

For weeks we traveled in this manner. Eating smaller portions of our rapidly dwindling food supply we struggled north beneath constant murky skies, enduring torturous rain and swollen rivers.

As our meager supplies ran out leaving us nothing but canteens full of water, we met the what the chieftain refused to speak of.

Dogs, packs of feral brutes with little fear of us, began to pace our travel.

Skulking along behind us, they would sometimes close ranks and approach us and only by firing my pistol into their midst could I scatter them for a time.

But they again would regroup and follow us, stalking at a safer distance but yet still following.

We came upon the edge of a wide valley almost completely immersed with forest smelling of mint and honey. To the east and west lay towering cliffs of stone.

As the constant murkiness around us deepened I chose a westerly direction in hopes of finding a large enough cave to shelter not only the boy and I but my horse as well.

I had no intent to leave it hobbled outside knowing those packs of dogs still hunted us.

Fortune smiled upon us when I discovered a large opening at the base of one of the cliffs. A brief exploration of the cave assured us it would be ours for the night, although the stench of urine and dung left no doubt its previous inhabitant would assuredly return to reclaim it.

After unsaddling the horse, offering it water from a canteen and hobbling it I stood at the mouth of the cave watching the rain continue to fall as the shadows outside grew thick and gray.

The rain guaranteed we would be dealing with a cold camp this night. It also guaranteed the dogs stalking us would have the advantage.

We waited in the darkness of the cave in silence. Me holding my sword in one hand my pistol in the other. Long Feather had armed himself with both of my Quillion blades.

Sometime late in the night they came.

Oblique shafts of moonlight, partially masked by heavy overcast bathed their bodies in eerie glows. They began to move toward us, slinking cautiously as they stepped inside.

A brief flash of light as I pulled the trigger of my pistol exposed two directly in front of us. I fired again, this time we heard a squealing howl. In seconds the cave was filled with savage snarls and howls.

We had been overrun.

READ ON — THE PYTHAGORAS CURSE PART XIX

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 XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII Part XXIII, Conclusion

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