Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (14 page)

Sometime during the night Jesse heard a “creak” as the door to his room slowly opened. He awoke with a start, and still half asleep he fumbled for the sword hanging from the headboard. Before he could draw it, he could see the hulk of a large shadow standing in the doorway. My bedmate, he thought, and slid the blade back into its scabbard. The door closed, and for a moment all was black. In the darkness he could hear the man as he shuffled across the room, banging into the commode and running into the bed. Even from this distance at the foot of the bed Jesse could smell the beer on his breath—and no doubt—his beard as well. Then Jesse heard a large, “ka-thud” and the shuffling stopped. Jesse lay in bed for a long time not moving, wondering when the shuffling would start again. But with the rain still drumming on the roof above he eventually fell back asleep; as he did, he could hear the toll of three bells from the town’s bell-tower.

Outside rain fell in sheets on the silent, muddy streets of Whitehurst. Down the main street, shrouded by darkness and the downpour, Castor-Pollex roamed the deserted streets like a ghost. It was hard to get a good scent in this rain, he thought, but at least no one would be coming out to notice him. As he walked to a dark intersection with an inn on each corner the lion raised his head and sniffed. That was it, he thought. The scent was faint, but still there, the sweat and blood of the man that he had confronted on the road a few days before. The one that had killed his other host and forced the two unclean spirits into the same lion. He looked up. The man that he hated was somewhere on the second floor.

A block away a dog began to bark. Stupid pooch, he thought. He’ll wake half the city if I don’t move on. Castor-Pollex started to walk away (he had finished what he came here to do—he had located the man) when he heard the door of the inn where the man was staying open. The lion froze in the middle of the street facing the door to the inn. He could smell the beer on the man’s breath and clothing as the man fumbled with the door, then caught a wooden post on the inn’s porch to keep from falling. Castor-Pollex began to move slowly toward the drunk. He really should be leaving, he thought, but something in him just could not resist a good kill.

The man stared out into the street in the rain. That sure was a big dog, he thought. Why, it almost looked like… Before the man knew what was happening the lion was upon him. He never even had the opportunity to cry out before the lion had him by the throat, shutting off his air as he sank his fangs deep into his larynx. The man struggled for just a moment, and then went limp. Castor-Pollex had another kill, and it felt good. Now he was headed south, for he had business with a certain traveler and wanted to make sure that he would be waiting for him when he got to his next destination.

The next morning Jesse awoke and looked at the other side of the bed. No sailor. He had slept well, and was still trying to sort out the evening’s confusing late-night events as he slid out of bed. As he went toward the foot of the bed he was jolted awake when his foot came up hard against a large, immobile mound curled up on the braided rug.

“Uuugh!” the mound said, but made no attempt to move.

“Sorry,” Jesse said, but the mound just began to snore.

Jesse dressed and went down the stairs. He was headed for the door when he saw Seth, dressed and with one of those new-fangled “backpacks” just ahead of him.

“Seth! What are you doing up so early? Where are you headed?”

“My boy, I’m leaving this fine establishment, and headed down the road of life toward my elaborate estate on the outskirts of Mountain Shadows.”

“You have an estate?”

“In manner of speaking. A house. Some goats. And a horse and carriage—which I wish that I’d brought with me, by the way. I’d be riding back to Mountain Shadows rather than walking. Alas, I booked passage on a riverboat that seems will never sail again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were leaving?” Jesse asked.

“I didn’t know. It seems the proprietor of this house of some repute no longer finds me credit-worthy. And I can’t say that I blame him. I kept thinking that a boat would arrive, or a coach would depart, and every day I spent a little more than I had planned until my traveling expenses have been depleted. There’s too many men in this town—such as yourself—that are willing to pay top denarius for a clean room and some of his boiled turnips. He can’t afford to be extending credit to a gentleman of dwindling means such as myself.”

“Did you ask him?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And he said that he would not let his aged mother sleep under his roof unless she paid in advance.”

“I see. Well. Listen. I’ve been thinking. I’ve decided to spend another night here and then I’m headed south on foot myself. So far it’s just my dog and I, but…”

“You want me to join you?”

“If you don’t mind?”

“Mind? I’d be delighted! Besides, if we run into your lion he’ll have twice as much to eat!”

“Sounds great. And don’t worry about the room tonight. I’ve got you covered.”

The two of them walked outside together, and Jesse looked around for Enoch. Enoch was waiting for him, but a crowd had gathered around the inn’s entrance and Jesse pushed forward to see what all the commotion was about. There in the street lay one of the sailors that had been drinking at the head of his table the night before. The town sheriff was kneeling next to the body, examining the large paw-prints in the mud. All the while, the innkeeper talked to the sheriff’s back.

“Don’t go out there, I sez. You’ll be soaked to the hide! Why don’t you spend the night in one of the rooms upstairs? I won’t charge you a copper, I sez.”

The sheriff turned and looked up at the innkeeper, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, maybe I didn’t say that I wouldn’t charge him a copper. But I did tell him he’d get soaked.”

Jesse, Seth and Enoch walked down the muddy street toward the commons where Jesse had promised to buy Enoch some meat-pies for breakfast.

“Seth, have you ever heard of spirit hosts?” Jesse asked.

Enoch looked up at Jesse, showing some of his teeth.

“Why yes,” Seth replied. “Once when I was in Atlantis I actually met one.”

“Anybody I knew?” said Enoch loudly.

Seth stopped in his tracks. “You,” he said, pointing to Enoch, “are a spirit-host.”

“No kidding.”

Jesse looked in all directions. Seeing no one, he bent over and spoke to Enoch, “You weren’t supposed to say anything.”

“You did first.”

“Did not.”

Enoch rolled his eyes, “Okay. Okay. But you were about to. I just beat you to the punch.”

“Anyway,” Jesse continued, “I’ve invited Seth to join us. We’re headed south tomorrow morning.”

“A boat’s arrived?” asked Enoch.

“Well…no.”

“A coach?”

“Not exactly.”

“We’re walking, my furry friend,” inserted Seth.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Wouldn’t kid about such a thing.”

“Do either of you know how far that it is from here to Mountain Shadows?”

“Eight-hundred and seventy-nine miles. At least, that’s what my new map says,” said Jesse.

Enoch leaned his head back and howled.

“Stop that!” said Jesse. “People are starting to stare!”

“I’m just mourning our deaths ahead of time. You know who’s out there?”

“Yes. Castor-Pollex. I saw what happened to that man last night.”

“Castor-Pollex?” Seth asked.

“Didn’t you tell him?” Enoch asked, sarcastically.

“Castor-Pollex is the lion that killed that man. He’s tracking us.”

“Wonderful.” Seth no longer looked so enthused about the trip.

“And how do you know his name?” Seth asked.

“He’s a spirit-host,” Enoch replied. “I sensed it when they attacked us. They are brothers, Castor and Pollex. They now inhabit the remaining host. They are very inhospitable sorts.”

“So I gathered.” Then, turning to Jesse, he asked, “What makes you think that we can make it all the way to Mountain Shadows without this, ‘Castor-Pollex’ catching us?”

“I don’t,” Jesse replied. “I have a plan to kill him.”

“This outta be rich,” said Enoch. “Just how do you plan on killing him?”

“Same way that I killed the first lion,” Jesse replied.

“You got lucky.”

“Maybe. But the principle’s the same. I’ll kill him with a spear.”

“No ‘Maybe’ about it. If that beast hadn’t fallen on your spear we’d both have been chopped liver.”

“He caught me by surprise before. This time he won’t have the element of surprise. Do you know what’s between here and River Bend? The Nara Desert. Seven-hundred miles of nothingness, with one way-station in the middle. You ever try to sneak up on somebody in the desert? It’s not like hiding in hay as tall as a man’s chest.”

“The boy’s got a point,” said Seth.

“Don’t EVEN start! YOU are old enough to know that’s a suicide plan! He’s used a spear only once in his life...”

“Twice,” Jesse corrected.

“TWICE in his life, and now he thinks that he’s qualified to take on a crazed, homicidal, possessed, lion! This is insane! Seth! Tell him this is madness!”

Before Seth could answer Jesse spoke again, “Besides. We have two lion-killers between us. Isn’t that right, Seth?”

“Yesss. But that was a long time ago. Over five-hundred years. Like you, it was as much luck as skill.”

“Well, are you willing to give it another try?”

Seth stood for a minute, contemplating this decision. Finally he said, “Sure. Why not? It’d be exciting.”

“Oh brother!” Enoch exclaimed. “Now I’m traveling with two humans with a death-wish!” The debate was not over, but Enoch had—temporarily—given up.

“C’on Enoch!” Jesse said. “Let’s go get you some of those meat-pies that I promised.”

Chapter 8
The Shop on Sword Street

After breakfast the three went to the shop district to find a couple of spears. They didn’t have to look long. On a street called, Sword Street, in a shop called, The Razor’s Edge, hung a sign advertising, “Swords, Knives, Daggers and Spears.” They discovered that the shopkeeper, a spindly man with thick spectacles by the name of Lamech, had been doing a brisk business in spears ever since reports of lions on the road had reached Whitehurst. After the discovery of the sailor’s body on the street earlier in the morning, there had been a run on spears, and the shopkeeper’s inventory was getting extremely low.

“Lookhee here, gentlemen,” Lamech said with pride, “some of the finest weaponry that you’ll find in all the Territories.” He held up a wooden spear with shale tip lashed to the shaft with leather ties and passed it to Seth for his inspection.

Seth looked it over carefully, and then tapped the shaft on the floor. When he did so, the tip popped off, landing on the floor.

“There, there, gentlemen,” Lamech scolded, “you break it, you buy it.”

“Manufacturer’s defect,” Seth replied, handing him back the spear shaft. “You sell junk.”

“Now see here!” The shopkeeper said with feigned indignation as the three of them headed for the door. But seeing that his plea was getting him nowhere, he followed after them yelling, “Waaait! I have some very fine instruments in the back! A man with your keen eye for quality should appreciate their craftsmanship!” Lamech stood with arms spread, baring their exit.

Jesse looked at Seth with a, “Do you want me to pick him up and give him a toss?” look, but Seth just replied, “Okay. We’ll take a look.”

In the back room the shopkeeper showed them a wooden crate packed with straw. He reached in and pulled out a spear with straight, sanded shaft and sharp, iron blade, and handed it to Seth. Seth examined the spear carefully, and tugged on the tip that was affixed securely. “This will do,” he said. “How much are you asking?”

“Half a denarius. Or if you wish, you may have two for three-quarters of a denarius.”

“Jesse?” asked Seth.

“Hand me one,” Jesse replied.

Seth handed him the spear and Jesse grasped the tip firmly with his left hand and the shaft in his right. Turning hard, there was a slight, “creak” and then the shaft began to unscrew.

“Now see here!” the shopkeeper complained. “You’ve broken that one as well!”