James Scotson - Planets Falling

A town elder, clearly one of the most revered given the fine quality of her dress, stares at Theo, piercing him with a skeptical eye. “Stranger, how are we to believe your stories are true? You be seeming a bit touched, if you ask me.” The crowd laughs. She looks at English, who’s staggering and singing to himself. “The company you’re keeping’s not helping any.”

Theo blushes, clearly needing help. I direct the magpie to fly a few loopy circles around his head and then land on his shoulder. The crowd falls silent. Theo’s surprised but maintains his composure. I fly the magpie to a bale of hay and gather a beakful of dried grass blades and sticks. I drop them on the bare, sandy earth and use them to fashion the word, BELIEVE. Gasps and chatter rise up from the crowd. English regains his sobriety, looking at the spectacle with clear bemusement. They’re ready to listen to Theo. Before I fly the bird back to me, I see Bets shaking her head and I clearly interpret one word on her lips — Marksman.

“Amy, darlin’. Wake up.” Samuel’s clutching a fistful of dry, black fluff. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes, thanks Samuel.” I prepare the material and chew on a small amount. It’ll slow the spread of the infection but won’t reverse it. The magpie hasn’t left. It sits in a nearby tree preening itself. If I end up crippled, perhaps I can keep moving freely via the emancipation of bird brains.

Theo and English return on the heels of the day. English is clearly washed out and heads for bed. Theo saunters up and sits beside me. “Amy, have you got something to tell me?”

“About what Theo? I’ve been sitting here all day.”

“Are you sure about that? Done any flying lately?”

“Yes, I’ve added possession of birds to my list of abilities. You were looking like you were in some trouble down there. Thought I’d help with a little magic.”

“Thanks for that. Everyone’s wary of strangers. And for us to come trotting in with stories about fog and monsters — I’d bet they were ready to jail us. English wasn’t helping either.”

“What happened after I — the bird — left?”

“They supplied us. Bets is still down there finishing loading a cart. We’ll pull it with Flip’s horse. Those people were mighty generous. I hope they survive Thresh.”

“They’ll fare well as long as they don’t have someone like me or Thresh among them. She doesn’t seem to be raising an army, yet. If she does, gods help their young men. Did you make sure to make no mention of us?”

“Of course.”

Bets arrives at the top of the hill with a sizeable cart filled with provisions. She’s in a foul state. I remark, “She seems darker than usual. What happened to her down there?”

Theo sighs. “I think she’s troubled about home. It’s hard for all of us to see this community and realize we lost ours. Don’t you feel the same way?”

“Theo, the difference is that you’re all being dragged to help me find my family while you’ve all lost most of yours. It’s not fair.”

“Sprouter, relax. There’s bigger things afoot for all of us.”

“I’m not sure Bets would agree. Maybe you should tell her it’s okay to leave us.”

Theo huffs. “It’s not okay for her to leave.”

I decide to leave it be.

After we eat dinner in silence, Samuel reappears from the woods. “Where’ve you been, Sam?” Theo asks.

Samuel is agitated, his eyes bulging. “I saw something back there. It, him, was taller than anything I’d seen before. Black, thick skin. And glowing. No breath or hair that I could see. Big, dark eyes — no whites. You reckon it’s got something to do with that Thresh woman?”

My mind races. Could Fromer be here in the woods with us?

“Samuel, are you sure you’re not seeing things out there?” Theo asks. “It’s been a long day. Maybe you saw one of the villagers who’s curious about us.”

“Theo, no. This was something real strange out there. It ran away once I spotted it. Left big footprints.”

“Things just get stranger around here,” Theo muses. “Samuel, I believe you. Sprouter what you thinking?”

“I think that Samuel saw someone. If you’re wondering whether I know anything about it, the answer’s no. I’ve not had any visions of giant black creatures wandering the woods.” I wonder why I’m lying to him. I feel as if Fromer put a spell on me, keeping me from talking about him. Of course, I did tell Wenn at father’s urging. Perhaps I’m worried that Theo will suffer the same fate as father and Wenn if I tell the truth. Fromer might take Theo away from me and that’d be unbearable.

I wonder why Fromer’s here and why he’s suddenly decided to make himself visible. I’m also perplexed and frankly annoyed that he’s not appeared before me. Given what’s happened, he has some explaining to do. He didn’t warn me about Thresh. And I wonder what other dangers await us.

Bets pulls out a flask of grape wine and passes it around. “The villagers make this from grapes grown along the coast. It’s good. I propose a toast to our recent adversary — the black demon of the woods.”

“How certain are we that this thing is bad?” I ask.

“Marksman, how often has anything we’ve encountered been good so far?” Bets responds. “Safer for us to assume the worst. As for hoping for something better, I’ve given up on hope.”

Samuel drains the bottle. “Amy, I’ve got to agree with Bets on this one. We need to be cautious. I’ll take first watch.” He glances at English. “I’ll rouse the lush later tonight.”

I’m not particularly worried about Fromer’s safety, but just in case I say, “You’ll be sure to not fire on the stranger unless he’s dangerous?”

Bets looks at me curiously. “Why’re you so concerned about the safety of a prowler?”

“Just want to be sure we don’t hurt some curious villager. They’ve been mighty generous. And, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve had enough of death.”

“I’ll be careful, Amy. Quit worrying and get to sleep.” Samuel wraps himself in a blanket and flips off the safety of a short range firearm that Troll called a pulse shotgun — a weapon with no mercy. It hums as it powers up.

Morning arrives with no further sightings of Fromer or his twin. We pack up and begin moving slowly along the coastal plain, tracking back frequently to hide our trail. My leg’s tight and throbbing, but the pain’s dulled. The infection is no worse but neither is it receding. I’m running a slight fever and my mouth’s dry sand. Midday, we stop at a new camp, overlooking a deep river valley. We’ll have to find a way across the water tomorrow. If it was spring, the gorge would be swollen with snow melt from the mountains. This time of year, we should be able to find a shallow riffle.

English returns from hunting, uncharacteristically out of breath. “Well, I’ll be damned. Samuel was right. I was tracking a doe when I felt something tracking me. I tried acting coy — you know, like I wasn’t privy to my tracker. It kept following me and I ditched it behind a thicket. Got a good gander at it. Big, black. Head like a bug.” He shakes his head and gulps something that looks like lamp oil. “It looked around and I swear it saw me through the briars. It smiled, pressed a button on its sleeve, and shot straight up in the trees. Scared the crap outta me and I ran right back here.”

“Thresh? You think she’s got something to do with this?” Bets throws her knife at a tree.

“Don’t think so.” Theo pulls out his tablet and examines the area. “I don’t see anyone but us on this thing. Dunno how far it can see, though.”

The magpie returns, landing on Phineus’ back. I’m the only one that seems to notice. I close my eyes and I’m suddenly looking back at myself from the vantage of my horse. My body’s slumped on a blanket. Theo’s nudging me. “Amy, what’s the matter? Wake up.”