This is a birthday story for Susan Garrett, out of gratitude for her excellent stories which coaxed me into the fascinating world of FK fan fiction. This tale is out of the ordinary for me as it is a response to the Song Challenge. The song is "Something the Boy Said" from Sting's Ten Summoner's Tales album. The song text is in [ ]s. The song and the FK characters, alas, are not mine.

Something the Boy Said
  by Leslie GS

[When we set out on this journey]
[There were no doubts in our minds.]

"Yes, we are all from the town of La Pola," Raul informed the large bearded man, his voice quavering a bit with age. "We are on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Santiago. The year of our Lord, 1300, approaches and the time of His return is at hand. We go to purify our souls, so we will be sure to join Him in His Kingdom."

Crossing himself, the bearded man lounging on the low stone wall nodded seriously. "Ah, that I could go on such a journey. But, as you see," and smiling broadly, he gestured to the dirt space in front of his house at the four small children tumbling there, "I am a man with many duties here at home." From inside the small, but sturdy and well-tended building came the sound of a woman singing and more children squabbling. Another child, a boy of about ten, perched on the dry stone wall surrounding the yard, studying the group of twelve pilgrims seriously. One of his eyes was dark brown and the other a strange icy blue. The two women in the group crossed themselves openly against the evil eye when they noticed his regard. A number of the men did so as well, more surreptitiously.

"And besides," the bearded man went on, "we have a holy site very close by; the Madonna of the Spring. Her holy place is just there in the hills, only a two day walk. Many of us visit Her frequently. I, myself, go at least twice a year. It is a beautiful shrine, a place of many miracles."

"Miracles?" inquired Maria eagerly. She clutched her husband's hand; a silent man, Pablo. The couple shared a characteristically drawn, anxious expression. She had borne many children, but none had survived past their first months. They both prayed that this journey would bring health to her womb.

"Ah, yes, mistress. You see here, all my children? Well, my wife was barren for five years after we married. She went to the spring to drink the water and pray to the Madonna. Nine months later she gave me two sons, twins, both strong and healthy." He crossed himself again. "And now we have eight children, all strong, thanks to our Lady and the healing waters of Her spring. And she is carrying our ninth."

"Ah, Pablo," Maria exclaimed, gazing desperately into his eyes. He awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"We will have to ask the others," he muttered.

"If you decide you wish to go, I will guide you, serve as the captain, show you the best places to camp," the bearded man offered. "I was thinking of going soon myself." He lowered his voice. "Eight children are a blessing, but they are a loud one."

The pilgrims laughed, then moved away to sit under a tree, eat bread, cheese and bitter olives and discuss the change in plans. Maria argued persuasively and as it only added five days to their journey, they all agreed to make the slight detour. Juan and Lupita, the other couple in the group, though just married and young, also hoped the waters of the spring and their prayers would bring them many healthy children.

[We set our eyes to the distance.]
[We would find what we would find.]
[We took courage from our numbers.]
[What we sought we did not fear.]

The travelers gathered in front of the bearded man's house just after the noon meal the next day. They had agreed to take him an as their guide, their captain, and he had needed some time to make household arrangements. The day was cool, overcast, the glare from the pale sky uncomfortable to the eyes. But the temperature would make walking pleasant. They gazed frequently into the distance, squinting, hoping to see the hills rising up to meet the sky, but the haze shrouded them.

Juan watched from across the dirt road as the children clustered around their papa, shrieking their good-byes. His wife watched from the doorway of their house, twisting her apron in her hands, though her face was calm, almost blank. Four men from their own group, the brothers Simon, Jose, Pedro and Santiago, squatted down next to the stone wall of the man's yard, glancing over with amusement at the chaos, while they checked the contents of their knapsacks.

Suddenly, the child with the strange eyes hopped up onto the wall, crouching over the seated men and said something to them. They gaped up at him, instinctively crossing themselves, as with a twisted smile the boy jumped down again and ran into the house, pushing past his mother roughly. The four brothers shot anxious glances at one another and quickly finished with their bags, standing up and twisting the ties closed.

"All right, you rascals," roared the bearded man, called Diego as they now knew, "get out of here. I'll see you in five days. Mind your mother or I'll tan some hides when I get back." Screeching with glee, the children scattered before their father's flailing arms.

"My friends," Diego called. "I am now ready, more than ready, to go." He shouldered his bag, and started slowly down the road, the pilgrims falling in behind him. Juan frowned, glancing back at the strangely anxious faces of the brothers. They huddled together behind the group, speaking in whispers. Then Raul raised his creaking voice in a peon to the Queen of Heaven, and linking his arm with Lupita's, smiling, Juan joined in. His wife's clear, sweet voice soared above the others' and his heart filled with contentment.

They walked through the afternoon, their speed set by Raul, his stringy old muscles moving him on slowly but tirelessly. The land around them was flat, with scrubby trees and bushes, the smell of wild sage and fennel spicing the breeze. The two women often stopped to pick up dead wood for that evening's fire, adding it to their growing bundles. Juan flirted with his wife, coaxing out her ringing laughter with his outrageous compliments. Raul walked sturdily on, lost in an old man's thoughts. Maria peered ahead into the distance, anxious to catch sight of the hills, her husband pacing silently beside her. Diego fell back to walk with the brothers, his deep voice jolly, and soon he had them chuckling at his anecdotes and jokes.

An hour or so before sunset, Diego pointed ahead to a cluster of trees taller than most.

"Let's camp there tonight. There is a pool, and trees for firewood."

They set up their camp-site, the women starting their dinner, while most of the men gathered wood for that night's fire. Raul sat on a rock, rubbing his legs. Diego and Simon went to get water. They ate a plain, but ample dinner, then for a time after, Raul led them in song and prayer. He then stretched out creakily on his blankets and fell asleep. Diego, Maria and her husband, Pablo, followed his example. The four brothers huddled around the fire, and Juan joined them, Lupita at his side, tucked under one arm.

"Eh, Simon," Juan asked, "what did the queer-eyed brat say to you? You looked like you'd seen the devil." All four brothers crossed themselves in unison, exchanging uneasy glances, surprising Juan.

[Sometimes we'd glimpse a shadow falling.]
[The shadow would disappear,]

Suddenly, Lupita stiffened under Juan's arm and she hissed, pointing into the darkness, "Juan! What's there?"

All the men followed her finger and caught a brief glimpse of a shadow, man-shaped, falling from the sky to the earth to vanish among the trees.

"An--an owl, my love," Juan forced out, hugging her for his comfort as well as hers, as the four strong brothers peered, shaken and pale, into the darkness.

"Aye, an owl," agreed Simon at last, when they saw nothing further.

[But our thoughts kept returning]
[To something the boy said]
[As we turned to go.]

"Tell him what the boy said," Jose demanded of his older brother. "Juan can tell us what he thinks."

Simon looked reluctant, until they all had prodded them, their whispering tones adding intensity to their pleas.

"The boy said ... he said...."

[He said you'll never see our faces again.]
[You'll be food for a carrion crow.]

Juan and Lupita exchanged frightened glances, but then Juan, detesting the fear he saw in his love's eyes, smiled and said, "He's a boy, a wicked little boy, playing a prank. Or he's a simpleton, speaking foolishness. I say we give him a good beating when we get back to teach him manners and good sense. Eh? Come, Lupita. Let's go to sleep." He and his wife stood, giving the four men their goodnight blessings, then they all settled in for the night. It took perhaps more time than usual, but eventually sleep claimed them all.

A scuffling sound arose from the trees surrounding the water hole. A man's voice, amused, mellow, said quietly, as to not disturb their slumbers, "So impatient, my child. Understandable, but contain yourself. Let the anticipation build. The release will be so much more ... luscious."

"I want the woman. The young one."

"Of course you do," the first man drawled. "What will you give me in exchange?"

The response came as the rattling sound of shaken dice.

"Really. I had hoped for something a little more ... personal."

"You're insatiable, old man."

"True."

"Come on, then. Maybe you'll get lucky."

The dry rattle of carved bone cubes rose again, a whispered skeletal chuckle.

[Every step we took today]
[Our thoughts would always stray]
[From the wind on the moor so wild]
[To the words of the captain's child.]

Though Juan had done his best to put a good face on the matter, the fear remained, his own as well as his wife's and the four brothers'. And apparently Lupita told Maria of the boy's words and of the shadows she had seen. That woman then whispered to her husband who then spoke to Raul.

[Something the boy said....]

They discussed going back, muttering among themselves, giving Diego's back uneasy glances. But Raul declared abandoning a pilgrimage unlucky. Unwilling to bring further misfortune on themselves, they saw no choice but to go on.

[Something the boy said....]

The day was again cool, the wind picking up, skittering and clattering among the dry branches of the brush around them, whispering harshly in the long grass. Though not dark, the clouds lowered over them, their pale glare forcing them to keep their gazes fixed on their trudging feet.

[Something the boy said....]

They toiled on in silence, now unwilling to speak of evil and thereby bring it upon themselves. Trapped in their own thoughts the fear became stronger for not being voiced. Rabbits and other small animals scurrying through the brush brought forth startled gasps and darting sideways looks.

[Something the boy said....]

Finally they began toiling up the side of a steep hill. Diego described a camp-site tucked between a fold in the hill and some trees that would shelter them somewhat from the wind whining around their ears. He also spoke of the shrine they would reach in the mid-morning of the next day, where they could make their prayers and hope for their miracles. He rattled on, seemingly oblivious that his words dropped into an oppressed silence.

Tucked safely away, not far from this little hollow, the watchers from the evening before waited for the dying of the day.

"Where are they?"

"Patience, my boy. Diego is very reliable. His greed makes him so."

"And his fear."

An amused, cruel chuckle echoed off the walls of a small cavern. "Indeed. That as well."

[In the circles we made with our fires]
[We talked of the pale afternoon.]
[The clouds were like dark riders]
[Flying on the face of the moon.]

They built two fires that night, a small one for cooking and another, much larger, for comfort. The wind tugged the flames this way and that, the fires seeming as unsettled as those who tended them. The fear, diffuse, hazy during the light of day, tightened into heavy knots in their stomachs as the sun withdrew its light from them. The wind also tore the clouds to tattered fragments, and remembering the dark shapes seen the night before, they would often peer into the night sky, studying the scudding rags with suspicion. They found themselves again muttering among themselves, shooting glances at the silent Diego, until, clicking his tongue with impatience, old Raul stood and went to the man, squatting beside him. The others listened carefully as he spoke.

[We spoke of our fears to the captain]
[And asked what his son could know,]
[For we would never have marched so far]
[To be food for a crow.]

"Diego, my friend. That boy of yours ... that one with the pale eye. He said something to these great boobies that has them shaking now in their boots. Is he one that ... that sees visions? Does he often speak truthfully of what is to come?"

Diego looked with troubled eyes at Raul, glancing over at the silent listeners on the other side of the fire. Slowly he replied, "He is a strange one, our Miguel. My wife was frightened by a stranger with blue eyes while she was carrying him." A haunted look passed quickly over Diego's face, and he crossed himself. "It marked him in the womb. Most of what he says is foolish, crazy."

"Most?" demanded Santiago, brows furrowed with suspicion.

"Well," Diego quipped with a grin, "he's making sense when he asks for another helping of his mother's lamb stew. Otherwise, it's foolishness of rainbows in the dewdrops or ... or footsteps on the roof."

His open grin drew uneasy smiles from his companions and they went back to their meal. But though they spoke no more of the boy's words, they couldn't shake them from their thoughts.

[Every step we took today]
[Our thoughts would always stray]
[From the wind on the moor so wild]
[To the words of the captain's child.]

So they all stood, alarmed, when the tall man, dressed in black, eyes an icy blue, hair stark white, though not with age, stepped out of the trees before them. Behind him stood a younger man with golden hair, who would have been a pleasure to look upon if not for the grin twisting his lips. His eyes, filled with a strange hunger, swept over the startled group.

"Ah, Diego. Punctual as always," the older man said with a gentle smile that did not touch his eyes. The captain rose to his feet, from where he squatted by the fire, looking frightened and eager together.

"Yes, yes, my lord. I live only to serve you."

"This is true, Diego, and you do well to remember it. Here." He pulled the purse from his belt and tossed it in an easy arc to the captain. Metal clashed as it landed in his hand. "The traditional thirty pieces of silver." He laughed, his gloating pleasure chilling those staring at him. The captain bowed deeply and scuttled back, away into the dark night.

[Something the boy said....]

"What ... where are you going, Diego? Who are these men?" the old man, Raul, called out, voice creaking with fear. These were only two men against their seven, nine if one counted the women. But perhaps there were more in the trees. These men were frightening somehow. How could the two of them alone seem such a threat?

"Please, now?" the younger man said eagerly, his eyes fixed on Lupita acquiring an eerie animal glow.

"Go on, Nicolas. Indulge."

Like a dog from its leash, a goshawk from a wrist, the young man was among them. His attack came so quickly none had seen him move. Juan was knocked with stunning force to the ground as the golden-haired monster fell upon Lupita. Her scream of fright and pain was cut short, and she went limp in the man's brutal embrace. Juan watched in horror as she was tossed aside, tumbling to the earth, throat torn, bright blood spilling down her yellow blouse.

[Something the boy said....]

Struggling to rise again, Juan saw the man in black seize Santiago, the large, strong fellow twisting helplessly in his grip, shrieking as his attacker's mouth fastened on his throat. Pale head shaking, the ... man worried at Santiago's flesh like a dog on a rat. The creature's face, when it pulled away, glowed lurid in the firelight, the grinning lips smeared with red, blue eyes now bright gold. A deft twist of his wrist snapped Santiago's spine like a rabbit's. He dropped the body carelessly and sprang on the screaming Maria.

[Something the boy said....]

Raul's cracked voice, screeching a prayer, strangled to a squeak as fingers closed around his scrawny neck. The younger looking creature drained him, discarded him, then turned his glowing eyes to the gaping Juan.

[Something the boy said....]

Iron hands were upon him, the golden-haired brute laughing in his face at his terror, wolfish fangs glistening, before the teeth were in his throat, tearing flesh. Then his attacker lurched and screamed, dropping Juan. The young man fell to the ground, hands to his wound, hot blood spilling over his fingers. Vaguely he heard Simon's shrieks as the monster whirled, snatching the burning brand from his hands and driving it into his chest. Terror and blood-loss drove awareness from Juan, and he hid in sweet oblivion.

[When I awoke this morning]
[The sun's eye was as red as blood.]
[The stench of burning corpses]
[Faces in the mud.]

Confused, Juan woke with the smell of charred flesh in his nose. Ah, he thought, Lupita has burned the roast pig again. Then the raw pain in his neck ripped the veil from his memory and the image of Lupita falling, falling, her beautiful long throat torn and bleeding, flared in his mind. Crying out, he sat up. Head reeling, he peered to his right. The bare curve of the rising sun, glowing red like a baleful dragon's eye peering over the horizon, blurred in his vision. Before him, in the dying embers of last night's fire, lay the bodies of Simon and his brother, Pedro. To one side huddled Raul's twisted corpse, the old man's face pressed into the mud made of the dirt and his own blood.

[Am I dead or am I living?]
[I'm too afraid to care, I'm too afraid to know.]

Juan's hand crept to his own throat. He hissed as his fingers clumsily probed the sticky, mangled mess. Fear rose in him. How could he be alive with such a wound? Tales told of how a bite from these monsters changed the victim into a monster as well. He desperately pushed those thoughts and the thoughts of eternal damnation that went with them away. In their place again rose the image of Lupita crumbling to the earth. The harsh caw of a crow startled him.

[I'm too afraid to look behind me]
[At the feast of the crow.]

A hoarse chorus answered the first bird, and Juan's stomach lurched. The crows had come to break their morning's fast. Lupita.... Juan buried his face in his hands, shaking uncontrollably. Then he heard the sound of men's voices in the trees behind him, and terror spiked through him again, raising him to his feet. The hair on the back of his neck prickled erect. Something was watching him, the touch of its gaze like icy fingertips on his nape.

[We spoke of our fears to the captain]
[And asked what his son could know,]

The watched feeling grew to an unbearable pressure and he turned, unwilling and jerky, to look behind him. His breath caught and he half closed his eyes, tears blurring his vision. The yellow of Lupita's blouse, blotched with rusty brown now, danced in his fractured sight.

[For we would never have marched so far]
[To be food, food for a crow.]

A small dark shape perched on her head, claws tangled in her hair. A sharp beak dipped down, probing the hollow where Lupita's warm brown eye had once been. Juan jerked his chin up, so he wouldn't have to see, and his gaze came to rest on his watcher.

[Food for a crow.]

In the gloom of the trees, tucked in the shadow of the hill, stood the man dressed in black, shielded there from the just rising sun. His pale hands were folded in front of him and they and his white face appeared to float in the dimness. He smiled at Juan. One hand came up to beckon, a lazy, complacent gesture, sure of obedience.

[Food for a crow.]

Fear was far away, as the blue eyes, their coolness offering him peace, the final peace, locked with his own. Juan's feet carried him unresisting toward smiling death.

[Something the boy said....]

He had a vague awareness he was stepping over Lupita's crumpled body. Crows hopped away from him, glossy black wings fluttering as they cawed hoarse protest at their disturbed meal.

[Something the boy said....]

Juan stepped up to the edge of the trees. A lurking figure darted forward, only to stop suddenly and step back as the man in black turned his head with the slightest curl to his full lips. His pale eyes never left Juan's.

[Food for a crow...]

The glossy black silk of the man's tunic caught shifting, oily-looking highlights from the brightening sky as he opened his arms to welcome Juan.

[Something the boy said....]

"Such lovely eyes," murmured the pale one, pushing the heavy lock of hair from Juan's forehead with icy fingers. He was gathered into an embrace, its very gentleness revealing hidden steel. Implacable hands tilted his head. Cool breath sighed across the skin of his throat.

[Something the boy said....]

The kiss, gentle, lingering, became piercing agony as the sharp fangs sank into his flesh. His life filled the mouth on him, warming it. Mind floating free, he melted into death, following his blood into the dark's empty center.

[Food for a crow.]


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Credits:

This story was written and posted to FKFIC in the summer of 1996.
Why I never put it my fiction site before this is beyond me.
This page was created Thursday, January 21st, 1999
Most recent revision Thursday, January 21st, 1999