Underbelly (41 page)

He sounds a brutish monster, but take heart in the fact that he was defeated eventually.

And that’s what I’d like to know, James, that’s what I feel anchors me. I’d like the details. I’ll leave you be until you can enlighten me.

That’s your choice, Logar, but I don’t mind if you want to keep talking to me. I won’t be able to concentrate exclusively on you like I have been, but I can still talk to you quite a lot each day.

Help other people, just make sure to tell me when you know details of how he met his death – the more graphic the details the better
, Logar said, Grey unable to criticise him for being so bitter. He worked at contacting other spirits who had known Octavius and drew a blank.

JD didn’t return to the diner after the fight, settling for pestering a Polish immigrant who worked at the post office instead. Grey didn’t manage to get a place on the baseball team even when most of the factory came down with flu, and he didn’t care anymore – they had stayed too long and it was time to leave. Stratt would now be beginning his European tour and Grey suggested that night to Germaine that it was time they explored New York, a suggestion that pleased her, and they were on their way within two days, Grey already excitedly talking about putting on shows on Broadway (which they both knew was unrealistic in the short term but it was a fun fantasy). The era of passing on unsolicited messages was done as Grey considered the emotions of the living over the dead, now only prepared to pass on messages to those who wanted to hear them. Life would be easier this way.

Eleanor had maintained a discreet vigil on the Indian reservation in Northern Idaho for three days, time enough to learn several things. There were around 50 members of the small, close community, all very westernised in how they dressed and how they lived. She hadn’t expected totem poles and wigwams and headdresses but she had expected to see some element of their history. She saw most of the men travelling in jeeps to the nearby town, commuting to work, the children being ferried to a nearby school. The reservation was isolated but they were not withdrawn from society like she had expected. Her observations had helped her discover one useful fact – he was the only one with power.

She approached the reservation on the fourth day, waiting until the men and children were gone, and he came out to greet her. Like her he looked younger than his years, appearing to be in his late 30’s, his very short hair setting him apart from the others in his community, but he dressed like them, wearing a white flannel shirt and jeans. He was expressionless, his stone face seeming incapable of displaying emotion, and as he walked closer she noticed how impressive his build was, though it wasn’t his apparent physical strength that impressed her. It was his past that made her seek him out, his great achievement of killing Octavius.

She smiled at him and extended her hand, both shaking powerfully. She suspected that he would be aware of her power and she didn’t try and trick him. “I apologise for intruding upon your home but I didn’t know where else to find you. I’d like to talk to you,” she said courteously.

“
I never leave here so you would never find me elsewhere. My work is here, as their protector,” he said flatly, nodding towards the houses behind him, occupied by most of the women of the reservation and their babies.

“
Is that ever necessary nowadays?”

“
Today it is,” he said, staring at her.

“
I’m not here to fight. I like to believe that I am an intelligent woman and I would not pick a fight with Octavius’ killer.”

He almost smiled at this and said, “That was an eternity ago. Is that why you’re here, to learn how he met his end?”

“
I had to live in hiding for centuries because of him. I want to know exactly how he died.”

“
I remember a time of white men making deals with my people which they forever reneged on. Truth is more important to me than pure motives.”

“
Meaning?”

“
Why contact me now?” he said, questioning her agenda. “I killed him over 300 years ago.”

“
This is my first foray into America. Like most witches I like to find out everything that I can about the occult, and that includes learning how the greatest amongst us was defeated. If you would rather not recall that period of your past then I understand and I’ll leave you in peace,” she said civilly. While she was not afraid of him, she did not want to make an enemy of him.

“
My experiences will not help you, but seems as you have travelled so far I will tell you my tale – perhaps you will heed a warning from my mistakes,” he said coolly. He led her away from his people, taking her to a nearby clearing close to a stream where they both sat down.

He looked out to the stream as he said, “My name is Chesmu. I was born in either 1610 or 1611 far south of here. This has only been my home for the last 130 years. I wasn’t born with powers, I wasn’t born to leadership; I don’t lead the people now, my son, Kuruk, does. I call him my son because he’s from my line.”

“
Do they know what you are?”

“
No. They know of my powers and great age but they don’t know what I am because they view me as a hero. That was said to be my destiny, my people’s champion – however brief your travels through our country have been, I am sure that my failure has been proven to you by what has been done to the land and peoples I was supposed to protect,” he said, sounding disheartened rather than bitter.

“
No mystic could have kept the European invaders out,” she said encouragingly. “It would be easier to wipe all insects from the planet than to achieve that.”

“
It was expected of me, and I failed. Even if the task was impossible that doesn’t make me feel any better. That is the truth of my life, a life of unfulfilled potential, a failure. However, you want to know of my successes. I’ve recounted this tale to every generation hundreds of times, my tribesmen and women ask for it every week, so if I sound jaded, that’s why.” He always made an effort to make the tale exciting to his kin and felt no obligation to do the same for her – she hadn’t even told him her name yet.

“
I married young, my wife of the same status as myself, just another member of the tribe. Meek and mild, loving and kind – Usdi Unole was my rock. I was only as successful and brave a warrior as I was because of her understated, unshakeable support. If I’d only been fighting for myself the Europeans would have beaten me as easily as they killed my brothers, but fighting for her made me stronger, far more determined. Going into a battle certain of victory increases your chances of survival. I can see you don’t believe that, but I found it to be true,” he said, noting from a peripheral glance that she doubted this.

“
Most battles of the non-supernatural variety tend to be won by those with better weaponry or those with the largest manpower, in my experience as an observer,” Eleanor said.

“
You have to be a participant to understand how you can influence the outcome with your own mindset. I fought in battles that my side lost but I always survived and inflicted heavy losses on our enemies. My prowess was noted and my chief suggested I submit to the testing process. There was a rival tribe led by a chief who was a sorcerer. His name isn’t allowed to be spoken. Running Ghost would be the closest translation that I am allowed to give. He was old, about 60, and he only used his power sparingly, for the good of his people, chief first and then sorcerer. His father, Garrard, who was only 12 years his senior, had been the chief and abdicated to let his son take over because he wanted to concentrate exclusively on sorcery. Garrard was much more powerful than his son. He was dying and with his son they were looking to appoint a successor, a host for their combined powers, a hero to lead our peoples through the tumultuous years we faced. Warriors were called from every tribe to be tested, to prove that they were worthy of being granted their powers and worthy of being the leader to unite our people to victory. They were seeking to create a legendary hero and as a result the training was severe, usually deadly, but I considered it my duty and accepted the challenge.”

“
After those six months of training I know what hell is. I had to face every fear I’ve ever known, confront every demon, defeat every beast. The spirit dreams, the endurance feats, the hunting of bears without weapons, being hunted myself by over 100 men with spears…my family always love to know all of the details of the training but I sense you’re not so interested in that.”

“
You’re wrong,” Eleanor said, very interested in how he gained his power.

“
I faced every challenge as a man. I had to prove myself a worthy man before I could be considered eligible for immortality. I was given the powers after the challenges, once I’d proven myself to Chief Running Ghost and Garrard, who was very exacting, and only gave me his powers because my final challenge approached, the white man’s god. Octavius.”

“
How long had you had your powers for when you beat him?”

“
Roughly three hours.”

Eleanor shook her head in disbelief. “That’s incredible.”

“
It wasn’t my powers that beat him; it was my motivation. He was vastly superior – all of the tribesmen watched me fight him without lifting a finger to help because Garrard insisted that the victory had to be mine alone. When he approached the camp and I stood up to him Garrard whispered an incentive to me beyond my own survival. Unknown to me my wife had been taken away, to be cut into 129 pieces while she still breathed – that number was relevant in one of his rituals, the details of which escape me. She was to be sacrificed in the event of my defeat, my punishment for failing with the valuable power that had been imbued in me, while I was offered the reward of leadership, not just of Chief Running Ghost’s tribe but a leadership role in all tribes. The reward didn’t inspire me at all but the punishment made me fight better than I had ever done before. My body was hardened during the transference of power,” he said, striking the ground with his heel and making a small crevice appear.

“
That’s useful. I fought someone like that recently,” Eleanor said, thinking of Inge. “Sometimes there can be a drawback.”

“
I can only think of one, and they taught me a spell to counter that, which temporarily returned sensation to my body when I wanted to.”

“
Then there are no drawbacks,” Eleanor said, thinking that she wanted her own body to turn razor sharp if sensation could be turned on and off as and when required.

“
Even though my body was turned as solid as rock, I wasn’t completely insensate. Octavius was portly and slower than I was and I was able to disarm him with my speed but his punches broke my ribs. We fought for hours over a large space of land, the sweat pouring off me while he wasn’t even breathless. Mantras poured from his lips that made me weary and sick, but I wouldn’t give up. I couldn’t. We both grabbed discarded weapons and he parried every blow, slashing me, toying with me. Instinct took over and as he held my axe in place with his sword, I made my left hand into a fist and swung at his body, aiming to punch him as hard as I could. I didn’t expect my hand to smash through his armour and into his chest. He pushed me away, the force of him making me land several metres away, large areas of my hard skin scraped away, and I jumped straight back to my feet and ran at him. He guarded his exposed insides with one hand while warding me off with his sword in the other – I’d lost my axe and I realised it was less of a weapon than my hands were. We fought for several more hours as I was cut many times while striving for an opening, trying to grab or punch him. Eventually he made a spinning strike on me, attempting to decapitate me.” Chesmu undid his collar and at first Eleanor only noticed three string necklaces until she looked more closely and saw where the sword had plunged into the left side of his neck, the faded scar stopping just short of his Adam’s apple.

“
His sword stuck in me. While he tried to saw through my neck I was able to grab his insides and after tugging at them he collapsed, dead. I wasn’t allowed to rest or recover. Garrard promised me I’d live and made me skin the body, which was cooked and served to us all, though I got the largest portions. Garrard said it was a way of making his power live on in us. I believe it was a mistake, but I did as I was told until I settled into the role of leader. Or dictator,” he said, critical of himself.

“
Congratulations. Many others tried to beat him and failed. Your life must have changed completely afterwards.”