The Dead Man's tale

"Tonight they will come again. They will fight. They will flee. And when they do you will flee with them."

Then the cloaked one looked down and Simeon looked down with him. On his body was a shirt of rusted mail that had been slashed open about the stomach.

"Not a perfect fit, but it shall do." He said and looked up again. "They will take you for one of them and when you are at their camp will find the one called Julian. And you will remember Julian – the one dressed in the shroud." He said with increasing verve and held out a blade, short and wide. "And when you are close you will plunge this into his heart."

When the flat of the blade tapped him for the second time Simeon took it in his hands. It was nicked and it was scarred, but it was sharp, very sharp.

"They are many and you are only one, but you have what they do not; you have a name." He said and leaned in till he was nearly touching the motionless figure in front of him. "Simeon." He said in a voice that was suddenly snake-like. "Your name is Simeon"

"We get out of this and I’m going to kill you."

Simeon watched the one on the crypt for a moment before turning back to the man with the candle and the emerald eyes.

"You must forgive him. His only brother died in this very place three nights past."

"Simeon, that hurts."

"Sorry, little girl." Said Simeon with a thin chuckle.

The day was bright and cold and Simeon lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the dappled sunlight that wafted through the leafless trees. Mina fit neatly on his lap. Simeon could see the distress on her face in profile. She dug both hands into the soft loam of the sandbar and looked out at the restless brook that ran behind the Weslaco farm.

"I think that’s all." He said and pushed her head forward while his fingers continued to prod. "No, one more."

It would have been difficult with almost anyone else. If Caleb had picked up any he would have to cut off all his hair. Again. But Mina’s hair was still thin and fine like that of a baby. Simeon parted the unruly strands and picked out another tiny louse with a pincer of fingernails.

"You won’t tell, will you?"

"Of course not."

"If Len and Rohen ever knew…."

"They won’t, little girl. I swear." He said and the taught flesh around her eyes seemed to relax.

He loved his sister. His mother had died in the childbirth and father had always held that against her. Simeon and Caleb took it upon themselves to love her, protect her, just as if she had a caring a mother and father, and one day a mother and father with wealth enough so that they would not have to bring the animals in on the cold nights for the extra warmth.

One day, he said to himself, over and over as he wrapped his arms around her small frame. One day.

Simeon had to remind himself to blink in order to keep the nightmare world around him in focus. The other’s camp was a ruin of exhumed graves sprinkled with nearly two score of shambling bodies in various states of decay. The ground was a patchwork of snow and dead earth and they were restless, snapping at the air and at each other. They wore armor or clothing or nothing at all. None of them wore a shroud.

His muddled thoughts led him to the center of the camp.