The Fountain Ch. 05

Both the Africans and white men regarded my aunt with expressions that mixed horror and revulsion.

"Who is this, then?" asked the short slave catcher.

"My wench, my business," I said as I took the pack off of her back and dropped it at my feet.

The tall, lanky one looked at me with something bordering on disgust, which I found ironic considering his profession.

"It may be proper to chattel lesser beings like dogs, cattle, and those Africs over there but it surely isn't right to mistreat living things that way. Even if we could sell that Negro wench to you, we wouldn't, seeing how you treat your woman. I think instead, we will relieve you of both your furs and your woman. He gave his partner a wicked grin. "No doubt she will find our company less dire than yours."

"Much as I would love to be free of the vile witch, I fear she is my life's burden." They gazed at me and her with disbelief. "It is true, gentles. She is a witch who has consorted with the devil. This is why she's gagged."

The lanky one laughed, "We don't need her to speak none." He looked at me with a cunning amusement. "If she is indeed a witch, then you've consorted with her. I believe that's a hanging offense. Your choice; a ball or the rope?"

I'd suspected since the moment I laid eyes upon them that these men never had any intention of allowing me to live. I dropped to my knees pulled out the tomahawks I'd slipped into holsters on my back and threw them. One landed true, its sharp flint edge slamming into the chest of the tall, lanky slave catcher. The other wobbled as it flew and instead the blunt end hit the jaw of the shorter slave catcher. Still, it was enough to smash his jaw and render him senseless. I hurried over and ripped the tomahawk out of the lanky one's chest. He still lived and feebly tried to sit up. I brained him with the blunt end of the tomahawk and then did the same for his companion. I took up their guns, powder, shot, and other supplies and took them to my cabin.

I returned to the kill site and walked over to the Africans chained to the tree. They were also gagged. "Do you speak English?" I asked the male. He nodded. "If you help me get rid of these bodies I'll give you your freedom." He inclined his head towards the female. "Yes, I'll give her freedom as well."

I unchained the male but left the woman chained. He took off his gag. After working his jaw and tongue for a moment he rasped "What about her?"

"Once you've helped me, then she can be freed." He looked me over, wondering if he could overpower me. Had he been in better condition, I have no doubt he would have tried. However, he gave me his grudging assent. We dragged the bodies about a quarter mile away from my area.

"Feel free to take any of the clothes that you feel might fit you or your woman. These bastards won't need them anymore. Winter will be here before you know it."

As the African male bent over to start stripping the slave catchers' bodies, I freed him. I freed him from this vale of tears with a tomahawk to the head. My first strike was only a glancing blow. I don't know if he was suspicious of me from the start or just experienced at avoiding blows. However, I stunned him enough to make quick work of him.

However, as soon as I did him in, I regretted it. I had let my bloodlust overrule my intellect. I should have let the male slave live so as to make the female cooperative. I would have enjoyed having a woman that I didn't have to beat into submission. Once I returned without the male, the woman wailed behind her gag and then hung listlessly as if beaten senseless. I released her and she just followed me docilely as if all the fight had gone out of her. She silently assented to carrying half of my booty from two dead slave catchers.

I found I could not stop from looking at the African woman. Despite being so alien in appearance she was actually fairly comely. I knew it was the unholy lust I felt for her that influenced my attraction for such a foreign creature. Once we were in my cabin I commanded my aunt to clean her up.

That night when I laid her upon my bed, she assented, as if being used in such a manner was routine for her. Despite my lust for her and her dispirited compliance, I found that I did not much enjoy our joining. Despite using her several times that night something was missing.

"What's your name, wench"

"Morowa, sir."

"Not your demonic name, your English name!" I snapped.

"Fanny, mast.. sir"

"Master?" I asked, savoring the sound. "Yes, call me master. I smacked her once to drive home the thought. It was then I realized what was missing from my tryst with her.

Because of her submissive nature, Fanny had more freedom than my aunt witch even to the point of letting her prepare our meals but I still knew enough to chain Fanny at night. She'd run off before. And although it was not quite the same I would often beat her before I bedded her since it enhanced my enjoyment a bit.

Yet one day something horrible happened. As I started towards her to beat her I froze in place until my thoughts of violence had stopped. Each time I tried to lift my hand against her I became paralyzed. I realized then that my unholy lust for her was because she too was a witch. When I took up a loaded pistol and quickly pointed it at her, I once again froze in place.

I could still beat my aunt and I even ordered my Aunt to beat Fanny. At first, she refused but relented after several beatings but she too froze in place when she rose her fists to Fanny. Irritated by this betrayal I then ordered Fanny to kill my Aunt. She refused. I now had a choice; to live with these unkillable witches or set them free. To save the world, I kept them chained in my cabin. I intended to starve them to death but when I attempted this I became ill. Harsh pains in my belly set my guts afire. So God forgive me, in my weakness and fear of death, I was forced to feed them.

In a month everything became clear. Fanny was with child. Obviously, it was the Antichrist, summoned by our unholy lust and the witch's dark arts. I was curious what the thing would look like. Would it appear human or demonic in form? I thought perhaps that when the baby was born and separated from its mother, then both would become vulnerable and could be dispatched.

I played nice, telling Fanny I was happy about the baby. I even gave her more freedom but warned her that running off without knowing the country would probably end up badly for her and the baby. As her belly swelled so did her trust in my good intentions.

Or so I thought. One night after eating my evening meal, I swooned suddenly and fell to the floor as I attempted to rise blackness descended upon me. I awoke chained inside the same cage that I used to confine my Aunt. I was alone in the cabin. A note lay next to me.

"Try as I might I could not kill you despite everything you have done. Not from conscience, something prevented me and Fanny from killing you. The Spirits of the Fountain protecting their own, I suppose. Thanks to Fanny, I was able to slip mushrooms that would incapacitate but not kill you into your food. We left you food and water enough for a few days. Hopefully, we will then be far enough that the spirits cannot affect us. Burn in the Christian Hell!"

The note was unsigned but then there was no need. I sat patiently and waited for God's deliverance.

Days passed. Hungry... so hungry. My gut burns. Hungry. So Hungry. So tired. Water... Need Water. Darkness.

I awoke starving. Tiffany lay next to me. I was Henry again. I staggered to the kitchen my mind still reeling from the horrible images I'd just experienced. I wolfed down some cold lasagne and washed it down with some of my Dad's scotch. I barely noticed the burning of my throat from the alcohol, and just kept downing it between coughs.

At least now I understood why my Grandmother felt it necessary to tie me up and have sex with me as she did. She was trying to prevent me from becoming like Anais.