Curl

With that, Cara’dina scurried back to the front and wrapped her wiry arms around the one she called Dae. Then they spattered out her language back and forth for some time. All I could catch in the flood of accent was degger and how happy she seemed to be about it. For the next few hours of daylight, she sang, sewed, and offered me food from time to time. She never sat still, always tending to everyone else’s needs before her own. She was a good wife and better woman, I could tell that.

I had one.

This would’ve been us in twice our time. Just two people, loving each other in the way of cooled steel and tended spark. Despite the silent nature of Dae, I could see the tension in his shoulders, his mighty arms. At any point he would be just as well to bash my brains in, this digging bit was for her, not him. Maybe that’s how I should go. The meaty fists of a man who could protect his wife and make good on his vows.

If I asked them, they’d probably give me enough to return home after this favor. It’s only three days or so. My family would be waiting with open arms and grateful sighs, knowing I was alive. I shook my head at the thought. Facing them full of failure? What good would that do anyone? Saddling them with the grief of a dead man with a dead wife didn’t seem like the right thing to do. Even if I did know they would carry that burden with me.

I had no qualms with being grateful, but I did have a chasm of twisting nothing in my chest, and it would only poison them.

Besides, I couldn’t face Harvi like this, then I’d have to—

Distant shouting chained across many voices as the convoy began to pull into a rocky outcropping along the eastern side of the road. In a scattering of bodies, the collective’s wagons, carriages, and stockpiles found their way in an organized fashion into the rocks. Tents popped up in places and I helped Dae and Cara’dina guide their carriage into a free space. A few of the guards perched atop the taller rocks and kept an eye out for any potential threats, however unlikely they were in this area of the country.

As we settled in, Cara’dina gripped me by the arm and dragged me toward the backside of the encampment. Squared off by its lonesome was a cart, a dirty once-white sheet pulled across it to cover what was under it. The smell was telling. It was one I knew now. Images of Harvi’s face lingered behind my eyes as Cara’dina swatted the fat horseflies away.

“‘Tis ‘ere. Degger for ‘tem? Any place good,” she said, lips twitching.

With a flourish she whipped the cloth off the cart and showed me a small wicker bucket of iron spikes and binding rope.

“No boxes. Make your do?” She nodded as if to answer for me.

“Yes.” I said quietly. “Make do.”

I didn’t know what else to tell Cara’dina. I wasn’t a digger by trade, I barely knew the rites. Most of what I knew came from that damned rhyme, but the way her eyes pleaded, I couldn’t leave it. It felt like leaving Harvi to the crows. And they had tried to show kindness, even if I didn’t want it.

Cara’dina squeezed my arm and nodded one more time before she returned to the carriage to cook dinner for us. I scanned the four bodies and sighed. Covering them with the cloth again I took my time finding the permanent rest of these poor souls. I never asked what killed them, probably exposure, or some common illness they lacked the medicine for, but I cared little. The specifics didn’t matter, because I was going to dig.

Clink, chink, clink

The sound of metal hitting rock rang out. Wet, wormy earth scent rose with the first break of ground. Tiny sparks scattered when I struck a solid stone. The noise reminded me that I was a little close to camp, some part of me knew that wasn’t the best choice, but anywhere else was too far to drag them. A few sobs could be heard answering my ministrations in between strokes. Mothers, sisters? It didn’t matter, I was digging.

Each scoop of dirt, each over-sized rock felt like I was cutting something out of myself. Same as when I dug hers. I deepened the hole. The first grave was slow going as I adjusted to the pace. A small girl with dark skin I’d never seen the like of before brought me a waterskin, one not full of piss water. She bowed strangely and ran off, the frills of her tiny dress bouncing. There was appreciation in their eyes, the ones who watched me, but I kept my eyes in the dirt.

The second grave went faster as I learned the terrain and found some better ways to pull the hard earth apart, but it was still grueling work. Third grave split my hands open, and by the fourth my hands were slick with blood and my grip suffered. I tore some pieces of the sheet away and made some crude bandages. Then, I finished the damn holes.

Cara’dina brought me a bowl of some stew that tasted like venison and potatoes, a few sprigs of rosemary added to the flavor. It was a good stew. Harvi’s was better. Salted pork and a vegetable medley marinated in spices she lifted from a trader stand while he was distracted by her beauty. I scolded her for that. Now, I just wanted to taste it again.

Before I could start moving the bodies, men from the caravan had made their way to me, likely at Cara’s word. They stepped in to place their dead gently in my poorly shaped holes. Each nodded to me and one even clapped my shoulder in thanks. Dae and Cara followed at the back of the congregation, eyes shimmering in the lantern light. As everyone settled in around the broken earth, they turned to me. For a moment I stood there awestruck, but as quickly as that feeling came it left me. I grabbed a fistful of iron nails and an old hammer from the cart and hopped in the first grave.

No morning glory seeds. Barely enough rope tied at their wrists from the folks who carried the bodies. It was a mockery of usual tradition, but the best these people could do with what they had. I drove the first nail into the shoulder joint of an elderly man, white hair wispy and waving in the breeze. He’d been dead for some time, the sunkenness of his eyes was enough to tell, but the smell. That’s where it became clear. A subtle bloat in his stomach churned with each hammer strike.
The next two were a couple, too young, but still a life lived. They were fresher than the old man, but no less nauseating. I had no learning of the body, but even I could see a wasting sickness and suicide. I hammered them in their joints and pointed their feet south as a middle aged woman above sobbed through her husband’s tunic. The tall, lanky man, bearded along his chin helped me out of the hole.

“My daughter,” he croaked. “Thank you.”

I looked away from the sudden expression and moved onto the final grave.
A small girl in a frilly dress, matching the one who brought me water. My eyes snapped over to her as Cara’dina curled the little girl in her arms. They were both crying. Dae stepped forward from behind them, massive boots thudding the earth.

“Our niece,” he nodded back to the couple. “Sudden. We don’t know.” He scratched his full beard.

A young woman with wild brown curls stepped forward, her freckles matching the little girl’s, ran her hands over her face. Her knees gave out but there was not a single tear on her cheeks. I saw her, knew her, was her. Some grief is too profound for any body to hold, and instead of finding its way out, it buries deep. This was that. Inside the woman was a kind of agony that cannot be scrubbed away or purged. It was the change-all nothingness of a forever loss.

Nothing could be done for her now.

I leaned over the body, eternal youth for what will amount to a day. I lined up the nail with her knee joint and lifted the hammer. The hammer struck once. A flicker, small, almost unnoticed, but it seemed that her lip curled. I watched her closely. Exhaustion was playing tricks on me. I checked her bindings and hammered again. Again. Until her legs were secure. I brushed some curls from her eye as I took one last look before driving iron into her shoulders.

As I climbed out, I recited the only prayer I knew. It was short, not full of much meaning, but the handful of people in attendance matched my speech word for word. Some in common tongue, others in their own languages. When I finished, the men helped my fill the dirt back in and said their goodbyes. Harvi paid me another visit with a flash of twisting agony, but her memory didn’t stay long.

Filing out one by one, the vigil filtered back to their tents, wagons, and lean-tos. I followed Dae and Cara as they comforted the young mother and her remaining daughter. For a brief moment, I even missed my own people, but that too didn’t stay long. I tossed the shovel in the back of their carriage and rolled myself up in a thin blanket left for me. The floorboards creaked under my shifting weight, the dust mingling with the fresh mud in the air. A biting chill pricked at my neck and I shivered. My eyes closed.

I slept like the dead.