Lady Grace & the War for a New World (Earth's End Book 2) (31 page)

52

“Gi’ me the heart, Bud,” Sam said, leaning toward the hunks of bear meat from his chair. Bud handed the raw heart to him. Sam called Jeremy over to the campfire where everyone sat.

“Hail, Jeremy the bear killer.” He held up the heart and wiped its bloody surface down Jeremy’s forehead and nose and across both cheeks. Then he smiled at him. “Ye make me proud.”

Nothing his real father had ever said or done made Jeremy feel so good.

“Take a bite,” Sam said, offering the raw heart.

“Sorry, boys,” Bud interceded, “not a good idea. My People used to eat the bear’s heart raw for symbolic reasons. But in modern days, we know that bears carry roundworms, which no one wants. I’ll throw it on the barbecue and then you can eat it. I’m cookin’ everything lightly cremated tonight.”

Everyone laughed. Jeremy felt relieved to be spared from roundworms. But Sam holding that hunk of raw meat gave him a start. They used to be cannibals. Seeing him with that bloody chunk was pretty freaky. He realized that none of the people from the underground had eaten cooked meat. He wondered about celebrations in the underground and the significance of rubbing the bloody heart on his face.

Then he stopped wondering, because he was having fun.

“Tell us how you killed the bear, Jeremy,” Sam’s brows rose and his mouth opened a little; his face was a study in expectation.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” the village people chanted, looking at him as a hero.

Nobody had ever wanted to know how he did something so much. He was going to underplay it, but they wanted more than that, so he acted a little.

When he was done, everyone applauded as if he were a superstar. The people of the village were especially appreciative and noisy, making an ululating noise.

“Hail to Jeremy, the bear killer!” James said. “Now, can we eat? I’m starving.”

They laughed and ululated. Pretty near anything made them start that howling.

Soon, they were eating well-done bear heart and liver, then well-done bear steaks. Jeremy got the first slices of the heart.

“What do you think of bear, Jeremy?” Bud asked.

He made a face. “Might be better if our chef from New York cooked it.”

“I never liked bear myself,” Bud replied. “Never stopped me from eating it if I was hungry.”

The song started at the campfire after dinner. Sam held an overturned bucket between his knees and beat on it as though he’d been a drummer all his life. His skin shone and teeth flashed as he leaned into the rhythm. Everyone was playing some improvised instrument. His mom shook a can full of nails, rattling in time with Sam.

Sam raised his hand, and the racket stopped. He looked different from the way Jeremy had seen him. More—more everything: bigger, stronger, and more confident. Better-looking. His head with its reddish stubble of beard and hair, his face with its planes and angles and wide cheekbones, were beautiful.

Jeremy didn’t like to use that word for a man. His father, Chaz Edgarton, had been called beautiful, but all Jeremy saw when he looked at him were his flaws. When he looked at Sam, he saw his strengths.

Sam began to speak.

“I want to thank everyone for what they did yesterday to help me and my people.” Sam sat tall in his chair and easily captured the assembly’s attention and affection. “We fought a great battle. We fought to save ourselves and the village,” he waved to the three survivors and the babies. “We fought like a people who belong together.

“We need to remember what we did and who we lost. Ellie gave more than anyone. She saved Grace and me. And brought us these good friends,” the three sitting at his feet and the babies. “She saved us from death. And then she died. Hers was a noble death, and I thank her.”

Jeremy sat up and listened. Sam was doing something to them as he talked. His voice enthralled them.

“I thank Lena for her shooting, and I thank Bud and Wes for their power and bravery. I thank Henry and James and Mel. And Grace and Jeremy.

“I thank the unseen world. We would not have won without its help. I thank God for making things come out right.

“Having given proper thanks, I call for a change: Our world has been all wrong for a long time.
It’s time for the village to be right!”

Whistles and ululation danced around the circle. Sam raised his hands, and all the noise stopped. His voice resonated, pulling them in, making him seem many times his size.

“I am Sam of the line of Emily, direct descendent of Sam Baahuhd, head man of the village before we went underground. I am the oldest man in the line of Sam Baahuhd. I claim my birthright and my legacy: I am headman of the village, the village here,” he waved his arm to take in the entire area of the old estate. “And the village by the river and the cliff,” he waved his other arm to take in their other home, and all the territory in between, encompassing an area four or five times larger than the original manor.

The people of the village cheered, ululated, and made clicking noises that none outside the underground had heard before. Jeremy found himself standing up and clapping like a madman, tears in his eyes.

“Sam Baahuhd!” “Sam Baahuhd!” “Sam Baahuhd!” The cries went up from the village people. Jeremy found himself calling out the name of his old friend and sometime foe, Sam’s ancestor of long ago.

Sam raised his hands and stopped the cheering. “It is my right to call m’self Sam Baahuhd and to have you call me that. With all respect to my ancestor, I say—I will never be known by that name. I reject and denounce the name Baahuhd!

“In the language of the village, baahuhd means ‘bad.’ I am not bad, and neither are any of my ancestors, or any that are here. I am a Good Man. I take that for my name from now on. I am Sam Good Man.

“I will run the village from the Book,” and he pulled it out from his suit, where he’d held it close to his heart. Its light sparkled and illuminated Sam and everything around him. “I live by the Book, and I will run the village by the Book. No changes. No excuses.

“We will never have what happened to us in the underground again! We are good people, and we will live as good people! I swear that I will lead you on the good road!”
He put his hand on his heart, and then closed it into a fist, and touched his heart again.

Jeremy watched him, transfixed. Sam sat up straight, his feet and legs encased in the white boots Ellie had put around them. If they hurt, nothing in Sam’s face or demeanor indicated it. Sam was earnest as an angel. As earnest as anyone he’d ever seen. As good, and trustworthy, and kind. He glowed in the firelight. Sam Good Man—that was a perfect name for him.

“I tell you by my word and my bond, that I will work for you as long as I live. Do you accept my leadership of the village? Do you accept my hereditary right?”

Jeremy shouted, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” And so did everyone else. The children, the newcomers, Lena, Henry, James, Mel, and his mother.

“You accept me as your leader from this time forward?”

Roars of approval arose.

Sam smiled a funny little smile. “OK. I’ll lead ye. I been working on it all my life, might as well take what’s given to me.

“I claim a few more things.” He turned to Grace, “I claim you, Veronica Piermont Edgarton, Lady Grace, for my wife, for all my life. You will be my only wife. I know we are already wed, but this is official, before the village.

“Will you be my wife, Lady Grace? I will love you as much as a man can love a woman. I will care for you and provide for you and make you the queen of my heart.”

His mother looked like a girl. Tears streaked her face and she moved closer to him. “Oh, Sam, I already am your wife. I belong to you, like you belong to me. And I will spend the rest of my life loving you.”

Sam’s eyes glistened in the firelight. He was so good-looking, Jeremy thought. Like the old Sam Baahuhd, but better and kinder.

“Good, lady, for I have a gift for you. I’ve already given you my heart and soul, but here is all I own.” He pulled out the jewelry bag that he’d rescued from the underground. He pulled something out of it, and then gave the bag to Grace. “These are some trinkets I found diggin’ my way through paradise down there. They’re probably yours a’ready, but they’re yours again. My jewels.”

She took the bag. “Thank you, Sam.”

“But this is not yours. This comes through the line of Emily. Emily came to the village that last morning, naked except for some boots from Jamaya. And this.” He held an impressive sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds out to her. Its blue stones flashed in the light. “This was Emily’s ring. I give it to you. I am the only living descendent of Emily, and you are my wife.”

Everyone saw the flash of light when he touched her to put the ring on her finger. She jumped, as though shocked.

Sam pulled her over and kissed her.

“And I claim ye,” he pointed at Jeremy. “Ye, Jeremy the bear killer, Jeremy the Great Tek, as my son. Will ye be my son, Jeremy?”

Jeremy stood up, staring at Sam. Sam wasn’t that much older than him, but he seemed decades older. Eons older. The ache of loneliness that haunted Jeremy reared up and pointed out the impossibility of Sam being his father. It was an insult to the memory of his highly flawed biological father. What was happening was impossible. They were in the middle of a tribal ritual; a new chieftain was claiming authority. He was part of it. Jeremy felt himself slide into acquiescence.

“Yeah, I’ll take you for my father, Sam. I’ll do my best to be a good son.”

Sam smiled. “Good. I will be a good father as long as I live.”

Jeremy ran around the circle and kneeled by the big auburn-haired man. And then Sam’s arms were around him, pulling him in to the fire of his heart. Jeremy hugged Sam back. He felt like a lost son coming home.

“We are a
good
family,” Sam said, eyes misty and glowing at the same time.

Sam turned back to everyone. “I claim ye as my people. I will lead ye well for all time. Do ye accept my claim?”

They did, with the same enthusiasm they’d accepted everything. Jeremy couldn’t stop his eyes from blinking. His chest rose hard and convulsively. He had a father and a mother. He had a family.

53

Sam claimed the village the way Sam Baahuhd would have: fast, before another leader came forward. If he used the Voice to do it, so what? He planned on governing just as his ancestor had. He would be a strong and confident chieftain, fearless and immune to pain.

The problem came with the morning.

“Are you all right, Sam?” Grace said. He’d winced. He couldn’t hide anything from her sharp eyes. “You look feverish.” She put her hand on his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“I’m fine, lady,” he lied, lowering himself back on their mat. She pulled the bucket of his slops away. His face burned as she opened the tent and went out to dump it. Jeremy and Bud came in to lift him onto his chair outside. He hoped they hadn’t seen the bucket. Being weak embarrassed him.

He couldn’t stand; his legs and feet hurt too much. He’d awakened after the battle the day before to find them wrapped in hard white boots. He remembered being in the underground and suffocating heat. They told him the skin on his feet and legs was burned off. He didn’t remember.

“You’re lucky you’re alive, Sam,” the lady had said when he came out of the blackness.

Aye, he was. He remembered the buzzing of wings and Ellie, but they were lost in darkness. He couldn’t remember what happened, other than that Ellie had saved him.

He sat up straight in his chair, trying to act like Sam Baahuhd in a chair with his feet burned off. The rest sat around the fire drinking coffee. Henry brought him breakfast.

“Leftovers,” he said. “Barbequed bear.” Henry bent down and said, “I sure liked what you said last night, Sam. I’m glad you’re our leader.”

All of them repeated those words. He smiled. He’d be able to keep smiling if the pain didn’t get any worse.

She put a hand on his forehead again. “You’re a little feverish, Sam. I think you should take antibiotics. I’ve got painkillers, too.”

“I feel fine, lady. Are you wantin’ to kill me like before?”

“No, Sam. I brought medications that you’re not allergic to,” she looked at him, her expression saying, don’t fight with me, Sam. I’m afraid.

“I’m all right, lady. I’m fine.” He smiled. Why did he need to pretend? Sam Baahuhd looked out through his eyes.
He
would never need pills or counsel.

“Well, if you’re all right, I’ll leave you for a while and go look in the machine barn with everyone.”

They left, all of them, and climbed down the hole Jeremy and Wes had made in the roof of the old equipment barn. He wanted to go with them but he couldn’t.

He sat there in his chair, coming to enjoy the sunshine and birds. He continued to marvel at their hoping and twittering and the feel of sun and wind on his skin. His legs hung down from his chair.

As time passed, they felt like they were expanding. Like they would burst their wrappings. He could feel the beating of his heart in them, throbbing. His cheeks felt hot. He’d take her pills when she came back, even though Sam Baahuhd would never be so weak.

When they came back, it was like an invasion. He was dozing. Their voices and excitement roused him. He jerked awake and struggled to listen.

“You won’t believe what’s down there,” Mel said, face alight. “I don’t know what all that stuff is, but there’s
lots!”

“We should be back to the cliff in no time,” Henry added. They clustered around him, crackling with excitement. “Wes says we’ll be able to go back right away.”

“You’ve got a complete setup for a ranch in that barn.” Wesley provided the most information. “You’ve got better machinery in there than I ever had. You should be able to grow food—if we can find seeds. You should at least get a crop of wild oats with it. You’ve got a backhoe loader, a couple of tractors. Some quads—4WD utility vehicles. Harrows, an auger. Even a big plow for breaking up sod. And a truck!

“There’s everything you need for a
sawmill
crated up. You’ll be able to make boards and posts—you can build a real ranch. There’s tons of tools and hardware. You should take it all.”

“The only problem is that it’s buried,” Bud added sardonically. “Some of it’s eighteen feet down. But Wes and I can dig it out the way we dug out the babies.”

“That is good news,” Sam said, trying to imitate Sam Baahuhd by ignoring the pain in his legs. “Dig it out. We will take it all home.”

They trooped off to watch Wesley and Bud work, but he caught Grace’s eye. She came over to him.

“I’ll take yer medicine, lady.” He smiled. “I reckon you don’t want to kill me.”

She put her hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up, Sam. You’re really sick.”

When they had him back in bed, she examined the white covers Ellie had put on him, sniffing under them and looking for streaks up his legs. “You seem fine, Sam.”

Bud remained after putting Sam on his mat. He squatted next to him and remained there silently for a few seconds, as though sensing something. He put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and said. “I’ve done some healing in my time, Sam. Call me when you need me. I’ll come to you.” He left, looking troubled.

Sam drifted the rest of the day, hearing the others coming and going. He saw flashes of blue light coming from the direction where Bud and Wesley were working. The medicines made the pain less, but they made him sleepy. He kept dreaming, bad dreams.

Something was pulling him inside, into darkness shot with golden light. It captured him and held him. When it held him, he didn’t care that he was being weak. Who he was supposed to be faded and strands of a golden web held him fast.

He could see the doctor from Ellie’s world standing by Lady Grace. He could see the big hall covered with spider silk before the fire came.