Part 23: Stealing & Stalling

Main story folder & table of contents: "Escape From Manitou Island" 
Previous chapter: "Part 22: Passing The Buck" 

PART TWENTY-THREE:
Stealing & Stalling

THE EAST BLUFF was sunny and peaceful, the only sounds those of birds singing, cicadas buzzing, and springs trickling further up. A soft breeze rustled the grass growing around the Fairy Arch. Lieutenant Barrington sat beside it with his legs drawn up and his arms wrapped around his knees, a dark look on his face. What he'd seen not that long ago didn't make any sense. It couldn't have happened. Everything he had learned told him it couldn't have happened. Things that didn't make sense couldn't happen. Not things like that.

They stepped through that rock and disappeared. That DID NOT happen. Things like that don't happen! Either you are here, or you are not. You don't just DISAPPEAR! Things like that don't HAPPEN!

Nevertheless, it had happened, which was why he was now sitting on the slope beside the Arch, staring across the water, refusing to budge. At least not until he could find some explanation for what had happened. Nothing was coming to mind...but he could be patient. If he had to. Especially if it was a matter of something making sense, or not making sense, and Barrington hated it when things didn't make sense.

He chewed on the inside of his mouth and scowled at nothing. The birdsong, the sunshine, the water lapping at the shore below, all were bothering him. There shouldn't be birdsong and sunshine and lapping water when people were disappearing through rocks like it was the most normal thing in the world. Nature could at least agree with him, and stop being so...normal...for a moment.

He glanced up at the rock and gave it a baleful look, just out of spite. For all he knew, those people were never coming back. Why was he staying here? If they'd disappeared, then he had no reason to believe they were ever returning. Sitting here was just wasting time, and if there was another thing he hated, it was wasting time.

Barrington put out a hand and pushed himself to his feet, clambering back up the bluff. He'd climbed around on the other island--no, damn it, this Island--plenty of times before, so the climbing was easy enough. He had to stop several times to wipe a hand across his brow, and loosened his jacket. He glanced down at himself and suddenly felt foolish to be dressed up like this--he looked like a big walking target--before deciding that he had bigger things to worry about. Like what would he do when he got to the top of the bluff. He reached for his shoulder and found nothing there, then cursed himself. That strange elk creature had made him lose his gun, and it was way over on the other side of the Island. He'd never wandered that part of the Island, very much...and when he had, there had never been any elk creatures or strange men who threw fireballs...

He decided not to worry until he reached the top. Which he did without incident; he got to his feet and dusted himself off, hating the woeful state of his uniform and glancing around himself. He sought out the nearest trail and started walking, keeping his eyes and ears open. No matter how familiar it was, there was something about this place that was still incredibly strange.

Like giant elk creatures and men who throw fire!

He mentally rebuked himself and kept walking. There had to be some sort of explanation. A new species of deer which he'd never seen before, and an unusual use of gunpowder. That was all there was to it. Everything had a rational explanation. Barrington sighed, feeling slightly calmer, and reached up a hand to rub at his sore neck.

His hand crept down to his shoulder, where the wound had been...and his brow furrowed slightly. There was no explanation for that so far...

Don't think about it now. Bigger things to worry about. Like, how am I going to get out of here...?

Noises ahead made him halt abruptly and the hair on the back of his neck prickled; it was just talking noises, as casual as anything, but he remembered now that he'd been heading in the direction of the native camp he'd fled from earlier, and how could he have made such a foolish mistake--?

He hurriedly ducked into the woods, slipping down into a hollow and peering over the edge. When a pair of women went walking by with berry baskets he felt even stupider for allowing himself to be frightened off so...yet women had taken part in that incident too...so he had ample reason to be tense, he told himself. He waited until they were gone before chewing on his lip and wondering what to do.

I'll never be safe if I don't get my gun back. But that was way over on the other side. I may as well go out in the open right now if I want to subject myself to that.

And that town, who even knows what I'll find there--? There was a camp of them down THERE, too...!

His thoughts faded as he remembered something he'd seen on his way down toward the strange town. A cabin, far back in the woods. There had been a native woman there...but she had been only one. This camp, the town, there had been a lot of them.

He could easily handle one woman, couldn't he?

He gnawed on his lip some more before crawling back down into the hollow and turning himself about. He tramped up the other side and crept through the trees, glancing around himself and slowly regaining his bearings. He went in the approximate direction of the cabin, making sure to keep as silent as he could; they could hear just about anything. When the wooden structure at last loomed into sight, he slowed his step even more. A loud thumping noise was coming from this direction. He scanned the front yard for any signs of the woman, but saw none; he peered behind it and saw her at last, chopping wood. She hummed as she did so, swinging a large ax as if it were nothing at all, splitting logs and laying them aside in a nearby pile. Barrington watched her for a while before silently making his way toward the front of the cabin.

He made a point of rustling the grass, to see how well she might be listening; when she just continued humming he picked up his courage and his speed as well. He crept out of the woods and made his way to the front door and up the steps. The door stood open just slightly; he peered in, then nudged it open a bit more, and put his head inside, scanning the room from right to left. The entire residence was contained in one room, a large bed at one side, a bench and table at the other, a fireplace, numerous shelves and hooks, furs all over the floor, and numerous traps and weapons lining the walls from top to bottom. Barrington's eyes grew on looking at the selection of bear traps and snares and hatchets and guns. He must have hit the motherlode.

He paused before slipping into the cabin and nudging the door mostly shut, just as it had been before. He peered at the walls before making his way to a gun propped against the table. He picked it up and looked it over, holding it up and pointing it at the window before lowering it again. He grabbed up a horn of powder and gathered up some balls, shoving them into a pouch hanging nearby. He slipped this over his shoulder, making sure to load the gun before heading back to the door and peering out. He stepped down and peeked around the corner, but all that he could see was trees, and he could still hear the humming and chopping noises. So far, so good--but Barrington had never believed in "so far."

He jogged back into the trees and headed north, still unsure of what to do. He stared at the ground as he walked, deciding to keep to the woods rather than chance the trails. He had no idea of the state of this Island now. The town had changed so much, and there was at least one camp he'd never known about, and who knew how many others...if there was one cabin there were bound to be more, and he couldn't know who lived there or how friendly or hostile they might be. They'd taken a native wife and that was reason enough to try to avoid them. How many others were there?

When he spotted the large strange house he'd been in earlier--another native woman lived there!--he turned and abruptly headed east. His lip hurt from how much he was gnawing on it now. He shifted the gun and grasped onto the strap, ready to pull it around and forward as quickly as possible if need be. His stomach felt queasy for some reason, and he had to take a few breaths and let them out, walking faster.

He wasn't even sure where he was headed with such purpose until he saw the bluff coming into view, and halted. He scowled to himself as soon as he realized that he'd been heading for the Arch, and for that strange girl who seemed to know so much about this place. He turned and started walking north.

I don't even know her! She's friends with them. And that's bad enough. I hardly need to ally myself with the likes of her.

But she does know about this place...

And she's the only one who can tell me how to get out of here...

He felt a stab of anxiety in his chest, and grimaced. As much as he hated to admit it...he had no way of leaving this place without her. That elk thing had shown him things. She knew things. He would have to face her again, if he wanted to leave.

He stood staring off into space for a few moments, then growled to himself and whirled around, tramping south again. He headed eastward this time, though, and made sure to keep out of sight of the camp. He had no reason to believe that she would come back after disappearing like that...but she was his only hope. He made a face and wished that he'd just stayed on the mainland.

He picked his way to the bluff and started making his way downward again. He sighed when the Arch came into view, and started to climb down toward it, when something moved and he gasped and whirled back behind a leaning tree. He peered out at the rock, eyes wide.

A native was climbing around the rock, peeking into it every so often and shaking a rattle. Barrington vaguely recognized him from the camp; he stared at the Arch with an anxious look, shook his rattle, moved to a different spot, and shook his rattle again. He kept repeating this so often that Barrington rolled his eyes but kept his place. This one didn't look to be any incredible threat, but one could never tell.

He leaned against the tree and stared up the bluff, suddenly wishing wistfully for something to eat. As soon as he thought this, his stomach growled, abnormally loud, and he scowled. He'd gone without food longer than this before. So why was he so soft on this Island, when he needed discipline the most...?

Something made a crashing noise below him, and a voice suddenly exclaimed, "I'm not even a LEADER! What am I expected to even do--?"

He blinked and stiffened. The girl. That was her voice. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the rock was no longer so abandoned; the Islander with the rattle had backed away some, and people were pouring out of the opening. Barrington's eyes grew as he watched, dumbfounded. From his angle, he could see the south opening, and a good portion of the ground through it; and he could tell for certain that these people were appearing out of thin air. At least, they weren't coming in from the other side of the rock, unless some sort of optical illusion...

He shook his head and grimaced. A great group of them--all of those who had entered the Arch, plus some--gathered beside it, several talking at once, and the red-haired girl was in the midst of it, a distressed look on her face. He frowned slightly when he saw it. She'd seemed so self-assured before...why was she so tense looking now...?

"I don't know who to even take," she said miserably.

"You heard what he said!" a native in the most ludicrous feathered and decorated attire exclaimed. "You've ALWAYS had a sensible head--like you even need to worry--?"

"I have a sensible head too!" a strange little furry person in a red cap and sash said, hopping up and down; Barrington's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he even was. Some sort of hideously deformed child--? "I can help where you're not sure!"

Two loons flew up and perched atop the rock. "O-HO!" they exclaimed, nearly making Barrington fall down the bluff. "We, Kwemoo and Maang, may assist in gathering who is needed! O-ho!"

The red-haired girl--Charmian, she'd said her name was?--looked up at them uncertainly, then chewed on her lip; he blinked when he realized that he was doing the same, and abruptly made himself stop. "What if I forget something important...?" she asked, then spotted the Islander with the rattle and her eyes grew. "Stick--!"

The Islander cautiously moved toward her, glancing at all of the others who were keeping her company. "What's going on...?" he asked in a tentative voice, as if he didn't really wish to know at all.

Charmian sighed. "We have to take a trip...and I have to gather who I'll need most. It's a really long trip...I don't even know who or what to take." She turned and started climbing up the bluff, and Barrington gasped and ducked out of sight again as the others followed suit. "I'll try to explain it on the way back and maybe you can help me figure it out a little..."

He stayed behind the tree and waited as the rustling noises passed and then faded, the chatter fading with them; only then did he start carefully climbing up the bluff again. He had to speak with her, but she was surrounded by so many people. Wasn't there any way to get her away from them--? Was she always surrounded by such a great crowd of strange people--?

He frowned to himself as he realized how little he truly knew of her. She could be a halfbreed for all he knew, though her clothing was certainly odd for one.

Where I come from, that happened over two hundred years ago...

He winced, nearly missing a step. That's right--she'd claimed she was from two hundred years in the future. That made even less sense than what he'd just seen! He decided he didn't want to know any more about her, and just kept climbing.

He set foot on the trail this time and bit his lip as he walked, casting furtive glances into the woods to both sides. More talking came drifting from ahead. "...And basically, that means I need to gather the right people to go through." It was the girl talking. "And I'm not sure who that is. Glooskap suggested somebody who knows their way around, and somebody who's a good talker. It's bound to be a really long way so there'd have to be a group of us."

"I'm going!" This was the voice of the one who was dressed so crazily.

"Me too!" This from the little furry one.

A couple more voices assented. "Stick! Maybe you could come along--?" Charmian's voice asked. "I think we could use you!"

"Me--?" This from the man who'd had the rattle. "But--I've never even been away from the Island before! What--what makes you think I could ever help...?"

"You're the person I've known from here the longest, Stick. Even if you've never been away from the Island, I'd still feel better with you there."

Sputtering noises. "I'm guessing that everyone already here will be accompanying you." He recognized now the voice of the one who had hurled the fireballs at him earlier. "It looks as if you won't be able to talk anyone out of it."

A groan. "I really hate putting any of you guys in danger! You, Mani! What if I get hurt--? Then you get hurt, too!"

A loud whistle followed; Barrington winced and put a hand to his ear. He heard a sigh.

"Fine. Every time I've tried to talk you out of something...! It's like your head is made of steel. Do you think the group of us would be enough--?"

"Hold a moment," a new voice with a British accent said. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing that, aside from Niskigwun and those who came through the Sky Tree, none of us here have ever been off the Island. Am I right--?" There was a murmuring noise that might have been agreement. "Well...perhaps we should enlist somebody who knows other places a little bit better...like, somebody who's not on the Island all the time."

"But who--?" Charmian started to ask; then, "Oh." He could hear them walking now, and had to slow his step to avoid being seen. "You think Francois would agree to come along...?"

"If we're going to be traveling won't we need transportation of a sort--?" the fireball-thrower asked.

"He paddles a canoe," the British voice said. "I think that's close enough. I think if you asked him nicely he'd agree. I don't know him well enough to say, though."

"I hate making him leave Crooked Creek behind," Charmian murmured. "But if it's for the Island...what is it, Stick? You've been trying to get my attention for the past five minutes..."

"If you seek somebody who knows other places besides the Island, perhaps you should ask after the crazy one," the rattler said. "He came to the Island from elsewhere, and there are those who say he knows more than he lets on."

"Ew! You mean Walks-On-The-Shore--?" He heard her make a shuddering noise. "What good could HE do?"

"Well...all I know is he may have more experience away from the Island..."

"That's hardly the only prerequisite...I think SANITY is a good one, too...!"

Barrington's step began to slow as he heard the sounds of the camp coming from ahead, and he hesitated, unsure of what to do next. From the sound of it, they were all planning on heading straight in. He couldn't do the same, if he expected to get back out alive.

What I THINK is that you're stuck in a whole century and a whole DIMENSION which are NOT the same as this one! That fort was NOT in this place, this ISN'T the island you think it is, and you won't find ANY of those people here! And what's more, they aren't SAVAGES!

The girl's voice echoed in his head and he scowled to himself. No matter what she claimed...they were all the same. The only reason why that game had been held in the first place was because they had placed trust where it wasn't deserved. Why should he think this place was any different...?

Still...they'd placed him in a medicine lodge...and left him there...

He stared indecisively ahead. Based on how they'd reacted, they evidently weren't aware of what had happened on the mainland yet, otherwise he never would have been allowed to escape, with only a little girl left there to warn the others. He would have been caught by now. He'd seen several of them since and none of them had seemed in the least bit interested in seeking him out. He still didn't believe for one moment that they were deserving of any trust...but if they weren't prepared to chase after him yet...

I have to talk with her. She's the only one who can get me out of here! THEN I'll think about what to do afterward...if there even is an afterward...

He started walking again, face set and concealing the way that his heart started thudding up into his throat. The chatter in the camp ahead was as casual as ever; it picked up a bit when the others entered, but there was no hostile reaction. That boy was British. They should have been attacking him if they knew of what had happened at the fort. When he heard no yelling or running noises, he picked up his pace. If he could separate her from the others, for just a few minutes, maybe he could get her to tell him how to leave here...

The opening into the camp loomed ever closer. Barrington steeled himself, grasping the strap holding onto the gun, and made his way for it.

* * * * *

Charmian lifted her head as soon as they entered the camp. The regular everyday chatter continued as always, though it picked up a bit as soon as everyone saw the great group that she was leading. She peered back to see Niskigwun hurriedly tucking his wings into their leather case and rearranging his feathers to hide his ears; on the other hand, Peepaukawiss was clasping Marten to his breast, both of their eyes alight, and they made no move to conceal their odd appearance. X'aaru, Mani, and the GeeBees halted at the edge of the camp and stayed there, evidently uncomfortable with entering, though X'aaru looked as if he wanted to; Kwemoo and Maang started waddling in, only for Mani to put his antler in front of them and scoop them back into the woods. Charmian turned to face ahead again.

"It has been tense since the long knife and the GeeBee escaped," Stick-In-The-Dirt murmured to her. "This is why I was waiting for you at the rock..."

"Tense?" Charmian had enough time to echo, before she spotted one of the men approaching, and something in the look on his face made her halt abruptly. She blinked a few times and tried to remember where she'd seen him before but kept coming up blank.

Stick-In-The-Dirt evidently noticed her confusion, for he leaned toward her again and said from the corner of his mouth, "White Coyote. You saw him once before, your first time here, in the council."

Charmian blinked again, then the blood drained from her face. "Black Elk Horn's friend," she moaned, pure misery in her voice. White Coyote had been the main dissenting voice when she'd set foot in the private council, and now she realized why the look on his face bothered her so much. He looked a lot like Black Elk Horn when he glared at her like that.

He slowed his step several paces away. "You know already how little you are welcome here," he said in an odd quiet voice, as if taking her into confidence, and she had to admit she was surprised that he didn't hiss and growl at her. "Especially now, what with the business with this GeeBee going on! YOU were known to have visited him not long before he disappeared. And you come walking back in so easily--?" He glanced around at the group of others accompanying her and his look grew even darker.

Charmian suppressed a sigh. "The reason we're here in the first place is to try to help the Island! I didn't free Augwak and he's not causing you any trouble yet, is he?"

White Coyote scowled. "This is your claim every time you visit and something bad happens. Don't you believe we can care for this Island on our own by now?"

"I'M not the one who caused all that trouble!" Charmian retorted. "In all my time here have you EVER known me to mess things up that bad--?"

Stick-In-The-Dirt took a step forward. "You all already know she's welcome in my home! Why you persist in seeking to banish her from this camp, I have no idea!"

White Coyote glared at him now, and Charmian fully expected him to launch into some sort of Black Elk Hornesque tirade; which was why when his fists loosened and he stood down a little, she was so surprised. "You never formally adopted her," he retorted, in the same quiet voice.

"I do not have to," Stick-In-The-Dirt said.

"You don't notice how every time she arrives, trouble comes?"

"You don't notice how every time trouble comes, she comes as well, to end it--?"

White Coyote's nose wrinkled. "If she's so good at it then, why does the trouble keep coming back?"

Charmian clenched her fists and ground her teeth, even though she knew he had a point. "I'm not making any trouble now," she said, and he looked back at her. "All I wanted to do was gather up a few people to go with me somewhere, and then we'll be out of your hair. We weren't even going to stay long."

White Coyote gave her a skeptical look. "You mean you are leaving?"

"Going," Charmian said. "There's a difference." She adjusted her pack. "I just wanted to talk with Stick and maybe Silver Eagle Feather a bit, and then we'll be on our way. I won't even have to run into Black Elk Horn."

White Coyote's mouth twitched. "Now that you're here, do you really think you're going to miss him--?"

Even as he said it, Charmian felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, and saw the doorflap of one of the wigwams fly to the side. She cringed and shifted from foot to foot when Black Elk Horn saw her and immediately started walking her way.

"You mean he didn't like the knife...?" she whimpered.

Stick-In-The-Dirt grasped her arm. "I can speak with him and--"

She shook her head. "I don't want to drag you into the middle of this again. It's me he has a problem with! Maybe if I just face him and get it over with, we can go on our way."

White Coyote rolled his eyes. "You do not know him well then, do you."

Charmian glared at him. "No, I don't! I don't see YOU doing anything remarkable yourself!"

He uncrossed his arms and gave her another skeptical look. "When you say you're going, you mean for a good long while--?"

"I don't know HOW long it'll be," Charmian insisted. "But I'm only doing it to help this Island in the first place. You've met me before! Have I EVER done anything to hurt this Island--?"

White Coyote stared at her for a moment or two, eyes narrowed, then turned away. "I'll stall him," he said, his voice unpleasant, "but if you keep setting foot in this camp, the welcome you already don't have will be worn even THINNER!"

Charmian let out her breath as he walked toward Black Elk Horn, and realized that she'd been digging her fingernails into her palm; she loosened her fist. "That was thoughtful," she murmured, still not quite sure what had just happened; White Coyote had acted like no fan of hers the first time she'd met him.

She felt Stick-In-The-Dirt touch her arm again. "White Coyote...is much like Black Elk Horn," he said. "They both have the heads of moose...but White Coyote shows sense once in a while. I do not think he dislikes you. It's just that..." He fiddled with one of his necklaces and bit his lip. "Well...trouble does seem to show up, whenever you arrive."

"You've got that backwards!" Charmian protested, but didn't fight when Thomas took her arm and steered her back toward the woods.

"Just be thankful for the reprieve," he murmured in her ear. "I think you needed it!"

Charmian halted in her tracks, her heels digging into the ground. "But I was hoping to speak with Silver Eagle Feather and ask if maybe she wanted to come along."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You'd have to walk right into the lion's den! You'd like risking that--?"

"She could probably help a lot," Charmian protested.

Thomas let go of her arm. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go fetch her myself, all right?"

Charmian started to turn around, just as Stick-In-The-Dirt hopped in front of Thomas. "You're not welcome here, either!" he insisted. "I'll go ask, all right? If you two would just get going already..."

Mani whistled and Kwemoo and Maang started chattering amongst themselves. "Fine," Charmian grumbled, then gasped when somebody grasped her arm again and pulled her back. Thomas whirled around and Charmian did the same, digging her feet into the ground again. She blinked when she saw that it was the British soldier--Barrington?--who held her now, and he tugged her insistently toward the woods, glancing nervously at the manitou and demon and GeeBees still standing near the trail.

"What the heck--?" she managed to get out. "What are you doing?"

"I need to speak with you," Barrington said.

She pulled her arm free. "Well, go ahead then! It's not like I'm stopping you!"

He scowled. "Not here! In private!"

"What's such a secret that we can't talk about it here?" Charmian argued, quickly growing annoyed. "If you have something to say, then you can say it in front of--"

Now Thomas grasped her other wrist and she made a face. "WHAT the hell is it--?" she practically yelled, then saw the look on his face; he and Stick-In-The-Dirt nodded toward the other side of the camp, and she saw White Coyote walking back toward them, shaking his head as he did so; Black Elk Horn stood at the far end of the clearing, and he had by now spotted the altercation, stormclouds forming over his head. She bit her lip and pulled her arm free again, glancing at Barrington.

"You came at a really bad time," she said.

"As if there's a good time?" Barrington snapped. "What I have to say has to be said in private!"

Charmian took a step back from him. "I'm hardly going off alone with YOU if this is how you treat people! Cripes, nearly taking my arm off--!"

"You should be going," White Coyote said from right behind her, and she jumped with a yell of surprise; Barrington did the same, yanking on the strap over his shoulder and bringing down the gun that he'd been carrying; her eyes grew on seeing it. Where had he gotten that--? She whirled around to look at White Coyote and the expression on his face had grown unpleasant again.

"How long is this going to take?" he said.

"We're going!" Charmian said; Black Elk Horn was walking their way. She gnawed her lip furiously, then leaned toward White Coyote. "You'll tell Silver Eagle Feather we were here and would like to talk to her before we leave, okay--?"

White Coyote frowned and opened his mouth, just as Black Elk Horn lifted his head and shouted.

"You!"

Charmian felt all of the breath leave her lungs in a whoosh--Barrington had grabbed her arm again and pulled her toward the woods. Thomas, White Coyote, and the others turned to look back at her, surprised by the sudden motion; her foot went out from under her and she nearly toppled over, White Coyote reaching out to grab for her so she wouldn't fall.

Something exploded next to Charmian's ear.

The first thing she noticed was that everything went white, then went immediately back to normal.

The second thing she noticed was that all noise--the birdsong, the chatter, everything--seemed to vanish in that moment.

The third thing was the acrid smell that filled the air a split second later.

The fourth thing was the wide eyes of everyone around her, White Coyote's the widest of all.

And the fifth thing she noticed was the gaping red hole in his chest.

Continue:

Part 24: Underground Plots  (13+) Charmian and the others make desperate plans to escape the Island for the Fairy Realm... #1208683 by Tehuti, Lord Of The Eight

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