The Bone Dancers (Epilogue)

The Passing
Not a man among us wanted to stay, and so setting about the day to bury our own and make venture elsewhere, we set the outpost to fire, sending our dead to a viking's funeral, turning then to the trail that led us three days venture to Fort Ticonderoga. We vowed among our host never to speak truth of what had befallen us, Danny Coultry instead telling the watch that we had been beset by savages, the outpost burnt clear to ground. That would be the last I ever saw of him for years hence, he having left the morning next on passage to other places. But if ever there was a man in equal parts valor and strength, in all my time on this mysterious globe, I never met him.

I myself settled upon a spot of land in Virginia, in the Appalachian Mountains some two hours from its main cities. With what money I had I bought home and hearth, for almost a month still too frightful to venture deep into its wooded glades. The wound at my side took nearly two months to knit right, and I feared it infected before it cleared and closed in a gristled scar.

I finally grew accustomed to my new environs, taking a plaintive march out finally to hunt and skin. It was the only trade that I knew. And to stay holed up in my home did my mind and spirit no good. I did good trade for some time, before the world saw fit that I should seek education in other trades. For the land about was turning, this world's myths and legends slowly being swept away by the march of science and industry. The old world, and all its cloudy frontiers, were being replaced by "civilized progress."

I tried my hand at other skills then, first at woodcraft of furniture and sculpture, then to leatherwork where I did much better. But even then the world turned, and I was being passed for faster and cheaper things, soulless machines and assembly lines of "civilized progress", these inanimates that could do four times in an hour what I could do in a week.

My once proud and youthful body had given to old age, an age that seemed to see no end. For I had seen upon the world a Great War of nations, one that said would be the last. But years later would arise an evil to match and dispel that previous notion.

And throughout it all, still I saw the world turn.

It was during the first World War, I think, that I came to the city to replenish my larders, having gotten used to these new contraptions known as cars. It was there by chance I happened to turn a gaze across the road, there seeing a man with a white sheen of shoulder length hair, his beard as white as his head. That massive framed man now stood portly and drawn, deep wrinkles set in his bronze skinned face. It was Danny Coultry, the outpost's smith. He was surrounded by a gaggle of gibbering children, at his side a man that bore stark and near resemblance to him. That it was his full blood son I had no doubt. Danny set about in cheerful merriment as his grandchildren begged him for coin to spend at the store for candy. He happened to glance up then, our eyes locked for a moment, before turning his attentions back to his family. If he saw and recognized me, I did not know at the time. I simply packed my car and made away to home.

It was an hour after that event that a guest made himself known to my home. There stood Danny at my door, having indeed seen me and inquiring to fellows in town my residence. I bade him enter and we shook and embraced, sharing a strong drink as we touched upon the time lost between us. Danny had done well for himself, having moved to the shipyards to work on the new ironclads for the naval fleets they were building in the harbors of Newport News. He had married years prior to a comely lass from Tennessee, having sired six children from her before time and age took her a year before our meeting.

Our merriment was short lived, however, as that baleful specter from our past came back to cast its gloom upon our hearts. After sipping upon his brew, he looked at me and asked, "Do you ever think back to that day, Johnny boy?" I bowed my head and stayed silent, the grim look upon my face all the answer that Danny needed. "Me too," he said. "I think of that time just about every night 'ere I fall to rest. Some nights, so vivid are my thoughts on the matter that old wounds seem to fester and itch something terrible. Its like I'm still there, fighting a thing that shouldn't be, and should never be forgotten. And yet should never to be spoken of, lest they rise again from their sleep. I wonder though at times, even with their leader broken by your blade, if they will ever again rise to claim another unsuspecting troop."

That was all he said on the matter, I think he carried it with him since that time to unload that final thought on me. After an hour of communion, we parted one last time. I heard word that not even a month had passed after, that his children had found him in bed, his proud and noble heart having finally stopped beating in the dead of night to finally give this valorous man a peace befitting his legacy.

Of myself, I never married, knowing no woman to give myself to for very long. So in the end, as I look upon this event, I suppose that the Bone Men had indeed, in such a long and stretched line of time, at last claimed every drop of my blood, there to end my name upon my eternal rest. In his grace, oddly, God saw fit to give me a long and healthy life as recompense.

For I am of an age now one hundred and four seasons past, watching the world turn from a fearful place of myth and legend, into an land of quickening iron and steel industry. I never thought myself of such stout stock to see such things, but here I am, gentle reader, to give you an account of my life. But I know that I am not long for this world, and for that, I am finally grateful. Though I may not seem thus grateful for my life, I am. It has been a long one, having been a witness to mysteries the likes of which not even its most learned man could ever hope to explain away. And I'd like to think that this world is a place still resplendent with such tales and myths. You simply need to walk into those unknown places still left to find them. If you dare.

And so, as I lay myself to rest one final time, gentle reader, believe of my tale what you will. For I go now to hunt in that great unknown, there to live upon the wild spirit of the Adirondacks, that place of my spent and wondrous youth, 'ere my soul beckons me go.

And should you one day happen to travel there yourself, gentle reader, you've only to walk upon those craggy peaks and along its chilly brooks, towards the snowy shores 'round at the eyes of of Lake Tear of the Clouds. There, you shall find me.

And there I shall tell you my tale once more.


"There ain't no grave can hold my body down
There ain't no grave can hold my body down
when I hear that trumpet sound,
I'm gonna rise right out of the ground
ain't no grave can hold my body down" - Johnny Cash