"They've returned."
Sergeant Jones stood in the doorway of The cabin, his warm breath turning to mist in the cold December air. General Bradbury stood up from his position at the desk, and strode over, pushed past Sergeant Jones, boots crunching in the few inches of snow that still continued to fall, a stark white against the starless sky.The General turned. "Where are they?"
"North gate.", the sergeant replied.
With a grunt, General Bradbury whirled around and crunched out into the biting night air. By the time he reached the north gate, his dark beard, just beginning to turn grey, was now filled with the white falling snow.
As the General walked, his mind turned to the past few weeks. The excitement of seeing land and getting off that miserable boat. The bright spring and warm summer as the colony set up its homes and buildings. The crisp autumn, in which the colony prepared for the winter. The bright lights and smoke to the east, and the men who could not help but explore. They came back with reports of strange men, mostly naked and painted crimson, dancing around a chest, chanting and swaying and singing and all sorts of vile things. The scouts left before the ritual was over, but what they saw was enough. This happened only a week before today. Their curiosity got the better of them, and they went back, against the General’s orders. He had found out a few hours ago, and had been furiously awaiting their arrival.
The men were standing at the gate, their faces red from the cold, and their breath short. The leader of the band, Stephen Hawthorne, stepped forward, excitement and fear showing in his eyes. The General looked between the Stephen and the rest of the companies eyes, their faces all the same mask of fright mingled with exhilaration.
"What have you done?" The General asked, trying to keep his fury from surfacing.
"Sir, I" Stephen stopped short, having no excuse. He himself had not thought this through at all. He had noticed the men's interest in the box the day before, during the colonies meeting. He had been lying awake the night before, when he suddenly felt the unexplainable urge to go find the box, and open it. He had thrown on his britches and his thin winter coat, and had quickly gathered a posse. The General, who's word was law in this town, had made it very clear that any unauthorized movements towards the capture, or any other action to do with the box, was an act of treason.
Everyone in the colony knew the punishment for treason.
A few weeks ago, 3 days before the first snow, Joseph Barkley, one of the only unmarried men in the colony, had been caught stealing from the colony’s food supply to trade with the natives that sometimes were caught near the settlement. A public meeting was called, followed immediate by a trial, and then an execution.
The General stared back at Stephen, and wondered why such a good man, with no record of any crimes, in the colony or before, would suddenly commit such a terrible deed. Stephen had a beautiful wife and 3 young daughters, all of whom he loved dearly. Why would he leave them, knowing full well that what he was about to do would result in his death? Stephen was not a harsh man, in fact, he was rather logical in character, and had never let his emotions gain control of him. The General decided to stop trying to puzzle out the answer himself, and just ask the man.
"Stephen, why did you do this? You know the punishment for treason."
"Yes sir, I know. I don't know what came over me. I was lying in my bed, on the brink of sleep, when I saw the box in my mind. I saw it, and it was calling to me. I didn't, and still don’t know why, but I had to find that box. I had to know what was inside it. At any cost"
General Bradbury had no idea what was in the box, but he had no plans to open it. The painted natives were a bad omen, and the General did not like the way Stephen had acted out of character. There was something dark about this box. The General walked through the throng of men, and they parted around him. The General reached the box, laying his eyes upon it for the first time.
The box was bigger than a normal chest, coming up halfway to the Generals thighs. The chest was as black as midnight, the wood it had been carved from was jagged, and looked diseased and ancient. It had many stones set into it, some red, some black, and many silver pebbles. The stones were set in a complex order, and the Generals sharp mind strained against it. He could tell there was a pattern to them, something his brain recognized automatically, but he could not consciously see the pattern. It seemed to dance around his mind like a butterfly in the wind, resisting his every attempt to pin it down. The box had some form of writing set into it, but it looked nothing like the harsh scribbles of the natives, rather, it was curvy and fluid, but at the same time sharp and precise, and written in extreme detail.
Something about the box took its toll on The General's mind, and he felt the sharp pain of a headache behind his eyes. He walked straight to the box, and reached down to lift it. The box was ridiculously heavy, even for its size, and The General could hardly lift it. The General was, by far, the strongest man in the colony, and he realized that the men had probably needed four or five of them to carry it. The box felt uncomfortably warm at some places, and chilling at others.
General Bradbury did not like how the box made him feel.
He turned slowly, and walked back to his office, the door hanging open, as he had neglected to close it. His head and muscles aching, He set the box down on the floor in front of the small, barred holding cell, and took the keys to the cell out of his pocket. Unlocking the door, he then pushed the chest into the cell, until it was in the center of the small space. He turned, and closed the door to the cell, slipping the only key back into his pocket.
He turned, and walked back out into the snow, this time remembering to close and lock the door behind him. He looked up into the snowy sky, and wondered what would happen next.
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