Folded Balance – Carlissa Nargassans
The Coin
Angie Martilla
Connell walked up to the cave, fog surrounding the entrance as if warning him to stay back, but he had traveled too far to turn back.
He hastily reached into his cloak while he tightened his grip on the torch in his hand. Out of his pocket, he pulled out a leather-bound journal. From the brown and dirty cover, that had more than enough rips and tears to show its years, to the small, carved initials of C.M. being barely legible in the bottom, the journal looked as if it was something to find at the bottom of a cart of junk alongside scrap metal and rotten food. But to Connell’s father, everything he held dear was in that journal.
And to Connell, everything he held dear were in the very same pages.
He opened the journal, scanning the pages of scrabbled notes and messy pictures hoping to find the very same cave that his father found all those years ago, and hopefully the same cave that stood before him now. But as he turned through the pages, he paused at one. A single page that was not filled with scribbles or sketches but instead three simple photos. One was of his mother, who had her best blue dress on, with the lace and ribbons tied neatly. The one below hers was of his brother, who refused to wear a hat even at mother’s insistence, and Connell s`tanding side by side. They were about eight in that picture, maybe Connell a year younger, even if it didn’t look like it because Connell had stood on his tiptoes to seem taller. He remembered being quite excited to be able to have his picture taken, remembering how his father had saved up coin after coin from working each night in the hot and musty forge just so his family could get a photo. It was a bittersweet memory for the family. The moment after the photos were shot, he heard of a tale of gold, jewels, treasure, and everything fine in life from a traveler in a bar. He vowed to find that treasure and bring fame to the Midian name, even if he had to die for it.
Father always did keep his word.
About a year later, a trader came to town, and handed the same journal to his mother’s shaking hands as she tried to hold back her tears. She tried to hide the novel, but Connell had found it. Just like he was about to find the treasure his father so desperately searched for.
But it was not those photos that made him pause, but the ones at the bottom. It was no formal picture. No one had dressed nice; in fact, they still had muck and dirt on their faces and clothes. They just were lucky enough to find a nice gentleman to snap a photo of them for as little as a penny. It was a photo of his lifelong friends, Berwin and Eddy, young as 11, grinning from ear-to-ear.
Connell’s hand tightened around the spine of the book. Only a few hours ago, they were on this journey with him, crossing a rushing river. But Berwin in his stupidity, slipped and fell into the water. They had managed to get him out, but the fall had twisted his ankle and left a deep gash in his arm.
Eddy wanted to go back. He wanted to return to their town, he said Berwin could not walk the rest, and the gash on his arm could get infected. What foolishness! They were only ten miles of woods away, and those fools were acting like it was a hundred. He told him that Berwin’s gash needed to be treated, that they needed to return to the nearby town down the cliff before his wound got infected.
But Eddy had insisted, but Connell was just as hard-headed as he. So, they left. They crossed the river and went out of his sight. He reckoned by now that they were probably at the Auxilium Town, gathering supplies before making the rest of the way.
Connell began flipping the pages again, thinking of the jealousy they would feel when he returned home with more treasure than his weight, and more jewels than three carts could carry. He imagined the envy they would feel when all the world knew of Connell and his father, of the fame they would gain, and the luxuries they would receive. It filled him with a sort of excitement and pride, as bad as that sounded.
Then he found the page, a sketch of the cave, messy but clear to him. Connell looked up at the structure before him and back at the sketch. All the details were there. The five rocks hanging on the roof of the mouth being shown with disproportionate triangles, the moss that was on the bottom boulders being shown with hurried dots, it was the same.
Inside was jewels, inside was gold, inside was his fame.
So, he took a step forward and held his torch and head up high.
He soon came to a room in the cave. Fog shrouded the back wall making it impossible to see. The cold nipped at his skin, raised the hair on his arms, and his teeth chattered slightly. He looked forward and pointed his torch to see more. In front of him, he found two basins both filled with water. The one on the left was made of gold and shimmering rubies adorning the sides. The one on the right was made of wood, a far more humble bowl. In the center, was pedestal where a wooden chest sat upon it
He smiled at the sight of the chest. His eyes gleaming with greed and victory as he hurriedly opened it, letting the torch fall to the ground in haste. He ripped the box open, and his smile fell as he saw what lay within.
One singular gold coin.
He snatched the coin and stared at it. With each passing second, his grip tightened to the point that his fingers turned red. This was it? A small, meager, insignificant coin?
He readied himself to throw it but paused when a small light emanated from the test before shooting up and exploding into the form of a woman. She was tall with a gentle face and eyes despite being a spirit. Fabric from her white gown fell down her feet like drapes and a simple, humble crown made of leaves sat adorned upon her hair. The light shining from her brightened the whole room but the fog behind her and the basins.
Connell picked up his club and held it high, ready to swing like a bat. “If you want the treasure-“
She shook her head and spoke, her voice soft yet soothing. “Nothing here will harm you. Only your choices.”
Connell refused to lower the bat but listened as she spoke.
She moved her hand to her left indicating the golden basin. “Place the coin here, and you will receive the treasure you seek. You will find all you wish and have all you wish. Place the coin here and your name will become legend among others. Poets will write tales of you, men in battle will sing songs of you, and even kings will know of your name. Place the coin here, and you will join them.”
She pointed to the fog beyond her. Connell listened closely, squinting to see what was behind the mist.
He heard sounds of jovial laughter, of cheery music, and the clinking of gold coins falling. He smelled roasted turkey, mutton chops, and the sweet allure of pastries. He saw faint figures at a table, laughing buoyantly, and he saw the shimmer of gold.
He took a step to the basin but was stopped by the spirit. She held her hand out to the right of her.
“Place the coin here and you will return home safely. With no harm to you and all things healed. Here, you will not have a name of legend come with ease, but here you will have a worthwhile life to live.”
He looked at the humble basin and heard a crackling fire, his mother’s voice, and the laughter of Eddy and Berwin6. He could even faintly smell meat stew, his favorite meal.
He looked up at the spirit woman, hoping for perhaps a piece of advice or any more things to say, but she stared at him silently. From the corner of his eyes, into the fog he saw a face. A face with the same eyes he saw when looking into the mirror, a face that was the same as the photo sat upon the mantel about the fireplace at home, and was looked at with grief.
He did not say a word, nor did he step closer. He merely did a gesture, a small movement of his head before disappearing back into the fog, into the noises of cheering and clinking of coins. Connell looked at the coin in his hand and ran his thumb over the carvings on it.
With a flick of his thumb, Connell flipped the coin into the air, and it landed into the basin with a soft plop.