Every Little Memory

Entry #38: Jazzberry Jam

I find it interesting how when I enter this memory, I enter directly inside the thief’s hideout. It is as if fate itself does not wish me to know the location of the entrance. I can tell it is underground, as the room is cavernous and rocky. There are candles everywhere, lighting up every nook and cranny. Several weapon racks line the walls next to training dummies with arrows protruding from their chests. Tables are pushed to the sides of the room with chairs stacked on top of them. I assume it is to make room for the large amount of bodies lying on the ground.

Not corpses; they’re still alive. I see the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they take in heavy breaths. Each and every one of them is covered in several hide blankets with damp cloths resting on their foreheads. A fit of violent coughing erupts from one of them. It sounds as though he has a terrible case of the flu. There is disease in this place. This entire hideout has been transformed into an infirmary.

Footsteps echo in the distance and before long a man enters with Jazz at his heels. Dark hair falls into his face, over his gleaming chestnut eyes. He is clad in black light armor, as though he just returned from doing a lot of sneaking around. Both he and Jazz are roaring in laughter, to the point where the young girl is almost crying. The man tries to quiet her down but fails miserably as another chuckle escapes him.

“Did you see their faces?” Jazz half whispers as they make their way through the room, stepping around bodies. A few aggravated moans are sent their way as they disturb a few that were sleeping.

“’Course I did! I think they might ‘o wet themselves!” he responds. He nearly trips over one of his allies, immediately apologizing after and fixing his blanket.

“What are you two doing?” Someone interrupts. I turn my head to the side to see James standing in the hallway, arms crossed and looking a bit angry. There is something a bit…off about him. His eyes are tinged red and have shadows beneath them; a sign that he hasn’t been sleeping well. He hasn’t shaven yet and his hair is in disarray. The handsome, smooth-talking thief from earlier is gone, replaced by a disgruntled and tired man.

“Boss! We just watched ‘em take away Byrd’s body!” the man replies with an eager smile.

“They’re pretty angry, they are!” Jazz add while jumping into place beside her companion.

“I am aware,” James growls. “Jazz, why are you not doing what I told you to? Why did you go with Flynn?” Whatever trouble she has gotten herself in seems to irritate him even more. He must favor organization for things to run smoothly.

Upon being scolded, the girl seems pout. “Aww, I wanted to see what they’d do! The looks on their faces were priceless!”

“I’m sure it was, but you put that over the well being of your brothers and sisters?” With his hands, he gestures at the multitude of ill thieves lying on the ground. “Jazz, they need that medicine. Now!”

“Fine, fine. But I need more of that goldenrod to make enough for everyone,” she talks back. With a sigh, James reaches into his pocket and pulls out a fresh bundle of the herbs. Jazz reaches out her hand to receive the goldenrod, which is slapped into her palm. “Go. I want that stuff distributed in an hour.”

She nods and trots off down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows. James takes one more look at his sickly comrades and rubs his forehead in frustration. Though they are thieves and murderers, I feel a strange pang of sympathy for them. Knowing your brothers in arms are suffering is stressful, especially when there is little you can do about it. I find myself hoping they recover from whatever disease plagues them.

If I remember correctly, James bought goldenrod in the first place because his allies were ill. Didn’t he mention something about Byrd being the cause? That this was some sort of disease inducing poison that brought this upon his gang? I suppose James killing the man was his form of revenge. His current situation seems to be taking a toll on him.

“You alright, boss?” Flynn asks, sounding genuinely concerned. His leader shakes his head and turns to stare at the diseased.

“This is just the start. The beast cannot function without its head, but it will grow back, even stronger than before.” His voice is very grim, as though he is predicting some sort of devastating future. I can’t blame him, with the state of his gang. A storm is brewing here in Tayri; I can feel it.

“Yeah, but…you knew that, didn’t you? You planned for this.”

“I did. What I didn’t plan is that I would be exacting revenge when I killed that man. We can’t wait for them to get better. We must strike before they replace him, while they are still in disorder.”

“Whaddya have in mind?”

“They’ve stepped up the guard in the square, yes? We’ll get Jazz to make a distraction, get the whole guard on the scene. We’ll attack with the men we’ve got.”

“A street war? You sure, boss? We could be outnumbered.”

“But we’ll have the element of surprise on our side. Not to mention it will be when the sun is setting, so we have the shadows with us. We still have a good twenty guys. So long as we’re careful and nimble, we’ll win.”

A sinking feeling works its way into my stomach. The last time a gang initiated a street war was several years before I was born. It was said the guard managed to quell the threat and it taught all thieves a lesson. Ever since, Tayri has never had organized crime and the number of thefts have decreased. This may not be the one I know, but I have a hunch that James’s success will be slim. He must have planned this when he had enough people to ensure victory. Byrd must have caught on and did something about it.

“If you say boss. When’d wanna go through with this?”

“Give it two days. See who heals fastest and get them out there with us. Round up all the men you can. Get them to prepare their weapons. Two days, Flynn. Let them know.”

Just then, Jazz dashes into the room with a bowl in her hands. That was fast; this medicine must be easy to make. Some jelly-like substance is inside, sloshing back and forth as she runs with it. “It’s done! One helping of Jazzberry paste, ready to serve!” she shouts, holding it out for James to see. It smells rather fruity but doesn’t look very appetizing. I feel bad for the ones who have to stomach it.

“Get to it, then,” He orders, pointing at their fallen allies. The girl runs to the nearest one, kneels down beside him, and scoops some of it into his mouth. She raises his head up to help him swallow. When he does, a grimace forms on his face and he nearly gags. Jazz pats him on the shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry. Tastes bad now but you’ll feel better later!”

“Hurry up with that, Jazz. We have some preparations to make,” James calls out to her.

“Yes, sir!” she replies while mock saluting him. She forgets that the scoop for the medicine is still in her hand and some of the substance gets on her face. She seems to pay it no mind as she continues to administer the paste to more of the sick.

James rolls his eyes before turning to Flynn. “Two days.” His subordinate nods in compliance and steps out into the dark hallway. It doesn’t take long before I hear the clatter of weapons being handled. The outlook is grim for these thieves. With their numbers halved, could they stand a chance? The storm is about to come, with all of nature’s unbridled fury.

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A/N: Haha, look at me being punny again. James is in a "jam" with half his gang being sick, putting him at a disadvantage. Haha, get it? No? *shot*

Also, Jazz's name and the similar sound to this theme is pure coincidence. So, I thought it would be cute if she named her special medicine 'jazzberry', maybe after herself, maybe not. That's for you to interpret! I intended for her real name to be Jasmine ----> Jazz.

Oh, and apparently there is no such thing as a 'jazzberry'. How do they come up with these things? O.o