1st 5 Pages October Workshop - Cruz Rev 2

Name: Erik Cruz

Genre: Young Adult Historical

Title: Bloody Trails

Pitch:

Trekking deep into the untamed jungles of Africa’s Gold Coast, fifteen-year-old Gaspar de Faro has two goals: collect riches for the Portuguese Crown…and steal enough of them to buy his own ship. After all, he deserves it since he’s the one risking his life against dangerous beasts and unfriendly natives. And as the peasant child of a Muslim and a Jew newly converted to Christianity, he can’t expect anyone else to help him.

But when the stakes rise, the self-taught dreamer may have to be more than just a thief to follow through on his plans. Though Gaspar always wanted to explore, he never thought he’d have to become a soldier in the War of Castilian Succession—or a murderer to hide his own crimes. He faces a choice between giving up the last piece of his soul to reach his dreams and returning home to work his family farm. He’s sacrificed enough already, so he must push forward, even if it means leaving a bloody trail wherever he goes.

Chapter 1

5 Outubro 1474

Trekking through a jungle of towering ebony and mahogany trees, I spot a black snake and creep towards it, slowly withdrawing my colhona from its wooden scabbard.

“Gaspar, what are you doing?” Simão Rodrigues yells.

Within seconds, the snake, several feet in front of me, uncoils, showing me the yellow markings on its underside and spits in my direction. Instinctively, I raise my arm to cover my head, shielding myself from the venom. My fellow explorer tugs my shoulder and drags me away.

“What’s wrong with you, boy? That spitting cobra could have poisoned you.”

“Anything in this jungle could kill me.” I rub my itchy hand and notice that most of the venom landed on my green doublet sleeve. As much as I want to kill that snake, I know that Simão won’t allow me, so all I could do is dejectedly stash my sword in the sheath at my hip.

“I promise you, keep being reckless and it’ll happen.”

When I left the peaceful Açores ten months ago, my family, friends and neighbors warned me these jungles would bring me closer to Saint Peter. They heard the Gold Coast holds deadly beasts and diseases, poisonous man-eating plants and spear-wielding natives. Every time, I smiled and responded, “But there’s gold waiting for me. Don’t worry. I have my gun and sword for protection.”

Still in one piece, I march toward the nearby sparkling waterfall. How badly I want to go under it, close my eyes and feel the soothing water rush over my filthy brown hair. But I can’t, because I need to stay vigilant. There’s always the chance that a crocodile or hippo is lurking around. My swollen legs carry me forward until I spot numerous pink round-petalled flowers containing melegueta pepper, the spice that fuels Fernão Gomes’s African Gold Coast trade. I stop briefly and snatch five of the bright red pods, stashing them in my bag along with some gold and red hog ivory tusks.

We continue our trek past the thick evergreen canarium trees, ripe with brown and purple fruits reminiscent of grapes—though slightly bigger. It takes a lot of restraint on my part not to reach for one. But Simão has swatted them from my hands several times already. He thinks they’re poisonous and wasn’t too pleased when I told him that trying them was the only way to find out. Considering I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve upset him throughout the months, I decide against it. And I did promise my mãe, my little brother and Sofia that I’d be careful and return safely, so it’s best to rein in my trouble-seeking tendencies from time to time.

I kneel over the water's edge, splash some of that clear water on my face and refill my canteen. Before rising from the ground, I inspect my matchlock’s slow match and discover it’s been extinguished yet again. Slinging the strap over my shoulder, I know I can only rely on my colhona. I’m not even sure why I carry that gun around. It’s as long as my sword, weighs even more and it’s not nearly as reliable.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” I ask, rejoining Simão.

“What do you think?” He glares at me and notices my smile. “Stop enjoying this.” Even after five months of exploring with him, I’m not used to that fatherly tone of his. Pai died eight years ago, so my ears barely remember it. I suppose Simão can’t help it. I’m fifteen, the same age as his daughter back in Lisboa.

I stare into the sea of cedar trees and chuckle. “I can stop smiling, but I can’t stop relishing this moment. We’re standing in lush jungles hearing the parrots’ caws and the buffaloes’ bellows. I’ve always wanted to explore. I’m here, so I may as well enjoy these sights and sounds.”

“Who cares about the dumb animals? We’re carrying tainted treasures. We have to get back to camp soon. We’ll be in trouble with the captain if Fernão asks him questions.”

“It’ll be fine. We’re only siphoning a little of the haul for ourselves. Fernão should be happy someone searches the jungles for gold.”

He shudders. “What if he finds out we’re keeping a tenth of it?”

“They probably wouldn’t flog us. They might toss us overboard, though.” Why is he so nervous? I’m the child of New Christians. My head would be the first to roll, probably sparing his in the process. “Stop worrying. Fernão doesn’t know us, and Captain Pêro de Sintra probably thinks too little of us. Never would he imagine that we’d keep even a single gold pebble.”

Simão snorts and marches up to me. He snatches my canteen and takes a swig from it. “You’re crazy. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. After years of honorably sailing for King Afonso V, I’m stealing from him.”

“Don’t think of it as stealing. Instead see it as a small fee for the dangerous work we do for the Português Crown.”

He fights it, but can’t help but smile. “Gaspar, how do you always answer so fast?”

“Well, I’m used to everyone disagreeing with me, so I’ve learned to answer criticism. It comes naturally now.” I chuckle. Seeing as how Simão is in a good mood, I know it’s the best time to ask about trekking further. “Should we go deeper along the river basin?”

“No. Stop being crazy. We barely have enough food to last the trip back. I know we didn’t get as much treasure this time, but that doesn’t mean we act stupid.”

Ah, another tongue-lashing from the experienced sailor. I should probably listen more carefully to him. It has been four days since we left our ship in Cape Coast. Our supplies rarely last more than a week. As much as I hate to admit it, his voice of reason is correct. “Fine. How far do you think we are from camp?” 

“Close to fourteen leagues.” He looks up at the cloudless sky, as if seeking heavenly guidance.

“We can do that in two days. What’s the plan?”

“We backtrack and hope to God we find our old path. We need to stay close to the beaches and the Fante tribe.”

I look around my surroundings and it angers me that I have no clue where the way back lies. Sometimes it frustrates me how little Captain de Sintra helps or cares about our well-being. We shouldn’t be out here without navigational tools. If we stray too far into the jungles, we run the risk of stumbling upon unfriendly tribes. I prefer seeing danger and then facing it, rather than it finding me by chance.

“If only we had a dry compass. It would make it easier to map out these parts. Simão, you do know why they don’t give us one, right?”

“It’s damn expensive.”

 “Yes. They’re considered valuable…unlike us lowly explorers. We’re immediately replaced and forgotten the moment we die, just as I replaced that page ten months ago, after he died of dysentery. That poor, faceless sailor-in-training never had the opportunity to be promoted.”

Not even Simão’s thick beard can hide his cheeks turning red. “Shut up, boy. I’m trying to get us back to Cape Coast. Shut your mouth or—” he clenches his teeth, clutches his wooden crucifix and continues his rant “—I swear on His cross, keep chirping and I’ll leave you behind in the jungle.”