Trey Roberts and the Ancestor's Wish

by Lee Magnus

  “Name’s Porter.”

  “Trey. Thanks for the ride.”

  “No prob’lm, Trey. It bees my pleasure.”

  He sat between cartons of blue fruit similar in size and texture to oranges. Casually scanning the wagon his eyes met those of another crouched in the shadow under the eave supporting Porter’s seat. Sharp teeth and a piercing stare forced Trey to quickly look away.

  “Easy, Cedric,” Porter said without looking back.

  Porter prodded the horses into a trot. The cart bounced and jarred smashing Trey’s head into the side more than once. Every so often, Trey’s eyes would venture toward Cedric’s direction noticing the menacing eyes always staring back.

  “What’s the deal with your dog?”

  “Wha’d ya mean?”

  “It won’t stop looking at me.”

  “Cedric’s a Wollybrougher. Most of’m are wild, untrainable and viciously fierce. Musta been ten yearn’ago when I found’m mos’ly dead in’a bush. Ya see, I stopped t’ pee when I seen’m. Had I not already been peein, I surely would’ve. Looked like ee’d been trampled. People round here been killin’m off for years. Ev’n his poor condition ee nearly tore m’arm off when I tried to help’m. Took eem home and healed eem up, I did. Ee’s been ridin wit me ever since. Ee’s saved m’load more’n once. Ee don’ trust no’n else.”

  Trey glanced at Cedric again before looking out the back of the cart. Warm wind ruffled his hair as they bounced along the road. He drifted off a moment thinking of an auburn-haired girl before being startled back to reality by a wild scream.

  “Bandits!” yelled Porter as he whipped the horses into action.

  Trey looked over the side of the accelerating wagon at six men gaining on horseback. Cedric growled fiercely but didn’t move from under the eave. The riders gained and were nearly on top of them. Trey could see they brandished some sort of hand-held firearm.

  “Get ’em Cedric!” Porter yelled.

  Cedric jumped to his feet standing as tall as an adult brown bear and roar to match. Bulging muscular legs propelled the thick furred, shark-toothed, dog-like beast past Trey, then out the back of the wagon.

  “It’s a wollybrougher!” one screamed. The pursuer’s scattered without attempting to use their weapons. Cedric touched the ground from his leap out of the wagon, then instantly launched himself into one of the fleeing men, crushing his chest with massive jaws before his victim could release a sound. He slammed the lifeless body down upon landing, then dashed after another. He bulldozed over the rider’s horse flinging the screaming man into the air. Cedric caught the man by a leg. Bone protruded from the man’s skin as Cedric slung him into a roadside field. Cedric leaped onto the crippled bandit, ending his days in a flurry of claws and teeth. The man’s horse regained its feet and raced away. Cedric targeted another, then disappeared into a nearby wooded area. Porter never turned around.

  Trey couldn’t believe the horrifying scene and became sick to his stomach. Holding back vomit he concentrated on breathing. Breathe in breath out. Breathe in breath out.

  “Oh my god, he just killed those men. He killed them.” Trey was on the verge of hysteria. He heard a growl then a scream in the trees knowing another met his demise. It was like a scene from a horror movie except this was no movie. He heard the screams of the men as well as the dull sound of crushing bones. He closed his eyes wishing away the images but to no avail; they were all too clear – all too real.

  He regained his composure, then asked shakily, “Aren’t you worried about Cedric?”

  “Na. Ee can handle m’self.”

  “Will you get in trouble for hurting those men?”

  “Na. Bandits are despised roun here. I prob’ly be thank’d.”

  “Why are they after this fruit anyway? It doesn’t look very valuable.”

  “Th’ain’t after the rodobingers. They after th’a gold in this ere box,” he said tapping his foot on a large unassuming wooden box.

  “Gold? Really?”

  “Yeah. Word got out I ride wit a wollybrougher, then before I know’d it I’sa haulin gold for th’a bank.”

  “That’s pretty cool. I had no idea.”

  “No, ya would’t. But thos’n bandits did.”

  “Good thing you have Cedric.”

  “Yes sir’e. He’s good at what ee does.”

  “Clearly,” Trey said to himself.

  Trey closed his eyes with his head on crossed arms over his knees trying to forget about what just happened. He dosed off after a while.

  “Trey. Trey. Wake up boy,” Trey could hear Porter saying softly from a distance.

  Trey picked his head up, then opened his eyes to find Cedric standing over him nearly six inches from his face. His dark eyes peered into Trey’s. Hot breath puffed down his chest. Immobilizing fear over-came him.

  “Na take it easy, Trey. Don’ ya move a muscle,” Porter said cautiously as the cart slowly rambled on.

  “Uhh, Mr. Porter, I’m not comfortable with this. Can you do something, please?” Trey said with a shaky voice.

  “Ee don’ seem to be agitated so let’s just see what he wants wit ya.”

  “What he wants with me? He wants to eat me!”

  “Naw. Ee’da done that by now.”

  Trey wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t disconnect from the beast’s gaze. He felt as if the creature was inside pulling at his soul.

  A twinkle sparked in Cedric’s eyes. The hound raised its head, then let out a wild howl. Trey recoiled defensively. Cedric moved in closer as he brought his eyes back to Trey’s. Trey shrieked when it wrapped its long tongue around his neck. It pulled the massive appendage back leaving a think sticky film. Cedric held Trey’s frightened gaze for another minute before turning to settle back under the eave.

  “Well woooohoooo! Look’a that!”

  Trey slumped back against the wagon letting out a huge sigh of relief, then said, “What - was - that! I thought I was dead!”

  “Ole Ced, likes ya! Wollybrougher’s are parti’clar bout who they snuffle. I ain’t never seen one take to some’un so quickly.”

  “Snuffle? What’s that mean?”

  “Means you one of em now, like me. Cain’t figure out why tho. Ee musta seen some’n in ya.”

  “Yeah, like I was full of sausage! He just wanted a taste.”

  “Wooowee, today just keeps gettin better!”

  Still in shock, Trey slouched over in a fetal position and closed his eyes. He wished he were anywhere but here, but mostly wished he were at home with his mom.

  After a while, Trey pushed himself up when he felt the wagon come to a stop. He regarded Cedric under the eave, then shook off a dreadful chill. After a good stretch he sat at the back of the wagon, looking at the city before him.

  “Can I help you unload all this stuff?” Trey asked.

  “Na. They’ll come git the box shortly and then I av’ta d’liver tha fruit. Where’s it you need ta go?”

  “I need to get to Sharpe Street. I’m looking for a man named Karl Ropping.”

  “Ropping! Wha’dya need that good for nutin bum for?”

  “I was told he had information for me. That he could help me find something.”

  “Well, I suppos’n ee could be helpful wit dat. I hear ee’s good at findin stuff. Sharpe’s roun tha corner there,” he said pointing in the direction of the wagon. “Turn right, then you’ll find his shop fifty-three steps down on tha left.”

  “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Porter. Now I’ve got plenty of time before sundown.”

  “Yep! My pleasure, Trey. Hope ya find what evr’n it is you’re lookin for.”

  Trey hopped onto the cobblestone road. He glanced at the furry animal under the eve. Cedric’s head was alert with a fat tongue hanging limply. His wise eyes were set on Trey’s. Not a trace of the earlier carnage remained. Trey frowned, broke the stare then walked past the wagon toward Sharpe Street.

  The quiet street was narrow, maybe only wide enough for two carriages
to pass. The walls of buildings, although no higher than two stories, obstructed Trey’s wider view of the city. A couple emerged from what looked to be a clothing store. The woman carried a wide smile and playfully adjusted a feather decorated hat.

  He thought it might rain soon as he walked down a spacious sidewalk past what may have been a barber shop and a restaurant that smelled of garlic and oregano. Trey’s stomach gurgled, signaling him to dig out a bar from his pack – wishing it was a slice of Papparino’s from back home.

  While chewing on the crunchy granola of a bar from his pack, he observed a dirty man in a sackcloth standing on the corner. The man quickly approached Trey and said, “Beware! The end! It is foretold the great terror is upon us!”

  Trey tried to ignore the spirited man. The destitute grabbed Trey’s shoulder as he tried to pass and said, “You! Boy!” The man’s eyes were hollow as if Trey were staring into an abyss. Had the man not been screaming and merely remained silent, Trey would have guessed he were mentally incapacitated in some way. “The end!” he continued.

  Trey forcefully pulled away and hurried to the corner, leaving the man shouting to the air. “Repent! You must! Or be damned forever! He cannot be stopped!” The man’s voice ended low and gravelly, “All will perish under the almighty sword!”

  Trey released a breath then made the turn on Sharpe Street. He looked back at the corner as he passed a charcoal grey cat that rolled onto its back exposing a fat belly. He continued down the sidewalk passing an elderly man that gave him the shivers. He finally arrived at an antiques store on his left.

  “Well how about that. Fifty-three steps exactly.”

  He paused a moment outside the beaten wood framed store, took a deep breath, then turned the doorknob. A hanging bell jingled as the door gently swung open. Loose papers on a wooden desk ruffled with the accompanying breeze.

  He stepped into the naturally lit establishment and sneezed twice before a rusty voice said, “About damn time you showed up. Get over here so I can see you.”

  The Map

  “Come on over here!”

  Trey walked slowly past rows of pottery, swords, and other dusty old objects. He turned toward the counter to find a man sitting in a recliner. A pair of crutches leaned against the wall next to him and a wheelchair was parked on the other side.

  “No! No!” he grumbled. “You won’t do at all. I said I needed someone that can lift things. Someone taller. Not a kid. Uuuggg. This is what I get for trusting Malcolm. What’s your name, boy?”

  “Trey. I think you have me confused with someone else.”

  “What are you talking about. Aren’t you here for the job?” the man said angrily.

  “No sir. I’m looking for something. Something old.”

  “Good. You’re useless to me as a helper. Something old you say? I’ve got plenty of old stuff here. What is it you’re looking for specifically?”

  “Well you see, Cierden from Roberton said you might could help me find something.”

  “Get out of here! Leave! There’s nothing here for you!”

  Trey jumped back. He nearly turned to leave but stopped himself. There’s a reason I’m here. I have to find out. This man knows something, and I have to make him help me.

  Trey faced the crippled man again. “I need you to help me and I won’t leave until you do.”

  “Boy! Don’t make me get out of this chair and whoop you! You get on, now!”

  “No,” Trey said firmly and calmly. “I’m here for a reason. Cierden wouldn’t have sent me if he didn’t think you could help. I’ve come along way and have been nearly killed nine, no ten times and actually died once in the past two weeks by things you couldn’t even imagine. I’m not going to let some crippled old man stop me know.”

  Karl looked at the confident teen making a stand in his dusty shop. “What have you gotten yourself into, boy?” he said inquisitively.

  Trey remained standing and didn’t answer.

  “There’s only one reason he would have sent you and I can’t help. All that fairytale stuff is phony. It doesn’t exist,” he said looking away.

  Trey’s confident stature waned. “What do you mean it doesn’t exist?”

  “You dumb or something? They don’t exist. I’ve been chasing rumors my whole life only to nearly die trying. Do yourself a favor and leave it all behind.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just tell me what you know about the relic that was hidden here, then I’ll be on my way.”

  “So, you are after the relic. There’s no way a boy would be able to retrieve it. I was almost killed, and I didn’t get close. How do you even know about it? And what is more surprising is that you know it’s here.” He looked at Trey for a moment, tapping his right fingers on the arm rest then said, “Tell me what you know about the prophecy.”

  “I don’t know anything about a prophecy.”

  Karl looked at him closer, then said, “You’re lying.”

  “I really don’t know what it is. I over-heard people talking about it…well, some of them were people. They think I am part of it but I’m not. Just tell me what you know, then I’ll get on with it.”

  “Of course, you’re a part of it. You may even be the one to fulfill it. There’s more to you than what I see. Tell me, Trey Roberts, why are you searching for Moridon’s relic?”

  Moridon! He held the power of time!

  “Until now, I didn’t even know that’s what I was looking for.” Trey paused then said, “I’ve seen some crazy stuff and believe the story’s you’ve heard are true. If you’ll help me, when I get it, I’ll bring it back to show you it’s real. Plus, you can’t get it yourself, so I may be your only chance.”

  “So, it is true,” Karl said in quiet astonishment. He whispered to himself, “From the line, one will become a savior of his forefathers.” He then said to Trey, “You will surely die trying but that is your decision to make. Help me into my chair.” He then held out a hand.

  Trey grasped his thick hairy hand, leaned back, then pivoted Karl into the wheelchair. Karl swiftly rolled across the shop through a door in the back that opened into small living quarters. He pulled up to a desk, then shuffled through a messy drawer.

  “What I have gathered about the relic is that it is located in the Grey Swamp and this.”

  He pulled out a leather scroll, unbound it, then laid it upon the desk.

  “It’s a map,” said Trey.

  “Yes, it would seem. But I wasn’t able to find the relic with it. There must be something I’m missing. I deciphered from rumors the relic would be located here, near this small pond,” he said pointing to a specific spot on the map. “You can see how the map sort of leads you that way. But I looked everywhere and never found a clue. I also explored this southern area and these narrow valleys to the west. I spent six weeks straight in that cursed swamp and found nothing but the boggers.”

  “What’s a bogger?”

  “It’s a sickness that turns your appendages black and smelly. If not treated quickly it gets worse and requires amputation – and oftentimes, death. It’s why I left in the first place. Otherwise, I would have continued looking for the relic.”

  “This is all you have?”

  “Yeah. That’s it.”

  “What do those symbols mean? They’re hieroglyphs, right?”

  “Yes, they are. Very good. I had them roughly translated a few years ago.”

  “This one means ‘sit’. That one, ‘don’t believe’ and the last is ‘rock’.”

  “Really? That doesn’t help at all.”

  “No. It doesn’t, but it must be the piece of the puzzle I couldn’t solve.”

  “So, it could be anywhere or not there at all,” Trey said in a frustrated tone.

  “You got it, but everything I have found has led me to the swamp. That’s why I live so close today.”

  “When were you last there?”

  “About sixteen years ago.”

  “You haven’t heard anything different since?�
��

  “No. But I haven’t asked either. I gave up shortly after I was injured.”

  “You mean your legs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened? Was it the boggers?”

  “No. Not the boggers. I wasn’t messing around with that. I thought it might have been a possibility after I nearly submerged in a mud bog that I wouldn’t have made it out of had it not been for a random vine laying nearby. I took special medicine afterward that delayed its effects, then promptly left the swamp. It still nearly killed me. I was bad sick for weeks. While I was recovering from the boggers, I heard there was a large diamond deep in a cave in Mt. Klipping. So naturally, I went after it once I was capable. I took an obscure trail about midway up to a wide pass. I entered the mountain through a large crack, then was attacked by a mountain troll. I should have died but I was quick back then. I leapt from the crack just as the troll landed a blow to my backside. I tumbled awkwardly down the mountain, settling in a crevasse. I came to shortly after, then crawled with my arms to the base of the mountain where a trader picked me up when he passed by. I haven’t felt my legs since.”

  “Sounds like you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Sometimes I don’t feel so lucky. But I guess you’re right.”

  “Well, if all I have is a swamp and an ambiguous map, then I guess that’s all I need. Is there anything else I should know about the swamp?”

  “Not really, but you’ll need a few things. Follow me.”

  Karl led him to a wooden storage shed in back situated in the corner of a vegetable garden.

  “You’ll need a tarp for shelter, rope and some kindling for a fire.” Trey put these in his pack.

  Karl wheeled back into the living quarters.

  “You’ll also need matches, some food and take this jacket – it’ll keep you warm and dry.”

  He tossed a pack of matches and bread looking items mixed with dried fruit and nuts to Trey.

  “I’m giving you my last vile of medicine for the boggers. Take it only if you get wet.”