“Yeah,” I said. “Our monsters only come out at night too.”
He pointed into the woods on the right side of the road. “See that there?”
I followed his finger and saw what looked to be a cave entrance, but it was all boarded up and blocked off by heavy stones.
“They come out of caves like that and other, less conspicuous holes in the ground,” Torrance explained. “They’re like blasted moles they are, always digging their tunnels through the land. You close one hole off, and they make two more. But there haven’t been many raids lately, thank the Holy Twins.”
By ‘Holy Twins’, I assumed he meant the two suns, but I didn’t bother asking, since I already looked like I didn’t belong here. We continued west down the dirt road and away from the ocean, and soon the pine forest loomed on both sides. It was nice to get into the shade of the trees for a bit since the two suns left few places to find a reprieve. Shadows didn’t work right here, and it was a little hard for my eyes and my brain to get used to all the light.
The scents of the forest rode on a mild wind, and the smell was a familiar comfort in the unfamiliar land. It smelled like it had rained recently, and the freshness of the pine combined with the musk of the forest floor helped to calm my nerves. A chorus of birds sang in the forest, accompanied by the chittering of chipmunks and the steady rhythm of grasshoppers and other bugs.
We arrived at Torrance’s farm ten minutes later. It was a decent sized plot of land from what I could see. A modest one-story cottage sat beside an old weathered barn facing north. There was a hay field to the west of the house, and a one-acre garden to the east. Behind the buildings there was a long sprawling apple orchard. A wagon sat parked between the house and the barn, and livestock grazed in a roped off area to the left of the buildings. There were about a dozen cows that reminded me of Black Angus, a few goats, and a couple pigs. Chickens had free reign of the property and pecked happily at the ground as we walked toward the house. The homestead reminded me of an Amish paradise, and it seemed a lot like Earth.
Except for the two suns in the sky.
Torrance led me inside and plopped the catch down on a sturdy looking table. The inside of the cottage was well-lit by the sunlight shining in through the many windows on the north wall. The place was cozy, and the smell reminded me of my dad’s beloved meat smoker. Aside from the table and six chairs, there was a sitting area with a few wicker chairs situated beside the big fireplace. Across from that was the cooking area centered on an open hearth. The fireplace was wide and lined on both sides with stacked wood set to dry. Sausage and herbs hung from the top of the hearth, and a cast-iron pot set on a swivel slowly simmered. The aroma of vegetable soup found my nose, and hunger pangs tore at my stomach.
“You need some dry clothes?” Torrance asked.
“No, thanks, I’ve got some in my pack.”
He nodded and pointed to a hallway to the left of the cooking hearth. “You can go on and clean up in the washroom. Second door on the left. I’ll clean up these beauties and pour us some spirits in the meantime.”
“That sounds great. Thanks, Torrance.” I went to the wash room and discovered that it came complete with a water basin fed by a hand pump, and an outhouse style shitter. There was even a stack of what looked like old shredded newspaper if I needed to wipe my ass.
A mirror hung above the basin, and I was surprised at how wild-eyed and disheveled I looked. My brown hair had bits of seaweed in it, and my usually clear brown eyes were bloodshot and tired-looking. Dried blood speckled my right cheek from the flecks of sandstone that had been kicked up by the gunfire back on Earth, and I had big welt on my temple from knocking into the wall on my tumble down the hole.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked my reflection. “Where am I?”
“You say something, Ken?” Torrance yelled from the kitchen.
“No, sorry, just talking to myself.” I rolled my eyes at my reflection. Torrance must have already thought I was a bit odd and admitting to talking to myself probably didn’t help matters.
I shouldered off my molle pack and set to cleaning myself up. My clothes were still wet from my little swim, so I undressed and folded them up before putting them aside. In the water basin I scrubbed my face of the dried blood, washed out my hair, and then splashed water on the rest of my body to get the salt from the ocean off me. I had soap in my molle pack, but I didn’t want to use any of my supplies yet if I didn’t have to. With a quick glance around the shelves of the wash room, I found a bar of soap. It smelled like lilies, and I was surprised at how refreshed I felt after I washed with it. When I was done cleaning myself up I retrieved the waterproofing bag out of my pack and took out an extra pair of camouflage utility pants, a dry t-shirt, wool socks, and combat boots. I started to put the bag away but decided to wear my patrol cap as well.
I dressed in my dry clothes and strapped on my utility belt. It was still a bit damp, but my M17 handgun was holstered to it, and I didn’t feel comfortable without the sidearm. I realized that the weapon had also taken a dip in the ocean with me, and while the handguns were super durable, it was easy enough to take it apart and wash the salt off the barrel and springs.
When I was done cleaning my gun, I glanced at my watch. It reported 3:00 pm, and I was surprised that I had only been in this strange new world for less than an hour. It seemed like days since I had fallen into that damned sinkhole in Syria, and not for the first time today I seriously began to question my sanity.
By the time I returned to the kitchen with my pack slung over my shoulder and my wet clothes in hand, Torrance had finished cleaning the fish, and he had already poured two small glasses of amber spirits.
“Ah,” he said when he saw me. “You look all refreshed. Have a drink with me?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said as I put down my clothes on top of my molle pack.
He handed me one of the glasses, and I inspected the three fingers of amber liquor. A quick sniff told me that it had a high alcohol content, and I felt my mouth curl into a smile. The liquid reminded me of bourbon, but with an intense smoky aroma.
If I had to be stranded on another planet, I was glad it was one with liquor.
“What should we drink to?” I asked, and I hoped he knew what I meant. Rule number 1 about visiting a new territory was: never eat or drink their stuff, since it might make you sick, but I knew I wasn’t on Earth anymore, and this guy had no reason to poison me.
Torrance thought about that as he held up his glass and scratched his stubbly chin. Then his face lit up, and he smiled wide, showing off his impressively straight white teeth. “To new friends,” he suggested.
“To new friends,” I said as I tapped his glass with mine, tapped the table and tossed it down with one big gulp. It washed through my belly like molten lava, and my skin prickled all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. When I exhaled, I half expected flames to shoot out of my mouth.
“Looks like ya enjoyed it!” Torrance laughed.
“Damn, that’ll straighten the short and curlies,” I replied with a cough, despite being a somewhat seasoned drinker.
Torrance laughed. “Those are true words. This spirit is one of my favorites. Here, give me your wet clothes, and I’ll have Matilda hang them up to dry for you. She’s my daughter, sweet as her mother she is. I’ve got two boys as well, or did I tell you that already? I tend to repeat myself sometimes, so don’t be afraid to let me know if I do, you won’t offend me.”
“Ah. Alright, and no you haven’t, sir.” I said as I handed him my clothes.
After fifteen minutes of sipping the alcohol and chatting about the weather, Torrance called his kids to dinner. He had added the fish to the vegetable soup that simmered in the cast-iron pot, and the aroma made my mouth water. When the kids came in, I was introduced to Matilda, sixteen, a waif of a girl with brown hair and dimples, who averted her eyes to the floor coyly when she spoke. Her two brothers, Markus and Maximus, looked to b
e about six or so years younger. They both stared at my clothes and my hat and ogled my utility belt. Both had brown hair like their sister, but they were big and strong for their ages, no doubt from their years of hard farm work.
“What’s that?” Maximus asked, pointing at my holstered gun.
“Can I hold your knife?” his brother chimed in.
“Boys, where are your manners?” their father asked with a scowl. “Quit ogling our guest like a bunch of sneaking goblins and go on and get washed up, or we’ll start without you.”
Markus ignored his father and pointed at my molle pack in the corner. “What’s in there?” he asked suspiciously.
“Mind your pa!” Matilda suddenly screeched and slapped the boy upside the head. She turned a coy glance back toward me and blushed as the boys yipped and scampered off.
“Atta girl,” Torrance laughed. “Just like her mother. She’ll make a good wife someday, she will, for some lucky fellow...”
I got the feeling that he was insinuating that she would make a good wife for me, and a quick glance at the girl told me exactly how she felt about the idea. She batted her eyes and let those dimples do their darndest, but besides the fact she was way too young, I had more important things to worry about right now.
Torrance indicated the seat across from his at the head of the table, and I sat with Matilda to my right. The boys ran back into the kitchen like a whirlwind and fought each other for the seat closest to me on my left. Markus won and gave his brother a punch in the arm for good measure.
“Pa!” Maximus protested and rubbed his arm.
“Take it out back of the barn where it belongs, or else shut your yappers,” he told them as he offered me a gracious smile. “Would you like to say a blessing?”
“I’m not sure.” I had never been a religious man, and I certainly had never said grace. We just didn’t do that in my family.
“We’d be honored,” the fisherman said as he gestured to his family.
I nodded, and everyone clasped their hands together and then twisted their wrists up so that the palms were facing upward in a kind of offering. I mimicked the awkward pose and closed my eyes. My mind raced to think of the right words, and a quick peek showed me that everyone still waited patiently. Then I remembered Torrance’s name for the suns.
“Holy twins,” I began shakily, but then cleared my throat. “Holy twins, thank you for this bountiful meal set before us. Thank you for Torrance and his wonderful family. May you bless their farm, and give them all long, happy lives, uh, amen.”
“Amen?” Markus asked.
I opened my eyes, worried that I had broken some unspoken etiquette, but Matilda came to my defense swiftly.
“It was a wonderful blessing!” she hissed at Markus, and then she smiled sweetly at me.
“He forgot to make the sign,” Maximus pointed out. I recalled the sign that Torrance had made when he spoke of his late wife, and then I drew a big S in the air in front of me. The others followed suit, and Torrance nodded happily.
“Dig in!” he urged, and I eagerly started to shovel food onto my plate.
A half hour later, I leaned back in my chair and patted my full belly. Matilda cleaned up the table, and the boys sat quietly and listened to Torrance and I as we talked about his farm and animals. The old farmer lit up a pipe and offered one to me, but I declined, never having been a smoker. Tea was served shortly after, and Matilda laid out some strawberry tarts. I wolfed down four of them and chased them with lemon flavored tea while Terrance puffed on his pipe. The cherry scented smoke hovered above his head like a thick halo and coalesced pleasantly with the fading smell of dinner.
“So, tell me, Ken. What power do you have?” he asked, and the boys turned to me with excitement.
“Power?” I said through a mouthful of tarts.
“Abilities, gifts, I’m talking about magic powers, son.”
“Uh, I don’t think I have any,” I admitted, and by the looks on their faces I might as well have told them that my pecker grew out of my forehead.
“You don’t have one?” Torrance said with a disturbed look in his eyes. “Well, you should. You’re well over the age when they present themselves. Or don’t your people have magic?”
“I …”
“Let’s bring him to Granhelga in Hamstead!” Matilda said excitedly.
“Yeah!” Maximus cheered.
“Can we, Pa?” Marcus begged.
“Who’s Granhelga?” I asked.
“She’s the local magic-teller,” Maximus said. “She’ll read the stars to find your power.”
“She’s a witch!” Marcus exclaimed and made big-eyes at me.
“Settle down now,” their father told them. He gazed at me for a long time while he puffed on his pipe, and a slow grin grew on his face. “What do you think about going to see the witch, Ken?”
“I don’t know, I don’t want to waste your time.” Truth was, I didn’t want to waste my own time. I needed to figure out how to get back to Earth, but I didn’t want to be rude to my host.
“On second thought, it sounds like a great idea.” I realized that if this Granhelga character was a real witch, she might be able to help get me home. Torrance had asked if I angered a witch, and he had insinuated that they knew how to create portals. Maybe she was my best bet.
“Great,” he said as he rose from the table. “Go on, Marcus, Maximus. Get the horses and the wagon ready. Might as well show Ken our little village. You up for that Ken?”
“Sure. Let me check on my clothes, they should be dry by now.”
I gathered my clothes from the clothesline. They were still a little damp, but they were dry enough. I changed back into my heavy fatigues in the washroom and folded my t-shirt, wool socks, and camo pants and returned them to the waterproof bag.
Ten minutes later Torrance, Matilda, the two boys, and myself were riding down the long driveway toward the dirt road in a open air wagon. Everyone had changed out of their farming clothes and now donned what looked like their Sunday best. Torrance wore a pair of fine brown slacks, a puffy white shirt with a ruffled collar and frilly cuffs. Over the shirt he wore a leather jerkin the same color as his trousers. Shiny leather boots and a Robin-Hood looking hat with a feather in it finished the look. The boys wore a version of their father’s attire, and Matilda wore a long green dress embroidered with moons and stars. She had applied some coloring to her eyes and cheeks as well, and she kept shooting me shy smiles as we rode
All in all, they looked like they were headed to a renaissance fair. They were simple country people, but they conducted themselves with pride and dignity.
They were my kind of folk, and even though I was far away from home, I felt myself smile.
As we rode, Torrance became increasingly excited by the idea of me having my stars read. “I tell you what, I bet it’s a great power that you possess. You’ve got that look about you.”
“Maybe he can shoot lightning out of his fingertips,” Maximus conjectured.
“Or fart fire!” Marcus put in.
“Now that would be something else!” I exclaimed. “But I would probably set fire to my bed when I farted in my sleep.”
The boys rolled with laughter in the back of the wagon, and Matilda covered her mouth while she giggled. Torrance’s merry chuckle added to the joyful chorus, and I found myself joining in.
Then a thought occurred to me, and I turned to the farmer. “Torrance, what’s your ability, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Not at all, not at all.” He slapped the reins and clicked to the horses as they turned onto the road. The old farmer stuck out a thumb in my direction and waggled it a little. His eyebrows danced, and I realized that he wanted me to guess.
“Uh, do you have super hitchhiking abilities?” I asked.
“Hah! What’s that? No, no, I’ve got a green thumb.”
“Pa can make anything grow in any kind of soil!” Marcus said excitedly.
“Hmm, that must come in handy.
What about you, Matilda?” I said and glanced back at the second-row seat.
As expected, she was blushing. “I’m not yet of age,” she whispered.
“It’ll be another two years before Matilda stands before Granhelga to be read,” the farmer explained. “But my coin is on her having my ability. They usually run in the family, but crossways like. Daughters get the power of their fathers, and sons get the power of their mothers. Not always, mind you, but most of the time.”
I wondered what I was about to get myself into as we rode through the forest. I doubted that I even had a power in this world, let alone two, like Torrance said sometimes happened when he explained how the powers worked. But then again, I hadn’t woken up that morning thinking that I would fall through a portal to another world either. The idea of having a magical ability started to appeal to me.
Having a magical power seemed like it would be pretty awesome.
We crested a hill, and a straight-up medieval village grew from the valley below. The one and two-story cottages looked like they had jumped right out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. They had thatched roofs, wattle and daub walls with a few exposed beams which crisscrossed each other or outlined the rooms within. A small river snaked its way through the village from north to south, and I guessed that it spilled out into the ocean. A few windmills stood on the banks of the river, and two stone bridges offered travelers a way over the body of water. Deeper into the village, the buildings shed their wattle and daub walls for stone and heavy lumber, and the roofs changed from simple thatch to thick shingle shakes. I hadn’t seen many castles in my day, but there was no mistaking the large building that sat on the distant hill for anything else but that.
“Who lives there?” I asked Torrance as I pointed at the distant castle.
“That would be Duke Bellfrey,” Torrance said.
“Ah,” I said, “the big cheese.”
He laughed at that one. “Never heard it said that way, but I guess it’s correct. Bellfrey owns all the land you see and a lot of what you don’t.”
Monster Empire Page 3