“Excuse me?” Simcane leaned against the wall, his true size stunning to the couple.
Homer realized he was staring so he turned away. Simcane coughed and staggered. Irene rushed to his side, though she wouldn’t be much help if he were to fall. Homer kicked his chair out and hurried to help.
“Simcane,” Homer said, “Are you sure you should be on your feet already?” He tossed Simcane’s arm over his shoulder and couldn’t help thinking that the injured man’s appendage was like a thick tree branch with all of the tree’s weight behind it. “Let … me … help … you,” he groaned.
Simcane limped to the table and plopped into Homer’s chair. “I am a fast healer,” he said.
Homer wasn’t so sure.
Simcane pushed himself up. “I took your chair. I’ll …”
Homer pressed on the giant’s shoulder. “Nonsense,” he said. “Sit.” He then slid his own plate across the table before taking a seat across from Simcane. Irene placed a steaming plate in front of their guest and hurried back to the stove to prepare her own.
Homer peeked up from his food and noticed Simcane’s eye bandage growing red. A single drop of blood trickled down his cheek but he didn’t seem to notice as he scarfed down his meal. Homer cleared his throat. Simcane looked up. Homer brushed his finger across his own cheek. “Here,” he said as he passed Simcane a handkerchief.
Simcane snatched it and turned away. “I’m sorry. I … I …”
Homer nodded. “All is well, friend. The strain must have broken loose a clot.”
The three unlikely friends ate with little conversation between bites. Once finished, Irene gathered the dishes. “You two must have been hungry,” she said. “I almost need not wash these.” She went back to the kitchen.
Homer asked, “Do you think your friend had any luck? The one with the tentacles, I mean?”
“Oh, Rasi?” Simcane answered. “I can only hope. After meeting the Princess’ abductors myself, he is probably her last chance.”
“If I may ask, why were you looking for her? I mean, was it just the money?”
“The money?” Simcane paused with a look of surprise. He half chuckled and half grunted. “No, not really. Sure, it is true that I make my living with just such an occasion, but that wasn’t my reason. No, I think it’s because I saw hope in the young Princess. Something in her that would be, I don’t know, good for Epertase. A kindness; an even-handedness. Someone I would be willing to fight for as I did her grandparents.” He looked to his plate, as if ashamed. “But I failed. I wasn’t strong enough. And now, she may have been lost to us all.” Neither of the men spoke for several moments. Simcane broke the silence. “I will leave in the morning.”
Irene hollered from the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping on the men. “You are welcome here as long as you need.”
“I thank you but I have business.”
Homer clapped his hands together, which startled the big man. “Then we shall move out to the front porch for a nightcap.” Simcane’s arms shook as he pushed against the tabletop. “Here, my big friend. Let me help you.”
The men staggered through the front door onto the porch. Irene followed closely behind with their drinks. They talked and laughed and Homer found himself growing fond of the big man.
Before long, Irene turned in. The two men continued talking well into the night. At one point Simcane looked into the blackness of the field and asked, “Do you not worry out here in the middle of nowhere with such dark nights? How do you protect yourself?”
“Who would want to hurt an old man like me? I haven’t made too many enemies over the years.” He hesitated for a moment. “Besides, there are a few wild dogs that hang around here at night. In fact, sometimes they sleep here on the porch. They let me know if anyone’s coming long before they’re actually here.”
“Where are these dogs now? I haven’t seen them.”
“Oh, they’re around. They hide from strangers. But they’ll come up after we go to bed.”
Simcane struggled to his feet. “I’m afraid I’ve grown sleepy again.”
Homer rose and steadied his arm. “I guess time has gotten away from us.”
Simcane smiled. “I feel better already.” He straightened, sending cracks through his spine like a musical instrument. He gently brushed Homer’s hand away. It seemed important to Simcane that he show his strength. The big man staggered into the house.
With Simcane in his room, Homer crawled into bed beside Irene, careful not to disturb her. He stared at the dark ceiling, thinking about the past few days. A lot more excitement than he was used to, that was for sure.
He replayed his conversations with Simcane in his mind. He pictured the tentacled man, Rasi, sitting in the guest room. He remembered the …
And then he slept.
Barrr roawwwroww!
Homer sprang from his bed before he realized what he was doing. His foot slammed against his nightstand and he gritted his teeth. The barking dogs faded.
Irene sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What is it?” she asked.
“Shhhh! Someone’s outside.” His big toe throbbed as he limped to the dresser. His old rusty knife sat on the table and, after slinging his shirt over his head, he snatched it up. Why don’t I keep a sword handy? he wondered. He grabbed Irene’s shoulders. “Stay in here no matter what you hear.”
He limped into the dark hallway and hustled through the front door. The partially hidden moon glowed across his empty field. Balancing on the heel of his injured foot, he hobbled down the steps. The dogs barked far off in the distance. Homer took a couple cautious steps forward, though he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he were to find an intruder.
“Homer,” a voice whispered from behind. Homer flinched, almost stabbing himself. He twirled toward the house with his knife outstretched.
“Who’s there?” he whispered in return.
“It’s me,” a shadow by the porch said.
“Simcane?” Homer relaxed his arm. “You scared me to death.”
“Shh! Do not look at me. Go back into the house. Don’t come out until I come for you. Someone is coming.” Simcane lowered back into the darkness of the bushes. Homer jerked his head side-to-side and after seeing no one, stumbled back into his house. His heart pumped against his ribcage with a force he was sure anyone within earshot could hear.
He nudged the door shut behind him. He took a step before almost leaping out of his shirt. Irene stood before him, shaking. “Irene, you almost stopped my heart.”
“Who’s here?” she asked.
He rushed to her. She hugged him and he whispered that everything would be alright.
The quiet was almost more than his old heart could stand. He wished for yelling or fighting, anything to replace the silence.
Finally, he’d had enough waiting and whispered, “Stay here.” He pulled away from her.
Her eyes bulged; her face screamed no. “Wait,” she whispered, intently. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to take a peek.”
Each creak of his old floor froze him in his tracks. Step by agonizing step, he worked his way closer to the thick curtains.
He reached out.
BLAM!
The front door crashed open. Irene shrieked. Homer flinched, dropping his stupid, worthless knife. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t breathe.
Simcane shouted, “Quick, Homer. Out here.” Homer sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “Come on,” Simcane shouted again, stirring Homer from his daze.
A horse approached. Simcane limped toward it. The horse carried the shadow of a long-haired man with a figure draped across his lap. The man’s dancing tentacles revealed his identity.
“Rasi,” Homer muttered. “He has the Princess.”
Simcane led the horse to the house. “We need a doctor,” he shouted.
Homer hustled to his side. He helped Simcane lower the unconscious woman to the ground. Simcane grimaced as he hoisted her onto his shoulder.
Irene race
d passed the two men to the semiconscious Rasi. “Let me help you,” she said as she outstretched her hand. Rasi grabbed it. Homer was worried the tentacles might lash out at her, but they seemed to ignore her presence as if they trusted her.
“Simcane,” Homer yelled. “Take her into the house. I will help your friend.”
Rasi leaned forward. Irene tried to catch him, but was too weak and he tumbled face-first to the ground. Homer grabbed his underarms. Together they dragged him to the porch steps.
Rasi vomited into a rudimentary homemade mask that covered his mouth and nose. Homer ripped it away.
Simcane re-emerged from the house and grabbed Rasi’s feet. Homer lifted Rasi’s head and shoulders, and together the three of them were able to carry him into the bedroom.
“I’ll fetch Doc Eckels,” Homer shouted, raced to the door, and disappeared into the night.
The two returned to the farm some time later. Irene met the two men in the hall with a finger against her lips. She whispered, “Rasi’s in and out. When he’s awake, he refuses to leave the Princess’ side. I fear his head is hurt badly.”
Doctor Eckels scooted past her to the patients’ room.
“Where’s Simcane?” Homer asked.
“He left after you did. He said he would keep watch and I haven’t seen him since.” Homer felt a little safer knowing his protector was on guard.
Irene and Homer sat at the table, waiting while Doc Eckels worked. Homer’s old body was so tired, he felt as though he had spent the day in the fields.
Morning came before Doc Eckels exited the bedroom. Homer jumped to his feet, almost knocking his chair to the floor.
Doc Eckels’ voice was low, almost a whisper but not quite. “They need their rest. I encouraged the silent one to move into the other room where he could lie on the bed. But he will not leave her side.”
Homer slid a chair out for the weary doctor. “Have a seat, Doc. Something to drink?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Irene returned with a couple of glasses of fresh-squeezed tornment juice and they both thanked her.
“Will the Princess be alright, Doc?”
“It is hard to say. She is dehydrated, exhausted, and extremely malnourished. She needs fluids and tornment juice when she awakens. Her recovery will take time. I’ve cleaned and dressed her wounds, some of which were red and in danger of infection. I have antibiotics for her to remain on for several days. But right now she needs rest. When she awakens, she will need food and more rest.”
Homer nodded. “And Rasi?”
“Oh, yes. Those tentacles on his back are quite dangerous, to say the least. I had difficulty getting near him for quite some time. Eventually, I think they figured out that I wasn’t there to harm them and let me by. Rasi has sustained a serious blow to his head along with several lacerations and muscle damage.” Doc shook his head. “He must have had a rough life, judging by all the scars he wears. More than I’ve ever seen on one person, that’s for sure. He has a few several-day-old lacerations that were too old to sew, which will add more scars to his impressive collection. I believe the danger posed from his head trauma has passed.”
“Thank you, Doc. We’ll take ca…”
The front door swung open. Simcane’s hulking body filled the doorway. “All’s clear for your departure, Doc. I assume everything you have seen here tonight will remain under locked lips?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
Homer escorted Doc Eckels to the door. “Thanks again, Doc. Just bill me and I will make things right. I may need to make payments but I will do my best.”
“Nonsense, Homer. I am happy to help the royal family in any way I can.”
They shook hands and Doc Eckels slid past the hulk in the doorway, leery of bumping into him.
Homer slipped down the hall to the bedroom where Rasi sat and the Princess slept. The door squeaked as he opened it. Rasi looked up from the rocking chair.
“Just checking on the patients,” Homer whispered. “Relax, friend.”
Princess Alina lay motionless beneath the sheets. Homer had never been so close to any member of the royal family and he was slightly taken aback by her vulnerability.
As innocent as a mourning dove, he thought.
CHAPTER 50
JARRET
“Mommy, Mommy, look what I found.”
Jarret burst through the kitchen door with his newfound treasure cupped in his tiny hands.
His mother turned from the stove. “What is it, Jarret?”
“It’s a birdie. It’s a birdie. She’s dieded.”
“Dieded? What do you mean, honey?”
“Dieded. We have to bury her.”
“Oh, honey. You mean she died. Let me see.”
Jarret proudly held his precious treasure in the air where his mother could get a better look. “Sweetie, that’s a mourning dove. And she’s not dead. Look, she’s breathing. Let me have her. We’ll try to help her, alright?”
“Alright, Mommy. I’ll tell Daddy.” He almost dropped his injured bird in his haste to find his father. She grabbed the dove from his hands.
“Daddy, Daddy, come quick. Look what I found outside.”
His father leaned out from his work room. Jarret knew he wasn’t allowed to interrupt his father when he was writing for the local flyer but this was too important to wait.
“Jarret, I am very busy,” he said.
Jarret tugged his hand, ignoring his father’s orders. “Come on.”
His father followed him into the kitchen. “Dear, you know how busy I am. I have a deadline. You need to keep Jarret out of my hair for the time being.”
“I know, I know. But you can take two seconds to see what your son found.”
“Any other time, but with the Princess missing for nearly two weeks now and the rumors that the King has not been seen since yesterday, I have much to do. Epertasians are nervous and they look to people like me to keep them informed.” He paused, sighed, and said, “Alright.” He knelt. “Here now, let me see what you’ve found.”
“Show him, Mommy, fast.”
His mother turned from the counter with a small, covered produce box. She held it low for Jarret to see while his father pulled the top flap away. Jarret danced with excitement. The box was filled with shredded papers, probably discarded from his father’s office. Resting in its center was the motionless dove.
“Mommy, you made a nest.”
“Yes I did, sweetie. Now this is important. You mustn’t touch her while she gets better. If you promise not to touch her, I will leave her on your dresser. But if you bother her, I will have to put her up high. Deal?”
“Yes, Mommy, I won’t touch her. I prombise”
Jarret’s mom and dad continued talking, but he paid no attention to what they said; he was too excited about his new friend. His father patted the top of his head and he smiled. He knew his daddy loved him.
His father headed back to his office and locked his door. Jarret’s mother carried the box into Jarret’s room. He scurried to keep up.
His mother said, “I am going to cover the bird so she can get better. I don’t want you bothering her. Do you understand? You can peek at her but that’s all.”
“I already said I won’t touch her.”
His mother parted some of the folded clothes on his dresser and set the box between them. Jarret hopped onto the foot of his bed and sat with his legs crossed, motionless, staring at the box. As his mom left the room, he gave her a quick glance before turning his full attention back to the box.
He squirmed, wondering what his little friend may be doing. It should be awake by now, he told himself. The wait seemed like an eternity. Maybe I’ll take just a little peek.
He bounced from his bed, tiptoed to his dresser with his footstool in tow, and climbed up. The lid lay loose upon the box. He touched it and then yanked his hand back. What to do, what to do. What if the birdie needed him? Maybe since his mother wasn’t in the room, she would
n’t be mad. His logic was solid so he lifted the lid enough to get a peek. The dove lay motionless except for the flutter of her chest.
He whispered into the box, “Please wake up, birdie,” then looked around to make sure his mother didn’t hear.
“Jarret.” His father’s voice startled him from down the hall.
Jarret slammed the lid closed and jumped from the stool.
“Jarret,” his father yelled again.
“What, Daddy?”
“Time to eat.”
“I’m coming,” Jarret yelled and then whispered to the box, “I’ll be right back.” He raced into the kitchen. While he shoveled food into his mouth he could think of nothing but his new friend. His mother said to slow down but she couldn’t possibly understand.
After his meal, he spent the rest of the day staring at the box. By nightfall he had almost given up hope that his friend would ever awaken.
His mother came into his room. “Have you been sitting here all evening?” she asked.
“Mommy, why won’t she wake up?”
She helped him into his bed, pulled the sheets to his chin, and kissed his forehead. “She is hurt, honey. She needs to sleep like little boys need to sleep. Maybe she will be better in the morning.”
Jarret rolled onto his side with his back to his mom and his thumb in his mouth.
She rubbed his back and sang his favorite song.
Her hand was warm and loving; her voice sweet and gentle. His eyes grew heavy and he fought a losing battle against sleep.
Scratch. Scratch.
Jarret stretched in his bed.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Jarret forced his eyes open against the brightness of the daylight shining through his bedroom window.
Scratch, scratch.
My birdie! He sprang out of his bed with a thump. The box lid was ajar. Bounding onto his stool, he lifted the lid slightly. The dove rustled and flopped in the papers.
Jarret ran from his bedroom to his mother’s room. “Mommy, Mommy, she’s waking up! Come quick!” He tore back to his room.
His mother seemed to take forever but eventually she entered, rubbing her eyes. He lifted the lid enough for her to peer in. “Yes, honey, you helped her. She’s waking up. Let’s go get some bread for her to eat.”
Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn Page 22