Immortal Storm
Page 2
“I like you, Mommy,” she mumbled. “I like you and I love you and I love you and I like you.”
Dori had loved that phrase from the first time Layla had uttered it and it had become a special part of their nightly ritual. Her heart warmed and she repeated the phrase to her sleeping daughter.
“Sleep now, my angel,” she added softly and left the room.
The warmth lingered only briefly as she climbed into bed. Amir did not stir. There was a time when the slightest movement on her part would cause him to turn over and throw a protective arm about her. She missed that. She began drawing a mental list of all the chores she needed to complete the following day while waiting for sleep to find her. Outside, a lonely howl pierced the silence of the night.
“Shut up and stay away from the horses,” Dori mumbled.
A second coyote responded, but this one was much nearer to the house. Dori hugged the blankets closer to her chin. She’d grown up in a predominately urban area and while this house was home to Amir, the forest lining the horse paddocks had always left her unsettled. It was beautiful, to be sure, but frightening and wild. She had once promised Amir that she would live in a tent in the desert if that was what it took to make him happy. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Tomorrow will be better, she promised herself. It just had to be! She longed for something that would make her feel confident and alive again. She didn’t know what that something might be but she wanted it badly. She wanted it like she wanted air. She lay awake long into the night, listening to the howls, only briefly finding the sleep she had been searching for.
Chapter Two
November 23, 1597
Great was the mysterie surrounding Mr. Barwicke’s disappearance, as there had been no sign of escape. We simply awoke to find the shakles emptie. One thing was known for certain, survival outside of the campe with winter closing in was most impossible. A small service was held in his memorie and his name was added to the growing list of the dead.
The morose atmosphere among the colonists has become even more sombre. We busy ourselves preparing the campe for winter and keeping watch on the natives surveying us. They haven’t made contact, preferring to sit astride wilde ponies and watch us scurrying about our tasks. The remaining children fantasize them to be great warriors; the women do not imagine them so heroic.
A fewe evenings ago they approached our settlement whilst everyone slept. I could hear the staccato rhythm of their ponies’ hooves mixed with guttural syllables of a language I didn’t understand. They rode round our settlement crying out toward the heavens. Their voices rose and it seemed as if they were trying to invoke one of their pagan gods. At the crescendo of their ceremony a hollow scream pierced the aire and made the hair on my neck stand. Shouts rose anew and their horses raced around most frantically before galloping away. The silence that followed yielded its own terror and it were impossible to find sleepe again that eve. At dawn, I and four others went out to check the walls of the campe. We found them untouched but the ground were tore open as if the ponies were fleeing Satan himself. At the rear of the camp, closest to the sleeping quarters, we came upon a dried pool of bloode.
We have taken to a rotating watch after darke. I was beginning to think we would not have any more problems, for it seemed the natives had moved on, but this very morne something terrible came to passe.
When the nighte watchman failed to report, Isaac went to his poste. That’s when a scream was heard across the campe. They found the watchman sprawled on the floor with his throat ripped out. He was my brother.
* * *
Niccolo’s throat was tight. He’d been running for over a century now, and he was tired of it. He’d fled into the night back then, only narrowly escaping execution, though his crime had been unintentional. He was bitterly alone: any family he’d ever had, gone long ago. He tempered loneliness by living in cities bursting with life: London, Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, Johannesburg, Rio.
This place was temporary too. A few years here and then he planned to head south. He enjoyed the crisp temperatures and busy life of the north, but the south with its thick humidity and orange-blossom scented air were much closer to his native Italy.
In the meantime, he’d keep searching for an answer. How was he to stop creatures that made death look like a good meal and a warm bed?
Chapter Three
The sound of horses munching their morning hay was balm to Dori’s wounds. She turned out the last of the brood mares and set off toward the gelding barn, checking fence lines as she approached the lower building. She rubbed her chapped hands, trying to warm them.
The horses welcomed her with knickers as her footsteps crunched on the gravel path. A sliver of the sun appeared on the horizon reminding her that the day was fleeting and her list of chores was endless.
“Here you go, Merjan. Here’s yours, Dawar. Easy Sultan, yours is coming.” Dori went down the aisle dumping grain and smiling as each horse’s crunching was added to the chorus. By the time she finished the aisle, the first horses were ready to go out. Leading them four at a time, she soon had all of them grazing in the sunshine.
The morning routine was as rushed as always. Switching roles, Dori headed back toward the main house where she did her best to keep the children quiet and let her husband recoup some of his much needed rest. It didn’t take long to get them dressed, bundled and off to the sitter’s house. Before she knew it, she was kissing them goodbye for the day and heading back home.
Once back at the farm, Dori donned her boots again and joined the farm hands who were busy mucking the hundred plus stalls that made up Whispering Brook Farm. Eventually only one stall remained. The farmhands took off their gloves; they weren’t allowed in with Latif.
“Ralph, will you throw him a flake of hay?” The middle-aged man headed off toward the stallion run with an armful of hay. From the depth of the shadows Latif snorted his warning, followed with a sharp kick that left the stall door rattling in its track. He lunged at the metal bars of his stall with his ears pinned back and snapping his teeth.
“Knock it off, Latif,” she said firmly. “Joe, go around back and get ready to shut the turn-out door. Bring the whip with you.”
“On it.”
Latif’s ears pricked up in attention as he watched Joe leave and heard him circling the barn. With a groan, he erupted, flailing, kicking, bucking, throwing himself against the wall. He stopped as abruptly as he started, facing Dori, peering into her eyes, challenging. Dori held her breath.
Ralph’s whistle and the hay rustling to the ground caught the stallion’s attention and he turned and trotted out to his pasture. Joe slammed the exterior door shut and slid the bolt into place.
Once it was safe to go in, Dori cleaned the stall quickly. As she was walking out, she heard Latif’s ominous snort from the base of the exterior door. Joe tried to calm the stallion, but Latif’s hooves connected and snapped one of the boards. Dori scurried into the aisle, glad to have that task done for the day.
She met up with Amir on her way back toward the house.
“Hi Honey. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. Are the stalls mucked?”
“We just finished. Joe and Ralph are haying the pastures. How was the auction?”
“Nothing spectacular, but I did find something that may help us with Latif. I’ll show you later.” Amir headed off toward the indoor arena where his first student of the day was waiting.
Like most days, Dori managed the farm while Amir gave back-to-back lessons. Between chores, she would pop in with a fresh cup of coffee or a sandwich. At four, she set off toward the lesson barn to let him know she was leaving to go pick up the girls. That was when she saw what Amir had planned for their wild stallion.
She saw it, or rather him, in the distance watching Latif flail about his private pasture. She rolled her eyes as she took in his Dockers and button-up shirt. She couldn’t see any boots and assumed he was wearing loafers or some other ridiculously useless footwear.
“I’m going to pick up the girls. There’s a man looking at Latif.”
“Oh, that must be Michael. He promised me he could train that crazy son-of-a-bitch. You’re riding tonight, right?”
“Yeah, after the girls go to bed.”
“I’ll have…” Amir paused, “Mubarek groomed for you.” Dori knew he had been about to say Zee and her chest tightened at the fresh memory.
“Thanks.” Her voice was gruff and she turned to leave so her emotions didn’t betray her. On her way back to the main house she saw that Michael was still watching Latif. Drawing her shoulders back, she stood tall and waved. She could just make out his smile as he returned the gesture.
* * *
Later that night, after evening chores and once the girls were snuggled in, Dori made her way out to the lesson barn, flashlight in hand. She was greeted with a few lazy knickers as she flipped the lights on. As promised, Mubarek was in his stall, coat gleaming. She tied him in the aisle and ran her hand over his coat from neck to flank. She was feeling for heat, unusual bumps, or any other sign that the horse might be unsound. Finding nothing unusual, she headed off for the saddle and bridle.
Soon she was astride the muscular animal, going through the warm-up Amir had taught her. This was one of her favorite moments of the day. The silent communication between horse and rider centered her and sparked something within her that made her feel alive. When she was riding, she felt free.
Mubarek responded effortlessly to her commands and soon they were cantering around the ring. The cadence of hoof beats further lulled Dori into her world of solitude. Guiding him toward one of the lower jumps, the two sailed through the air. Dori counted three more strides and again cued Mubarek to jump. The response was instantaneous and the giant animal leapt into the air, completely trusting Dori’s cues. She cornered at the far end of the ring and set him up on the last line of jumps. There were two lower jumps and then further off a pair of higher jumps spread further apart.
Sailing over the first two, Dori reigned in her mount. He would need to be coiled like a spring if he was going to make the last jump. Finally at the last second, she bore down and dug her heels into his flank cueing hard and relaxing the reins. The pair was airborn, a single entity suspended in flight. Although it only lasted a few seconds, she felt the horse stiffen mid-jump. She realized something wasn’t right, but had little time to fix anything. The horse landed and spooked at the same time. He squealed and the echo bounced off the metal walls as Mubarek jumped laterally toward the center of the ring. Dori’s momentum carried her forward and she wasn’t prepared for the sudden lurch to the side. She was again airborne as she was thrown from the saddle. She somersaulted and landed on her knee while her head slammed into the loose dirt.
She didn’t cry out; she didn’t move at all. Coming to, she was trying to place the bizarre, strained grunting that she heard. It was followed by crashing and a staccato pounding rhythm. She felt a sharp twinge of vertigo and was instantly nauseous. There were other sounds she became aware of, one of which was her own moaning. She realized her knee was throbbing and slowly she began to come back to reality.
The crashing and straining sounds had stopped. A soothing voice was approaching, accompanied by the four beat cadence of an animal walking. Dori rolled over, and the pain in her knee shot up her leg forcing her to yelp. She tried to open her eyes and blinked as the lights overwhelmed her.
“Don’t move, Mrs. Sahfi.”
It was starting to come back to her. Her first worry was whether or not Mubarek was injured. She tipped her head backward toward his stall, but was instantly dizzy once more. She heard his stall door slide shut and wondered which one of the farm hands was here, and how long she had lay on the ground before she had been found.
“Joe? Ralph?” Her voice was so weak she could barely hear it herself. The footsteps were approaching, but no one answered. Her knee was throbbing and she could feel the skin stretch as it swelled. A tear slid toward her ear. She closed her eyes as she thought, “Not again.”
Someone knelt beside her and an unfamiliar face leaned over her own. It took only a second for her to realize this was Michael, the man hired to work with Latif.
“Michael?”
“Mrs. Sahfi, I don’t want you to move. Where are you hurt?”
“How’s Mubarek?”
“He’s fine. I put him in his stall. Right now -”
“Did you check his legs? The cannon bone?”
“With the way he was running around, I doubt there was any injury to his legs. We have quite a clean-up to attend to in the morning. He managed to knock down all the jumps before I could convince him to settle down. Now, where does it hurt? Is it your neck?”
“No, it’s my knee.” The tears continued to fall, and now the blood reddened Dori’s cheeks with shame.
“I’m going to take off your helmet. I want a better look at your eyes. I need to see if you are showing signs of concussion.” Gentle hands released the clasp under her chin, and then cradled the back of her neck as her helmet was removed. Michael supported her head with one hand and he had her follow the other with her eyes.
“Your pupils are responding normally, you are tracking fine. I think you escaped any head or neck trauma this time.”
Dori’s face must have betrayed her confused thoughts because he added, “I worked for the emergency squad back where I’m from.” He used his free hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. He looked deep into her eyes and told her, “Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I will make sure of it.” Hearing that, Dori did feel more at ease. She was glad that he was here to take care of her. He picked her up, cradling her like something fragile.
Perhaps it was shock setting in, but Dori giggled.
“What is so funny, Mrs. Sahfi?” Michael asked lightly.
“First of all, call me Dori. Second of all, I’m not as dainty as that. I can walk back to the house.” He stopped walking and looked her full in the face.
“No. No you can’t.” There was no more to be said about that.
Michael carried her all the way back to the main house and set her on the couch. Despite his gentleness, she couldn’t help crying out from the pain that surged from her knee. Amir rushed into the room. His questioning glance said what he did not.
“She took a nasty fall. I think her knee got the worst of it. Do you want me to call the ambulance?”
“No, we will take it from here. Thank you. That will be all, Michael.”
The men stared at each other; neither seemed willing to back down. The tension in the small room mounted as the minutes ticked by. Dori’s eyes darted from one man to the other. Michael seemed to fill the room and Amir’s gaze went flat, as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. After a long silence, Amir blinked and shifted his weight.
“Perhaps it would be best to have her see the doctor. Could you drive her? I have to stay back with the children.”
“No problem.” He scooped her up before Amir had time to change his mind.
There was awkward silence in the cab of Michael’s pick-up truck. Michael headed toward the neighboring town where the nearest hospital was. Dori expected to give directions, but he had his blinker on before she could announce a single turn. Desperate for something to take her mind off her pain, she attempted to make small talk.
“So you’re from Pennsylvania?”
“I’m from all over.”
“Where did you learn to train horses?”
“It seems like a lifetime ago, but they were a major part of my childhood. I learned to communicate with them because I couldn’t stand to see them punished for disobeying that which they didn’t comprehend.”
“How did you know I had fallen off?”
“I was taking a walk around
the grounds.” She turned to meet his eyes. “I heard a horse cantering and was on my way to investigate. When I got there you were on the ground and Mubarek was making sure he wouldn’t be jumping indoors any time soon.”
They pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the emergency room. “Would you like to wait for a wheelchair or would you prefer to be carried?”
In the end she compromised by hobbling with her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist, supporting her. The pain that shot up from her injury brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she bit her lip and refused to let them fall. Being that it was a slow night in a small-town ER, Dori was quickly ushered into a private room.
“Michael, I don’t know how long this is going to take. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? You have a big day with Latif tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to leave. You shouldn’t be here alone. Latif can wait.”
The next hour was busy with vitals, questions and scans. The latter revealing a compound fracture of the patella despite the pins and wires that were previously holding it together. The nurse was sent to the waiting room to notify Michael that Dori was being prepped for knee surgery. The doctor planned to add more hardware and remove a floating bone shard. The surgeon was not optimistic about her recovery given the amount of trauma that the knee had already sustained.
* * *
Later, before she was fully awake, she heard a quiet voice, but couldn’t make out the words. It was so soothing, she was happy just to listen to the pattern of the sounds. She felt like she was floating. She didn’t want to open her eyes; they were too heavy anyway. She took a deep breath and the air held a foreign fragrance. As she began to come out of the anesthesia she was happy to have her pain numbed.