by T Nisbet
Chp. 10
We walked over the rolling hills under a crisp, clear, star filled sky. The moon was so bright that coach had covered the radiant crystal that had lit our path through the woods. I gazed up at the stars as we walked and was surprised to find several constellations that I knew. It added to the mystery of where we were. They would have been different if we were on another planet. Ivy had said we were on earth, and yet not on earth. I don’t know why I was so happy to see the familiar stars, but it helped me relax.
Just like on our journey through the forest, the girls followed behind Coach, while Toby and I brought up the rear. After we’d gotten some distance away from the forest, Toby and I paused to look back.
We stared at the awesome spectacle of the moonlit woods behind us. Tiny lights danced high in the forest branches like fireworks and the treetops shimmered like heat waves rolling up off of a highway. The smallest of the great trees had to be over five hundred feet tall and spread out to more than two hundred feet near the top, while the larger trees must have been a thousand feet or more. These monsters of the forest unfurled enormous canopies that reminded me of great shining mushrooms as they reflected the moonlight. We had passed several tree trunks inside the woods that had been three hundred feet wide at least. They must have belonged to these massive trees.
After a moment or two, we turned away to rejoin our party.
“So…” Toby began, “you catch arrows now, eh?”
“I… guess so.”
“That was just crazy, bud! What made you think to do that anyhow? Not that I wanted to see Coach McNally skewered, but he should have died back there or at least had a serious case of heartburn.”
I shook my head.
“I just did it. It was a reflex.”
“Some reflex, Jake-O,” he laughed. “And here I thought it was my job to protect the quarterback.”
“Guess you’ll have to learn to throw a ball then,” I snickered. Toby couldn’t throw a ball to save his life. He could snap back a perfect spiral to the punter, or to me in shotgun formations, but throw a ball over hand… not so much.
“Yeah, right! Can you imagine me at quarterback?” he laughed. “You ever catch an arrow in your father’s Aikido class?”
“Never, you’d know that if you’d gone to more than a couple of classes,” I countered.
I’d talked Toby into coming a couple of times. It was hard for him to use finesse when holding onto someone that he could just pick up off the ground, and heave through the air. During his first visit, nearly the entire class had tried to see if they could lock up one of his joints, it was impossible, he was just too big, and too strong to be manipulated.
“The Gi was too small. It restricted my most massive guns, that… and my belly kept popping out!” he laughed.
“Too bad Carla wasn’t there for a Youtube exclusive.”
We joked back and forth as we hiked, and caught up to the group pretty quickly. It was so good to have Toby here, like the stars above, he was a constant, and my world needed constants right then.
We stopped several times to rest. At each stop Coach snarled some order to Toby and I. The hills had become more flat as we descended, and the grass higher. We were still heading slightly downhill when we saw the first planted fields and farmhouses in the distance. Coach picked a path to avoid the well-maintained farms. Even though the moon shone with a radiance that lit the fields, I couldn’t tell what any of the crops were. At one point I could have sworn I smelled carrots, but I couldn’t be sure looking at the neat rows of the field we were walking past. The foliage didn’t look like the carrots my Grandmother grew.
We had passed an exceptionally large field that smelled like broccoli when Coach cackled loudly and headed for a low stone building in the middle of a different field to our right. We soon found ourselves on a wagon-grooved dirt road leading up to the small stone building. A dog started barking loudly as we drew closer, and light appeared suddenly in the building’s windows.
Coach urged us forward with grumbling curses, ignoring the threat a fiercely barking dog usually represents. We kept moving until we stood before the building’s heavy oak door. A large, brindle colored hound was tied to a post near the door, barking and growling as if the devil himself had arrived.
The oaken door in front of us opened and a short pudgy woman stepped into the doorway.
“What are you about so late. Be gone or I’ll let loose the dog,” she piped.
“Our master wouldn’t be happy if his daughter were to be bitten by your scruffy old dog woman,” spat Coach McNally, his humor not much improved since nearly being punctured by an elven arrow.
“He’s not my Master, you crusty old duffer!” the woman said frowning.
“Be quiet you old crone!” Coach barked at the woman. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Well then, get in here, husband, and quit your griping you flatulent old goat!” she scolded disappearing inside.
Toby and I stared at each other in disbelief and shared a silent laugh. Coach had a wife? Here? It was hard to believe anyone would even consider marrying him, much less go through with it.
Coach steered well away from the large hound as we walked up the stairs on onto the porch. The dog wanted nothing more than to get its teeth into him. Carla walked right up to the snarling dog and knelt down in front of it. The brindle-colored hound cocked his head at her, then forgot all about Coach and began licking her face.
Toby rolled his eyes at me as we walked past Carla and entered the farmhouse.
The building contained one large flagstone floored room with a sunken fire pit in the middle. Low flames licked the bottom of a large clay pot hanging in the center of the pit. Smoke rose lazily up to a hole in the roof where it was pulled out into the night. The sparse room smelled of many things, but mostly ashes, mold, and pea soup. A dirty, white hen sat on a straw stuffed bed built into an uneven stone frame in one corner. Close to the bed, a few wooden chairs surrounded a poorly made, thick, wooden table. The table was empty save for a couple of thick old books, their leather covers faded with age.
A kitchen of sorts was built into the wall opposite the fire pit. Atop the kitchen counter sat several poorly glazed bowls filled to overflowing with a variety of herbs. Above what looked like a sink, several wooden shelves had been set into the rock wall. The shelves were packed tightly with a huge assortment of glass jars filled with a varied collection of colored liquids and powders.
On the other side of the room, four canvas cots with folded blankets on top sat in a neat row.
“I got your message you mangy old coot,” said the women rummaging around in the kitchen. “The soup is done, and I’ll have some smoked sausages and bread ready in good order.”
Mrs. McNally’s hair was gray, and she wore a thick, blue canvas apron tied in the back with rough twine. She bustled back and forth preparing the meal.
“Pick out a cot and take a load off.” Coach McNally ordered gruffly, shuffling over to the straw bed, kicking off his dirty army boots, and flopping face down next to the hen. He was snoring before his head hit the burlap pillow.
His wife shook her head. “Doddering old fossil.”
Ivy and Carla asked Mrs. McNally if they could help in any way, and she declined with a pleasant smile.
There were only four cots and five of us. Toby and I took off our packs as the girls went over to the cots to decide the sleeping arrangements. We leaned the packs up against the wall, near the door and went over to where the girls now sat in quiet conversation. We were informed that Toby and Carla were to share a cot, though I didn’t know how they would manage it, the cot wasn’t big enough for Toby by himself. Brianna, Ivy and I would get our own cots.
“Don’t get many visitors… and only see that snoring, old windbag a couple of times a year, if then. Never had a need for more than three chairs,” she called from the kitchen area. “You young folk mind sitting where you’re at to eat?”
“Not at all,” Brianna sa
id cheerfully.
Mrs. McNally brought us steaming bowls of pea soup, a plate of sausages and a couple of loaves of bread. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, and dug in with a vengeance. To my delight, the soup was delicious, the smoked sausages amazing and the bread was better than a master baker could have managed. As we ate, the cherub-faced Goodwife brought over clay mugs filled with foamy, homemade beer.
I honestly can’t say I’ve had a better meal in my life. I’m not a drinker at all, but I didn’t say no when Mrs. McNally refilled my mug several times during the meal. The beer tasted absolutely wonderful and was marvelously thirst quenching. I had three bowls of the soup before all was said and done.
The long hike and the events of the day had me totally worn out. I eyed my cot lovingly.
“Jake and I will see to the dishes!” insisted Ivy giggling at me. I swallowed a groan and followed her sleepily into the kitchen.
Mrs. McNally refused to let us do all of the cleaning and labored with us to wash the bowls and plates in a large copper washbasin. It wasn’t long before everything was clean. Under McNally’s plump little wife’s direction, I carried the incredibly heavy, water filled brass basin outside, dumped it out, and wiped it down. When I brought the basin back in, Ivy and the old women were talking like best friends at the thick wooden table, ignoring Coach’s nearby snores.
Looking up at me, Mrs. McNally nodded in appreciation. “I normally have to make five trips with two buckets to do that young man. Must be nice to be so young and strong.”
I shrugged off the compliment, too tired to be embarrassed, set the washbasin down in its place and headed for the cots on the far side of the room. Everyone was fast asleep. I pulled my dirty Addidas off trying not to make too much of a mess, and collapsed onto my cot. As much as I hated mimicking Coach, I was sure I’d be asleep before my head came to rest. I wasn’t wrong.
A gentle, but firm hand shook me softly awake. I grudgingly opened my eyes and looked up. I was greeted by Mrs. McNally’s warm smile.
“If it’s not too much of a bother young man, would you mind chopping some wood so I can make breakfast?”
I nodded, rolled off of the cot, muscles complaining, put my shoes on and headed for the door. I walked out into the chill morning air, shutting the door quietly behind me. I looked around in the pre-dawn light and saw an axe sticking out of a stump near where I had dumped the water the night before. I walked over to it and saw the piled sections of wood nearby.
I’d never chopped wood before, but I’d seen it done on TV and in the movies. I picked a piece of wood, set it on its end on the stump and grabbed the axe. After a few horribly ineffective swings, I got the hang of splitting the wood. It felt good to exercise. After only a few minutes, I had worked the stiffness out of my muscles. I cut enough for the day, and then cut enough so Mrs. McNally wouldn’t have to worry about chopping any more for a while.
I returned with a huge armful of wood as the others were beginning to wake up. I set the wood down by the fire pit. Mrs. McNally nodded, pleased at the size of the wood, and set out some other chores for me to do.
I watered and fed the plow horses in a small barn, took the dog for a short walk, and gathered eggs from a chicken coup. When I returned, Ivy smiled brightly at me from the kitchen and then walked over to me.
“Good morning Dear Heart,” she grinned. “You better wash up, you don’t want to start out the day smelling like that, do you?”
I sighed and went back outside to the well, took off the itchy sweater, my shirt, pulled out a bucket of water, and washed myself the best I could with the cold water. The sun had just started to peer over the horizon, when I was joined by Toby, who had also been ordered to wash before breakfast.
“You would think that hiking like this, we’d get a break from having to be clean,” he said, then he lifted a bucket up and poured it over his head, soaking his tee shirt. He sputtered and shook his huge frame. “Always wanted to do that.”
I laughed at him.
“Meet your expectations?”
“On the contrary, I feel no need to ever do it again,” he said shivering.
Coach was in a positively surly mood when we returned for breakfast. He downed a tankard or two of beer, popped a raw egg into his mouth and bit down, then spat out the pieces of the shell. After eating a couple of eggs this way, he stormed out of the building.
“Old relic never was a morning person.” Mrs. McNally grinned.
“That egg thing is so disgusting!” Brianna said.
“Just gross,” Carla agreed.
“Won’t that make you sick?” Toby asked.
Mrs. McNally shrugged, “He’s been doing that for forty years, so I guess not. You know children, it still turns my stomach, even after all this time.”
After we’d eaten an amazing breakfast and cleaned up, Coach returned. He gave Toby and I a dirtier scowl than normal.
“Gather the packs, put them in the wagon out front,” he grumbled, “then get your pansy ass’ back in here on the double!”
We did as he asked, wedging the packs in back of an old buckboard filled with large barrels. I recognized the old horses attached to wagon as ones I’d fed earlier.
“What’s in the barrels?” Toby wondered aloud.
I shrugged, and we headed back inside. The girls were each wearing a drab, brown leather tunic and pants along with tan, hooded capes. Toby and I looked at them as Coach’s wife helped them adjust the clothing properly. I missed Ivy’s last outfit. It had been part of her transformation.
Coach called us over to a corner of the room and handed us similar clothing to what the girls were wearing. Crouching down, he removed a flagstone from the floor revealing a secret compartment. He reached down into the hole and with a grunt of effort lifted out what appeared to be an enormous, shortened, metal sledgehammer and with an effort, pushed it over the floor to Toby.
It was by far the biggest, scariest hammer I’d ever seen. Runes written in some bizarre script were etched into the huge head. It looked like something Thor might wield in battle. Its haft was perhaps two feet long and made of some kind of smooth white wood wrapped with braided leather near the grip. A loop of leather hung off the end of the handle.
Coach reached into the compartment once more and pulled out a long bundle and tossed it at my feet.
“If you lose these, it will be on your heads!” he snapped, pulling the flagstone back into place. “Now get dressed slackers, we leave in five.”
Toby picked up the gargantuan hammer at his feet with ease. “All I need now is a Viking helmet,” he joked spinning the war hammer in his hand. “What did Santa give you?”
I snickered and reached down picking up the bundle. It was light. I set the clothes I’d been handed on a cot nearby, and unwrapped the leather bundle, revealing a sword sheathed in a well-worn, leather scabbard, attached to a simple leather belt. The hilt of the three-and-a-half-foot sword was remarkably crafted. The cross-guard shone like stainless steel and was skillfully designed to resemble twin birds, the grip was inset with what looked like mother of pearl, and a light blue stone glowed from the pommel. It looked like something that belonged in a museum, or rich person’s collection, not in a plain, unadorned scabbard.
“Its beautiful,” I gasped.
“Let’s get dressed D’Artagnan,” Toby laughed. “Wonder if Coach got us the right sizes. I’m thinking, no way.”
I smiled and shook my head setting the sword on the cot next to the clothes. What I was going to do with a sword I had absolutely no clue.
“I guess that makes you Porthos,” I shot back.
“I’ll stick with Conan or Thor, thank you very much.”
Mrs. McNally shooed the girls outside, and Toby and I got dressed. How Coach had picked out clothing that fit us was beyond me. The outfit felt strange, and when I strapped on the sword, I couldn’t help but feel like I was ready to go to a costume party. Once we were dressed, Toby picked up Brianna’s expensive duffle bag, a
nd we went outside.
“I will not ride while the others walk, McNally!” Brianna argued.
“You’ll do as your told!” snapped Coach, glowering at her.
We had emerged from the stone building and into a heated argument. Toby threw the duffle bag next to the packs in the back of the wagon, by the large wooden casks.
“Don’t count on it!” Bri responded. “I’ll take my turn walking, and that is final.”
Coach growled loudly. He was always growling it seemed. He growled in the weight room, he growled in the locker room, growled on the field, growled in the forest, even growled at his wife.
He grimaced, nodding, “Fine, lady Brianna. But you will ride next to me when we enter the city, and THAT is final!”
Brianna smiled contently. “Okay.”
Coach rolled his eyes, then looked around at us all. “When we get near the city, pull your hoods over your heads. The idea here is to blend in people.”
“I’m glad there is a Foot Locker there, because I was worried my Nike’s might drawn attention,” Carla said dryly, looking at her running shoes.
Coach growled again. His wife laughed lightly.
Toby hid a giggle with his hand and tapped his Nike’s against hers in a camaraderie salute.
I looked down at my Addidas. The dirty white leather stuck out like a sore thumb.
