The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four

by Daniel Lawlis

  “You do the same, Mr. Stephenson.”

  Megders shook his hand firmly and then walked outside into the night.

  Chapter 32

  “Set me down right by the door!” Righty bellowed, as Harold closed in on the house precipitously from several hundred feet above.

  Harold swooped right down next to the door, and Righty jumped off before Harold’s talons had even touched terra firma. He flung open the door like a zealous sheriff serving a warrant on an infamous villain and went charging headlong into the house.

  Only a low moan served to guide him in his quest, but he followed it with all the acuity of a bloodhound.

  “Janie!!!”

  She looked deathly ill. Her face was pale white, she appeared only semi-conscious, and the sheet she had wrapped around her showed signs of having absorbed a significant amount of lost fluid, no small amount of which appeared to be blood.

  “Richie . . . that you?” a soft voice asked, which sounded as disbelieving as a semi-delirious patient speaking to a long-deceased relative.

  “Shhhhh,” Righty said softly, touching her head, which felt little different than a hot pot of coffee.

  “Our baby decided to come a little early,” she said, attempting a small chuckle.

  “Tell me where to take you!” Righty said, feeling like a fish out of water.

  “To Sally’s . . . the botanist’s home. She’s also a midwife.”

  “Where does she live?”

  Janie’s face bore the expression of a person who has just realized some horrible truth.

  “She’s a mile outside of town . . . northwest. Oh, Richie, I don’t think I can make it,” Janie said sobbing.

  Righty knew what house she was talking about. He had passed it many times far overhead en route to his ranch.

  “Shhhh, now you just relax, honey. You’re a little delirious, so you’re gonna see some things that aren’t really happening quite the way you think they are, so no matter what you see you just relax because I’m going to take you over there really comfortably on a nice, soft bed, you hear?”

  “Okay, Richie,” she said.

  He then scooped her up as if she were lighter than a feather. Harold, intuitive creature and of acute hearing that he was, waited patiently outside the door, body as low to the ground as possible. He had already heard enough to know the exact destination, and no sooner had Righty mounted Harold’s back with Janie firmly in his arms did he take off quickly, yet smoothly, towards the house in question.

  Five minutes later, Harold swooped down right to the side of the botanist’s home, and Righty hopped off quickly with Janie in his arms and began pounding on the door.

  “It’s Mr. Simmers! Janie needs your help! Please!!”

  A light turned on, and a small curtain lifted slightly on the front door, revealing a pair of distrustful eyes that quickly widened in horror and recognition. The door flung open, and Sally stepped outside.

  “Please, Mrs. Redelmin, I’ve got no one else to turn to.”

  “Bring her inside, Mr. Simmers,” she said with a look of grave anxiety on her face.

  She directed Righty to a bed, where Righty lay his wife down. No sooner had her back touched the surface of the bed than she let out a horrible scream, and Righty thought he could see some more blood join the already large stain on Janie’s dress.

  “Kasani!” Sally exclaimed as she examined the area. “This is beyond my expertise. You’ve got to get your wife to a surgeon sometime tonight or—”

  She stopped abruptly and gulped.

  “Who and where?!” Righty barked.

  “Well, the best surgeon in all of Sivingdel is Dr. Ridemern, but it will be awfully dangerous transporting her on horseback.”

  Righty could tell by the look on her face there was something else in that statement left unspoken: And she’ll never make it anyhow.

  “Where does he live?”

  Sally looked at Righty for a moment like he was crazy, as it just then dawned upon her he wasn’t merely considering making the trip but would do so as soon as she stopped dillydallying and told him where to go.

  “Well, I don’t have his address handy, but he lives about three blocks south of Comfort Hospital.”

  “Do you have a map?!” Righty asked, with clear desperation in his voice.

  Sally began fumbling around with various papers with true zeal, realizing perhaps that if Mr. Simmers was going to fail in his quest to get Janie to Dr. Ridemern it had best not be in any way her own fault.

  After about two minutes but what seemed like an eternity Sally produced a map and then began scouring it avidly. Less than a minute later she showed it to him and drew a circle around the hospital.

  “Dr. Ridemern’s house is about three blocks south. It’s red brick and has a white picket fence and—”

  Righty was out the door, carrying Janie, and he disappeared into the blackness of the night before Sally could even finish her sentence.

  Chapter 33

  Sally ran outside but saw nothing.

  Hundreds of feet above, Harold was pumping his wings feverishly, while Righty held onto his unconscious wife, tears streaming down his face.

  Then, he wiped his face viciously with his forearm, as he realized tears weren’t going to save Janie, only quick thinking.

  He looked over his shoulders and saw quite a few konulans a ways behind trying feverishly to keep up with the mighty Harold, and he had a couple dozen perched right in front of him on Harold’s back, looking down sorrowfully at the ill Janie.

  “Once we get near the hospital, I want you to spread out and find a red brick house with a white picket fence south of the hospital.”

  “Yes, sir!” they cried out in unison.

  The city was already coming into view, and Harold knew where the hospital was from his many hours spent flying over the city while Righty conducted business. He began heading for the general area.

  As they closed in on the area, the konulans took off into the darkness.

  “Circle around while they look,” Righty instructed Harold.

  Just three minutes later, the konulans returned, shouting triumphantly, “We found it! We found it!”

  Righty felt relieved by the darkness because even though the health of his wife and child-to-be far eclipsed his desire to keep Harold a secret the last thing he wanted was fear or curiosity amongst gawkers to impede his quick progress to the home of the doctor.

  “Set me down right in front of his house, Harold!”

  The konulans flew downwards to show Harold the way, who was close behind them.

  It was a residential neighborhood, no doubt full of respectable, law-abiding professionals, but there was not a soul in sight on the street where Harold set Righty down.

  Righty picked Janie up and sprinted to the doorstep, while his winged companions dissipated like ghosts into the night, though they still watched fervently from above.

  Righty pounded on the door passionately, yelling, “HELP!! HELP!!”

  Similar to his experience at Mrs. Redelmin’s home, he was met with suspicious eyes, but this time when the door was cautiously opened he was met not with the object of his search but with a servant.

  Righty wasted no time for the servant to object.

  “It’s my wife! I can pay whatever the doctor asks, but I need help quick!!”

  The servant’s eyes turned to saucers as she looked at the large bloodstain on Janie’s midsection and then said in a gasp, “One moment, sir.”

  Righty almost barged into the house but restrained himself, realizing that he needed to at least give the doctor the opportunity to do his job of his own volition pursuant to a civil request before Righty considered more violent means of persuasion.

  Minutes later a groggy-eyed, silver-haired man with thick eye glasses looked at him crankily.

  “I’m not on call tonight!” the doctor said grumpily.

  Righty realized his manner of simple dress and the even simpler clothing of Janie perh
aps did not lend themselves well to the claim of his ability to pay upfront. Righty set Janie down quickly yet carefully and then removed a bag from inside his jacket pocket.

  “That’s $100,000 falons!” Righty said, extending the money towards the doctor, “and I can double that or quintuple that at your command!”

  The doctor looked a bit frightened, even in the faint light afforded by the moon and the candle in the doctor’s right hand. He could tell he was dealing with a man who rightly wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “We’ll talk money later. Bring her in!” he said gruffly.

  “Molly, get some hot water and bring my medical bag!” Dr. Ridemern shouted out.

  “Yes, Dr. Ridemern!” his servant replied.

  “This way,” the doctor told Righty authoritatively and led him to a small room.

  “She’s pregnant, Dr. Ridemern, and wasn’t supposed to deliver for a couple weeks.”

  “Just set her down here,” the doctor said, seemingly uninterested in Righty’s observations, but as soon as Janie was down on the bed, he said, “Two weeks, you say?” and then began peppering Righty with questions while he began disrobing Janie in front of Righty with the same calm professionalism a mechanic might disassemble the nuts and bolts of a machine.

  “Heaven help us,” the doctor said in a near whisper, as he inspected Janie’s bleeding.

  “Fresh towels!” he barked, and Molly was off running to comply.

  “How long has she been out?”

  “About a half-hour now.”

  “It’s good you got here when you did. I think this is within my capabilities, but I need to work alone,” he said and then turned towards Righty. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

  Molly handed the doctor the fresh towels, and as she led him to the living room to wait for news from the doctor, Righty saw the doctor extract a rather fearsome looking scalpel from his medical bag.

  As Righty sat down on the sofa outside what was now the surgical room—perhaps in happier moments it was a guest room—he gave free vent to his sobs, now that there was no pressing action needed on his part to justify their suppression.

  But out of the darkness of his impotent despair arose an idea. A solemn oath. He was not a man given to prayer, but whether from some newfound faith or from desperation to do something other than blubber his eyes out, he made the decision right then and there to make a solemn pact.

  There were many gods in the Seleganian panoply, but it was generally agreed, and strongly suggested in the Seleganian myths, that Kasani was the most powerful. Thus, Righty decided to bypass his inferiors and go straight to the top.

  Kasani, I promise you that if you spare Janie’s life, and that of our baby, I will become the benefactor of Selegania’s poor.

  Righty felt a strange sense of calm descend upon his soul. Not total peace. But he felt his theretofore uncontrollable angst dampen considerably, and what was left behind was like the simmering coals of an extinguished fire, where just seconds ago a forest fire had raged inside his mind.

  He lay back on the couch, and although he never would have expected it, Sleep welcomed him with outstretched arms and pulled him down into her irresistible embrace.

  Chapter 34

  “I don’t think I can make it!” the man said in a squeal of desperation.

  Righty looked to the side and saw a quivering man holding desperately to the side of a rock. He momentarily felt smug contempt for the jittery fool before he made the severe mistake of looking down and seeing trees that looked like toy soldiers standing at attention.

  “Don’t go down. You’re past the point of no return,” a calm, instructive voice said.

  Righty looked to his left and saw a gray-haired man smile at him benevolently. He was wearing a helmet with the words “Rock Climbing Coach” inscribed on the front. He said nothing to Righty.

  Righty turned back towards the frightened climber, whose arms and legs looked like they were doing some kind of wobbly dance.

  “It’s too high up! I’ll never make it!” the man yelled.

  “Maybe not,” the coach replied calmly, “but you sure as hell won’t make it down. And you already long since entered the death zone.”

  Righty dared just one more quick peek downwards and had to concede the coach’s observation seemed correct, but he quickly brought his gaze back upwards, as even this brief downward glance had sent an electrical spark racing up and down his spine a few times and raised the hairs on the back of his neck up towards the summit above.

  “It’s too high!” the man shrieked again. “I’m going down. To hell with this!”

  Righty glanced at the coach, who gazed upon him benevolently, then shook his head sorrowfully.

  Righty looked back towards the man, and he was indeed beginning to make his way down. The jitteriness seemed to have died down a tad, now that he was moving closer to the earth rather than farther from it. But the man’s terror quickly returned, as he realized it was impossible to down climb without looking down.

  “Oh, hell!” the man screamed in a shriek of desperation. He hugged the wall closely, looking like he wished he was anywhere but there at this particular moment. He then made a loud exhalation, seemingly to psyche himself up, and he began making a few cautious movements of progress in his descent.

  But his knees and fingers were getting shakier by the moment, as he had to keep looking downwards, and then Righty felt his stomach nearly fall through his feet when he saw what happened next.

  The man’s fingers managed to grasp the desired hold, but his fingers were too weak to sustain the combination of his weight and downward momentum.

  They slipped off, and the ensuing shriek almost made Righty lose his own grip. He hugged the wall tightly but for some reason couldn’t avert his gaze from the terrible scene. The man grasped out desperately with his right hand, and did manage to gain a hold, but he was swinging at this moment, and as he did so his countenance turned towards Righty.

  Righty groaned when he saw the man’s face was his own. His face was contorted in a rictus of horror as his right hand slipped off. He clawed feverishly at the side of the cliff wall, but his downward momentum was too powerful now for any of these grips to be able to stop it.

  He was accelerating faster and faster; then he was in free fall. Righty watched all the way until nearly the very end but looked away just before the man’s body crashed onto the stony ground and exploded like an apple.

  The sudden cessation of the man’s screams left nothing regarding the outcome to imagination.

  Righty turned, now horrified, to the coach.

  “I told him it’s harder going down than up. And staying still’s not an option either. You’ve got to reach the top. Then, you can rest.”

  “HAAAAROOOOLD!!!” Righty shouted out, expecting the wonderful sound of his loyal friend’s wings, that portent of deliverance, at any moment.

  But there was only silence.

  “Harold can’t get you out of this one,” the coach said calmly.

  A stubborn determination overcame Righty, something the coach apparently sensed.

  “Now that’s the spirit,” he said, as Righty began climbing.

  He took his time. He was in no rush. He searched for the footholds and handholds one at a time and began making slow, yet certain, progress.

  The coach, well protected with ropes, something of which Righty was dolefully bereft, cheerfully ascended the vertical cliff face with Righty, staying about ten feet to his left.

  Righty began feeling more and more confident of his ascent, and soon the old geezer was present in voice only, as he cried out from below, “That’s it! That’s the spirit!”

  Then, suddenly, he heard something far more sinister from the old man: “WATCH OUT!!”

  Righty looked up to see some loose rocks tumbling down towards him. He hugged the cliff wall as closely as he could and tried to push his body forward into a small indentation that offered the protection of a slight overhang.

&
nbsp; He braced himself, waiting for the impact of the first rocks.

  BAM!!

  One hit him right on the back of his head, which was fortunately covered by a helmet, but he could feel the force of the blow. He gripped the side of wall even harder. Give me what you’ve got! I can take a beating!!

  Chapter 35

  “Sir?”

  Righty was a bit confused, since he could have sworn the coach was a man, but now it sounded like a soft female voice was seeking his attention. He gripped hard onto the blankets covering his body and prepared for the impact of the rest of the falling rocks.