A Storm in the Making

Chapter 22--Ragtags

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ragtags

Once over the hill, I followed everyone else as they moved down a ways before spreading out in a semi-circle on the side of the gentle, grassy slope which ended in the ‘rugby’ field below it.  Past the field, in the distance, I could trace the course of the path with my eyes as it meandered on its way past the field until it faded in the bluish-purple distance.

I sat down on the grassy slope like everyone else around me.  The entire hillside was redolent with the smell of crushed grass.  It reminded me of returning to school each fall to that smell as the lazy fall afternoons were filled with the whirring of lawnmower blades cutting grass around the school.

 Homesickness stabbed me like a knife.  I pulled my knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms around my folded legs protectively and grabbed my nose to stop the smell from getting into my nose.  It was no good.  The air had a taste.  The taste of autumn and people and festivals.  It filled the air with the crispness of an apple.  I looked around me for something to distract me from my homesickness, and spotted the black-cloaked man I had seen at the cemetery.

 As I watched, the man continued walking confidently down to the field.  I noticed he had pulled his hood back up after his attempted introduction to me.  Something about this man made warning bells go off inside me every time I looked at him.  It was freaky, really.  I didn’t even know him.  It was just something I felt.  He stepped onto the field and crossed it.  His black robes made him stand out like a crow amongst a flock of pigeons. 

 On the down-slope side of the field, a pavilion had been set up under which sat three throne-like chairs.  On the chairs sat the three Hermits.  The spectators and the Hermits faced the hillside like opposing chess players lined up on a board.  The rugby field stood between them.  This field is where the challengers would be tested.  I tried to imagine myself walking alone out onto that field in front of a hillside of people staring at me on one side, and three ancient Wizards watching me from the other side, and couldn’t imagine it. 

 The three Wizards, or Hermits as everyone seemed to seemed to have nicknamed them, sat in the three chairs like visiting royalty. They faced the crowd with quiet dignity. They seemed to be the black-cloaked man’s destination.

He walked up to them and bowed humbly on one knee.  His sword stuck out at an odd angle as he let his hood fall backwards so that his head was visible.  The scabbard glinted in the sunlight like a wink when his head listed forward over his bent knee in a prayerful attitude.  Apparently it was some sort of homage he was paying the Hermits, for they all three reached out their right arms and let them hover over the man’s bent head for a moment before returning to the chair’s arm. 

After that, the man rose and wandered back out onto the field, nodding this way and that to people he apparently knew.  I noticed something odd when he did that, because even though his greeting to each of them oozed congeniality, the greetings returned to him were stiff or nonexistent.  Hmmm, maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt bad vibes when I was close to him.

Dr. Spinner walked out onto the field, nodded stiffly to the man, before announcing that all Red-Belts needed to report to him as soon as possible.  The acoustics on this hillside were incredible. As soon as he spoke, I knew why this particular hillside had been chosen for a public gathering.  Dr. Spinner’s voice reached me up near the top of the hill like he was standing beside me.

I got up and headed down towards him.  Here and there, others stood and did the same.  Soon I was down on the field looking up towards the way I had come. Instantly I was nervous as I felt that hillside full of eyes on me and the other Red-Belts around me.  I felt so lost wandering around in that stew of beings pouring onto the field.  Without warning, the man in the black cloak appeared out of thin air next to me.

“Quite a crush here, isn’t it, My Lady?” he said in that derisive way of his.

“Y-Yes,” I mumbled.

“Allow me to escort you over to Dr. Spinner.”

I looked up at him.  He was tall, maybe 6’4”, 6’5”, so I felt confident he could actually find Dr. Spinner quicker than I could, so I agreed.  “Sure.  Why not.”

The man took my elbow.  I could feel the strength in his hands, though his touch was gentle and impersonal.  Nothing I could object to, though I would have very much liked to.  Sweat was pouring down my back before we made it through that crowd. 

Everyone seemed to melt away from us like we had B.O or something as we drew near Dr. Spinner.  William Helm could clear a path, I’ll give him points for that, though I was embarrassed by the looks diffe cast our way.

It was such a relief when Nigel found me.  Nigel’s eyes dropped to where the man was holding my arm.  Nigel stiffened the moment he realized the man was not just a coincidental part of the crowd, but was with me.   My unease melted away from me abruptly when William Helm’s hand released my arm. 

I looked up at William Helm, ready to make introductions, but they weren’t needed as it turned out.  The man gave Nigel a twisted, bitter caricature of a smile. 

“Nigel.  It’s been a while.”  William Helm’s denim-blue eyes sparked with blue fire of challenge.  I could practically smell the testosterone in the air.

I turned my attention to Nigel, who stepped over and slipped his hand into mine; claiming possession of me. 

“Sir William,” Nigel said stiffly, with a slight inclination of his head.  Turning abruptly, he steered me away from the man, and over towards my family, for which I gave a sigh of appreciation. 

“I thought you only came here a couple of days ago?” I began whispering questions at Nigel the minute we stood safely next to Uncle, Luke and Andrew.  “You called him Sir.  How long have you known him?  Didn’t you come from earth like we did?”

For a moment I thought Nigel had no intention of answering me.  Finally, he said reluctantly, begrudgingly,  “That man is Sir William Helm, a Knight of the Black Rose.”

"A Knight? You're kidding me right?

"They're bad business. Assissans. Avoid them when you can."

Now the ring made sense.  I just couldn’t believe they had knights here on this planet.  Sheesh, what next.  Robin Hood?  I didn’t realize until later that Nigel had neatly side-stepped my question about how long he had known William Helm. What perplexed me was everyone’s awkwardness around William Helm.  Knights were good things, weren’t they?  The hostility between William Helm and Nigel could freeze the atmosphere around them. That didn't make sense. 

There was a lot more to this story of Sir William Helm and Nigel Conner than I had figured out yet.  That he and Nigel were mortal enemies was obvious.  It was the why that aroused my curiosity.  Why was I even curious to begin with was another question I didn’t have an answer for. That was enough of those speculations I told myself as I turned my attention back to Dr. Spinner.

Dr. Spinner was giving directions and trying to organize the ragtag bunch of red-belts wandering around on the field without a clue of what they were supposed to be doing—me included.  Nigel squeezed my hand and winked roguishly at me. I shoved William Helm, and my curiosity, into a trunk in the corner of my brain and shut the lid on it.  

Showtime, I thought, and followed the ragtag bunch of red belts who were grabbing choice places on the lowest benches reserved for us.  I found myself squashed into the middle of a bench between Harry Baxter on the end—naturally that rat would have grabbed a choice place—and Nigel on the other side of me.

Harry Baxter was already sweating.  I could smell the sour stench of the absence of underarm deodorant.  A truckload of Speed Stick would be worth a fortune here.  Growing up in a culture that cherished good body smells had definitely spoiled me.  It was going to be a long day.