A Book Of The Lands: The One Who Would Be King

The One Who Would Be King Chapter IV: A Late Summer Storm

Trever then grabbed Snork, whom he had tied to a tree near the hill, and re-tied him to another tree, trying to keep the animal out of harm’s way.

“Poor, lad.  You’ll be all right.  This is no big deal.  You’ll just get a good bath – that’s all!” he soothed, though he wondered if he was saying these things to convince himself.

Finally, they were safe – perhaps a bit of an overstatement – inside the shelter.  The thing was so low that they all had to lie down on their stomachs.  Rain and run-off streamed over the canvass and the ground was soaked, but the protection the shelter afforded was still invaluable.  It really was an engineering feat considering the circumstances.  Several times in the first few minutes alone, large twigs and branches crashed near the shelter and a couple actually hit the canvass with some force.  They had to re-set the rocks a few times, as the ferocious winds broke the captive tarp free of the ground.

“What is this?” cried Djar.

“Oh, just one of our Mid-Land storms, you know!” laughed Trever, but both Djar and Cookie could see that he was still worriedly peeking out the flap nearly continuously.

“Don’t tell me this is common?” asked Cookie, whose smallish voice had the most difficult time of all contesting the noisy storm.

“No, little one, it ain’t.  But don’t you get to worrying either.  It’s not as if I haven’t seen worse.”

She asked a question, but her voice couldn’t break the encompassing noise, so she screamed out: “How long do you think it will last?”

“Anywhere from a half hour to all day and night.” Trever said with a short smile.

“Great.” 

The storm – at least the first part of it – lasted for about an hour.  Then, everything became deathly still.  There was no sound except for the faint drip of water, falling like drizzle from the treetops.  The wind had completely died.  All the forest’s inhabitants had long since buried themselves into their dens and nests, and they wouldn’t come out for quite some time, so the silence was ever reinforced.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last.

A high-pitched shriek, a sound like none that any of the three companions had ever heard could be discerned in the distance.  It then began to grow.

Djar stuck his head fully out of the tent, but Trever then yanked on his leg, startling him.

“I think it’s a tornado!  I’ve seen ’em from afar, but this one sounds like it’s going to run over the top of us!  Keep your head in – don’t worry – it’s no big deal!  As long as we stay put, we’ll be fine.”

A tornado! A weird feeling suddenly gripped him – even though he was deathly frightened, he just had to get a look at it.

But at the persistent tugging of Trever of on his pant-leg, he did tuck more of his head into the shelter.  He quickly peered inside, and took Cookie’s hand – comforting both himself and her.

Djar then screamed:  “Lay on your bellies with your hands up around your faces!”

When he seen that they had listened to him – which seemed a marvel in itself, he again poked his head out of the violently swinging flap of canvass, taking a ferocious face smacking akin to the ones dished out by Captain Karn.

The grey-black monstrosity could soon be seen rising above the trees.  Debris was scattered all about it, front and back and side-to-side.  Large trees, which had stood for upwards of three hundred years, were knocked down like so many matchsticks.  The wind carried so much sand and bits of debris that Djar could barely see through the watering of his irritated eyes, but he kept right on looking.