Chapter 13
Whatever I was lying on was hard, lumpy and uncomfortable. I moved slowly, remembering that it hurt and those memories were still the same. Everything hurt and I cried out. I struggled to open my eyes and what I saw puzzled me. I was in a shed and lashed to a wooden frame piled with straw covered over with blankets. It looked like an apple-press shed where cider was made.
The walls were honeywood planks, tongue and grooved so that no air could creep between the cracks and with bright windows and shutters. The door was directly at my feet and closed tightly. There was a vague smell of vinegar in the air and not unpleasant.
I swallowed and cleared my throat, which brought a reaction from the corner behind me where I couldn’t see. A small child stood up and came around to my side, blonde with lavender eyes, curly headed and graceful. A young girl no more than six or seven with the look of a crossbred. She spoke. “Do you understand me, sir?”
I stared. She spoke Valesch, a language that had died out at the same time as the split occurred. I had heard it spoken only a few times and knew that hers was the pure, untainted and ancient speech from the old worlds. “Yes. Where am I?”
“In my father’s cider shed,” she answered easily. “What’s your name? Are you one of the humankind? You don’t look human or smell human.”
I was speechless. She had asked me a question I had been pondering for hours in my unconscious state. What was my name? I couldn’t remember.
“I don’t know,” I said in agony. “I remember falling. Lying in the cold and in pain. Then, nothing made any sense–colors had tastes, sounds felt, everything was all scrambled up.”
“Jennessa.” We heard an older voice call out and the door opened to let in a blast of sunlight and warm air. The doorways filled with a tall man, a masculine version of the child in front of me. “You’re awake.” He came forward to place his huge palm on my forehead. “Fever’s down. In fact, you’re cold. How do you feel? What’s your name?”
“He doesn’t remember,” she said helpfully. “Maybe he hit his head.”
He surveyed my face. “I would say more than once. You broke a lot of bones.”
“Falling. I remember falling for a long time, down a long way and then floating.” I blinked and my eyes watered. When I opened them next, I was still lying on the frame but only tied by my waist, leaving my arms and legs free. Yet, I could not move them.
The door was closed and I had the sense that it was nighttime even though I couldn’t see anything out of the windows. It was dim in the shed and usually these sheds were built in close proximity to the orchards so were surrounded by trees.
“Hello?” I was hungry, my stomach growled and cramps made the pain in my bones even more miserable.
The blonde youngster came out of the same corner with the same quiet stealth that bothered me. I knew I should have sensed, smelled or heard her.
“Hello. Are you hungry?” She asked and right on cue, my belly growled loud enough to rival a bear’s.
“Where’s the big man?” I asked trying to move slowly. Still nothing from my arms and legs but I could feel them lying on the frame so I knew I wasn’t paralyzed. “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?”
She looked at me with pity. “You really must have hit your head. I’m Jennessa; I found you lying on the banks of the river and called my daddy. He came, picked you up and brought you home. That was several days ago.”
“Why can’t I move? I’m hungry and thirsty. Can you feed me? What’s my name?”
“Daddy spelled you so you could heal. It will wear off once your bones start to knit. You didn’t tell us your name. I brought wine and soup for you. Do you think you can sit up?” She asked.
I struggled to move and succeeded in raising my head off the pillow. She came over to my side and cranked a handle underneath the frame, which raised my back and shoulders up into a sitting position. She did it slowly so that it only hurt a little, stopping before the pain in my ribs became unbearable. Instant sweat beaded up on my brow and she wiped it off with the edge of her apron. Turning around she reached for something behind me and brought out a bowl of steaming liquid and a ceramic mug filled with a rose-colored wine.
Slowly, she spoon-fed me a thick rich broth of some kind of meat and it hit my stomach with a warm nugget that I curled around like a precious memory. She didn’t stop until the bowl was empty and then offered me the wine. That went straight to my head and made me lightheaded and dizzy. My pain went away and I realized that the wine was drugged. She wiped off my mouth and asked if I wanted anything else.
Slurring my words, I asked, “what about needing the outhouse?”
“You haven’t gone yet but daddy said if you had to I should call him. Do you think you need to go?”
“No,” I sighed. I went back to sleep.
Her father woke me as he was holding a long funnel shaped pot over my dick and I stiffened in alarm until he soothed me with a word I knew was magic before he went on to explain. “Relax. It’s just a urinal. I saw that you were fully engorged and thought you might need to relieve yourself.”
I heard the sound of piss hitting the bottom of the jug; I hadn’t realized that I needed to empty my bladder. What came out wasn’t much and smelled awful. He waited until I squeezed out the last few drops before he set the jug down and ran his hands over my body. I couldn’t do more than make a feeble protest but he wasn’t molesting me. Rather, he was just checking my wounds.
“You might be able to start moving in a few days. Whoever whipped you meant to kill you. I counted over twenty lashes. Did you displease your last master?”
“I have no master,” I said smartly and fell silent when I remembered that I didn’t know who I was or where I came from. So, I could very well have an owner.
“Do you remember anything?” He pulled up the thin sheet to my chin.
“Nothing but falling,” I admitted and he nodded.
“Your body already told me that. Get some rest. I’ll bring you something to eat after I feed the cows.”
“Cows?”
“This is a working farm. We raise all our own produce and sell the extra at market,” he answered. “Everything has to pay its own way.” With that, he left me to chew on his meaning.