Paraworld Zero (35 page)

    “Father find Si-moan. Father save Si-moan.”

    A giant man approached the bed. His clothing consisted of animal skins, musty
and worn. A long rope wrapped around his shoulder and chest, as if it were part of his natural
attire.

    “Simon,” he said. “I is Harr.” He extended his huge hand. “Nice… to… meet…
you.”

    “Nice to meet you,” Simon said, shaking the large paw. “Thank you for saving
me. I thought I was a goner.”

    “Simon almost die,” the man explained, trying to piece the words together
into an intelligent sentence. “Cold water slow down poison. Simon smart to go in river.”

    “I didn’t realize,” he said, sitting up. “I just kinda fell into the
situation.” He stretched out his tired arms. “Wow! I feel great now.”

    With a look of surprise, Harr reached over and removed the bandages on the
boy’s shoulder. He then dug his big thumb into the spider bite.

    “This no hurt?”

    “Ouch, ouch!” Simon yelped. “Yeah, that’s pretty tender. What I meant to say
was that I can move my arm again. The poison must have worn off.”

    “Poison no… no… no wear off. Poison kill,” said Little Har.

    “Poison no kill!” his father exclaimed. The large man opened the front door
and yelled out to his tribe, “Morbras! Morbras! Morbras comes!”

    A group of giants entered the hut with looks of amazement on their faces. One
by one, they approached Simon’s bed and touched his shoulder while chanting, “Morbras
comes.”

    Simon whispered to Little Har, “Who’s this
Morbras
they’re talking about?”

    “Si-moan… is Morbras,” he said slowly. The big Puds bowed down in reverence.
Har concluded, “Si-moan our king.”

    “
WHAT?
” His response was so abrasive that everyone stopped chanting at once. “I’m not your
king!”

    Big Harr stood. “Legend say… Morbras will come… and protect us… Poison cannot
hurt Morbras… Morbras our king.” As the big Pud spoke, two giants placed a wicker basket at the
bedside.

    “Look, guys, I know you might believe in some old fable, but I have a
perfectly good explanation for this.”

    The big Puds backed away from the bed while an old man opened the basket with
a long stick. Before Simon could continue, a pit viper emerged. In an instant, the venomous snake
rose high enough to become eye level with the boy. Simon froze.

    He stuttered under his breath, “Wh-Wh-What are you d-d-doing? I’m not
Morbras.”

    The snake swayed back and forth, staring at the frightened boy. Then, without
warning, it struck and bit Simon on the arm with its two-inch fangs. Har’s father grabbed the
serpent’s head and pried it from Simon’s flesh.

    Still holding the squirming snake in his hand, Harr said, “Now we show you…
that you
are
Morbras.”

    Simon felt the neurotoxins race through his bloodstream. The room started to
spin, and intense pains jabbed at his stomach. Falling back onto the bed, he moaned, “I’m not
Morbras. I’m not Morbras. I’m not…” Suddenly, the pain disappeared, and the room stopped
spinning.

    “Simon…” came the deep voice of Har’s father from above, “…
is
Morbras.”

    The boy sat up and looked at his arm in dismay. The nasty-looking fang marks
were still there, but the poison in his body seemed to be gone.

    The big Puds continued their quiet chanting. “Morbras comes… Morbras comes…”
They all bowed down again; some even prostrated themselves upon the ground.

    “Please,” Simon cried. “Don’t.”

    Har’s father put the viper back into the wicker basket and said, “Morbras
needs rest.” He shooed the crowd from the hut, but Little Har remained at Simon’s bedside.

    “I don’t understand,” Simon groaned, trying to nurse his wounded arm.

    Harr pulled out some herbs from a pouch on his belt and ground them with a
stone. “I is sorry,” the giant said as he worked. “So sorry.”

    He spit in the mixture twice to give it a pasty consistency. “I plucked you
from river,” the man boasted. He rubbed the herbs onto the puncture wounds. Simon winced. “Sent
from God… you are.”

    The man took some bandages from his bag and wrapped them around Simon’s arm
to stop the bleeding. “Morbras…” he mumbled softly. “Morbras will free us all.”

    “Please don’t call me that. My name is Simon.”

    “Si-moan?” said Little Har.

    “Yes, just Simon.”

    “Simon must rest,” Harr said calmly. “Come, Little Har… Let us go.”

    “Wait,” Simon called out. “I’m starving.”

    “Si-moan hungry?” said Little Har.

    “Yes, big guy… and thirsty.”

    Har’s father consented. “I go… get food for king.” The giant left the hut to
gather some food.

    Simon opened his mouth to speak when he noticed two identical twins sneaking
into the room. They eased their way closer and closer, as if frightened to approach the young
wizard.

    “Come. No be afraid,” Har said to the young men. “Si-Moan, here my brothers.
This Harrr and this Har-rr.”

    “You’re kidding me.” Simon laughed; the pain in his arm had subsided. “You
all have the same name?”

    “No,” Har said, scratching his ear. He pointed a finger at each brother and
then crossed his arms and pointed at them with the opposite hand. “This Harrr and this
Har-rr.”

    “No, Har. I Harrr,” the first Pud said, drawing near.

    “And I Har-rr,” the other one chided.

    Just then, three more Puds bounded into the room. “This Har-r-r,” Har
introduced. “This Harrr-r… and this Har-rr-r.”

    Simon could hardly tell a difference in the way Little Har pronounced their
names. “Man, I bet your family reunions are just a blast to go to,” he joked. They all looked
puzzled. “I mean,” Simon tried to explain further, “everyone probably has a hard time remembering
your names.” Still, none of the large boys seemed to understand what he was referring to. “I bet
your mom and dad mix up your names all the time,” he added with an uncomfortable laugh.

    This time, the big Puds all looked down at the ground in sorrow.

    “Did I say something wrong?”

    “Momma no come back,” Little Har said. “Momma get water at river… and no come
back.”

    “Dra-goon-nos eat her,” Harrr blurted.

    His twin brother punched him in the arm and cried, “No say that! Momma no get
eaten!”

    Harrr-r joined the fight. “Har-r-r find dra-goon-no tracks! Huh,
Har-r-r?”

    “Yes,” Har-r-r answered.

    “No mean Momma get eaten,” Har-rr-r said, including himself in the argument.
He slugged Harrr-r in the arm as he spoke.

    “Guys!” Simon intervened. “Guys! You don’t have to fight about this. You lost
your mother, and that’s a terrible thing. I should know. I lost my mother as well, but you can’t
just argue about it. You have to stick together.”

    “Si-moan bring Momma back?” asked Har with an innocence so sweet, he seemed
like a child fully expecting his father to find a lost pet.

    Simon’s heart swelled within him. Oh how he wished he could bring his own
mother back. But despite his newfound powers, not even he could bring someone back from the
dead.

    “I’m sorry, Har,” Simon choked, “I can’t.”

    Their father entered the room. “Children. Simon needs rest. Go!”

    The big Puds scurried out of the room, but again, Little Har stayed behind.
His father didn’t seem to mind, though. “Little Har,” he said, “stay with Simon… I go sleep… Must
fish in morning.”

    “Actually, Harr,” Simon said, “I really need to get to Highland City as soon
as possible.”

    He looked around for his clothing and was about to stand when Harr stopped
him. “Too dangerous at night… Simon must sleep… Tomorrow… Tomorrow we go to city.” At that, he
placed some food and a glass of water in the boy’s lap. “Good-night, Morbras,” he said,
winking.

    Simon yawned deeply and admitted to himself that he probably should get some
rest. From a window above his bed, he saw the stars shining in the black sky. It had been a very
long day, and he welcomed all the sleep he could get.

    “Si-moan eat?” Har asked.

    Simon took a long drink of the cool water and noted that it tasted
exceptionally good. He looked down at his food: various roots of some sort—not really a fitting
meal for a king. After building up the courage, he bit into a yellow root and gagged from the
bitter flavor.

    “Si-moan no like?” asked Har.

    “Big surprise, huh?” Simon said with a smile. “I guess I’m just too
finicky.”

    The large boy opened a cedar chest and withdrew from it a tiny chocolate
cake. He stretched his arm out to Simon and presented the gift.

    “Si-moan like?”

    Simon stared in confusion at the bruised but mostly intact cake and suddenly
realized it was the same chocolate treat he had given to Har two days earlier.

    “Oh, no,” he protested. “I couldn’t possibly. That was your birthday
present.”

    The large boy beamed from head to toe. “Har save present… Si-moan friend.” He
offered the cake to Simon again and urged, “Please, eat.”

    Not wanting to be rude, Simon took the chocolate cake and devoured it in less
than a minute. It was the tastiest thing he had ever eaten—not because of the actual cake, but
because the present had come full circle.

    “Tell me, Har,” he asked, licking his lips, “what else do you know about this
Morbras fellow?”

    “Morbras will save us all.”

    “Save you from what?”

    The large boy thought for a while.

    “Har not know,” he finally confessed.

    “I figured as much,” Simon said, chuckling.

    He lay back down and tried to rest, but the faint pain in his shoulder
reminded him of the impending doom that awaited the planet. What could he do? He looked over at
the little red book lying on the table. Somehow, he had to get back into the volcano and turn on
the machine.

    
Tomorrow
, his body groaned.
Tomorrow
.

    Sleep pulled on his eyelids so that he could barely keep them open. “You have
a nice family,” he said. “So how many brothers and sisters do you have?”

    “Har has… this many brothers.” The large boy brought up six fingers.

    “Your parents had seven boys?” Simon said. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

    “And one girl,” Har added.

    “You’re very lucky that your family is still together. Back where I’m from,
no one seems to care—”

    “No,” Har interrupted. “Not together… brother work in mines… and little
sister… still servant.”

    “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I want you to know, Har, that I don’t agree with
the way your people are treated. I think it’s awful that your family was split apart.”

    “Si-moan have family?” Har asked.

    “I don’t know, really. My mom is gone, and I’ve never met my dad, so I don’t
know if he’s even alive. As for brothers and sisters… I have no idea. I’ve just always been
alone.”

    “Not alone,” Har said, pointing to Simon’s chest. “Family always in
here.”

    “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Simon rubbed his mother’s medallion to bring
him comfort. He turned towards the wall and looked out the window again. “The stars sure are
bright tonight,” he said, yawning.

    “Har travel to stars… someday.”

    “Well, actually, Har,” Simon began, “if you ever got near a star, you’d
probably burn up—” He stopped himself immediately. “Oh, great! Now I’m starting to sound like
Thornapple.”

    The large boy laughed deeply.

    “Har, I’ll tell you what,” Simon said. “If I ever get off this planet, I’ll
take you with me, okay? That way, you won’t be sent to the mines when the little Puds find
you.”

    “Si-moan leave?”

    “Someday… maybe.” He looked at the starry sky and yawned again. “But I won’t
be traveling through outer space. I guess I’ll be traveling to a different planet parallel with
this one. At least, that’s what Tonya says.”

    
“Par—Parr—Pa—ra—Par—”

    “Parallel worlds,” Simon said. “And don’t ask me what it means.” He closed
his eyes and mumbled, “I’m still not sure myself…”

    “Har travel to par-par-par-world with Si-moan,” the large boy said, beaming.
He looked over at Simon and realized the young wizard was already asleep.

    “Good-night… Si-moan.”

    

    

    “Morbras, wake up,” Har’s father yelled. Simon didn’t even have time to open
his eyes before the man dragged his body out of bed. “Danger! We go now!”

    “Wait! Wait!” cried Simon. “Let me get my clothes.”

    “Hurry! They come!”

    “Who comes?” Simon yelled back. He looked out the window and saw that it was
barely morning.

    “Dra-goon-nos.”

    The word made his blood run cold. Simon grabbed his shirt and vest from the
table and threw them on. Just then, Little Har rushed into the hut with a panicked look on his
face.

    “Hurry,” Harr prodded.

    “My pants! Where’s my pants?” Simon yelled.

    “There,” Little Har said, pointing to the far wall.

    Simon dashed over to get them.

    “Strange under-wear,” Little Har commented after seeing Simon’s colorful
Batman boxers.

    “Yeah.” Simon chuckled nervously and pulled up his black slacks. “They give
me special powers.”

    “Really?” Har asked.

    Simon zipped his pants. “No, I’m just kidding.”