It took what seemed like ages for Terry to fall asleep. His mind kept replaying the fight with the dragon and then the story his uncle had told him. When sleep finally came it was full of dreams of the same. The talk. The dragon. But this time there was something different.
As he approached the dragon in this dream, a face formed in the leaves behind it. Or more accurately, the leaves sort of realigned themselves into a face. The shadows fell in just the right way for pareidolia to kick in and tell him what he saw in the trees behind the dragon was humanoid. Terry suddenly realized that, again, this was a dream. The shadows moved. The face spoke.
“Do you feel whole?”
Terry stared at it.
“What?” he asked.
“Do you,” it repeated, “feel whole. After your battle. After learning the truth?”
Terry stopped his advance on the dragon. The monster continued it’s activities with the tractor, which Terry found annoying for a dream with the face. He thought for a time before answering.
“Should I?”
“Child, you’ve been seeking something your whole life. Were these things that something?”
“No.” He said. “No I don’t feel whole. I don’t even know what that really MEANS. All I know is that there’s more for me to do than this, and I can’t do it here.”
The shadows of the leaves seemed to nod.
“Yes. Yes, this is what I’d hoped to hear. Son, I will leave you again to find your place. Be safe. Be strong. It comes.”
Terry opened his mouth to say something, to shout for answers, but he felt himself pulled out of the dream and back into the wide world.
Terry lay in bed and felt the warmth of the rising sun on his eyelids. Something about these dreams was familiar. He opened them and a sunbeam came through the blinds on his window. He’d expected to be up already. He expected Ernest to at least have woken him up. But there he lay. He looked at the aged digital clock on the nightstand next to the bed. 6:03 am. He didn’t, as a general rule, sleep late. Especially when he knew he had plans to make. It was past time to get up, so he did.
He considered putting on a shirt and pants but no. Today, one way or the other, he was leaving. Weird face aside, what he’d said in the dream was true. He couldn’t be what he needed to be on the farm. Alone, he got his armor and “uniform” on. By the time he was done he had what he thought was a pretty good idea of what to do. He’d need a ride from Ernest, but he didn’t think the old man would say no. He double checked everything and went to start packing his meager belongings.
Terry was somewhat alarmed to realize that it was all missing. He knew Dottie had cleaned his room, and maybe his normal clothes were in the wash, but his toiletries? He tore through the drawers and his medicine cabinet. Nothing. Had Dottie hid everything to make sure he didn’t leave without saying goodbye? He rushed for the door and leaped past the two rickety wooden steps and there she was, walking up from the house.
Dottie looked up when she’d heard him, and Terry immediately noticed the brown leather saddle bags slung over her right shoulder. She called to him.
“G’morning! I was hoping you’d be up!”
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears but she held onto that smile of hers like a life raft. Terry could see it. He felt like his heart was suddenly in his throat and the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. Maybe I should have slipped out in the night, he thought. When she reached him she dropped the bags to the ground at his feet and embraced him. He put his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. He knew she was staining his tabard, and he didn’t care. He just stood there holding her and let the tears come.
After a while, when he trusted himself to speak, he finally asked her what he was thinking.
“Where’s Ernest?” Surely he’d be there for this.
“He’s on his way.” She said looking up at him. “We had a gift to give you but it took longer than we thought. He’s almost back though.”
He strained his ears and could hear the sound of the truck somewhere out on the road. That was the thing about living out here. You knew when someone was coming. There was nothing else to hear. As Dottie stepped back from their hug, the truck came around behind the house with something in the back covered by a tarp.
He looked at Dottie.
“Do I get a hint?” he asked.
“Nope!” Dottie’s smile looked like it would split her face in two. The. . . Mound. . . Looked too small to be a motorcycle.
The truck came to a stop and Ernest practically jumped out of the driver’s seat. He looked to Dottie.
“You didn’t tell ‘im, didja?”
“Of course not. I want to see the look on his face.”
Ernest ran around to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. Dottie ran around to help Ernest with something and Terry walked around to see it. They pulled the tarp off and. . .
It was a scooter. It wasn’t huge but it was big enough to seat two. It. . . Honestly, it looked like someone had finished building a scooter with whatever was left around the workshop. The steering column was bare and the pale yellow paint on the remaining body had lost its luster a long time ago. Dottie placed the saddle bags on both sides of the double seat. It had a single round headlight and tape around the steering column.
"A scooter?" he said.
“Yep!” Ernest replied with a grin. Dottie continued for him.
“We talked to your friend George out in Jackson. The one that tinkers all the time? Well, we knew this was going to come eventually. We had him make you a steed. A knight needs a steed.”
“And it’s got some kinda magical voodoo on it for gas mileage. George seemed pretty sure it wasn’t going to blow up.” Ernest said giving the thing a doubtful look for a moment. “Anyway, it’s yers if you’ll have it.”
Terry walked over and started giving it a once over. It was a piece of garbage. It should have been thrown back on the pile it came off of. To Terry it was beautiful. He looked at his aunt and uncle.
“I was just going to ask for a ride to town to buy something off Dwumbra.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ernest said. “You’ll need money to live off of, and I’m not lettin’ you ride outta here on somethin’ that expensive you might wreck inside of a week.”
Something struck Terry then. Something he hadn’t thought of. Or wanted to think of.
“What about you two?” he asked. “Will you be ok with me gone?”
Dottie answered.
“One of your cousins on my side of the family has been bugging his parents about becoming a squire. We actually had our choice of folks wanting to come out here and train with us.”
“Really?” Terry said starting to just sort of familiarize himself with the scooter.
“Yep.” said Ernest. “Ya gave me and Dottie pretty good reputations as trainers. The better ya did, the better we look.” Ernest looked proud of himself. Heck, thought Terry, he probably should be for not being a knight. He might be the best there is, honestly.
“I don’t know what to say besides thank you. Both of you.” Terry said. He looked down and tried to get the next part out. “I never thought I had parents growing up. You know how kids think. And for the short time I was at school people really drove that home. But they were wrong. I was wrong. You two have been the best parents I could have asked for.”
After that there were lots of hugs. They finally let him step away, trying not to drag things out. He double checked the content of the bags just to be on the safe side. It turned out all of his clothes were packed in there like he thought. Dottie had been busy. There was also a pair of goggles for him to wear on the road, which he pulled out.
He climbed into the seat and tried to get himself comfortable. He’d had training on scooters and motorcycles before. Borrowed vehicles from Dwumbra's shop. It was required for knighthood and an absolute necessity for an Errant Apprentice. But this was different. He wanted to be comfortable with this. This was his scooter.
“Wait!” Dottie said before he could crank it. “It needs a name. HE needs a name, I mean.”
Terry looked at the little scooter’s gauges. He’d had a name in mind for a motorcycle. He’d always assumed he’d have a motorcycle, but that didn’t matter. It was his and it deserved the name.
“Thunder.” He said. “His name is Thunder.”
Dottie clasped her hands under her chin and smiled.
“Do ya know where yer goin’?” Ernest asked him walking to stand over him.
Terry thought about it.
“South?”
“Good.” Said Ernest. “There was a hurricane last month and there should be mages down there on the coast helpin' with the relief efforts. You’ll need a good mage to partner with on this.”
“Dad didn’t have a mage.” Terry said.
“The hell he didn’t. And don’t worry about what yer dad did and didn’t do anyway. You do what yer gonna do. Head down there and find your self a heathen. An honest one.”
“I will.” He said meeting his uncles eyes.
Ernest continued. “And don’t try to be yer dad. Don’t listen to them stories in the pulps. Don’t listen to other knights. You be who ya are. That’s what’s gonna make ya better than the rest of ‘em.”
Terry was sort of shocked by that. Ernest had always encouraged his reading. He just nodded.
“And Terry?”
“Yes Uncle Ernest?”
“Don’t tell anyone about the dreams. Or the voices. Or any of the other stuff. Maybe it’s been nothin’ but yer better off not lettin’ anyone know.”
Terry looked past his uncle toward the sycamore tree next to his trailer. For a second he thought he saw something in the branches but a breeze was blowing. Maybe it was nothing.
“I, uh, yeah. Yeah. I don’t think I’m going to let anyone know about that. I’ll be careful.”
Ernest nodded and stepped back a few feet. Dottie stepped up next to his uncle and grabbed his arm. She looked like if this lasted any longer she might start crying again. Heck, Ernest looked like he was about to come to pieces.
Terry pulled the goggles back out of his coat pocket and put them on. He looked to his aunt and uncle and tried not to dwell on the nugget of fear he felt. Instead he let the image of them standing together in front of his trailer soak into his mind. This was how he wanted to remember them. He smiled at them.
“I’ll be back again, I promise. I love you.”
And with that he cranked Thunder and whipped around the house toward the road at speed.
Ernest stood there with Dottie on his arm staring after Terry. His brother’s boy. HIS boy. He could never have his own, but he didn’t need one. Terry was always enough.
“Do you think he’ll be ok?” Dottie asked him after a time. “There’s lots of competition out there.”
“Ya know he’ll be fine.” He said.
He thought on what the world out there had in store for the boy. He smiled to his wife.
“There’s always room fer one more Errant Apprentice in the world.”
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