Author: Sam

Story: The Never-ending Story: 13 of 33

Series: none

Setting: Summer 1987: The Realm of Dungeons & Dragons

Characters & Ages: Presto- 18, Ayisha- 18 going on 19, Rahmuud- assumed 40's

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

Presto awoke in a cold sweat, eyes wide and staring in the dark. His breath was coming in pants. The feeling of being watched, hunted, trapped, was with him still, and he couldn't seem to shake it... even after five whole minutes of sweating and panting and staring blindly. That had been a heck of a nightmare.

Somehow, the others had sensed his fear. A light flared in the darkness and a large figure moved towards him. Presto blinked and tried to adjust to the sudden light, knowing instinctively that this was not the threat of his dreams. Another, more slender, figure approached from the doorway of the desert tent.

"Are you well, My Son?"

Rahmuud's deep voice reassured the teen. It was joined by the softer tones of Ayisha, also in concern. Presto merely nodded his head and smiled sheepishly. "Silly nightmare. Don't worry about it." His voice cracked at the end, reminding Presto just how his voice had started to crack again after his trip through the Void the previous year. Now, however, his voice was finally settling into a deep tenor; it was breaking less as the months wore on. Somehow that stupid thought made him feel calmer than even the worry of his friends. He smiled.

With a gentle laugh, Ayisha let herself sink onto the low bedroll, reaching over to brush sweat-damp auburn hair from the eighteen-year-old's odd golden eyes. "Well, if you are calmer, My Brother, than perhaps you will share your fears so we may all face them together." Somehow the girl always sounded wiser than her eighteen years. Perhaps it was due to her father's influence.

A chuckle rang out, low and infectious. The man sat on the floor by Presto's bedroll and crossed his legs in the fashion of his people, hands resting on knees, prepared for a story. His entire manner was so respectful, yet so welcoming, that Presto couldn't help but start speaking.

"Uh... I really don't remember much. I was walking somewhere, but... uh... can't remember where, really. But I was being watched. I know that much. It was like I was some sort of... prey. I couldn't see who it was hunting me, but I knew he was out there, waiting for me, you know?"

The man shook his head, amusement on his features. "You will never be a story-teller, My Son, but I understand what you say. Can you recall if you were in this world or your other one?"

That thought sent a jolt through the teen. "Uh... uh... my other one?" It took a moment or two for Presto to even recall that he wasn't from the Realm. He'd been raised on Earth; it just felt like a dream, though. He... was happy in the Realm, odd as it seemed. "I... I was in the Realm in my dream, Rahmuud. I'm sure it wasn't Earth."

"And what age were you?" The man leaned forward now, intent on an answer that Presto could only wonder at.

"Well... uh... I was little." His eyes opened wider. "I don't know why I know that, but in my dream I was a little kid. Maybe even a baby. Weird..." The redhead started to lose himself in thought.

A soft touch, a tinkling laugh, brought the boy from his imaginings. "Perhaps you were chased as a babe in arms, My Brother. That would explain this dream. Was there a time, when you were small, that you were in danger?"

Presto looked at Ayisha and wondered at the sudden luminescent quality of her deep dark eyes. He shook himself to collect his thoughts. "Uh... I don't know. My mom would sometimes say I was a sick baby. She couldn't have kids and adopted me, but I..." With another shake of his head, Presto tried to push those thoughts back. They had no bearing on the questions. "Actually, I don't remember being a baby," he tried a smile.

Ayisha nodded. "I do not, either. You were... adopted? As my father has adopted you?" Her deep brown eyes stay trained on the other teen’s face.

He flushed.

"Yeah. Mom was married once, and they couldn't have kids. So they adopted me. But my dad died before a few months passed. I was maybe two or three when I was adopted, but I don't remember my dad. Mom says I was sick when she adopted me, but the people at the agency couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. Since dad had money, they decided to let me go... the agency, not my Mom. Uh..." He stopped, trying to sort his thoughts. He rarely spoke of this, even to his other friends.

Presto lifted his head and shrugged, trying a smile and finding it quite easy to do. Often his own adoption brought nothing but confusing memories and feelings. "She said... uh, Mom... said that they wanted to adopt a hard-to-place kid so they'd get the baby quicker. That means handicapped, sick, or families... or minorities. Most people where I'm from want a healthy baby. Me, being sick and a bit older, I was hard to place with a family. Most people didn't want me. But Mom and Dad did."

With a sigh, smiling wider, feeling better about finally releasing this bit of himself, Presto continued. He was unaware how relaxed he'd become. His breathing had returned to normal and his body had stopped shaking. He'd even begun to feel his nerve endings again... sometimes they seemed to quit when he was upset, ever since he'd gone through the Void.

"They adopted me, but Dad died soon after. Mom lost most of the money on his funeral and debts and my doctors. She got a job and was hardly ever home after that. I... I basically watched over myself, 'cause Mom couldn't afford a baby-sitter for me. After I was five, she'd stopped trying to sneak me to work or trying to get neighbors or family to watch me for free. Instead, I was left with a sandwich and a bottle of water and the TV for company."

The pair listening didn't understand some of his references, but neither interrupted the teen. After all, he'd fallen into a near-story-telling pattern, and the information he was so freely giving was definitely interesting. They'd worry about things like Agencies and TV's later.

Standing up now, restless to be doing something while he spoke, Presto moved on quiet feet towards the tent doorway. He opened it, letting the chill night air inside, not minding in the least. He'd gotten very used to the desert in the past year. "Well, by six I was in school, but skipped first grade immediately, then again on third and eighth. I skipped around a lot, I guess. I wound up in classes with kids who were two and three years older than me." With a grin, Presto turned to his foster family. "I was expected, by Mom, to be able to take care of myself by then, because I was so smart."

Rahmuud stood and nodded, walking to his foster son's side and glancing out of the tent, as well. His voice was low, soothing, and gentle. "It sounds a lonely life, My Son. You must have been very self-sufficient in your other world."

"Yeah," Presto agreed happily, "but not here. I'm still learning about desert living and trading caravans and all kinds of things." The teen's voice was happy, though. He loved learning, and here he actually felt like people wanted him to learn for the enjoyment and the survival... not because it kept him from being a nuisance. "Here, I'm part of a family. No more 'Albert, you know better than to bother me for stupid things... look it up, don't ask me.' Or 'Hey, Presto, show me another stupid trick.' It feels good to know things that'll help, but not get pushed away because I know them." He fell silent, wondering suddenly if he'd sounded stupid with those last words.

Ayisha, however, allayed that fear with her next question. Tilting her head, she softly asked "Albert?"

Presto turned and blinked, grinning while blushing. "Uh... yeah. My name's Albert, not Presto. Presto's the stupid nickname the kids in school gave me. Albert's the name I was born with... at least, that's what the records say. My birth certificate was lost in a fire my mom says."

"I like Albert. It is nicer sounding than Presto. May I call you that?" Ayisha stood and moved gracefully to the boy's side, a gentle smile on her lovely features.

Suddenly, Presto felt extremely nervous. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to swallow the nerves, making a choking sound as he simultaneously tried to take a deep breath. Coughing on the unexpected liquid in his lungs, the Wizard doubled over and gripped Rahmuud.

The man smiled and let the boy hold on. He had a surprisingly strong grip after only a year of working in the caravan. To look at the lean, nearly thin, body wouldn't lend the image of strength to the mind. As Presto regained his equilibrium, Rahmuud glanced at his daughter, a gleam in his eyes. He, however, did not make the two younger people privy to his private thoughts.

Worried, but knowing that one mustn't interfere with a choking person who actually was making noise, Ayisha twisted her hands in her long night dress, waiting and watching with anxious eyes. She relaxed as Presto did, smiling as she realized the danger had passed. Gently, she spoke. "If you do not wish me to use your name, My Brother, I will not do so."

Presto's head shot up, and with it his entire body, nearly causing him to smack heads with Rahmuud. He shook his head quickly, pushing away with an absent smile for the man. "No! I mean... yes... uh... you can call me Albert. Uh..." he flushed once more. "I'd like that, actually." After a long pause in which he let himself start drowning in Ayisha's eyes, the teen shook himself and belatedly turned to his foster father. "And you, too, Rahmuud. You can call me Albert if you want."

"Albert-if-you-want is such a long name, My Son. But I will use Albert." He smiled as the two children started laughing at his intentional joke. The air of tension cleared and the man nodded. "Then, to bed we go... Albert, My Son. Ayisha, My Daughter, let us get some rest. Dawn comes early in the desert this season." He smiled once more and left, letting the tent flap close despite his daughter still being sequestered inside with the teenaged male.

The teens looked at one another, still laughing. Then, slowly, the laughter died and the air grew thick with an unnamed emotion. They watched one another, unaware of how Ayisha continued to gracefully glide towards Presto. When they were mere inches away, the silence was broken by Ayisha's sudden and gentle, "Goodnight, Albert." Then she was gone, leaving Presto to stare after her more confused than when he'd awoken from his nightmare.

"My Son, today we will be arriving at the town of Lekashonn. Have the caravan ready to unharness the animals as soon as we stop." Rahmuud smiled at Presto walking beside him. Slapping the rump of their lead animal, he sent a sunny smile towards the face peeping from inside the howdah. "My daughter, disembark and have the wares ready for assembling. I will see to market fees." It wasn't unusual for Rahmuud to switch their jobs around, or even give them to other members of their ever-increasing caravan. He seemed to take pleasure in teaching every aspect of their life to anyone available to learn it.

Presto grinned and nodded. "Of course, Rahmuud." He started whistling off-tune, never having learned how to whistle properly. Some people muttered good-naturedly, but no one particularly complained, so he continued the merry noise. The nightmare of two weeks previously was forgotten, and the warm sun prevented any random thoughts on future bad dreams. It was enough for the redhead to enjoy the coming break from hot, dusty travel, knowing he'd have the roughest job... and Rahmuud's trust in its timely completion.

As he walked and whistled, the teen noticed the dark-haired girl sliding from their howdah to begin her mission. She would be running back along the animals, telling those she chose to help her set up their market wares. Naturally, once she was done her chore, those left would know they'd been chosen to help unharness and settle animals. Why waste effort by copying her? Presto thought. After all, he'd need the extra energy for the coming task.

The town was reached shortly, and all work proceeded along a quick pace. Presto had stopped whistling, concentrating on this last harness before letting the beast get brushed down by the waiting child whose task it was. He had the tip of his tongue stuck out between his teeth, trying to undo the extra tight girth, reminding himself to talk to the man who'd fastened it. This tight a strap could hurt the animal, after all.

Then his hands slipped uselessly down the straps. Presto caught his breath, unaware he had also just bit his tongue. Instead, eyes wide, he called out in a near-unintelligible babble, "Wahmoo... elll!" The animal shifted and Presto was pinned, still unfeeling, as the heavy foot came down on his... most likely crushing several small bones.

These spells didn't come often, less frequently as time passed, in fact. But when they did come, Presto was nearly helpless. Sometimes he retained enough feeling to be able to speak, as he had the first time it had ever happened. But there were other times, like now, when he was pretty much helpless and unable to communicate his problem.

Fortunately, the caravan people were used to this strange affliction their auburn-haired member had. It no longer frightened them, either. Thus, the child understood what the babble meant, even if the words were unclear. His understanding was cemented when Presto never flinched as his foot was crushed. "I'll get Rahmuud." And the child was off at a quick sprint, darting among people and stalls to retrieve their master.

Presto was unaware of the tears of frustration which coursed down his face. He was busy trying to will his hands to move, his voice to work. He needed to get this animal off of his foot before more damage was done. Flopping hands and wrists ineffectually, the teenager tried again and again to slap the animal hard enough to be felt.

The great beast suddenly shifted, taking Presto by surprise and knocking him to the sands. He didn't care, forcing himself to try to push away from the animal. Managing a feeble half-roll, he at least got out of the immediately danger of large, heavy feet. His glasses, however, flew off and landed somewhere unknown. Now Presto was aware of the tears, mainly because he knew his own habits, secondly because of the wet marks they were making as they fell to the sand below him.

"Albert?"

The soothing voice felt like an instant balm, and Presto suddenly didn't want Ayisha to see his ineffectual tears. Turning his head, he only succeeded in slamming his face into the ground. With a gurgle, he painfully turned his now bleeding face back to the exotic looking girl.

She was kneeling next to him; he could see her blurred outline. Gently, hands reached over and soothed his face, cold water washed his wounds. Ayisha tended her fallen foster-brother, not giving display to the dismay she felt over this newest numbness spell. He'd been doing so well recently. "Albert, My Brother, your wounds are serious. Your foot will need to be reset and bound."

"Ahmaaa..." He tried to speak, but it still didn't work.

With a small noise of worry, the eighteen-year-old girl stroked auburn hair from a dirty, sweaty face. The cuts were minor, but his crushed foot... "Animal?" Ayisha was often the one to translate for him when he was this bad. "It's cared for. Our father unharnessed it and is discussing the proper tightness with Jackin. Worry not, Albert." She slid an arm under the other eighteen-year-old and pulled him up to lean against her. "We need get you inside a tent to care for your foot. This heat invites insects."

Insects? Presto wondered what a crushed foot had to do with insects. After all, it wasn't like his foot was exposed and bleeding... was it? Trying to communicate, he flung his hand to Ayisha's side to get her attention, unaware of just how hard he'd hit the girl. "Beee?"

Ayisha wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out what that meant. Finally, it hit her and she replied, "Yes, Albert. Your foot is bleeding." Glancing around, a flash caught her eye, and the girl reached over to scoop up the lenses Presto needed for sight. They were thankfully undamaged.

Rahmuud stepped over and bent to lift the boy in his arms, letting Ayisha guide the injured foot. He grinned at Presto and started carrying him quickly, knowing the feeling could come back at any time, and wanting that foot set and dressed before that happened. "Come, My Daughter. Let us get Albert out of this heat. The market goes well without us." He'd added the last to relax the tense boy, but it didn't work. The man thought that maybe Presto wasn't even aware of how tense he was.

In a nearby tent, Rahmuud quickly set Presto on a soft bed. Ayisha moved to place his glasses back on his face, but her father prevented her with a simple hand gesture. Glancing at the injured foot, Ayisha knew why and stepped back, a single nod of agreement her only sign of understanding. Due to his blurred sight, Presto missed the entire exchange.

Rahmuud knelt by his foster-son and started checking out the foot. It was quickly, efficiently, cleaned of footwear, dirt, and blood. Ayisha continued her ministrations, moving on to helping her father reposition the crushed bones then splint it in cloth dipped in sap. Once the sap dried, it would make a sturdy covering, though the teen wouldn't be permitted to walk for several months. When they were done, Ayisha returned Presto's glasses.

It was just past midday when the teen was allowed to try to sleep. He still had not regained his feeling, and that worried Rahmuud. After all, the boy hadn't even lost it this long that first time coming out of the Void. Why, suddenly, did he have so serious a relapse? And would this problem plague him the rest of his life, stealing his independence?

Presto saw the worry in the man's eyes and sighed. He still couldn't talk, couldn't ask the hundred and one questions running through his mind. Rather, he sighed again and let his eyes close, trying to drift into medicine-induced sleep. It worked, and the last he was aware, the teenager wondered just how he was going to help in the coming war if he couldn't even feel his breath in his body.

Ayisha removed Presto's glasses, setting them beside his long unused hat, glancing once at her father. The worry in her deep dark eyes mirrored his own, and it was a troubled pair that went back into the desert sun to check on their caravan's progress. After all, life had to continue, even when one's heart was aching for a friend with a seemingly hopeless problem.

When Presto awoke, he was instantly aware that his glasses were gone. The next thing he was aware of was an intense throbbing, fiery pain in his left foot. Agony ripped through him, and he whimpered, then let loose a low moan. He didn't dare scream, though, and forced himself to hold back his natural instinct concerning pain.

Fortunately, the sounds were enough to bring someone running. Ayisha slid to the floor next to the teenager and soothed his face with her gentle fingers. She seemed to fumble with something, but Presto wasn't sure; then the girl was lifting his head and bringing a cup to his lips. She didn't remove it until Presto had drunk the entire bitter potion in it.

"This should ease your pain, My Brother. Would you wish your lenses?" Without waiting for his reply, Ayisha carefully set the glasses on Presto's face, smiling worriedly down into his golden eyes. "Our father should arrive shortly, Albert."

Presto nodded, suddenly sleepy again. Perhaps it was the medicine, or just the exhaustion from his injury, but whatever the reason, he wanted to sleep again. He fought the urge, forcing his eyes to concentrate on the dark girl beside him. Slowly, he tried to speak, and was thankful the words came out clearly, "Thank you, Ayisha. My foot... hurts..." he let the sentence drop, not wanting to give vent to the swears forming in his mind.

She smiled, and that smile made him glad he'd kept his invectives to himself.

Smoothing a gentle hand over his brow, Ayisha nodded. "It will hurt for some time, Albert, but the pain will pass." A chuckle from the injured teen interrupted her words.

"This, too, shall pass. Yeah, I heard that somewhere before... back on Earth. Never thought to hear it here, though. Ahh!" The wave of pain caused him to gasp out, louder than he had upon waking.

Rahmuud entered at that moment, a worried frown on his face. When he saw his daughter tending the injured Wizard, he merely nodded and moved closer. "You have been sleeping quite awhile, My Son. Are you hungry?" The man studied the boy's face, though didn't give away what he looked for.

Presto nodded. "I can feel again..." Brilliant, Presto! He asks about food and you blabber away. Get it together.

A smile, however, greeted the words and Rahmuud moved to fetch a tray of dates, cool ices, and sweetmeats. The treats made Presto's eyes widen, and the king felt a wave of gratitude for his daughter's suggestion of treats instead of actual food. He liked to see his children pleased.

"Whoa! Dessert first? This is great..." Presto's voice was still very sleepy, but he allowed the others to help him sit so he could carefully grab a date. "And ices, too... that couldn't have been easy to get, Rahmuud!"

The man laughed, reassured completely that Presto would be fine. "I have ways, My Son, I have ways. Eat your treats, for later it will be real food. A physician has come in your sleep to check on our efforts. He says you should heal well if you rest your foot completely. You are not even to attempt to rise before a fortnight has passed."

With a frown, Presto sorted the words and realized that meant fourteen days of strict bed rest. He flushed. "But... uh... I gotta... uh..." he glanced at Ayisha and his face flamed brighter.

Rahmuud laughed and nodded. "Ayisha if you will leave, My Daughter. I will tend to his needs for now. You may return in half an hour." He watched his daughter glide from the tent as Presto's color remained extremely high. When she left, the king laughed again. "Now, to take care of your personal needs, My Son," and he reached for the boy.

Presto nodded, still embarrassed.