The Healer Read online

  “You’re in luck,” Durdge snickered. “I’m having a problem with the Old-Timer as well. I’ll bring our concerns upstairs. We’re going to take care of this once and for all.”

  Chapter 17

  “Up for school, Snapper. Come on.”

  The boy crawled out of bed with no more enthusiasm than the day before. He wandered onto the porch, where his dad lay on his belly with the Chugg Report and a mouthful of grass, as usual. Old-Timer wordlessly put the paper aside and got to his feet to begin the trek into town.

  They walked in silence. That was fine with Snapper. He was in no mood to talk. His anger about yesterday’s encounter with the pigs had not yet worked its way out of his system.

  They were halfway to Fleece City before Old-Timer finally spoke. “Clear your head, buddy. What happened yesterday isn’t important. It’s done. Focus on your test. This is the end.”

  Snapper nodded. The question he’d entertained ever since the start of the school year came to his lips at last. “Once I’m at University, will I be finished studying history? I’d sure like to learn about something else.”

  Old-Timer chuckled. “Well, there are advanced history classes, but they don’t focus on the war. I’ve never been to a class, but Professor Caper says there is a lot more historical context that isn’t covered at the primary school. But you can study anything you want. Technology, finance, engineering, it all has a place at the National Bank or one of its sister companies in town.”

  “So this guy Caper only teaches us stuff that’s useful for working with the pigs.”

  “Well, yes, Son. That’s entirely what University is geared for. That’s the safest course of action for sheep. Once you’ve got a good job at one of those companies, you’re golden. I think you’ll be off the pigs’ radar as long as you do well.”

  “Safe. Safe. My safety,” Snapper spat. “You know who that sounds like? Durdge.”

  “Excuse me?” Old-Timer walked up close to him. “What did you just say to me, Son?”

  As they faced off, their foreheads an inch apart, Snapper was keenly aware that his dad was capable of overpowering him without effort. But he would not hold back anymore. “You’re a hypocrite, Dad. Every day you’re out there trying to get the people working at the quarry to assemble and change their situation. Putting their lives at risk in the process.”

  “I won’t be insulted by my own—”

  “And then here comes your kid, who has this ability to actually make things better for people, and you have to rush him out to the country and keep him hidden because no risk in his life is acceptable at all.”

  “Snapper, you’re not too old for a smack.”

  “But you’re perfectly happy to use the quarry sheep as disposable foot soldiers in this campaign of yours. That’s what this is about. You know as well as I do how dangerous it is to be a sheep here. You just deny it while you try to find a way to change it that doesn’t involve your special little boy getting hurt or getting blood on his hooves.”

  Snapper dodged the blunt curve of the horn that came in to cuff him on the side of the head. He slipped past his father and ran down the path to get some distance so he could keep talking. But Old-Timer had always been faster on a straight sprint. Snapper felt his hindquarters shoved sideways, knocking him over. Old-Timer pinned him down with a firm, but not painful, hoof on his chest.

  “That’s enough of this crap out of you,” Old-Timer said coldly.

  “Just admit it, Dad. You’re scared.”

  “That’s no secret!” Old-Timer roared. “I’m terrified for you, Son! You’re different, and these pigs will not tolerate that! And you’re not the only one. There is a pig at the quarry whose job is to hurt or kill young sheep who show any potential. He has attacked people there because of what I do. I’m finished there.”

  Snapper cringed, his anger receding a little. “I had it wrong, huh? You won’t tolerate risk to anyone innocent.”

  “Yes. You had it wrong.”

  “If you’re so scared, why do it at all?”

  Old-Timer took a step back. “I feel responsible. My friends and I, the old folks, we participated in the war. The war made us weak. That’s how the pigs won. That makes me partly at fault for the situation the quarry workers are in now. I feel the need to help fix it. But maybe it can’t be fixed.”

  Snapper stood, shaking dust out of his fleece. Now he felt bad. Whatever happened yesterday really discouraged him, he thought.

  “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll go. I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “It’s fine, Son. Just accept that I’m pointing you in the best possible direction. There’s more going on than you know.”

  They walked in silence the rest of the way past the gate and into the city square. They stopped outside the school.

  “Good luck,” Old-Timer muttered, looking away.

  “Thanks, Dad.” Snapper set off in the direction of This Little Piggy Primary School. But he had a thought that made him double back. He got close enough to whisper in his father’s ear.

  “You weren’t wrong to fight, Dad. You were wrong to stop.”

  Old-Timer stared at him but said nothing. Snapper gave a slow nod, turned away, and walked into the school.

  He was just in time. Everyone else was already seated. The student in front of him passed him the stack of tests. He took one and handed off the rest. Before settling in to work, Snapper took his habitual glance out the window.

  No Durdge today. That’s strange.

  Chapter 18

  Fowler’s eyes just about popped out of his head when he saw Old-Timer approaching the top of the quarry wall.

  “You don’t want to be here,” he snarled. “Things got truly ugly last night because of you.”

  “Where is Shiver?” Old-Timer demanded, heading for the other staircase. “What happened to the girl?”

  Fowler caught Old-Timer by the shoulder as he went past. “I’m serious. You need to turn back. Scurvert’s on the warpath. If he sees you here, there’s going to be more trouble.”

  Old-Timer swung his horns in the same sideways slap that Snapper had evaded less than an hour before. Fowler, however, took it painfully on the wrist, breaking his grip. The old ram continued on his way down the stairs and into the quarry.

  He first went to the railroad, where Shiver normally worked. He was not there.

  Old-Timer began to search. As usual, none of the working sheep looked at him or answered his questions. This time, they seemed to be going out of their way to give him a wide berth. After a few minutes of trying, he found himself alone on the dusty red road.

  “Unbelievable.”

  Old-Timer spun at the familiar voice. Shiver stood behind him in the middle of the path. The Optera totem towered above him. Old-Timer gasped.

  Shiver was pale, shaking, covered with cuts on his legs and sides. His ears were in tatters. His left horn was gone, a six-inch splintered stump the only remnant. He was caked in dark red scabs.

  Old-Timer ran to him. “I heard that Dreamer was attacked! Is she alive? Shiver, if I can make it right…”

  Shiver nearly fell over in his backward scramble. “You stay away! I told you not to come back here! She’s alive, but you’ve probably just signed her death warrant showing up again. What are you thinking, Trampler?”

  “Shiver… I’m so sorry.” Old-Timer settled back, making no further attempt to approach the other. “I’ll fix this.”

  “There’s nothing to fix, old man. My daughter is going to be scarred for the rest of her life.” Shiver’s face contorted and tears ran down his snout. “You couldn’t quit. Fowler tried to warn you off so many times and you didn’t listen. And now Dreamer had to pay for it.”

  Old-Timer shook his head. “You’ve got every right to be angry.”

  “Angry doesn’t begin to cover it.” Shiver’s eyes opened and fixed on him. “Look, I know you had good intentions. You didn’t even know about her until yesterday. And because of who you are and w
hat you’ve taught me, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. But believe me when I say you should never come back here. I might be missing a horn and a few buckets of blood, but I promise you still don’t want to fight me.”

  Chapter 19

  Old-Timer stared at the quarry from hundreds of feet above the ground. The cold mountain air whipped up his grey wool to nip at the skin underneath.

  Caper stood next to him on one foot. His black claws clung easily to the rough stone of the mountainside. The other foot held Old-Timer’s shoulder.

  “At least the girl is alive,” Caper said.

  “Can you protect her?” Old-Timer entreated in a whisper.

  “Yes. If she is in any condition to attend University in the fall, she will absolutely do so. Don’t worry, old friend. We’ll get her out of there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Caper looked over his shoulder at the source of the unusually cold wind. “There are clouds coming in. It will be raining tonight. If we’re going to move, it had best be now. I need you to focus.”

  Old-Timer took a deep breath. “I’m with you.”

  “Alright. Wait for my signal.”

  Caper spread his wings and jumped off the cliff, circling down the face of Ptera Peak. Old-Timer watched his gradual downward progress as the owl drew near to the waterfall and the dead tree next to it. From here, the old ram could just barely see the red wooden macaw that hung from the branches.

  Old-Timer kept a careful eye on his footing. The cliffs around him were deeply cracked, battered by the ocean wind coming from the west. A wrong move could mean a disastrous rockslide.

  He crouched low to await Caper’s signal. Next to him, hunkered down among the jagged rocks, were four nervous yellow birds.

  Chapter 20

  “Good morning.”

  The simple words snapped the puppet out of her trance. She could not turn her head, but she shifted the focus of her gaze. The ravens had left her unguarded once again, but another bird had landed on a branch just below and to one side.

  “I recognize you,” the red puppet said. “The great crested owl. You argued for my freedom yesterday. The priest called you… Professor Caper.”

  His amber eyes peered out with concern from beneath his long, thick brows. “That’s correct. Do you have a name?”

  “I think so. Before waking up in the watery cave, I only remember a pair of violet eyes looking at me and through me all at once. And there was a voice. Calm and yet authoritative, like a mother’s voice. She said, ‘Ponder.’ I am not sure if the word was a command or a christening.”

  Caper nodded. “Perhaps both.” He went quiet for a minute, studying the puppet carefully. She could see the question in his eyes before he asked.

  “Can you feel pain?”

  “Oh, yes. The hooks hammered into my body are agonizing. I can tell that the wind is cold. Reverend Specter had done his best to make me miserable… but he has still given me what I requested. I am sustained by the beauty of this land. I still feel incomplete, but I choose not to complain.”

  The owl opened his beak to respond, but he was interrupted by a shadow flitting across his face. His expression hardened. “Ponder, the guards are returning. I came to tell you one thing. Whatever happens here, do not be afraid.”

  Chapter 21

  Snapper held his rolled-up test in his teeth during his walk home. Though he kept an eye out for Durdge or other pigs as usual, there was nothing out of the ordinary during his trip. He let himself into the house, setting the test on the floor by the door.

  “Home, Dad,” he called out. No answer. Snapper nosed open the master bedroom door. Empty. Snapper went to his own room, climbed onto the bed, and opened the window to let in the afternoon breeze, sticking his head out to look behind the house just in case.

  Old-Timer really wasn’t home. That was out of the ordinary.

  Snapper stood at the window for a minute, listening to the breeze rolling through the house. It occurred to him how tired he was. Times like this most definitely called for a nap.

  As he nestled under his comforter, the breeze crept into the living room and caught the curled test paper on the floor, unfurling it. A-plus.

  ✽✽✽

  “Get up, Son! We’ve got to go. Now.”

  Snapper was jerked awake by his father yanking him out of bed. He could not see much except that it was nighttime—and that Old-Timer was more afraid than Snapper had ever seen.

  “Come on. Leave everything.”

  Snapper got to his feet, still groggy. “What? Why?”

  “No time now. I’ll explain on the way.” Old-Timer shoved him towards the living room. Something dove in through Snapper’s open window and flew right at them.

  Old-Timer bellowed as the flying thing landed on his hindquarters with raking talons. It moved fast, darting in to attack before flapping away to the ceiling.

  Snapper could tell that it was a bird, but it was like no bird he’d ever seen. It looked like a small osprey or falcon, but its eyes were empty and lifeless.

  “Close the window, Son!” Old-Timer yelled, rearing up on his hind legs to swing his head at the shrieking bird. “There are more of them out there!”

  Snapper leapt back onto his bed and caught the windowpane with his front hooves. He slammed it down just in time to stop a second osprey from getting into the room. Its head smashed against the glass and it dropped, senseless, to the dirt outside.

  Old-Timer abandoned his fight with the attacker in favor of pulling his son through the living room. Snapper had the presence of mind to slam his bedroom door, trapping the invader for now. His father pushed him out the front door, but their attackers had expected that and there were at least ten more of the screeching predators waiting for them. Old-Timer grabbed his son’s tail with his teeth and pulled him back into the relative safety of the living room.

  Snapper was fully awake now, and he ran to the side window to assess the situation. The night was cloudy with little moonlight to see by, but he could make out many moving shapes near the fence.

  “What’s happening, Dad?” he demanded in a panic.

  “I thought I could get here ahead of them,” Old-Timer growled, looking at the moving shadow under Snapper’s door. “They sent the birds first to keep us in the house. The rest are coming.”

  “Why would birds attack us?”

  Now Old-Timer was running into his own bedroom. “Not real birds, Son. Like the warthogs you saw yesterday, these are clones from the Megatropolis. Now, come on. We may surprise them if we jump out through this window and run.”

  Old-Timer stood on his own bed and knocked out the pane with his head. Before Snapper could jump out, a warthog burst in through the broken window and landed on Old-Timer. The two rolled over the bed and onto the floor in a whirl of horns and tusks. Another warthog and two empty-eyed, wild red dogs followed the first pig in through the window.

  Something heavy slammed into the front door, bowing it in on its frame. Snapper spun to face it. “Dad, the door!”

  But Old-Timer was beset by the four attackers. He pulled away from the first pig and swung his head viciously from side to side. That pig took a piercing wound and fell. The dogs and the other pig drew back, waiting for an opportunity to attack without exposing themselves to those deadly horns.

  The two dogs fanned out and leapt in from either side, as they had been trained to do. Snapper froze as he realized his father was about to be floored just like the sheep in the city square the morning before.

  But Old-Timer had fought dogs in the war and knew how to defeat this tactic. He swung to one side just in time so that the dogs were coming at his front and back rather than his sides. One was speared by a horn while the other took a mule kick to the face.

  The other warthog rushed in while the ram was still off-balance from the kick. It hit Old-Timer in the side and drove him against the wall. He cried out as tusks dug through wool and found flesh. The ram could not turn his head far enough to
attack.

  Snapper’s head hit the warthog’s skinny hind legs from the side. It stumbled but did not go down. That was all Old-Timer needed. With a sideways shove, he spun free, giving him room to bring his horns into play. The pig fell dead at his feet.

  This fight was over, but more attackers were on their way and Old-Timer was badly hurt. Snapper knew what he had to do.

  Chapter 22

  “Dad… Don’t move.” Relaxing as best he could, Snapper shut out the commotion around him and focused on his breathing.

  A green aura came over his vision. He felt a piece of his consciousness extending into the ground, deep into the growing earth beneath the foundation of the house. It rose again with the power it had plucked from the soil and enveloped the grey ram. As Snapper stood still, his eyes completely overcast with green, he could see the wounds in his father’s side on the cellular level, and he commanded those cells to get to work.

  A second later, the green glow was gone, as were Old-Timer’s wounds. Aside from the blood clinging to his fleece, there was no sign that he had been harmed.

  Snapper gave his father a hard look. “We’re not going down that easily.”

  The older sheep nodded and stepped onto his bed to look out the broken window. He swore. A group of little pink pigs had dropped metal roadblocks and were unspooling barbed wire across the ground. Flares landed in the grass, setting small fires.

  “They’re cutting us off and herding us to the front, Son.”

  A small, sharp explosion right outside the window validated his conclusion. A white cloud began to pour into the room. Probably tear gas, but they didn’t wait to find out. They ran into the living room.

  The door had nearly collapsed from the assault. As they watched, it flew off its hinges. Snapper had to jump aside to avoid being struck by the bent chunk of wood.

  In came more dead-eyed dogs, scraggly ospreys, and sharp-faced warthogs. Snapper counted four of each. But now Old-Timer was prepared. He did not look at all afraid as he faced down the beasts in the doorway.