Last Legend

Chapter 8: Rene

Rene woke to the odd sensation of having slept in. Since he has been under Master Samson's care, he never got to sleep in; not even when he was sick. He always had to wake up at the crack of dawn, or sometimes before, depending on the Master's mood, to help prepare breakfast, clean up, and do their morning chores before starting their training for the day.

This made Rene's stomach churn up with worry.

He rubbed at his eyes and flopped his feet out from under the covers and over to the side of the bed as he pushed his duvet back.

The cottage was dark and quiet. He could see the faint darker shapes of the dining table, wood stove, and cabinets across from his bed, but he could not hear anything at all but his own breathing.

"Did I wake up at midnight?" he murmured to himself, rising from his bed and walked over to the closest window, and pushed back the curtains Samson's wife sent them last week. The moon was still high and shone its pale light across the land as clouds sailed past to gather in the east.

"Okay, I guess I did wake up too early, but where did they go?" Rene turned to look at his companions' beds in the dim light and saw that he was right and was not imagining things. Their beds were empty. He really had not heard the sounds of their sleeping soundly.

He ran out the front door, not bothering to close it back, and searched the yard where they did their training, around the practice dummies hanging from the trees out back, the vegetable garden off the side of the house, and the compost heap out at the edge of the woods, but still, he could not find a sign at all of his Master and training partner. The outhouse did not hide any clues, and the flower beds Samson's wife planted for them years ago were not disturbed either. So that left the woods behind the cottage.

Rene hurried into the copse of trees and nearly tripped over his Master lying prone on the ground.

"What the—Master Samson!" Rene gasped, taking a step back, eyes wide at what he saw. The Master's eyes were scrunched up, and his face was partially hidden by his long dark brown hair with gray trying to peek through due to his age. A stream of blood ran out of his mouth onto the grass.

Rene dropped to his knees and pulled Samson roughly into his lap and got a whiff of something strong coming from the man's mouth. Smelled like some strange herbs. They did not have anything that smelled like that for dinner. He felt the side of Samson's neck for a pulse.

Nothing.

The man's maroon robes he normally wore looked tattered and dirty, as if he had the snot beaten out of him.

How did Rene not hear any of this happening while he was asleep? Why did he not hear any shouting or a struggle?

"Master, who the hell did this to you?" Rene choked out, nearing tears now. He pulled the man closer into a hug, still not hearing a sound or feeling a muscle stir.

He heard somebody leap down from one of the trees ahead. He looked up and saw his peer, Sheamus.

"Sheamus! Your father—look at what's happened! Who could do this to him?!" Rene cried out.

His peer stepped closer, Rene could now see the smirk on his tanned face. What?

"That old fool had it coming," Sheamus said, bringing his hands up to crack his knuckles. "He didn't even put up much of a fight."

The putrid stench hit Rene's nose again. "You poisoned him!"

Sheamus spat on the ground next to him as he stepped closer, "So what if I did? Mother shouldn't have left that medicinal text in the bookcase. The recipe was pretty easy really."