Conway's Curse by Patric Michael Page A

soiled. “Come on, mate. Let’s find you a stream, shall we?”
     
    “Yeah, fine,” Kail grumbled. “But first, I’m going to have a few words with your cutie.” Green fire renewed behind Kail’s eyes, and Tion shook his head.
     
    “That might not be such a good idea, Kail. He’s pretty big.”
     
    “Good! The oaf will have farther to fall when I whack him.”
     
    “Well,” Tion temporized. “Let’s get a feel for the guy first. What do you say?”
     
    “You feel him,” Kail snapped. “I just want to whack him.” He hefted his walking stick and set off down the road, leaving behind a trail of smelly drips in the dust and Tion biting new holes in his cheek to keep from laughing.
     

     

     
    Both Tion and Kail were breathless by the time they caught up to the stranger. Tion’s shoulders ached from the constant thump and crunch of his backpack as they jogged, and he had no doubt Kail’s trousers were chafing, if his friend’s spread-legged amble was any indicator.
     
    “Hey! Wait a minute! Stop!” Kail shouted as they neared the stranger. The man was still humming softly to himself as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
     
    Even Tion grew incensed at the man’s callousness, and he added a few shouts of his own, to no avail.
     
    “I don’t think he can hear us, Kail,” Tion panted as he ran to keep up with the stranger’s ground-eating stride.
     
    “He’ll hear this!” Kail roared and surged forward, brandished his walking stick. He swung and connected with the man’s right shin. To Tion, it sounded like someone beating an oak tree with a twig. He stared in disbelief as the man paused, reached down to scratch his shin, and then continued as if nothing had happened.
     
    “Stupid, ignorant, clueless son of a….” Kail took advantage of the brief delay and ran ahead of the stranger. Tion followed, already shaking his head. This could not possibly end well.
     
    “Kail, be careful! He can’t….” His warning came too late, for Kail jammed his walking stick between the man’s lower legs and braced himself.
     
    Tion watched, horrified, as the man stumbled, lost his balance, and fell flat on his face with a loud, “Oof.” Kail was thrown forward by the sharp jerk when the man’s shin tangled with the stick, and he pitched headfirst into a berry bush. Tion fell backward, cast aside by the earthquake of the man’s impact as though he were no more than a feather in a breeze. He got up and advanced on the fallen traveler. His concern for Kail, coupled with anger at the extreme measure it took to get the guy’s attention, unleashed a torrent of invective that Tion rained down upon the man’s head. Along the side of the road, even the wild roses blushed.
     
    “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think you own this road or something?” Tion glared at the face before him. It was pressed firmly into the road, and one eye was squinted shut. The other cast about wildly for a moment and then locked on Tion.
     
    “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?”
     
    Tion clapped his hands over his ears and shouted, “Tone it down, you great clod! You’ll break my eardrums!”
     
    “YOU CAN TALK?”
     
    Tion fell backward, pummeled by the mountain of sound that crashed down upon him, dimly aware of the man pushing himself up to sit cross-legged and stare at him. Tion regained his feet by leveraging himself up with his walking stick. He brandished it like a stave and tried to shake the ringing from his ears. Movement caught his eye, and he saw Kail crawling on all fours from beneath the berry bush. Huge purple stains dotted his face, his hands, and his clothing. Still shaking his head, Tion stumbled over to help Kail to his feet.
     
    “You’re right, Kail, he’s an oaf. Let’s run before he regains his senses.”
     
    “What?” The wide O of Kail’s mouth suggested he was shouting, but Tion could barely hear him.
     
    Tion tugged at Kail’s arm. “I said, run!”
     
    “No, I’m not