Beginnings: Five Heroic Fantasy Adventure Novels

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Sounds like the shopping list of someone going hunting for something.”

  “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Mela agreed. “If the pirate only wanted to add to his wealth, there were more valuable items he could have stolen from the museum.”

  Yanko leaned forward again. “Meaning that seventy years ago, someone undertook my quest?”

  “Someone else may have decided it was time to check on Kelnorean,” Mela said.

  “Kel-what?”

  “The lost continent.”

  Yanko gaped at her. She did know. Dak stirred but did not say anything. He was watching Mela intently.

  “Except it was never rediscovered,” she said, “at least not publicly. Maybe the pirate was on his way to search for it when the Turgonians caught up with him.”

  “The stolen items would have been on his ship then,” Dak said.

  “Ah, a valid point. Maybe he had already hunted for the continent but hadn’t found it. Or maybe he never intended to use the artifacts to search for it. He might not have even known what he had, though that does seem unlikely, given his background.” Mela yawned and straightened up, grimacing and grabbing her back. “It’s beyond me to guess. This is a game for younger, sharper minds.”

  Dak asked her something in Turgonian.

  Mela smiled. “Yes, he was there. They went hunting for it together.”

  “Did they?” he said, speculation in his eyes. Yanko wished he knew what Dak had asked. “And they still couldn’t find the cache?”

  “They only searched briefly. They put most of their time into finding and salvaging the old ship.”

  “I see.”

  A distant boom-pop came from somewhere outside. It was after midnight, so Yanko couldn’t imagine what it might be.

  Then a cheerful voice yelled, “They’re here. Our invaders are here!”

  Yanko’s stomach twisted into a knot. The trouble he had hoped wouldn’t follow him to this home had found him.

  15

  The dining room table must have been dubbed the control center, because the twins, Mela, and family members Yanko had yet to be introduced to had all gathered there. A fancy communications orb glowed at one end, its ornate wooden base and size—nearly as large as a man’s head—suggesting it did more than simply allowing conversations over distance. The cat figurines on the map had been moved, and two on the road leading onto the property glowed.

  “They’re coming in runabouts,” Agarik said, a distant look to his eyes. “Two large parties of people. I think they’re armed.”

  “We’re ready for them,” his sister said and dropped her hand onto the top of the orb. “Activating the deterrent system.”

  Yanko would have assumed that first boom he had heard had been the deterrent. Mela watched the goings on with tense eyes. She must not be a practitioner, so she could only stand back and observe. And worry.

  Yanko had left Dak in the study, but he must have gone out at some point, because he strode up to the table fully armed, with two rifles in hand, in addition to the pistol and sword at his belt. Yanko eyed the longer weapons curiously, wondering if they were the repeating firearms the newspapers had mentioned the year before, an upgrade to the earlier one-shot models that the Turgonians had used against the Nurians in previous wars. Yanko had seen one of the percussion-cap rifles as a boy—bringing them home as war booty had been a popular endeavor—but nobody back home had ever used the weapon. His people had always sneered that a good archer could shoot more accurately and load more quickly, but the newer firearms supposedly nullified the weaknesses of the old.

  “Lonaeo,” Dak said, then tossed the second rifle to the blond man Yanko had noticed earlier. He raised his eyebrows to Mela and held up the other weapon in offering.

  She shook her head. “I’ll trust to younger blood to keep me safe. So long as these Nurian intruders don’t disturb my sewing room or library.”

  “They’re not all Nurians,” Agarik said in a puzzled tone.

  “They’re not?” Yanko asked.

  “One runabout has Nurians in it, but the other has Kyattese. Then there’s someone running behind the runabouts too. Or more off to the side of the road, but she’s keeping up with the rest.”

  She. The mage hunter?

  Yanko didn’t know if the intruders were close enough for him to sense yet, but he reached out with his own mind, wanting to assess the situation himself. Someone bumped his arm, distracting him. Lakeo.

  She carried her bow and all of her gear, including the heavy backpack. “We staying here and fighting?” she asked quietly, glancing at the people around the table, chatting and prodding the map. “Or leaving?”

  “I’ve... been wondering about that,” Yanko murmured. “It’s not their battle. It seems selfish to stay here and risk their safety and their home when the enemies are ours… Mine. We should probably leave and draw the attention away from here. But I don’t know how you and I would beat such powerful foes alone.”

  “I’m not too proud to run.”

  Yes, but they had been running, and they hadn’t managed to put much distance between them and their would-be assassins. Yanko’s would-be assassin, at least. Sun Dragon’s team should not have any reason to hurt Lakeo if she wasn’t with him. She was yet one more person that he was endangering. He dropped his chin to his chest. He was being selfish… even cowardly… for involving others in this mission, but he shuddered at the idea of tackling it alone.

  A flap of wings was Yanko’s only warning before claws dug into his shoulder.

  “Puntak, puntak,” the parrot said in his ear, then added an exuberant, “Chips!”

  “Kei,” Mela said, “go back to your perch.”

  Judging by the way those claws had sunken into his clothing—and flesh—the parrot was quite comfortable where he was. At least Yanko had a name for him now. Since he still had some of the crumbled taro chips in his pocket, he dug them out.

  “Did that bird just call you a puntak and then ask for food?” Lakeo stared at it.

  “Yes.”

  She smirked and thumped him on the shoulder. “Sounds like an abusive relationship.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with them.”

  The parrot ate its fill, then leaped from Yanko’s shoulder, gouging him again as he flew over to a new perch.

  “Komitopis jiaksu,” came an authoritative voice over the communication orb. Another sentence followed, then was broken off in a grunt, followed by what sounded like a curse, and someone else’s cry of, “Ouch!”

  “What is it?” Lakeo asked.

  Yanko could only shrug.

  Agarik was standing near them and translated. “He said, ‘Komitopis family, this is Police Captain Mihako. Desist in your...’ That’s as far as he got.”

  Mela touched her cheek and said something, then glanced at Yanko and Lakeo and repeated herself in Nurian. “What are the police doing here? I thought...” She hustled over to the orb, shooing everyone else out of the way.

  Frowning, Yanko reached out with his senses again. The boy had said Nurians were coming, but was it possible they weren’t his Nurians? The ones who wanted him dead? Or who at least wanted all information pertaining to the lodestone? Maybe these people had come on some unrelated matter.

  But no, he recognized the Sun Dragon’s strong, bright aura as soon as he drew near it. Yanko almost expected a smug, “Ha ha, found you,” to reverberate in his head, but maybe the mage was busy with the twins’ deterrents.

  The other Nurians in the runabout felt familiar, too; they were the people who had come to his family’s home, who had burned his family’s home. Yanko gritted his teeth, hating the idea of running away again. He wished he could get rid of these people, defeat them to such an extent that they would give up on following him.

  What if that means killing them?

  He reminded himself that he had killed before, in self-defense in the mines and in trying to reach Uncle Mishnal before it was too late. Still, that did not mean he was comfor
table with the idea. Couldn’t there be another way?

  “Alalo Mihako?” Mela asked, leaning closer to the orb than necessary. If it worked like other communications artifacts Yanko had used, it would pick up all the noises in the area and transmit them—he would have to keep his mouth shut if he did not want the Nurians to know for certain he was here. With the warrior mage out there, it was probably a futile hope, but if the man was busy, maybe he wouldn’t notice Yanko.

  The man responded, sounding twice as harried as he had before. Agarik translated again. “Mrs. Komitopis, is that you? I order you to stop this harassment. We have the Nurian ambassador here, as well as the wronged parties. It’s unjust for you to deter us.”

  “The Nurian ambassador?” Yanko mouthed. He was not the only one to draw back in surprise.

  “Wronged parties, Captain?” Mela asked.

  A new voice sounded, a deep one that spoke in Nurian. “I am Ambassador Still Water. I trust you understand me.” Without waiting for confirmation, he went on. “You are harboring, either knowingly or unknowingly—”

  The captain interrupted with something that sounded apologetic, some promise that he wasn’t accusing the family of anything perhaps. Agarik did not translate it.

  “You are harboring a criminal named Yanko White Fox. He is the son of Captain Snake Heart Pey Lu White Fox.”

  A dozen sets of eyes turned toward Yanko, and all he could do was gape. A criminal? How was he the criminal? They were the ones who—

  But the thought lurched to a halt before he finished it, an image of the prison cavern jumping to the forefront of his mind, the people he had freed...

  “They’re the rebels,” he whispered to the eyes staring at him. “They’re working against the Great Chief. I’m working for him, for Prince Zirabo.”

  The others seemed to be too surprised to grasp his words. Nobody made a move toward him, but the puzzled frowns on those faces were not heartening. Dak, the only one in the room besides Lakeo who had known the truth, wore a dyspeptic scowl.

  “Being the son of a criminal doesn’t make one a criminal, Ambassador,” Mela said, the room utterly silent around her. “To what crime are you referring, please?”

  Yanko searched her face, wondering if she might side with him, if she might believe he hadn’t done anything wrong. But even if she did, she couldn’t kick the police off her property. She would have to cooperate. Damn, how had those assassins gotten the ambassador to come here with them? Was the ambassador sympathetic to the rebels too? One of the numerous factions Dak had mentioned? Yanko wanted to pull his hair out in frustration. He knew so little of what was going on in his nation, so little of what was now imperative for him to know.

  “He helped prisoners escape from the prison at the Port of the Red Sky Wars,” the ambassador said, and it was all Yanko could do to keep from fleeing the room. Sweat ran down his spine. How did they know? Sun Dragon’s people had left as quickly as Yanko had. Had their ship been in communication with someone in Red Sky? It must have been.

  Yanko looked at Dak, hoping he would say something on his behalf. He had been there. He knew what that night had truly been about. But Dak’s face had turned into a stony mask that hid his thoughts.

  “Just today,” the ambassador continued, “his sidekick stole priceless books from the library.”

  “Sidekick,” Lakeo blurted in indignation.

  Yanko would have felt indignant himself, because he realized right away it must be true—her pack was heavy from stolen books, not promotional pamphlets—but he was more worried about his own crime, one that he had hoped would either be forgotten by the time he returned home or that would be dismissed because of the heroic deed he was doing to help his people.

  “We demand that you send these two criminals out to be dealt with immediately,” the ambassador said. The captain added something in Kyattese that sounded like an agreement. “To hinder us further would be completely unacceptable, and I will press charges in your judicial system if you do not cooperate.” This time the captain’s addition sounded less supportive, more like a nervous, “But we don’t want that to happen,” amendment.

  Mela looked to Dak, uncertainty on her face. Dak shook his head and said something that was probably along the lines of, “I don’t have the power to countermand them.”

  Yanko didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he could say.

  I surrender, is what you should say, Sun Dragon caroled into Yanko’s mind.

  Coward, Yanko snarled back before he could think wiser of it. You couldn’t best me with your fireballs, so you tattled to the ambassador?

  The voice did not return to his head. He hoped that meant his insult had made the man wince, knowing it had been the truth, but instead, Sun Dragon probably felt so arrogant and superior that he did not feel the need to reply.

  “Come to the house, and we will discuss this,” Mela told the ambassador. “The... defensive measures will be stopped.”

  “We should leave now,” Lakeo murmured.

  A big part of Yanko wanted to stay, wanted to find a way to convince these people who had been nothing but helpful to him that he was not a criminal and that the others were the criminals, the ones conspiring against the government at least, but what argument could he make that would not involve lying?

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Akstyr stood behind him and jerked a thumb toward the hallway where Lakeo and Yanko had been given rooms.

  “Back door,” he said.

  With Mela still negotiating with the ambassador, everyone was focused on the orb and that conversation. Trying not to feel like a hound fleeing with its tail between its legs, Yanko slunk after Akstyr. He expected someone to shout for him to stop at any moment, but the conversation continued, and nobody called after him. Lakeo had not needed any extra urging, and she walked into the hallway ahead of Akstyr.

  “Which way?” she asked as soon as the three of them were out of sight of the dining room.

  “I have to get my belongings,” Yanko said.

  “Good.” Akstyr smirked at him. “Your room being the back door.”

  “Ah.” Yanko opened the door, glad he hadn’t thought to lock it when he had departed through the window earlier, and grabbed his gear and weapons.

  “Already open.” Akstyr stuck his hand through the open window and smirked again.

  “Amused by this, are you?” Lakeo growled, looking like she might pull out an arrow to stab into his ribs.

  Yanko patted the air, trying to cool her irritation. Akstyr was helping them. That was all that mattered.

  “I am one usually being in trouble,” Akstyr said as Yanko climbed out. The fountain still gurgled cheerfully, as if the world remained peaceful and serene. But the rattle of wheels on the driveway told Yanko the truth. He danced from foot to foot, waiting for the other two to climb out.

  “Where should we go?” he asked as soon as Akstyr stood up. “We need to get back to town and...” Yanko had not figured out the rest yet.

  Akstyr trotted down the length of the courtyard, until they reached the back edge of the house. He pointed around the corner toward the dark silhouette of the volcano, just visible over the trees. Yanko hoped he wasn’t going to suggest they hurl themselves into the caldera so they would be incinerated by molten lava. That wasn’t the kind of escape he wanted.

  “Caves inside,” Akstyr said. “Long caves.”

  “Lava tubes?” Yanko guessed.

  “Lava?” Lakeo asked.

  “Yes,” Akstyr said. “Old. Dry. They curve.” He pantomimed with his hands, and Yanko got the gist.

  “Is there one that comes out near the city?”

  “Yes. Go.” Akstyr waved toward the trees and the volcano, then thumped the back of Yanko’s hand with his own in some sort of parting gesture. “Luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lakeo took off first, her heavy pack and bow bouncing on her back. Though he knew he should not linger—those runabouts sounded like they had rolled to a
stop in front of the house—Yanko couldn’t help but look back toward the large windows in the great room and dining room that looked out over the courtyard. Curtains had been drawn, but he could see the silhouettes of figures moving around inside.

  Yanko hadn’t known those people for long and told himself it did not matter what they thought of them, but he would miss having Dak’s sword at his back. He might even miss Dak, as grumpy and secretive as he was. But this was for the best. Dak knew too much already, and his first duty would be to Turgonia, not to protecting some dumb—and now criminal—kid from the enemy nation.

  Yanko ran after Lakeo, almost glad the need to escape would keep his mind occupied. If he had time to stop and think about what a wreck his life had become, he might never get started again.

  * * *

  Yanko and Lakeo ran down a road that cut across the plantation, trees on their right and fields of cane on the left. He had no idea if the wide dirt route would take them to the caves Akstyr had spoken of, but the volcano loomed ahead of them, blotting out the stars and the moon. If nothing else, they could cut to the south when they reached the foothills and parallel the road heading back to the city.

  Of course, Sun Dragon might have anticipated that Yanko would flee and might have people waiting in that direction. The caves would be better, especially if few people knew about them. The dense tons and tons of rock should dampen a mage’s ability to find Yanko, as well. He could sense auras for a mile or sometimes more out in the open; he always struggled to extend his senses as far through solid rock.

  “Is that assassin out here somewhere?” Lakeo asked, her words terse and breathless. They had already run two or three miles, tripping over the ruts and rocks in the road and ducking branches that hung low, hidden by the darkness until they smacked them in the faces. “Or did we get away without anyone noticing?”

  “I think the warrior mage can feel me from a distance,” Yanko admitted.

  Lakeo grunted as she stumbled over another rut and pitched forward. Yanko thought about suggesting that her journey would be easier if she wasn’t wearing forty pounds’ worth of stolen books. But his own pack dug into his shoulders, a reminder that he, too, had a book that had been received as part of a ruse. He might as well consider it stolen too. Maybe it was fitting that he and Lakeo were fleeing together. A pair of thieves, the letter in his pocket the only thing that might legitimize his quest, but all it would take was for someone to steal it and burn it to leave him with nothing, no justification for the trouble he had caused.