A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1)

by D'Artagnan Rey

  Her eyelids closed for a moment and she squeezed his hand softly and nodded. “You are welcome.” She withdrew her hand gently and they said nothing more. It was already quite late and they needed to rest so they could reach their destination by early afternoon on the morrow.

  His fears had not abated but they did not haunt him further that night. Thankfully, he was able to sleep more comfortably than he had expected to.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “We’re almost there!” Devol called as he bounded down the hillside. “You can already see the red trees.”

  “They are hard to miss,” Jazai told him before he blinked away from his friend, who laughed. Asla bounded past them both as they approached a large archway that welcomed travelers to Rouxwoods.

  It was a quaint little village nestled deep in a wood of the perpetually red-leaved trees from which the forest and town took its name. Red-and-white cobbled roads stretched from the gates into the town center, where it split into several directions. The town bustled with villagers and passersby and the houses all seemed to be made with the dark timber from the trees—an amusing detail Devol noticed as they walked under the swirling arches that were built in front of many of the buildings where the slanted roofs met.

  “We made it,” Asla said smugly as she looked at all the people with frank interest. “It wasn’t a long trip at all.”

  “Well, not for us.” Jazai chuckled and his gaze paused at one of the establishments. “Hey, this courier we’re supposed to meet—he will contact us, right?”

  Devol took out the card Nauru had given them. “Yeah. I’m not sure how exactly, but we have to wait for him. He’s traveling from farther away.”

  “Then we might as well get something to eat.” The diviner pointed his thumb at an inn a short distance ahead. “We can also see how much rooms will be if we have to stay the night.”

  The other two looked at one another and nodded together in agreement with the older Magi. “Sounds good,” the young swordsman said.

  Their friend smirked and cracked his knuckles. “All right. Let me haggle for the rooms. It’s one of my specialties.”

  “Damn conmen,” Jazai grumbled and sipped his spiced juice.

  “It’s not like it was our money,” Asla told him and swirled a cup of berry juice. “We took that from the bandits.”

  “Still, we could have kept more of it.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t have thought a place like this would have such a bustling tourist economy.”

  “It is very pretty,” Devol pointed out. “And it’s also something of a waypoint for merchants and travelers since it’s so close to the border of Britana.”

  “Still, a whole shard for a couple of rooms?” The scholar huffed and took a swig like his drink contained alcohol with which to drown his woes. “I was hoping I could lower it to three splints. It would have saved us two, at least.”

  “I’m sure you have other specialties that are of use, Jazai,” the wildkin responded.

  “Like what?” Devol asked and earned only a shrug from her as the scholar glared at them both.

  A female server stopped at their table. “Your food is ready,” she announced and put a plate of fish and rice in front of Asla. Grilled chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy followed for Jazai and slices of steak and seasoned vegetables for Devol. They thanked her as she replaced their empty breadbasket and began to dig into their meals.

  “So, any idea when we’re supposed to meet this courier?” Asla asked as she began to cut into her fish with a knife and fork. It amused the young swordsman to notice that she was not that proficient, given that she normally used her claws.

  He considered the question. “Well, if he’s coming from the capital, he has a far greater distance to travel than we did,” he reasoned as he speared a piece of broccoli with his fork. “I don’t know if he was using any portals, but we would have to wait more than a day for him to arrive.”

  “I guess we’ll get some use out of those rooms,” Jazai muttered as he took another sip of his juice.

  “But if he began earlier than we did, he should arrive soon, yes?” she asked.

  Devol nodded. “Assuming he can move as fast or faster than we can, it shouldn’t be a difficult trek, merely a long one.”

  “How is he supposed to find us?” Jazai stirred the mashed potatoes on his plate with his fork. “Or how do we find him?

  He shrugged and swallowed the vegetables he had been chewing as he patted his left pants pocket. “The card doesn’t specify but the signal word is ‘caw-caw.’”

  “Oh right, the bird’s call,” the diviner mumbled as he cut into his chicken. “That won’t be suspicious at all.”

  “We discussed that it could be an avian wildkin,” Asla reminded them. “It might not be likely but I did notice some wildkin in town.”

  Devol nodded and recalled their features. “I saw a verta wildkin in the merchant row who looked like a deer, so maybe people around here are accustomed to wildkin.”

  “Most in Monleans and Britana are,” she confirmed. “The homina wildkin kingdom is in Monleans lands, and the verta kingdom island is off the coast of Britana in the Pendragon Ocean, so they are more common in these parts.”

  “I don’t remember seeing that many growing up,” he admitted. “There was Mrs. Rena—another guard captain who worked with my father—and a few others in the city, I think, but most were traveling merchants.”

  “Many wildkin are nomadic,” she informed him. “At least in youth and when out of the kingdoms. I suppose that would make me something of a special case.”

  “I’m glad you are,” Devol said with a smile. Jazai flinched and stopped in mid-chew as his gaze drifted to him. Although it hadn’t been intentional, he might have stepped on a sore spot. “Otherwise, we probably would never have met. I think we’ve gotten along great so far.”

  The diviner looked at Asla, who wore a perplexed look for a moment before she smiled. “I suppose there are benefits to my situation. I am lucky, all things considered.” Jazai drew a quick breath of relief and continued to eat his meal.

  “What do you mean you are cuttin’ me off?” A loud, belligerent shout stilled the conversation in the dining area. The group looked at the bar, where a tall man in slightly tarnished armor was on his feet and yelled at the barkeep. “I’m fine! I’ve had a long spell of travelin’ and simply want to relax. You’re turning profit away, old man.”

  “You’re redder in the face than the leaves of the trees, pal,” the other man chided. “I can’t have you collapsing outside the establishment—or plastered while carrying that ax of yours.”

  “He has an exotic,” Jazai noted and gestured to the man’s waist. Devol narrowed his eyes and studied the one-handed, double-bladed ax, and he noticed a rune carved into the flat side of each blade and an enchanted pommel.

  “I said I’m fine!” the man roared and slapped his hands on the bar. The barkeep folded his arms and inclined his head toward the door. A few men in the dining area stood in case the aggressive drunk tried anything. Doors from the kitchen opened and a few of the larger staff members walked out. The inebriated patron noticed their presence and looked over his shoulder before he grunted and stormed away. “Fine! I’ll find another bar that respects my cobalt.” He all but spat the words as he shoved the inn’s main door open and slammed it behind him.

  Those customers who had stood now sat again and continued to eat, while the staff returned to their duties. A couple headed to the bar to check on the older man as the three friends returned to their meal.

  “That was a very nice exotic,” Devol mentioned. “But his armor wasn’t well-kept. And if he spends money on drinks and overlooks something like that, my guess is that he didn’t buy it.”

  “It could be an heirloom,” Jazai suggested with a shrug as he finished one of the chicken breasts. “Although if you’re implying he stole it or won it from someone, those also seem likely. They aren’t as precious as they used to be, after all.”

/>   “Finished,” Asla declared and slid her plate away with a contented sigh. Jazai and Devol stared down at the clean plate with amusement and surprise respectively.

  “You were much hungrier than you let on,” the swordsman mused.

  “I finished cutting the fish while everyone was distracted,” she explained and tapped her pointed nails together. “It made it a much faster process.”

  “You can simply enjoy a meal now and then.” Jazai chuckled. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere until that courier arr—”

  Shouts and a series of loud noises from outside the inn startled those in attendance. Devol looked at his teammates. The other boy was about to take another spoonful of mashed potatoes but he sighed and placed the spoon on his plate. “You want to check it out?” he asked. His friend nodded. “Bored or worried?”

  “A little of both, I suppose,” the young swordsman admitted.

  The diviner frowned and glanced at Asla, who rubbed her claws together. She met his gaze and shrugged and he stood with a sigh. “Fine, but I swear to the heavens if my food is cold when I get back, I’m taking some of yours.”

  “You don’t have to come,” Devol said as he pushed from his seat and headed toward the door with the others close behind.

  Jazai grinned cheekily. “Ah, guess I’m a little bored too.”

  As they hurried out to see what all the commotion was about, a figure watched them idly. He had listened to the various conversations around the inn while he waited for a certain group to wander past. With a smile, he ran a hand through his violet hair. It seemed he had found his target.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Devol stepped outside, a crowd of people huddled in a circle in the town’s square and a shattered cart with spilled jugs of ale and wine stood nearby. He and his friends pushed through as someone cried out and something landed with a loud clang. For a moment, he was afraid someone had been killed, but his fears were assuaged when he reached the center. Two men in uniforms with a red crest on their chests and arms signaling that they were city patrol sprawled on the road but they were still breathing.

  “Damn guards,” a drunk, bitter voice mumbled. The warrior from the inn breathed heavily and stood over the guards with his ax in hand. “My day has been bad enough. Don’t need you to make it worse.” He turned and focused on the crowd as if he had only now noticed them. His irate gaze became an angry glare as he spun completely and realized he was surrounded by curious onlookers. “What are you staring at, huh? Get the hell out of here unless you wanna end up like these two.”

  That drew some concerned yelps and gasps but others in the crowd looked like they did indeed want to challenge the drunkard. Devol beat them to it. He was the first to move but took only a single step forward before a hand grasped his arm.

  When he looked over his shoulder, Jazai regarded him with a questioning look. “Are you sure?” he asked, mainly to check before his friend involved himself in a street brawl. The swordsman nodded and the other boy returned it and released him. He moved quickly in front of the warrior.

  “Hmm?” The man muttered and glowered at the young Magi. Now that he was only a few feet in front of him, the full size of this man surprised him. He was not as tall as Wulfsun, but only by a few inches. His muscles showed that he was at least familiar with combat and training and the exotic ax was also a sign that violence wasn’t uncommon for him, but he already had proof of that now.

  The warrior bent forward and his hand slipped off his knee before he caught himself, propped himself a little more securely, and peered into the boy’s eyes. “What do you want, kid?” He scowled. “Think ya are gonna be a hero? I ain’t here to start trouble. Those guards came after me for nothin’.”

  Devol pointed behind him to the destroyed cart. “Was that you?” he asked and the man raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I saw you at the inn. You wanted more to drink. My guess is you saw an opportunity to get ale and broke the cart—on purpose or accidentally, it doesn’t matter. I would assume that would count as disorderly conduct and theft.”

  At the quiet challenge, the stern visage became even more aggressive and the man clenched his teeth. His breath reeked of alcohol, heavy and almost suffocating. So far, however, that was the only intimidating thing about him.

  “So what? You wanna play guardsman?” The drunk growled in annoyance, straightened to his full height, and rolled his shoulders. “Didn’t work out for them two, did it?”

  “I want you to apologize,” the boy announced and folded his arms. “You’ve hurt two men and scared people in this town. You are a traveler, right? That makes this worse. People live here and—”

  “Shut yer trap, kid!” the warrior demanded and tossed his ax onto the ground, where it cut through and sank into the cobblestone. “Like I’ll take a lecture from some brat. Yeah, I am a traveler—a mercenary. And all I wanted was a drink. I think I deserve a little hospitality.” He raised his hands in front of him and formed them into fists that began to shake in anger. “And if you and these other gnats don’t get out of my face, I’ll do more than scare ya.” He gritted his teeth and his muscles became engorged and grew from their already stocky girth to almost double in size. “See this? I can use my Mana to enhance my strength, and I could probably already snap your tweedy little neck without it.”

  “That’s called Vis,” he corrected. And not proper Vis, either. It enhanced the capabilities of the body but the whole point was that the Mana augmented the user’s physical form. He merely injected it into his muscles, and while it might have given him a small boost in strength and power similar to the innkeeper in Bluebell, it provided nothing else. He might as well have worn a suit of clay. “And you don’t have an Anima.”

  His opponent lowered his arms and tried to stand straight, but a slight hunch in his posture ruined his efforts somewhat. The boy looked at him and waited, amused by the way he craned his neck, which made it appear that a shadow was cast over his eyes. “Vis? Anima? The hell is that?” The warrior grunted dismissively.

  Devol looked at the ax. Exotics were relatively easy to use but someone not skilled in Mana arts would not get long or even effective use from them. He now thought that his drunken opponent had very likely stolen it without knowing what it was.

  When he looked up, the warrior held his fist close to his face again. “Spare me another speech, brat. I’ll give you one last chance to get the hell away from here. If you want to face me as a warrior, I will treat you like one.”

  He met the man’s heated gaze and nodded. “All right, then do so and we’ll make this quick.”

  The anger faded momentarily to show confusion and surprise before a grim smile formed on the warrior’s lips. “Wanna be a man, then?” he asked and reached his arm back. “You ain’t ready for something like that.”

  Devol held one finger up. “One thing before we start,” he said and the aggressive drunk paused briefly. “I don’t want to cause more of a commotion than you already have. So we will make this simple.” He looked at the man’s enlarged biceps. “You seem proud of your muscles. So on the count of three, we will each throw a punch. The one to knock the other down is the winner.” He began to summon his Anima as he said the last few words.

  His adversary responded with a howled laugh. “Are ya kidding me, boy? I’ve got almost twice the reach you do, and that’s only the start of it!” His laughter continued as he shook his head. “I guess I can give you points for guts. Well, this was your call. Yer about to feel the punch of a real warrior.”

  With a small nod, he drew one arm back and placed his fist against his other palm to hold it in position. “Very well, on the count of three. One…two…”

  “I ain’t waitin’!” the man bellowed and swung his fist toward his young adversary’s face. Devol’s Anima flared quickly to life but he was careful to control it and use only enough to protect himself. The crowd hollered and gasped as the punch landed and the drunk smiled when it connected. A second later, his expression cha
nged to one of shock when he realized that the young Magi was unmoved. “What the hells?” He scowled as he moved his fist away from the boy, who now stared at him with surprising calm.

  “Three.” Devol finished the count, allowed his Anima to surge, and launched a charged fist into the warrior’s gut. His adversary uttered a pained shout as saliva spattered from his mouth. His feet lifted and he careened down the street, made a clumsy landing, and skidded along the cobblestones before he came to a stop in front of a group of guards who ran toward the town center.

  The crowd stood in silent shock for a few moments and the boy let his Anima fade. As he composed himself, the spectators began to clap for him along with nods and shouts of approval to congratulate him on his victory. He waved a hand sheepishly to them in thanks as Jazai and Asla stepped beside him. The diviner clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice work, man. You’ve gotten the hang of Anima quickly.”

  “Thanks. That week of training helped. I would probably have summoned too much without proper control. He would have known something was up even without knowing anything about Anima.”

  “Or you might have killed him,” his friend pointed out “That was also possible.”

  “It is a little sad,” Asla said as three of the guards dragged the warrior out of the street. “If he was speaking the truth, being able to survive this long as a mercenary without proper Mana training shows that he at least has good instincts and some discipline. What a waste.”

  “If we’re done here,” Jazai began and stretched before he pointed at the inn. “Let’s go finish our meals before they get cold.”

  “You there!” Devol turned as a guard ran toward them. “Are you the one who fought that ruffian?”

  “Me?” he asked and pointed to himself. “I am.”

  “Ah, come on guardsman!” a man shouted from the crowd. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna bring him in for that. He stopped him from causing more of a ruckus.”