Ned straightened and coughed. "Well, it's not fool proof, but we have begun other adventures with worse fortunes."
"That's enough talking for one night, and not nearly enough drinking," Canto protested. He looked to Percy. "Yer with me, and the rest of ya can follow."
Percy smirked. "Wanting the pleasure of my company?" he wondered.
"Nope. Wanting somebody to cover my back in case we get lucky and find ourselves in a fight, now let's get going," Canto replied. The dwarf strode out of the room.
Percy shrugged and turned to the others. "He is so eloquent with words that it seems I have no choice. Anyone care to join me?"
Pat shook her head. "I'll help Ruth find a way up the cliffs and see her off."
"There are stairs in the northern most point of the city. They lead up to the cliffs where the aviators spread their wings," Ned told her.
Percy bowed at the waist. "Then I wish you good hunting, and hopefully we all survive the night." He hurried after Canto.
Ned turned to Fred. "This will be the perfect opportunity for you to see the cliffs yourself, young aviator. No one but the stray tourist visits them at night."
Fred cringed. "I'd rather stay-"
"We would appreciate your company," Ruth interrupted him. He looked to her and she smiled in return.
Fred sighed and nodded. "When do we leave?"
"Right now. Ruth needs all the time she can get to practice," Pat spoke up.
CHAPTER 11
A few minutes later Pat, Fred, and Ruth stepped outside the inn and listened to the noises of the stone city. There were loud arguments, drunken singing, brawls, and that was just from the inn behind them.
Ruth looked to her two companions. "Who should lead us? I am afraid I am very lost in such a sprawling city."
"We just need to head north, so we'll follow the streets until we reach the stairs. It shouldn't be too hard," Pat pointed out.
While those three wound their way through the countless city blocks, Canto and Percy were already a half a city away exploring the nightlife. The streets were lined with torches strapped to poles above the heads of the crowds. There were not quite as many people as earlier in the day, but their boisterousness made up for the fewer voices. Drunken men and women staggered through the streets with their arms slung over one another's shoulders and singing off-tune. In the distance dogs howled in tune with the drunks, and between them no respectable person caught a wink of sleep.
Percy walked behind the experienced dwarf and looked around at the lit buildings with their doorways filled with beautiful women tempting them like mermaids to their seas of drink. Men jostled each other for the attentions of the women, and fights broke out so often that on every corner was a twinner at the ready to resolve disputes.
Percy leaned down to Canto's ear. "What adventure were we hoping to find?" he asked the dwarf.
"What fun is it if ya look for adventure? The adventure has to come to ya to be a real one," Canto countered.
"We may find more than we can handle here," Percy argued.
"Bah," Canto replied. His eyes fell on a large drinking establishment with a half dozen women standing on either side of the swinging doors. A grin slipped onto his whiskered face. "Let's start adventuring in there," he suggested, and marched over to that bar.
Percy sighed and shook his head, but followed behind his mentor in fun. Canto took a moment to admire the products outside, and then the pair walked through the doors into the smoke-filled establishment. A long bar sat at the far end of the left-hand wall and was crowded with society's castoffs, including dark-cloaked assassin types, pimps, gamblers, politicians, and slave traders. Between the door and the bar were four dozen tables crowded with more of the same, and all armed according to occupation. Some had daggers, others held axes stashed against their thick legs, and a few had sharpened cards made from metal that could be tossed like knives.
Canto strode through the mess of villainy and up to the bar. There was a little space left, enough for two people, but the two men on either side sneered at the dwarf. They slid together and shut off access to the bar. Canto stopped and glared at each of them. "Mind moving aside?" he asked them.
"Yep," one of them coolly replied.
Percy came up behind Canto and put his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Perhaps we could find a table," he suggested.
"His kind isn't allowed in here," one of the men at the bar yelled.
Percy raised an eyebrow. "His kind?" he repeated.
"Dwarves," another man spoke up. "We don't need them small people coming in here and swinging their blunt axes around the place."
Percy felt Canto stiffen and the dwarf brushed off his hand. "You might want to be rethinking yer words," Canto growled.
The men at the bar laughed, and the room behind Canto and Percy quieted. He was of slight build with the dark cloak of an assassin. "What's wrong, dwarf? Don't like being small?" jeered the first man.
"Ah don't care what ya call me, but no dwarf ever let his ax get blunt," Canto countered.
Percy set his hands back on the dwarf's shoulders. "Have you forgotten our roles as ambassadors?" he whispered to his short friend.
Canto shrugged him off again and glared at the bar men. "Ya can keep being an ambassador, but Ah've had enough of that mess."
"Too short of patience for diplomacy?" another man spoke up. That got a round of laughs from the men, but the insulter didn't get to finish his guffaw before the bottom of an ax handle slammed up into his lower jaw. The man's head whipped back and he fell backwards into a crowd of his friends who dropped him to the floor in surprise.
Canto gripped his upside-down ax in his hand and his eyes swept over the menacing group. "Anyone want to see if my ax is blunt?" he challenged them. Many of the men stepped forward and brought out their assortment of weapons.
Percy backed up against Canto's back, pulled his sword from its scabbard, and glanced over his shoulder at his short companion. "Was this wise?" he asked him.
Canto smirked and swung his ax so the blade was on top. "Nope, but we'll have a little fun," he replied.
In the north of the city their three younger friends had their own troubles with the natives. Pat led the way through the crowded, bustling streets and they found themselves in a marketplace. Stalls with tarps over their wooden tables were set up along a long, narrow street. In front of and behind the tables vendors hawked their wares of beautiful paintings, fine pottery, and stinking fish. Pat stopped at the opening to the market and glanced at her companions. "Don't make eye contact with the peddlers. It only encourages them," she warned them.
"Encourages them to do what?" Fred asked her.
"Peddle. Now let's get through this as quickly as possible without losing what little gold we have left after Ned's insanity," she insisted.
The three entered the mess of stalls and kept to the center, but halfway along the street they passed too close to a stall and Ruth accidentally made eye contact with a peddler. The man wore a suit made of strips of colored cloth, and he jumped in front of them and gestured to his stall.
"Come and see what I have, my children! I promise you will not be disappointed!" the man told them.
"No," Pat replied. She brushed past him, but the man cornered the other two meeker companions.
"Come come! A look is all I ask!" The hawker gently grasped their arms and led them over to his stall where sat a menagerie of birds. Ruth bumped into a stand on which sat a large, gray-feathered hawk with golden eyes. The bird let out a squawk that startled her, and she stumbled back into Fred's arms. The vendor stepped up beside the stand and looked between the bird and the girl. "I see you have met my best and brightest. He is a fine specimen. Look at these wings!" The man grasped the bird's wings, but the hawk pecked at his hand and he barely avoided a sharp rap on his knuckles. The hawk hopped around on its perch and flapped its wings, and Ruth noticed one of its legs was chained to the stick with a lock settled against its claws. "Such liveliness, but what fe
athers! Now what do you say? A beautiful bird for a beautiful young woman. A steal at only a hundred gold coins."
"I say we can't afford it," Pat spoke up as she marched back to her captive friends. She grabbed their arms and dragged them away from the stall.
Ruth let herself be led away, but she glanced over her shoulder at the bird stall. The gray hawk tilted its head and watched her go with unblinking eyes. Its feathers shone against the torches that lit the street and those golden eyes revealed an intelligence greater than most birds. She sighed and looked away.
The three companions hurried onward and reached the end of the market before more trouble found them. That area of the market was filled with stalls offering alcohol of every kind. There were flavors strained from the honey of Diluvian bees, cantankus spit, and grains Fred didn't recognize. Gathered around these places were short men dressed similar to Fred , and most held a mug of alcohol in their hands. They laughed and jostled one another, and drank and were merry.
Fred followed the girls through the crowds until a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He turned to find himself staring into the glossy eyes of a fellow aviator who wore a lopsided grin on his face. "How ya doing, friend?" the man asked him. The stranger's breath reeked worse than Fluffy's.
"Um, fine, but I have to go," Fred replied, and tried to pull away. He yelped when the man swung him around and into the arms of other men who wore aviator outfits.
"How about we treat our friend here to some fun?" the first man called to his companions.
"Yeah!"
"Here here!" came the cries.
"Let go of me!" Fred demanded. He struggled in their grasps, but they were much stronger and many more than he could handle.
"Give this boy some drink!" the first man demanded. A mug was thrust into Fred's hands and the contents spilled onto his clothes. The man stumbled toward him and clanked their mugs together. "To flying and dying!" he called out.
"To flying and dying!" was the boisterous reply.
By this time Pat and Ruth had noticed Fred's disappearance. They turned around and gazed over the bustling crowd behind them. "Fred?" Pat called. "Fred?"
"Over here!" he yelped.
Ruth grabbed Pat's arm and pointed. "There he is!" she told her friend.
Pat squinted, but her eyes widened when she saw Fred among the brawny, bellowing aviators. She scowled and pushed her way through them to stand before Fred. "Release him," she ordered the men. The crowd erupted in laughter.
"Look what we have here, my friends. A fine little princess come to rescue her prince," one of the men jeered. He grabbed her from behind, but Pat swung around and jabbed her elbow into his face. The man fell back into his friends with blood dribbling down his broken nose.
The happy mood in the crowd changed to threatening. The men dropped their wounded companion and pressed around Pat. Several pulled out hidden knives and others cracked their knuckles. "You shouldn't have done that, little girl," one of the men growled. "When ya fight one aviator ya fight us all."
"So be it," Pat replied. She pulled her sword and stared back at them with unwavering eyes. The mens' bloodthirstiness wavered under the shine of her deadly blade.
The man who had caught Fred puffed out his chest and looked over his companions. "Come on, friends! There's only one of her and many of us!" he shouted. His fighting words emboldened the men, and half a dozen jumped at her.
Pat blocked their fists with the flat side of her blade and cut their limbs with the sharp edges. They cried out and fell back clutching at their bleeding wounds. None were fatal, but they would have a difficult time flying their machines in the tournament. The smell of blood and the sight of their wounded companions only angered the drunken fools, and more stepped forward to challenge Pat. She was outnumbered two dozen to one. Pat's eyes flickered from left to right, and she kept her ears focused on her rear. There was no chance to outmaneuver this number, not in such close quarters.
The hopeless situation was made less so when a shadow flew over the crowd. Some in the crowd glanced up and their eyes widened when they beheld a beast with large bat wings and a tail. The shadow swooped over the heads of those in the crowd and clawed at their hats and heads. Many ducked, and Pat and Fred were able to see it was Ruth transformed into her gargoyle form. Her long, dagger-like claws dug into scalps and yanked out tufts of hair. She kept aloft by pushing off the heads of their foes and jumping back into the sky.
"Monster!" someone screamed. That was the call to panic, and many people heeded it. There was a stampede and trampling as people tried to flee but tripped over the ones who opted to duck to the ground. Cantankus piles piled up, and Pat occupied herself with taking care of the few aviators who braved the creature to attack her.
Fred pulled and strained against the hands that held him. One of his handlers fled at the sight of Ruth, and he grasped the sticks in his belt. He transformed his staff and shoved the stone end into the faces of those men who still held him. The stone lit up with the brilliance of a thousand candles and the aviators stumbled back clutching at their eyes and screaming about the sun. Fred rushed over to Pat and pressed his back against hers.
"Why must you find trouble?" she yelled at Fred.
"It finds me!" he protested.
Around them was the chaos of panic and angered drunks. Some aviators still lunged at the pair to avenge their fallen comrades. Pat parried a thrust from a dagger and knocked the hilt of her sword against the man's head. He dropped to the ground and she stepped onto him to gain a better view of the crowd. The chaos at the north end of the market spread southward as fights and brawls broke out, and tables were upset.
"Twinners!" someone yelled.
At the far end of the market Pat glimpsed twinners and city guards pour into the market. They beat heads and took prisoners as they battled their way north. She looked up and saw Ruth not far above them dodging thrown daggers, pieces of wood, and fruit.
"Ruth!" Pat shouted as she held up her hand.
Ruth glanced down and saw her friend atop the fallen man with her hand held for her to grab. She dove down and grasped Pat's hand. The gargoyle spread wide her wings and caught the early evening winds of Kite. The wind pulled them upward, and they soared over the crowds. Ruth landed them atop one of the short buildings that surrounded the market. The pair hurried to the edge of the building and witnessed Fred engulfed by the twinners and guards. One grabbed his arm and twisted it back, and he dropped his staff to the ground. It clattered to the dusty dirt as two broken sticks which one of the men picked up.
"A castor staff!" they heard the guard yell.
The guards who held Fred tightened his hold and his arms were chained behind his back. He was pushed forward to a line they formed with the other aviators.
Ruth stepped onto the ledge, but Ruth held her back. "Don't go," Pat told her.
"But we must save Fred," Ruth insisted. Even as they spoke manacles were snapped over Fred's wrists and he was shoved into a long line of prisoners.
"We can't start a war against the twinners, and he's safer in their custody than in the company of the aviators," Pat argued. "We will follow them and rescue Fred when the time is best."
CHAPTER 12
Pat and Ruth kept to the rooftops and followed the procession of prisoners northwestward to the magnificent domed building. There was a small, square annex at the rear of the domed structure, and Pat and Ruth guessed that was where the stone was kept. The line was slow moving as twinners led the way and often tripped over their long robes. Guards brought up the rear and patrolled the sides to keep any of their prisoners from escaping into the side streets. Fred was at the front of this mess, and beside him walked a guard who held his sticks.
They shuffled northwestward through the streets and near sunrise reached a large open square. At the far end stood the domed building and on either side of that were low structures that sat on high platforms with stairs in front of their porches. Between the buildings was a round depression with stone
benches around the perimeter. The prisoners were set on the stone benches, and Fred was placed between two burly aviators who sneered at him. He shrank and his eyes flitted over the rooftops looking for hope. He found it when he noticed two shadows peek their heads over the roof of a building to the east.
A half dozen men with quills and books stepped out onto the porch of the same building. They all wore robes like the twinners, but one wore a square hat that stood straight on their head. It brushed against the roof of the doorway and was kept on his head by a strap beneath the chin. One of the twinners stumbled over to the hat figure and bowed his head.
"We bring men to be brought before the Senex for their crimes and punishment, Master Topper," the twinner spoke up.
Master Topper looked to the prisoners and lowered his voice. "Why could you not do this task? You know few are allowed inside the Senex at this time," he asked the twinner.
"Because these are aviators, and by law we cannot judge our former companions," the twinner replied.
Master Topper scowled and sighed. "Very well, but they shall be judged out here by a small portion of the Senex." He glanced over his shoulder at the other robed figures. "Learn their names and occupations, and inform the Senex that they are needed," he commanded them.
"Master Topper, there's something else," the guard with Fred's sticks in his hand. He held up the pieces before the tall individual. "One of these accused is a castor, and this is his staff."
Master Topper raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean to be humorous, guard?" the master wondered.
The guard shook his head and gestured to Fred. "No, sir. It fell to the ground and became these sticks, and this boy here blinded several men with its magic."
Master Topper's eyes widened and he whipped his head to Fred. "Is this true, boy? Did you use magic?" he questioned
Fred scowled at the title. "I did, but only because I was outnumbered," he defended himself.
Master Topper gasped and stumbled back. "The Evil Eye-twitch!" he exclaimed. The guard behind Fred gasped and released him. The aviators beside Fred scooted away and the record keepers huddled on either side of their master.
The Unwilling Aviator (Book 4) Page 7
