The old man walked out of the room, followed closely by the girl. Fred hesitated until he saw the fury return to Damskov's eyes. Such an insult had put him in a worse mood than before, so Fred scrambled out of the room and followed the pair out of the manor. The old man led them all toward the fields and Fred's house; the boy himself followed glumly behind the other two.
The moment they were out of earshot of the manor the girl let loose her opinion. "What a stupid oaf!" the girl complained. She turned her furious eyes on her older companion who walked by her side. "And why did you give him so much money? Have we any left?"
"Perhaps that is better left for another time when we are at a greater distance from this estate," the man replied.
She stiffened and looked around; a few chickens and a pig wandered along the road but no one else. "Do you believe he has knights?"
The old man glanced over his shoulder at their follower. "If we want the answer to that question we should ask our young friend here."
The girl looked back and curled her lips up in a sneer of disgust. "I would rather take my chances with the unknown than this farm boy. I doubt he even knows what a knight is, much less if he's seen one around here."
Fred scowled back at the girl. "I know what a knight is, and I know Lord Damskov has six who answer to him," he replied.
"Then that is six problems I would rather avoid if you two would hold your arguing until later," the old man spoke up. The group arrived at Fred's home and stopped at the door; the old man turned to Fred and gestured to the entrance. "We haven't much time. Take what you can comfortably carry and we shall be off."
Fred paled at the thought of leaving his home, but Damskov had made it quite clear he was no longer welcomed. He reluctantly stepped inside and looked around his simple hovel. The bare earthen floor was well-packed by his feet, the table on his left filled with all the interesting rocks he'd found in the fields he tended. There was the shelf of food and the small hole in the floor where he kept his store of vegetables for the winter. All of it welcomed him home to a place he would no longer call home.
Before him was the small fireplace, and Fred wandered over to it. He ran his hand over the hearth, blackened with countless fires. He made many by himself, but others had been with his parents. With his separation from that house he felt a separation from their memories, and from them.
His new lord came up behind him and set a gentle hand on his shoulders. "We must hurry on our way."
Fred didn't know where the way would lead, but he understood he had to follow his new lord. He packed his spare clothes, food and the smallest of his trinkets, and wrapped them all in the blanket that covered his straw bed. The others waited for him outside, and the old man gave him a sad, small smile. "And off we go," his new lord whispered.
The companions set off down the same road the old man had walked up the day before. The entrance road to the estate was flanked by two large rocks, placed there long ago when the property was given to the family by a grateful king. They passed through these and traveled down the road in silence; the only noise was the sounds of their footsteps and the clack of the old man's cane against the hard-packed dirt. Fred stopped and ventured a glance back. His home, his former home, already lay a mile back. He could hardly see the cottage that had housed him since his birth. Regret set in; he wished he had been more polite to Lord Damskov and begged to stay. His companions noticed they were lacking one of their number and turned back toward him.
"What are you stopping for? We don't have time to waste on you, boy, so let's get moving!" the girl snapped at him. Fred didn't reply, and she was about to make another demand for haste when a hand settled on her shoulder. She looked to find her older companion staring at the boy, and he shook his head.
The girl lapsed into sullen silence and her companion stepped over to stand beside Fred. Fred glanced at the old man and hastily wiped a few tears from his eyes. The old man chuckled. "Come on, my lad, no tears. There's a lady present."
"I'm sorry for stopping, my lord, it's just that I can't help looking back." His heart ached to stand before the hearth of his home.
"You needn't apologize. I won't beat you for a few tears of sadness, nor even those of joy," the stranger assured him. The old man's eyes lit up. "But here we are traveling together, and you bound as you are to me, and I haven't introduced myself." He stepped back and bowed his head to the surprised Fred. "I have been called many names, but for the present time you may call me Ned."
Fred blinked. "Ned?" he repeated, sure he'd heard wrong. He would never have imagined such a simple name for such an ancient creature.
Ned nodded. "Yes, Ned." He gestured to his female companion. "This is Patricia, though she prefers the name Pat." Ned slid up beside Fred and leaned in to his ear. The man had more speed and agility than Fred gave him credit. "She is testy about the whole name thing, so go along with whatever she likes or she'll be sure to use that nice sword of hers on you."
"I will not!" Pat protested.
Ned pointed a finger down at Pat's waist. "You notice how at the mention of an argument her hand goes to the hilt of her sword? Very imprudent of her to show us she has a weapon. We may be able to relieve her of it."
Fred moved away from his strange new lord and the weaponized young woman. Anyone who was armed like that was sure to attract trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted. "I-I'm afraid this must be some mistake. Surely you won't want me to come with you on your travels. I would be more useful to my previous master."
Ned straightened and raised an eyebrow; the humor vanished from his face. "You wish to return to your old home?"
"I wish to return to the only home I've ever known," Fred corrected him. He sighed and bowed down his head. "But only if my lord allows me to leave. My debt passed to you and thus I am bound to you."
"Right and proper words, but the intention is unwise," Ned scolded.
Fred glanced up and frowned. "I only wish to return home."
Ned shook his head. "Then you wish for the impossible. Now that that man you call your former lord knows your body is of value he's likely to take you to town and sell you to the local slave trader." Ned looked the boy up and down. "And he's liable to fetch enough gold coins to incite his greed for human selling if you return to him again."
Fred's heart fell into the pit of his stomach. He realized the old man's words were true, but where there was desperation and fear there was bound to be denial. "I'm begging you to allow me to return to my home. I'm sure I won't be of any use to you on your travels. I...I've never left the estate even as far as this. I have no knowledge of even the local town, as I told you yesterday."
Ned patted the boy on the shoulder and gave him a smile. "And it's just that naivety that I'm counting on. No one will try very hard to fool such a novice, and I will see through them and avoid calamity." Fred was floored by this statement of his worth.
Even Pat's face fell at such horrid talk. "Surely that isn't the reason you paid such a ridiculous price for the boy."
Ned's bushy eyebrows shot up and he glanced over to the girl. "High price? I hardly call what was given a high price."
Now the girl's mouth fell open. "Have you forgotten that you gave that lord forty gold coins? Have we any left for tonight's lodgings, or food to feed our mouths and this new one?"
"Of course I do." Ned produced a bag similar to the one he'd given Damskov. He shook the container and the bag made the sound of coins jingling together. "See? We are very well off." He pocketed the bag back into his cloak, but Pat was still dissatisfied with his answer.
"If that bag is full, then what did you give that lord in exchange?" she asked him.
Ned cloaked his face in an expression of false innocence. "Well, shall we say that I am out a few pounds of pay-dirt?"
Pat paled, but Fred was confused. "Pay-dirt?" he repeated.
Pat's voice told her horror. "You gave a lord with six knights pay-dirt?" she asked him.
Fred held up his arms. "Wai
t, what's pay-dirt?"
Ned smiled and pulled out another bag from beneath his cloak; Fred wondered if the underside of the cape was covered in such bags. The old man opened the drawstring and dipped his fingers into the opening. He drew forth a pinch of dark brown mud, and nodded at Fred's hand. "Hold out your hand, young Fred." After a moment's hesitation Fred obliged, and Ned plopped the mud down into his palm.
All three of them intently watched the mud; nothing happened. Ned chuckled and swiped the mud from his hand, but Pat was dumbfounded. "Is there something wrong with the pay-dirt?" she asked the old man.
Ned turned to her. "Hold out your hand and we shall find out." She did as was asked, and he set the mud into her palm. This time something happened; the mud changed its shape and color, and became a gold coin.
Fred's eyes widened, as did Pat's own eyes. "What is this? How did it not work for him?" she asked Ned while she nodded at the boy. Ned shrugged, snatched the mud from her hand and put it back into its pouch. He tucked the container back beneath his cloak with only a smile on his face while his companions were very confused; Pat wouldn't be brushed aside. "Ned, why wouldn't the mud work on this boy? Is he immune to magic? Is that why he's coming with us?"
"Magic..." Fred repeated. That's what this old man could do; magic. He was a magician of sorts, maybe one who performed tricks to earn money.
At her questions, Ned smiled and shook his head. "I haven't any idea what you're talking about, but the mud is working just fine." Ned leaned in toward Fred and winked. "It changes to gold when it senses greed, and your former lord had quite an abundance. He didn't even need to hold the stuff to affect the change."
Pat stiffened, and her voice was strangled. "You gave him only pay-dirt in exchange for this boy?"
"Of course. Pay-dirt is much easier to come by than gold coins," Ned countered.
Fred and the old man jumped back when Pat let out a roar of frustration. Her eyes burned with her anger and she stomped up to Ned and shoved her face into his. "Do you have any idea what trouble this may cause? We could be thrown into the locks, or worse, be found out! Would this boy be worth that much trouble? Would your brilliant plan look so brilliant?"
Pat's tirade was interrupted by the sound of a great cry of fury and anger; the noise dwarfed hers. They all stiffened and turned to the source of the anger; Damskov manor. Ned weakly chuckled. "It appears we had better make haste to some hiding shrubs, or Fred's former lord will have more words with us than we care to hear."
The three hurried on their way down the road, but the sounds of men shouting and horses pounding down the road told them they needed to seek shelter. Fortunately the path was well provided with bushes, and Ned led the way into one of the thicker bunches. Their hiding was none too soon because a troop of horsemen galloped toward them. The horsemen stopped a few feet from where they were hidden. Fred had a good view of the road through an opening and saw that one of the men was Lord Damskov. He recognized several of the others as the knights in the service of the lord, as they wore heavy silver armor that glistened in the sun and had long broadswords at their hips. Each one carried a helmet on their saddle, and they clanked whenever they so much as sneezed.
Damskov stood up on his stirrups and surveyed the area. "Where in all the hells have they gone?" he exclaimed.
"Perhaps they have reached the town?" one of the knights suggested.
Damskov whipped his head toward the man. "They left not more than half an hour ago. How were they to travel five miles in such a short time?"
"You did speak of one of the strangers knowing magic," the knight pointed out.
Damskov was cowed by his knight's comment, and seated himself back in the saddle. His eyes glanced over the road, but the hard-packed dirt didn't show any footprints. "Damn that castor and his filthy magic! He'll pay me what's due even if I have to search the world for them!"
Damskov kicked his horse and flew down the road, closely followed by his men. When the sound of the horses faded the three companions ventured forth from their hiding spot. Pat had a grave look on her face. "What now? We can't go to the town without them finding us."
Ned nodded. "I must admit I expected the magic to last longer and allow us a greater head start. Perhaps I'm growing rusty in my old age."
"Rusty or not, we can't go there," Pat insisted.
Ned shook his head. "The town may be large enough to avoid the lord and his knights. As it is, it's a chance we'll have to take," he replied.
"May be large enough?" Pat repeated. Her voice was filled with disbelief and anger. "What do you mean may be large enough? Do you not know the route we are taking?"
Ned grimaced and gripped his staff. "I must admit the way has changed some since my last visit. The town we are traveling to was a growing village on my last trip through it."
Pat exploded in ire. "You informed my watchers that you knew the route by heart! Have you deceived them as you deceived that lord?"
"I have not. I told them I had been along the route, and I have," Ned calmly explained.
The girl wasn't soothed by his words. "That is not how they took your words!"
"Then they were mistaken in their belief of my geographic skills, but not in my ability to get you where you need to go," Ned replied.
Pat threw her arms up in the air and paced around in circles. "What fools we have all been to trust this mission to you! What novices! This boy is less foolish than we!"
Fred scowled at the insult. "I was forced on this journey. I was not fooled into accompanying this lord," he reminded her.
She paused. "Lord? Lord?" She gestured to Ned, who gave them all a wide grin of appreciation. "This is no lord. I have my doubts that he is even so much as a decent man!"
Ned straightened at such an accusation, and his eyebrows crashed down over his fiery eyes. Fred and Pat stepped back when a sudden wave of air rose up from beneath his staff and swept over them. The old man suddenly didn't look so old as his hand tightly gripped the staff. His voice was strong and firm; there was no hint of old age in the tone. "I will keep the promise I have to your watchers, my dear girl, even if it costs me my life. You have my word as a man and a castor that you will reach your destination." The wind died down and the old man leaned on his staff; his age returned to his body and voice, along with his humor. "But first we have a few miles to travel before nightfall. Let's get started."
He walked past the pair of shocked teenagers, who glanced at one another. Fred wondered what sort of trouble he'd fallen into, and how he'd get out.
CHAPTER 3
Ned walked a few feet and turned around. "Don't dawdle now! We must find lodgings before night or we may be robbed of more than our gold."
The pair, not wanting to anger him, jumped at Ned's command and hurried after him. They walked on in silence, each prepared to take cover along the road in case their new enemies should present themselves. The teenagers walked on either side of the old man, and Fred noticed Pat glanced at him several times. He scowled at her. "What? Is something wrong?"
"I want to know how you were able to avoid the pay-dirt magic," she replied. Fred shrugged, but Ned let out a chuckle. She shot him an ugly look. "What's so funny?"
"Haven't you guessed? He didn't fool or deflect the magic because he has no greed for money," Ned explained to her. "No doubt it comes from his having never had any."
Pat scoffed at the idea. "How ridiculous, of course everyone wishes for gold. It's man's greatest motivator."
"And woman's," Ned added.
Fred listened intently to their conversation. When the secret was revealed, he glanced down at his palm. It was true that he hadn't wanted the gold, but only what the gold represented; freedom. He wanted to be free of the servitude of any lord, to be his own man. That meant being free of money he knew he'd never earn, and wouldn't steal.
"Boy." Fred was shaken from his thoughts by the title; Pat was calling him. "What skills do you have? How much can you lift?"
"My name is Fred," he repl
ied. He would be polite, but he wouldn't let himself be pushed around by a girl hardly older than himself, and wearing armor, too.
Pat wrinkled her nose. "Fred? What sort of a name is that for a boy? Haven't you any longer name, like Frederick?"
He shrugged. "Maybe, but my parents never mentioned it before the Boo took them when I was seven," Fred told her.
The girl frowned. "Boo? What in the world is that, some sort of monster around here?"
The old man chuckled and Fred looked at the girl as though she was a fool. "No, the Boo came for them. Haven't you ever had someone taken by the Boo?"
"How the hell should I know? I don't even know what the hell it is," Pat countered.
Sensing a headache-inducing argument about to erupt, Ned sought to intervene. "In some areas Boo refers to Death, probably stemming from the idea of one being scared to death," the old man informed her.
Pat cringed at her lack of sensitivity. "Oh. I...I didn't mean anything-"
"I don't care. It was a long time ago," Fred interrupted. Remembering his parents reminded him that he was traveling away from both his home and their graves.
The remaining four miles were crossed, and they rounded a bend to gain their first view of their destination. The town was set in a low plain beside the river that provided the area with irrigation and drinking water for Damskov's manor. The bushes along the road gave way to stands of trees that stood in patches, beneath which grazed cows in green fields. The town itself and its buildings were housed behind thick stone walls ten feet high and three feet thick. Gates led into the town, and were watched by armored men with swords at their waists.
The nearest gate was also watched by a few of the knights of Damskov. The three companions stopped at the side of the road behind a group of stones. Other travelers passed by to sell wares in the town marketplace. Pat glared at Ned. "What now?"
Ned pulled at his beard and glanced around. His eyes lit up when they fell on a tall, covered wagon that rolled toward them. The driver on the box was an old woman, and the steed was a sorry mule. He stepped into the road and flagged the cart down with his staff. The old woman grudgingly stopped her vehicle, and her narrowed eyes looked at the old man. "What's wanted?" she snapped at him.
The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) Page 2
