by Kya Lind
Chapter 9
Traven sat waiting. He was not sure how long he had been waiting, but he was prepared to wait as long as it took. He settled back in the comfortable bed.
A knock sounded on the door of the room. Traven smiled to himself. “Come in.” The door opened, light flooded the room and the Dreamlady appeared. She stalked towards him. There was no pretense, she was mad. Traven had expected nothing less.
“What are you doing? Where do you think you are going?” she demanded. Her voice was shrill with anger.
Traven leaned back in the bed and linked his fingers behind his head. “Glad to see you also. My lady? Well, it was as well as can be expected considering Royal soldiers, with limitless resources are trailing us, and I haven’t had more than three hours of sleep in three days.”
“But you are still going the wrong way,” The Lady wailed, sitting down heavily on the foot of the bed. “You are honor bound to fulfill your sworn oath to me. You are to take the boy north to White Dragon Tower.”
Traven’s eyebrow went up at this added information. Hell, no one went into the Shadow Mountains; much less with that destination in mind. “Tell me why I should do this. Why shouldn’t I just turn the kid over to authorities and let them deal with this whole mess. Tell me why I should risk my life to help you in ‘your mission’. Fact, the kid is carrying a large amount of stolen Noble silver. Fact, the Royals are after him not me. Fact, you are a Dreamweaver, and I don’t even think you are who you appear. Fact, Nobles do not have Magics for daughters.
The Lady interrupted him, “Nobles are as likely to have a Magic offspring as a commoner. Magic is not respectful of house or title.”
Traven paused. Well, she probably had a point there.
The Lady continued quietly, “If a Magic were born to a Noble what would they do about it?” she reasoned on his last point. “Either, they would suppress the knowledge that she was gifted or send her away.”
Images flashed in rapid succession across the sky of the bedroom. Traven saw the image of a Noble man shunning a very young girl. Traven sighed in empathy with her pain.
“That still does not convince me to help you. You are a Dreamweaver. Not someone I would choose to save.”
The Lady looked at him wearily. She had not considered his prejudice, but was not surprised by it.
“I understand your concern. But I do not practice deception in this matter. I and my whole house, nay the kingdom are in grave danger. Because I am a hidden Magic, I am the only one who knows that my father has been replaced by an Allure. If this knowledge is not shared with the ones who can help us, all is lost.”
Traven tried to steal his reaction to her eyes which were imploring him to believe without evidence.
“I know you have no reason to trust in the word of a Magic, especially in this setting.” She waved a graceful hand at the dream bedroom and flashing ceiling. “But I am sure that is just because you have never had a reason to meet with an honest Magic before. This is true, yes?”
Traven nodded slowly.
“If all Magics are without integrity and deceitful, through and through, why would Kings and Nobles trust them in their inner circles?”
“Be that as it may, I have no way of knowing what type of person you are,” Traven stated.
“I have no evidence to give you to convince you of my earnest intentions. I can only implore you to accept that I am trying to the best of my ability to save my family and my father’s holding.”Her hands fluttered in her lap. The sky showed quick flashes of the noble Traven assumed was her father again. His image was covered by a short, fat, bald, sweaty man. Traven was mesmerized by the images that proceeded one another in rapid succession across the sky. He felt the despair of losing a parent grip his heart.
After several minutes the sky grew dark again. “I am sorry to require this of you,” the dream lady slowly raised her head. “You are my only hope. I cannot accomplish the task set before me without your help.”
“Answer my questions first, how did the boy steal my horse and then ride him for days without trouble?”
The young lady smiled, “Apples … your horse is addicted to apples.” Traven smiled in response. She was right. Barn would do anything for an apple.
“How did the boy walk into a Royal guard camp and waltz out with myself and all of their horses?”
“A sleeping potion was put in the beans for dinner. Since they did not feed you, you were not affected,” she shrugged a delicate shoulder.
Traven’s mind raced with a million questions, but it did not feel like the right time to be interrogating her. He changed the topic.
“It has been my plan all day to take the kid north as promised, but we need fresh supplies, food, and sleep. And we must lose the Royals.”
“But we have left them leagues ago without horses.”
“Do you think that stopped them? They simply marched into the next town or farm and took supplies and horses. Granted, they are not warhorses, but I guarantee they are pursuing us as rapidly as they can with every intention of catching us and stringing us up.”
The Lady looked shocked and dismayed, “but they are Royal Guards. They are sworn to uphold the law, defend justice, and keep the kingdom safe.”
Traven rolled with laughter, “They are Royal guards, sworn to follow the orders of their Nobles at all costs, to ensure the safety of their Noble’s person and position through fear and intimidation of the common man. They live above the law . . . . My Lady. You really should get out more.” He held his sides as his laughter subsided.
“But the Royal and the Kingdom Guards stand united to protect our country from those who would seek to harm us,” the Lady recited confused.
Traven’s face lost its humor, “The reality is that a troop of Royals are at this very moment racing toward us. If you believe what you say, why don’t you just have the kid explain the situation to them and ask pretty please for their help?”
The lady shook her head no, “They are sent under the order of the . . . the Allure that impersonates my father.”
“So I will take the kid to the Tower, but we will do it my way, agreed?”
The dream lady reluctantly nodded her head. “Why did you take the shoes off the horses?” she asked, puzzled.
“Because, if the Royals do find the horses, it will take several days to make new shoes. The guards wouldn’t risk riding them without shoes. It will result in them going lame quickly.”
The Lady smiled her understanding. She nodded her head in approval. “So the horses are safe, but no one can use them to find us.” Traven could almost swear that he had just gone up two notches in her opinion.
She stood up and rearranged her skirts before moving to the door. At the threshold, she turned and added “You must not keep the boy in this town long. You must leave here at first light. The boy cannot be in a place with so many people.” The door closed; the lady and the door were gone again. Traven settled down in the bed and instantly dropped into a deep exhausted sleep.
Chapter 10
When Traven woke the next morning he was disoriented. He sat up moaning as he moved his arms and torso. He was alone in the big bed. He scanned the room. There, lying in a huddled heap on the wooden floor under the window, was the kid. He was sleeping with the blanket from the bed wrapped around his body and head like a cocoon. The only thing Traven could see were the soles of his boots, sticking out of the bundled covers.
Traven climbed out of the bed, checked the angle of the sun, and kicked the kid on the bottom of his boot.
“Get moving,” he ordered. He moved to the door and called for one of the servants to bring up breakfast.
The bundle of covers moved slowly and the bag of silver sailed across the room, landing several feet away from the faceless tangle within the cloth. The boy sat up stiffly and unwrapped the blanket from his body. Traven was surprised to note that the kid had not taken a bath last night. He was still in the same clothes covered with dirt, sweat, and horse hair
.
“You really should wash up,” Traven barked.
The kid’s face sat in a stubborn line.
Traven shrugged; maybe he was allergic to water.
Breakfast arrived, and the two dug in hungrily. Traven chuckled when he caught the kid stuffing his pockets with biscuits and sausages for later.
Once the meal was finished, Traven dressed and told the kid they were going to buy supplies, and that he better stick close, and follow directions. The kid appeared nervous at the thought leaving the room, Traven told him to relax. He tried to relieve the boy’s anxiety by explaining that the Royals hadn’t made it this far there yet.
The kid left the room and stood waiting in the hall.
Traven frowned at him. He couldn’t figure this kid out, something was odd about him. But Traven couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. What was with the kid sleeping snuggled up tight with the bag of silver every night, but refused to touch it or even be near it during the day. Traven shook his head; he would figure this mystery out later. For right now, they had supplies to buy.
Traven tucked the bag of silver into his shirt. It slid down to his stomach, making him look as if he had a middle age spread. Traven chuckled at the thought of what he must look like. He put the coin purse into the inside pocket of his vest.
They descended the stairs and exited toward the rear of the inn. Traven checked his horse and noted the others in the stable. Traven quickly joined the early morning foot traveling into the town center. The boy had to skip to keep up with his long strides.
The first shop Traven ducked into was a general supply. Traven wrote out a list of needed supplies and gave the list to the shop owner. He was told the supplies would be ready to be picked up when they returned.
Traven, followed by the boy, moved to the next shop, a clothing store. Traven selected a change of clothes for himself and instructed the kid to do the same. He also added a leather cape, gloves, and a hat to his pile. The boy selected a thick wool coat, gloves and a stocking cap. Traven frowned at the kid’s choices, and then shrugged his shoulders. The reason he disliked the coat was because it would make the person wearing it less mobile in a fight, but the kid didn’t know how to fight so it was of no consequence. In fact, it would probably be warmer than any of the others. The kid didn’t have much body fat, and where they were headed it was early winter already. Traven added a thin leather overcoat to the pile.
The boy frowned as Traven counted out the coin for the clothes, and scowled again as Traven paid for the supplies. About midmorning, the two arrived back at the inn, paid the bill and loaded the horse. Traven packed his new clothes, but the kid was already encased in his new coat, and stocking cap. Traven grinned at the picture he made. His small freckled face poking out of the large coat was the only thing Traven could see. His hands were even covered by the length of the too long, coat sleeves. He looked like a lost waif.
Traven buried the silver and coin in the bottom of the saddle bags and packed the bags as tightly as possible with the other supplies. The new water resistant bedrolls were strapped to the back of the saddle. Traven mounted up and then pulled the kid up behind him. They picked their way through the town and out the south gate. In order to be less noticeable, Traven waited for traffic to lighten before he nudged Barn off the road and started the long track to circle Wins Crossing and head north. Traven chuckled. The boy had wrapped his arms around Traven’s middle and leaning against his back, had fallen asleep. Some people, especially the young, could sleep anywhere in any position. Traven tried to swing around to look at his sleeping companion, but all he could see was the collar of the large wool coat. Traven allowed him to sleep as Barn steadily made good progress toward their destination.
They rode late into the night before Traven decided to halt. He picked a thick stand of trees against a cliff face, and swung the kid down. They quickly made camp and collapsed into their bedrolls. Traven registered the kid rummaging through the saddlebags, searching for the bag of silver jewelry as he slid into sleep.
Traven waited with half an ear on the noises of the forest around them and an eye open for the door, but the lady did not come.
The next morning, Traven kicked the sole of the boy’s boot. “Get up,” he commanded as usual.
The silver bag skittered out from the bundled heap, and the boy struggled to sit up.
“Get a fire started and make some coffee and biscuits,” ordered Traven was he mounted Barn and started a circle to check the area.
The boy frowned at his back as he rode away.
“Make coffee,” the boy commanded of the empty air. “Who does he think he is?” The boy shrugged; he didn’t even know how to make a fire. “This is going to be fun,” the kid thought sarcastically.
Traven returned to camp a while later to find the kid trying to start a fire by striking the flint into a pile of thick sticks. Traven moved the sticks aside, collected stones to contain the fire, and showed the kid how to start with dry pine needles, slowly adding small sticks and then larger ones. Traven soon had a lively flame. Then he showed the boy how to fill the pot of water from the stream and add the coffee beans.
The kid watched the whole process with intense interest as though trying to learn it for the first time.
Traven frowned. Hadn’t this kid ever seen anyone make coffee before? Then Traven showed him how to make biscuits. The boy watched with an expression of amazement on his face as though he had never considered where biscuits come from or what they are made of. Once the breakfast was done they ate and cleared camp. Traven mounted Barn and swung the kid up behind him.
Traven frowned. The kid was heavier than he appeared, by a good forty pounds. Where did he keep the extra weight? Traven was puzzled. There were many things about the kid that did not ring true. The weight issue was just the tip of the iceburg. The most unusual thing pertained to the kid and the silver jewelry. Why did the kid cling to it each night, but acted in the daytime like it was the plague? He wouldn’t touch it, even to pick up the bag and hand it to Traven. That was so odd. And the kid’s refusal to talk no matter what had Traven did to engage him in conversation. The kid just flatly refused to speak. Traven knew the kid wasn’t deaf, so what was the deal?
♣♣♣
As the sun reached its zenith, they rode upon a group of gypsy circus performers. Traven moved Barn to the middle of the group and allowed the wagons, feet, and multiple hooves to erase any evidence of their presence. The boy sat up straight and looked around rapidly. Traven thought he was probably delighted with the sights and sounds of so many interesting people.
When the group stopped for a rest, Traven stopped with them. He was surprised when he swung the boy down to see the intense scowl on the boy’s face. Traven shook his hand. There was no understanding this kid.
The boy moved to stand next to a large cage on wheels. Within the cage, behind strong, metal bars, paced a large tiger. The two stood and stared at each other for countless minutes. The tiger’s eyes never left the boy’s face.
As Traven watched the pair sizing each other up, one of the women from the circus approached Traven and greeted him warmly. She was an older, very round, short woman with thinning grey hair and rotten teeth. Traven shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He felt as if she was sizing him up the way one would a chocolate candy tart.
“You travel with us; you come to see our show. You like Benette very much. She will like you. Yes, this I know.”
Traven frowned in confusion, “Benette is the tiger?” he asked for clarification.
The older women roared with laughter “Oh, no. She is a tiger for sure, but not like this one.” Traven was still confused.
“This one –CaraMarra - is with you, yes? I would be interested in the purchase of such a fine one as this. I will pay good, you sale to me? Will be easier to feed than the real tiger I think.”
The kid’s eyes jerked away from the tiger’s stare and sent daggers toward the circus woman. Traven was confused as to what this
woman was talking about. He declined quickly, hoping she would go away.
The fat, short women shrugged her shoulders and sighed, “Never hurts to ask. If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” she said, slapping Traven on the butt. “Some would say it would be better for her if she to be with her own kind- Darkcana.” The old woman cackled again. “I understand you hanging on to that.” The old woman nodded toward the kid. The circus woman slid her hand over Traven’s shoulder and winked at him. “Don’t blame you a bit.” Then she wandered away muttering to herself.
The break was over and the group started off again. Swinging the kid up behind him, Traven rode out ahead of the circus group and set Barn to making quick tracks. Traven pondered the crazy, old woman’s question. What exactly had she wanted to buy? Traven dismissed her from his thoughts within minutes; some old people just weren’t all there.
Late that afternoon, after passing through a middle-sized settlement, Traven chose a grove of plumberry trees a short distance off the road. They set up camp. The sturdy growth of the trees provided cover from the sun, wind, and rain. There was evidence that the shelter of the trees was a favorite spot for weary travelers to stop and rest. Abandoned fire pits and wagon ruts showed that the camp was often used for this purpose.
Fortunately, the camp was empty expect for the two of them and their horse. Traven unsaddled Barn and brushed him down while the boy tried to collect enough fallen sticks to start a fire.
Traven shook his head as he smoothed the brush through the big horse’s coat. That kid was more than odd. He was a nuisance. He bristled every time he was given an order. In fact, the kid frowned and pouted all the time at everything Traven did. The guardsman scowled. In addition, he ran tattling to the DreamLady about every blasted thing. How else would the Dreamlady know his every move? The boy was hopeless at chores, followed orders only grudgingly, and smelled to high heaven. The kid needed a bath badly.
