by Kya Lind
The kid grimaced, but gently placed both of his hands on the shaft.
“ Be quick, and pull hard, I don’t want to do this more than once,” Traven instructed. He felt the kid place his foot again his back. The sudden pain ripped through him. Blackness clouded his vision and time slowed to a crawl.
When he awoke, he was lying on one bedroll with the other under his head. He smelled biscuits and coffee. He groaned then sat up. Oh, he couldn’t believe this. The stupid kid had started a fire. With a groan he quickly buried the fire with what little bit of soil was in the rocky area. The boy, startled, jumped out of his way and looked at him confused.
“Sending up smoke signals to tell them where we are?” Traven growled, but without his usual bite.
The kid looked panicked, his eyes searching the woods for the arrival of the guards.
Traven realized that his chainmail had been removed and his shoulder bandaged to stop the bleeding. He picked up one of the mugs and dumped coffee into it. He took a swallow.
“Good coffee,” he said when he noticed the kid watching him. “Thanks."
They repacked the supplies while the biscuits cooled. After eating the doughy biscuits washed down by the coffee they remounted on a rested Barn, and the two sat off again. Within an hour, Traven realized that the kid had fallen asleep. He sat forward slightly, ignoring the pain screaming in his shoulder and allowed the kid to sleep.
Traven was perplexed. Why were kingdom guards after them now? Why had the guards not stopped him when they passed? Why had they only realized that he was their quarry from Barns tracks? So many things did not make sense. What was he involved in? And how did he get himself out of it?
Late in the morning, the rain started. Traven sighed in relief as he watched the rain wash away their tracks. They rode on. At sundown, Traven found an unused hunting hut deep in the forest. He had no idea where he was, but he knew they could not continue in the dark in these dense woods. They dismounted. Traven checked the surrounding area and pulled Barn into the hut itself. He collapsed, exhausted onto the rough, sagging cot in the corner. The kid moved to unpack the bedrolls. He spread Traven’s on the cot behind him, and checked his shoulder as Traven drank water from the canteen. Traven could not manage more than that. He lay back with a groan. There was no place to go that was safe now. They had to keep running. Traven’s tired mind couldn’t go on, and the darkness of sleep overtook him.
***
Traven surfaced slowly. He was lying in a camp wrapped in his bedroll. The ground was pleasantly soft. He could hear rain, but he was nice and dry. He opened his eyes. The DreamLady sat waiting beside him, a worried expression knitting her eyebrows together. He could see her open door on the edge of the campsite. The doorway spilled light into the dark forest around them. He tried to sit up, but she stopped him with her hand on his arm.
“I am so sorry for the misery I have caused you.” Her large, luminous eyes filled with tears. “They could have killed you.”
Traven was glad she was here. “What is your name?” he questioned.
Her head jerked up, confusion crossed her face.
He attempted to bow while still laying down, her hand still on his arm. “Captain Traven Esquire, Of the Kingdom Guard at LongGray, my Lady.” He introduced himself.
Her eyes widened a fraction at his dashing smile. “Reya, . . . my name is Reya.”
Traven’s smile turned to a smirk. Almost all of the Noble’s daughters were named Reya after the princess, but were called by their middle names. “Reya what?” he prompted.
She ducked her head, “Reya Elizabeth,” she replied.
“Most glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Beth. If I may be so bold as to address you so,” he asked permission.
She bit her lip, “We have not been formally introduced.”
“But surely, allowances can be made for such extenuating circumstances?” Traven pointed at the flicking pictures that moved across the sky above their heads.
The DreamLady nodded her agreement and then her face clouded. “I do not know what to do. I am afraid that we will not reach our destination. If we do, there may be no one there to give us aid.”
Traven sat up. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he restrained himself. He searched his mind for another topic.
“Why did you tell me about the shadows?”
She shrugged. “Mirages cannot change shape. They can only convince others that they do. Mirages are simple to recognize and avoid, but persuaders, minders, and allures are not.
“Nor dreamweavers,” added Traven.
His DreamLady nodded. “I was so scared when they shot. . . when I heard you had been shot,” she swallowed with difficulty, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. “You are the bravest person I have ever met.” Her tear filled eyes gazed into his. Their faces were only a hand’s breath apart. Traven struggled to maintain his distance and sought another, safer topic.
“I apologize for the situation when last we met.”
The DreamLady blushed prettily and reached up to push her hair behind her ear. “Oh, no apology is necessary. Lady Talone has explained that people are not responsible for their unconscious actions if approached in a sleep state.” She ducked her head again. “I should not have imposed myself. I should have waited for you to answer the knock. I forgot my manners entirely.” She looked up at him imploringly.
“Well, thank you for being concerned for my safety, but I must be getting some rest if we are to ride tomorrow.” Traven restrained himself, but it was getting harder to do with each passing second. His hand itched to smooth her hair. If she did not leave soon, he was going to kiss her. He looked around at the campsite wildly.
“Oh. . . oh, yes,” his DreamLady quickly and gracefully scrambled to her feet and headed for the door. At the edge of the threshold, she stopped and looked back at him.
“Good night, Lady Beth,” he said.
His DreamLady paused a second longer and then stepped through the door. The door closed, but its outline remained. It did not disappear as it had all the times before. Traven lay back, looking at the door. He felt comforted by its presence on the edge of the campsite. He sighed and closed his eyes.
The next morning, Traven awoke slowly. His ribs hurt. His butt hurt. His shoulder was on fire. There was not a single bone in his body that didn’t feel like it had been drawn and quartered. He struggled to sit up. The cabin was cold, but not unbearable. The heat from the big warhorse kept it tolerable. Traven groaned, his breathe hung in the air. He struggled to his feet, noting the lump of the kid bundled in his bedroll lying next to the stallion on the floor. The kid’s worn boots were the only thing showing. Traven moved toward the hut door. He stepped out into the late morning light. A steady sheet of sleet mixed with rain fell from the heavens, coating everything in a layer of ice. Moving to the edge of the rickety porch, Traven looked out at his surroundings. Thick forest surrounded the hut, but Traven recognized the steep white peaks in the near distance. They were almost to the foothills of the Shadow Mountains, mere days from the Tower. Their luck had held. They were going in the right direction. Traven grimaced as he contemplated the situation. They would rest today. Traveling in this weather would be unwise. He ducked back into the hut and slumped back onto the cot. Sleep sounded like the best idea. Barn stomped his feet restlessly.
“Keep watch, Barn,” instructed Traven, “and wake me up if we have company.”
Barn nodded his head up and down as though he understood perfectly.
Satisfied that they were relatively safe, Traven allowed the boy and himself to sleep most of the day and the next night away. At breakfast the next morning they ate up the last of the food supplies. Traven debated the need to expose their presence in the next town, but his shoulder screamed. He could tell an infection was setting in, and he needed alcohol to stop it from spreading. With reluctance, Traven packed camp and mounted up, pulling the coat-bundled boy up behind him. Barn, sure-footed, found a slow and ste
ady path through the thick trees headed straight north toward the Shadow Mountains.
Chapter 13
About mid-day, they left the cover of the forest and crossed cultivated fields. Traven cautiously approached the small settlement. None of the residents reacted to their presence, and Traven could not see any evidence of Guards, either Royal or Kingdom. Nevertheless, he groaned at their exposed position. The best course of action would be to get in and get what they needed, then get out as quickly as possible. Finding the common store was not difficult, and Traven purchased the needed supplies, except for the alcohol. He would have to get that at the saloon down the street.
Traven struggled to load the items he had purchased into the saddlebags. His left arm was of no help. He couldn’t even lift it above his waist. He left the kid guarding the supplies and horse and walked down the street two building to the pub. It shouldn’t take long to get a bottle and be on their way. The kid shifted nervously on his feet and tried to look everywhere at once. Traven knew how he felt. He didn’t like this town either.
At the door of the saloon, Traven paused and checked the occupants carefully - all locals. A small group of men was crowded around a dirty card table, their attention on the game. Traven approached the bar, and informed the barman of his needs. The barman nodded and went into the back room. Traven expected this as the barman would be stupid to store the more expensive stuff under the counter. The man returned and Traven paid a bronze for the bottle. As he was moving toward the door, his eyes met and held the eyes of the big man at the card table. Traven paused. The big man smiled, and waved Traven over. Traven knew he should be moving toward the door, but his feet led him closer to the table. One of the other men quickly gave up his seat for the guardsman. Traven frowned; the look of hunger on their faces concerned him. He needed to leave.
The big man distracted his thoughts. “Ever play King’s bet?” he asked, naming a common betting game.
“Of course,” stated Traven, feeling insulted. Even babies knew that game.
“Good, good,” laughed the big man while dealing the cards. Traven frowned again. He needed to go. Then he shrugged, what could one hand hurt. He picked up his cards.
The boy stood beside Barn and shifted nervously from one foot to the other, “Where is he?” The guardsman had been gone too long. The boy pulled his coat closer around himself to ward off the cold. He stomped his feet. The sun moved ever westward. Finally, the boy moved, pulling Barn behind him. They slowly approached the tavern where the boy tied the horse to a post. Nervously the kid peeked through the door of the saloon, but he could not see clearly. He pushed the door open farther and stepped inside. He eyes quickly took in the scene and a groan caught in his throat. There sat his guardsman, surrounded by locals at a card table. The kid, in a second, realized that the guardsman, under persuasion, was quickly losing all their coin. Knowing that he had to stop it, but being at a loss as to what to do, the kid hesitated. He had to do something. He slid up beside the guardsman taking in the others at the table. His eyes met the eyes of the big man. The boy felt the push of the persuasion. He blinked and ducked his head. He tugged on Traven’s arm. The guardsman shrugged him off and continued to stare at his cards. The boy reached up and yanked a lock of the guardsman’s hair. Traven grunted and shoved the boy away, still concentrating on his cards. The boy stood frowning at the floor. If he didn’t stop this soon, all their coin would be gone. He lifted his head and glared at the big man. With a smile of victory, the big man waved the boy away.
The cards were played and Traven groaned as he lost again. “Deal again,” he demanded. The big man gladly complied.
Anger rose in the kid’s face. This was his guardsman and his coin; he wasn’t going to allow this to continue. He spun around and marched from the saloon. Once outside, he quickly located the bag of silver among the supplies in the side saddle. He flipped the reins up over Barn’s head and looped them around the saddle horn.
“Stay here and be ready to go,” he told the horse.
Barn just looked at him inquisitively.
The boy stood in front of the saloon doors for a second, gathering his courage. He pulled his collar up and his stocking cap low over his eyes. Holding the bag of silver by only the strings used to close it; he held it away from his body and stomped back into the saloon. He slid up to Traven’s side and watched as he lost another hand. The pile of coins in front of the guardsman was quickly dwindling.
Traven looked up at him as if seeing him there for the first time. “I’ll be out in a minute, just let me win back my money and we will be on our way.”
The boy saw the fever-bright vagueness of the persuaded in the captain’s eyes. The kid realized that as soon of the coin was gone, Traven would bet the horse. This had to stop. The boy didn’t know if this would be enough to break the persuasion. The large man was probably a mid-strength Persuader. The boy moved closer to the guardsman and dropped the bag of silver into his lap. He prayed that this would work.
Traven immediately sat straight up. The confusion cleared from his face. His sharp eyes took in his surroundings and the situation. The boy could see the guardsman force his muscles to relax. Traven slowly reached forward and picked up the bottle of spirits that he had purchased and gave it to the kid. Then with one swift movement, he gathered the pile of coins sitting before him on the table while standing up.
“It has been a pleasure, gents, but duty calls, I have to go now.” Traven turned and headed for the door shoving the kid along in front of him.
The others at the table responded in a practiced set of moves. Traven found the doorway blocked by the barman himself.
“Now where you going in such a hurry?” asked the big man. Traven turned to face the others. Several had knives and they were all steadily advancing, encircling the guardsman and the boy. The big man moved until he stood several paces in front of Traven. “There is only one easy way to break a persuasion.” He wiggled his greedy fingers, “Hand over the silver, son.”
Traven clutched the bag in his hand. There were six of them including the barman, and he was handicapped by a scrawny kid in a too big, wool coat. Traven casually moved the bag of silver from his right hand to his left. His shoulder screamed at the movement of his fingers tightening around the cloth. In one swift movement, he shoveled the kid behind him and released his sword from its sheath. The ringing of steel was followed by silence as the group of card players backed up a step. Traven edged toward the door, but the barman, armed with a long blade, did not give ground.
Suddenly, the whole group rushed forward as if signaled. Traven braced himself. Just as suddenly, they skidded to a halt. Their feet kicked to reverse their direction. Their eyes widened in fear. Stumbling, they retreated. Traven froze in shock as the large, tawny-colored tiger from the circus circled in front of him. He forgot to breath. The tiger shook its powerful head and leaned its side against him, nudging him out the door. The barman had fled leaving the door unguarded. Traven turned and swiftly raced outside to discover Barn ready to go. He sheathed his sword and using his right hand, swung himself up into the saddle. He looked back at the saloon door to see the card players once again advancing. He looked around for the tiger and saw the kid, still holding the bottle, waiting frantically to be pulled up. He reached down with his good arm and the kid grabbed hold as Barn moved in one powerful surge away from the advancing locals, who had quickly regained their courage. The movement of the horse, the fact that Traven only held on with his legs, and the boy clutching a bottle, almost landed them in the dirt, but Barn sidestepped to right their position, and the trio raced out of town. Traven’s head spun with all that had just happened.
After several hours, Traven slowed Barn and stopped at a small creek. The kid slid from the back of the horse and landed in the soft grass. Traven looked down from his perch at the bag of silver in his hand. The facts that he knew collided with the things he had just learned. Silver, a sign of nobility, protected them from Magics. This was a fact tha
t he hadn’t known before. Persuaders were impossible to stop without silver. He thought back through his life, he had been persuaded before, he realized, but never that strongly. And silver stopped it. No wonder the kid slept wrapped around the stuff. He mind skidded and stumbled. His eyes flew to the boy who knelt by the stream. He slept with it at night, but wouldn’t touch it during the day. He frowned as so many memories swirled through his head. He should have known. He should have realized before now. Well, he snorted at himself, he could have missed the clues before, but the appearance of the tiger was unmistakable. The kid was a Mirage, and by the looks of it a very good one. He looped the bag of silver around the saddle horn and slowly dismounted. Barn ignored him and continued to drink.
Traven sat on a rock. The boy approached him with the bottle of spirits still in his hand. Traven pulled his right arm out of the shirt. He wasn’t wearing the chainmail today. The kid quietly helped him pull the shirt off over his head without moving his left arm too much. Traven groaned in pain. He looked over his shoulder but he couldn’t get a good look. Traven looked at the stain on the shirt. It was bloody and also contained yellow pus. He frowned at the indication of infection. He picked up the bottle from where the kid had sat it down and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He swallowed a mouthful and choked on the fire, before taking another drink. Then he handed the bottle to the kid and indicated that he should pour it on the wound. He sat forward. The kid hesitated and then gritted his teeth and poured. Traven shouted in pain and then rocked back and forth for several minutes; fighting for breath.
When he could think again he barked. “Do it again.”
The boy, biting his lip, complied.
They repeated this activity several more times. They used the shirt to absorb the alcohol and to wipe the area clean. Traven finally corked the bottle and found another shirt. The kid filled the cantinas and they remounted. They rode on toward the Shadow Mountains until dark, where they made camp for the night against a rock overhang and ate without making a fire. They cleaned the wound again. Traven was comforted to see less yellow in the cloth they used to clean the wound. They settled down to sleep with Barn keeping watch. A light rain started falling. Traven was glad that he had picked a covered spot, and sank into sleep.
