Travellers (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 2)

by Dave Skinner

  Over by the fire Bray was toasting bread and tending a bark pot. Amadella sat off by herself with a small songbird perched on her outstretched hand. It was singing a song Adel had never heard before. She unwrapped herself from the blanket, folded it, and walked to Bray. He looked up, smiled, and then the look on his face changed to one of amazement and incredibly, admiration.

  Adel stopped walking. No one had ever looked at her with admiration before. She looked down at her body and realized she could only see as far as her chest which now sported two protruding breasts. A little bending informed her that the rest of her had filled out as well. Her body was no longer that of a skinny child. Amazed she dropped the blanket and cupped her breasts in both hands. They were marvellously full. With her thumbs she stroked the nipples, even through the cloth of her top they responded immediately. Sensitive too, she thought and then, realizing what she was doing, she turned away, the heat of embarrassment burning across her neck and face. Suddenly, Amadella was standing before her.

  “I see that my potion has had the desired effect. You should be stronger now, but I thought some additional clothing would help to keep you warm, so I acquired this coat for you.”

  She held out a coat of Far Darrig red, cut similar to the one she wore, but big enough to fit Adel’s larger size. Adel accepted the gift with wonder. It slipped easily over her arms and settled gently on her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It is absolutely beautiful, but I am afraid to wear it. I will get it dirty.”

  “Nonsense,” Amadella assured her. “It is a Far Darrig coat. It will never get dirty, and it will protect you from all types of weather. Now, let us breakfast. We must travel soon.”

  Amadella moved to the fire, settled cross legged on the ground, and accepted a piece of toasted bread from Bray. Adel followed her lead, but sat on Bray’s blanket instead of directly on the ground.

  “Amadella found us some honey,” Bray informed her.

  Their meal consisted of toasted bread with honey, dried fish from Bray’s supplies, some apples also supplied by Amadella, and herbal tea which Adel could not identify.

  “What kind of bird was that sitting on your hand earlier?” Bray asked. “I have never seen one with that colouration.”

  “It is not a true bird, rather, it is magic. I sent it to warn my people, and it returned with information. The group we follow camped for the night a short distance ahead. They have left several men behind to ambush anyone who follows. They are half a day from their destination, so we will have to hurry to catch up.”

  “How many wait in ambush?” Bray asked.

  “I cannot tell you. Numbers are not something the magic can handle. We should just slip past them.”

  “It is not a good idea to leave an enemy at your back,” Bray commented.

  Chapter 12

  Kent slowly and silently eased his cramped position. He was much better at silence than the bowman he was with, and across the clearing he could hear his other two men every so often. They were all getting sore, cramped, muscles from remaining still for so long. The sun was more than a quarter way up the sky. They would not have to wait much longer.

  Two bowmen were with him and another who he had heard was good with a sword, one bowman and one swordsman in each position, hidden in the bushes, waiting. He hoped the followers, if there were any, came soon, because he wanted to be included in the fun with the Leprechauns.

  An arrow buzzed across the clearing. He was unaware of its origin, but the scream from off to his right told him where it had struck. His bowman rose slightly on one knee, arrow ready, eyes sweeping, searching for a target, only to die with an arrow in his throat. For a second there was no sound or movement, and then the bushes across the clearing parted as a young man stepped into view. Kent judged him shorter than Blackheart with much less meat on his bones. Not a big man, but still well-muscled, and obviously stupid.

  Kent grabbed the bow from his dead partner and stepped out to the clearing. The bushes rustled off to his right. He saw his other man step out, carrying a bow as well. Kent fitted an arrow to his bow, pulled back, aimed, and stood amazed as both bow and arrow turned to smoke and blew away. A quick glance told him the same thing had happened to the other man’s bow.

  The villager, for that was what Kent believed him to be, pulled his sword and walked towards them. Kent did the same, motioning to his man to take position. They would come at the villager from opposite sides. A sure kill, he thought. The villager’s left hand slipped behind his back and reappeared with a long knife.

  ***

  Bray judged the two men as they approached. The one on his right was older and looked more experienced, his sword held steady in good position. The one on the left was more animated. He spun his sword around in a circle as he advanced. He was left-handed. Bray chose him.

  He charged the man on his left who was starting another circular sword swing. Taken somewhat by surprise, the man’s right hand came up to secure his hold on his sword. He swung it with both hands, a mighty two-handed stroke that would have removed Bray’s head if it had connected. Instead, Bray swayed back. The sword swept by. The strength of the swing carried the man around until his side was exposed. Bray was already turning his attention to the other man as he slipped his knife into the first man’s side.

  The death of his partner did not appear to bother the older man except for a brief flash of disappointment. Obviously, he had seen men die before. He moved forward with a disciplined stride. There is training in this one, Bray thought, a soldier or city guard at some time in his past. He was studying Bray’s movements as they both advanced looking for an advantage, so Bray stopped walking. He relaxed, letting his sword point drop, and his knife hang by his side. Instead of taking the opportunity for a fast unplanned attack, the man continued to advance with an ease that spoke of skill and years of experience. His sword came up to an on-guard position, and he thrust as he danced forward. Bray’s sword did not even touch his opponents; it simply moved up and punctured the man’s chest as Bray floated aside.

  ***

  Wolf Blackheart took a drink from his wineskin. His throat was dry and raspy, the result of bellowing instructions first to his men and then to the little people who surrounded them. It had taken hours of threats to the old woman’s life before they appeared, and now they simply stood waiting. He had forced the old woman to order them to show themselves. Everyone knew when Leprechauns appeared, all you had to do was keep eyes on them, they were helpless then and had to comply with your demands. No one had mentioned they took so long to gather the gold, but now there was movement from beyond the circle of mushrooms that defined the ring. A diminutive old man was making his way into the circle. He was clothed like the others in red coat and cap. Beside him, dressed in similar style, was a woman. Even from this distance, Wolf felt attracted to her. Maybe he could make her part of the treasure. Behind those two came four more of the little people struggling to carry a large chest—his gold at last.

  “Look sharp,” Wolf growled to his men. He wished Kent had made it back on time. The killing was about to begin.

  The Leprechauns carrying the chest shuffled a distance into the circle, about three of his strides, he figured. The old Leprechaun indicated a spot on the ground, and the chest was placed there. All the men shuffled back out of the circle leaving the female and the chest. Wolf tightened his grip on his sword and his hold on the old woman’s arm, dragging her along behind, as he strutted forward. The female stood on the far side of the chest. He stopped and looked her over.

  “Why the red clothes? I heard all Leprechauns wore green.”

  “They do,” she answered.

  “Then what are you?” Wolf asked.

  “We are the Far Darrig, cousins of the green men.”

  Wolf considered this new piece of information. “I care not what you call yourselves; you must hold to the same rules. You came to save the old woman, and you brought my gold.”

  “We are bound by cu
stom, not by myth,” she replied with a sweet smile.

  What was she saying? Custom, myth, who cared? The gold was there for taking. “Show it to me,” he demanded raising his sword as a threat.

  ***

  Bray, standing in the trees out of sight and watching the scene, wondered when the little people would do something other than stand around the circle, outside the perimeter, arrayed in their sartorial splendor. Although they wore red coats and caps, there was an abundance of variety in the designs of both, and there was no colour limitation on their other clothes and boots. It looked like a rainbow had descended and encircled the ring.

  A row of mushrooms delineated the circle. He had noticed that the Far Darrig, who carried the chest, had been careful to step over them. Amadella had informed him that her people would take care of the men. He was waiting for something to happen. From what he could see, the men were standing together close to the centre of the circle. Beside him, young Adel placed her hand on his arm. The scene before him shimmered and changed. The men within the circle were no longer alone. Most had Far Darrigs standing beside or behind them, all except for a few, but he could see more of the little people creeping towards those men, closer, and closer, until every man except for the leader had a partner.

  ***

  Wolf could not tear his eyes away from the little woman in front of him. Even holding on to the old witch, he could barely overcome the compulsion he felt to let go of her and return to his men.

  “Your magic is useless, witch. The old woman protects me; now, show me the gold,” he growled.

  “As you wish,” she stated as she bent forward and raised the lid of the chest.

  At first Wolf failed to understand what he was seeing. He saw gold, then it was something else, then it was gold again, then it settled as something else, but that something refused to make sense to him right away. Like a mist clearing from his eyes, he recognised features of what he was looking at. He had seen them before, but never like this. His mind struggled to comprehend, and then he recognized a nose, a cheek, an eye. Now he knew what he was seeing, the severed heads of the four men he had left at last night’s campsite. Kent’s dead eyes were staring up at him. With a curse he jumped away, turning back to his men, ready to scream at them to fight; only to find all of them already fighting. He realized that there were Far Darrigs dodging between his men as they struck wildly around, but their strokes were having little effect on the red clad folk. It was as if they could not see them. Instead, they were killing each other. One man broke from the fight and ran towards the edge of the circle with sword raised. He meant to fight his way through the Far Darrig, but when he reached the ring of mushrooms, he turned to smoke. Soon the rest of his men were sprawled dead on the ground, blood seeping from their wounds. With a cry of anger, Wolf turned back to the chest.

  The little woman was no longer standing there. She might have been one of the many that stood in a silent circle around the campsite, but he could not locate her. Wolf retreated towards the centre of the circle, cursing himself for a fool as he went. His mistake had been realized too late. His hold on the old woman protected him from the Far Darrig magic, but his men were outside her influence. They had killed each other thinking they were fighting an enemy, and the same thing would happen to him if anything happened to the old woman. His threat to kill her was useless. The little people stood, watching and waiting.

  ***

  “It looks like you have a standoff,” Bray observed as Amadella walked up to him. “How will you proceed?”

  “We cannot kill your kind directly, only through misdirection, and while he holds to Grandmother Adel, he is immune to our manipulations. So you are correct, it is a standoff, for now. Eventually, the lack of food and water will weaken her enough. She will die. He will lose his protection, and he will kill himself, slowly and with great pain.”

  Beside him Adel gasped. “Just let her die? That is horrible! How can you even think it? Who will negotiate for the village if Grandmother is gone?”

  “You will,” Amadella answered.

  Adel mouth fell open. She looked around desperately. “Bray, you have to do something. You cannot let—”

  “I know, Adel. The question is what?”

  ***

  Wolf Blackheart saw a man walk out from the trees. He strolled through the Far Darrig, carefully stepped over the mushrooms, and entered the circle. Wolf watched him approach. He was a fighting man. His weapons and his movements spoke of that, but he was young, maybe twenty years, if that. Wolf outweighed him and estimated his reach was longer. The man stopped about three strides away and dropped Wolf’s pack to the ground. It had been in the supply cart, but the pony had run off during the fighting, dragging the cart behind it, and taking all the food supplies with it.

  “You come to kill me, boy? If so, you should just skulk back to your friends. I can beat you one handed while carrying this old witch around with the other. You are no match for Wolf Blackheart.”

  “That is probably true, so I came to offer you a way out, not to fight you. The Far Darrig will let you leave if you free the old woman. They would prefer not to see her die.”

  “Sure, and as soon as I release her I am befuddled by their magic. I cut my throat before I get out of this bloody circle. No way, boy.”

  “I can offer you another means of holding off the magic,” Bray informed him as he pulled one of his knives from where it protruded from his belt. “This is a Nadian blade. It does not counteract their magic as strongly as the old woman, but with some effort it works.”

  “Why should I trust you?” Blackheart countered.

  “Because the alternative is suffering without food and water until the old woman dies, leaving you unprotected and weakened. They will wait for that, but would prefer to keep the old woman alive.”

  “How do I know the knife will work?”

  “I will hand you the blade. You can hold it on the woman, as you let go of her, to see what happens. The Far Darrig told me that if they see you release her, they will drop the barrier around the ring, and all but one of them will leave.”

  “And then I walk away?”

  “We walk. I want my knife back when you are safely away. That is the deal.”

  Wolf considered the offer. If this worked, and he was free, he could kill the kid and take the Nadian knife. It was worth a small fortune. At least he would come out of this fiasco with something.

  “How do I know you are true to your word, and will not double cross me?”

  “I will honour my promises as long as you honour yours.”

  “So tell me again what happens.”

  “I give you the knife. You release the woman. The Far Darrig will drop the barrier and leave. I give you your pack. We leave. My companion, a young woman from the fishing village will remain to nurse Grandmother. When you agree we are safely away, you return my knife, you go your way, and I go mine.”

  Wolf consider the offer, but not for long. Minutes ago he had been staring death in the face. Now, he had a way out. It was a good plan. It could work, especially when he added his own little twist. He would kill the kid and walk away with his knife and whatever else he had.

  “Deal, now give me the knife.”

  The boy handed it over. The rest of the plan went off without a hitch. The two walked out of the circle, through the trees, and down the cliff top trail. At first Blackheart was wary. He kept a watch out for anything suspicious, but after a while he felt safe. After more time had passed, he studied the Nadian knife he was carrying.

  “I knew someone who possessed two Nadian swords once. His name was Yucan Vee. He was the captain of a pirate ship until he got stupid and tried to take over a city.”

  “Was he not the pirate who led the attack on the city of Waysley? I heard that was quite the battle, were you there?”

  “I had a ship in Vee’s armada until the merchants attacked the harbour and destroyed it. That was when I decided that the attack was bust, and left. It was a w
indless plan, anyway. Vee was a fierce fighter, but he could not plan if his life depended on it—which it turned out it did.” Wolf finished with a laugh.

  “I heard that a number of his men ran off and deserted him. Does a loyalty oath mean nothing to you?”

  “Deserting a sinking ship is not breaking an oath. It is smart. We all do what we must to survive.”

  The tone of Blackheart’s voice caused the youth to stop walking and turn to face him. Wolf had his hand resting on the handle of his sword. “Are you breaking our deal?” the boy asked.

  “Afraid so, no hard feelings, but this venture cost me plenty, and I have to start recouping my losses. This blade of yours will be a good start.” Wolf had expected the kid to look troubled, or argue, or plead, but all he did was smile.

  “I would have lived with our deal even after hearing you were part of Yucan Vee’s hoard, but I am glad you broke it.”

  “Lose someone to Vee, did you?”

  “Lost someone and something to him, but I got the items back.”

  Blackheart laughed. “And what did you get back from Vee? He was reluctant to give anything up once he had laid his hands on it.”

  “Those Nadian swords he wore,” Bray answered as he drew his sword and his second knife.

  Blackheart suddenly knew who the youth was, and what he had done. He had been confident, but now he was unsure. This boy had beat Vee, fought against Vee’s two swords using knives and, in the process, had butchered him bloody.