Travellers (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 2)

by Dave Skinner

  Bray had always been a loner back in their village, friendless except for Lee and Shawn. After Shawn’s death, Lee had hated Bray for letting it happen, and he had left for Waysley so quickly that her pain overshadowed thoughts of forgiveness. But on his return she had forgiven him. They had been fast friends after that, as close as scales on a pine cone. She believed that Bray had stayed in the village for her. Even when he could have left, he stayed because he felt the same way about her as she did about him. They were family, brother and sister, she loved him the same way she had loved Shawn. Or did she?

  When Shawn and Mara announced their betrothal, Lee had been happy for Shawn. He had found someone special, a woman to walk the roads with. Why were her thoughts about Bray and the witch girl different? Was she not happy for Bray? He was happy. The way he looked at Adel told her that, but what if he was bewitched? She had to talk with him about it. She would do it. Tomorrow she would take him aside, even if she had to drag him, and find out the truth, find out how he really felt about the girl. Maybe he could not see the bewitchment she had laid on him. But what if Bray was not bewitched? What if he felt for this girl? What if he loved her? Could she be happy for them?

  For some time she lay staring at the blackness above her until she realized it had seeped into her heart. It lay there inside her and ached. If Bray loved Adel, the darkness would burst open and consume her. For the first time she acknowledged what Bray meant to her. Her tears finally led her to sleep.

  ***

  Adel felt Lee’s discomfort when she and Bray joined her at table the next morning. Lee’s feelings for Bray were obvious to Adel. Her sensitivity... her magic as Clamcraver had called it, had grown as they sailed down the north shore. Clamcraver and his sister had accompanied them along the coast until a few days ago. Each evening they had Adel perform exercises to heighten her sensitivity and build her magical ability. From the first, she was reluctant. She had not chosen to be an Adel—a woman who represented her village in negotiations with the little people. Leaving with Bray had been an escape, but then Clamcraver had asked her why she did not use her magic, and had proven to her that she had the ability despite her disbelief.

  “I would put the magic aside,” she told Bray one night a few days after they had saved Clamcraver’s sister from her imprisonment. “I want to be a normal woman, not a witch.”

  “If you have the ability, why not develop it? Is it painful? Does it cause you discomfort?”

  “Not physically. It... it pulls me back into being an Adel. It reminds me that I may have to leave you one day, and return to Rainbow to take up my yoke.”

  “That call may never come,” he had responded. “Grandmother Adel was strong and active when we left. The potion Amadella gave her added years to her life, and you may grow tired of the road long before you are needed in Rainbow. You may grow tired of me.”

  Never, she had said, and she still believed it. She wanted to be with Bray, and he wanted to be with her, but now she was faced with a circumstance she should have considered—another woman and quite a woman at that.

  She called Bray brother, but Adel’s sensitivity told her something else. Is that why she had stayed close to Bray last evening? Was she worried about his affections? No. Bray loved her... as a woman not as a sister. Sure he had strong feeling for Lee, they had grown up together, shared adventures, shared a family. She had nothing to fear from Bray’s affection for her, Adel knew that in her heart. Then why had she faked falling asleep on his lap last night, and why had she held him so tightly this morning?

  As they seated themselves at the table, Adel noticed that Lee’s smile was only surface deep, and there was a hint of something emanating from her. Her heart was troubled, Adel could sense it. As if from a great distance, she heard the sound of weeping. She looked towards Lee, but the girl’s eyes were locked on Aramas, as if his words were water and she a thirsty traveller.

  The innkeeper arrived and deposited four bowls of mash, a pitcher of milk and a pitcher of watered wine on the table.

  “We have bacon and duck eggs if you are interested,” he announced. “Included in the cost of the rooms.”

  “That sounds tasty,” Aramas said. He looked around the table and received nods of agreement. “Four plates, please, my good sir.” The innkeeper left and Aramas continued. “How shall we spend our day? I, for one, need boots. My shoes have more holes than a lace doily.”

  “I would like to look around the city,” Adel said. “How about you, Bray?”

  “Looking about is fine with me. Will you join us, Lee?”

  “If we can stop at some taverns, so I can look for work as a dancer.”

  “I should look for someone interested in buying our boat,” Bray added, “or a Traveller interested in a trade.”

  The innkeeper arrived with their food. Conversation died as they broke their fast.

  Adel was soaking up egg yolk with a slice of fresh bread when her sensitivity flared anew. Casually she glanced around the inn’s common room. Most of the twenty or so tables had filled. Bray had mentioned that this was an inn frequented chiefly by Travellers, and they were easy to pick out with their dark complexions and dark hair. Two tables held men she assumed were of the marshes. They carried large grass hats on their backs held in place by woven grass thongs around their necks. Their feet were bare, their pants were baggy and knee-length and their shirts were a design she had never encountered before, seeming to contain more draping holes than solid material.

  The other table contained four hard-looking men dressed in dark cloth and chain mail. They were bearded bruisers who reminded her of the assassins who had tried to ambush them at the fisherman’s cottage. She reached over and placed her hand on Bray’s arm, giving it three squeezes. He covered her hand with his and tapped three times with a finger. He had noticed them also.

  Bray stood and made a statement in a language Adel did not understand. Every Traveller in the room looked at the four bearded warriors. Men at the three closest tables moved to position themselves around the bruisers. Adel, Aramas, and Lee were on their feet now. Lee flowed between the customers until she stood by the table. The men had tried to stand only to find strong hands suggesting otherwise.

  “We are leaving now,” she told the men. “You will remain seated and enjoy the company of our friends for a turn of the glass. Leave the inn and the city after that. If you are seen again, it will mean your life.”

  Bray stopped at the table as he made for the door. “Tell your king I consider the debt paid, his son’s life for my father’s. I have no wish to wear the Nadian crown, but if he insists on pursuing the matter, I will reconsider my decision.”

  Adel was watching the four men’s faces as Bray spoke. They all looked puzzled which might have been why Aramas stopped by the table, effectively blocking her from following Bray towards the door without dodging around him through the tables. She stopped.

  “You look puzzled, so let me clarify it for you,” Aramas said. “Yes, he is Bray, Prince Argon’s son. He was told by the pirate Yucan Vee that a Prince of Nadia paid them to ambush Argon’s ship and kill him. If the four of you think hard, you may be able to figure out who the prince was who paid to have Argon killed.”

  Aramas strolled forward towards the door through which Lee and Bray had already gone. Adel followed as a pit of concern grew in her stomach. She ducked around Aramas as soon as possible and banged through the inn’s doors. Unable to contain herself any longer, she screamed Bray’s name just as something whizzed by her chin. Bray was turning towards her when the crossbow bolt tore into him. Two more struck the wall beside him. Lee’s green cloak swirled out as she spun and threw her body across Bray’s falling form. Before it settled and hid them from sight, six more crossbow bolts struck the cloak.

  Adel screamed, but this was not a cry of anguish, it was rage. She could see four assassins across the street hurrying to reload their crossbows. Adel pointed. The first two flew skyward from their rooftop positions. Adel thought about
the bridge into Marshtown. The bodies fell in that direction. The two other assassins across the street had reloaded their bows and were bringing them to bear on Lee’s cloak. Adel clapped her hands together. Both men crumbled to the ground. A hand grabbed Adel and yanked her backwards as an arrow whizzed by her face. Her arm shot out towards the man who had fired at her. His body exploded in flames. For moments she stood in the doorway, expecting more weapons to be fired. From where? How many attackers? She turned back to the four bruisers at the table.

  “How many?” she asked, as she moved towards them.

  None answered her. She reached the table and placed her hand on the head of the nearest man. He smiled. “I will tell you nothing.”

  “I know,” she said. The man’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, his eyes bulged, and then popped from his head and lay dangling on his cheeks. All the Travellers had moved back, so the next man around the table was only a step away.

  “How many?” she asked again, as her hand came to rest on his head.

  “Nine,” the man almost screamed the answer. Five outside and four in.” Across the table his companions looked relieved.

  “Be gone before I kill you.”

  The assassins scrambled up from the table and scurried out the door. Adel took a step towards the door, but almost fell as her strength deserted her. A Traveller was beside her in a moment. Her eyes filled with tears. She started to stumble towards the door.

  “Wait,” the Traveller said. “They might have lied. We are checking.”

  A fog was closing in on Adel’s mind. What had she done? She had responded with raw emotion without understanding. She looked down at her hands, her hands or a stranger’s hands? She had killed. For moments there were no thoughts to follow that. She had killed because they had killed Bray. Anguish built in her chest, and rose bile like in her throat. It escaped as a moan. Boot steps sounded ahead of her.

  “It is clear,” someone said, “and that dandy is lucky it is. He has been protecting them with his own body.”

  She stumbled forward and out the door. Through her tears she could see Aramas kneeling in front of the unmoving cloak. She ran forward, knelt, and tugged at the cloth.

  “Is it clear?” she heard Lee ask as the cloak pealed back.

  “Yes,”

  “Good,” she heard Bray say.

  Relief burst in Adel’s chest like a log collapsing in a fire, only no sparks could hold back the blackness that engulfed her.

  Chapter 27

  Transgarin, the Demon Lord, pushed back from the crystal globe with a rumble deep in his chest. One massive clawed hand swept down to hide the offending object from his view, while with the back of the other he rubbed at his eyes. They felt strained, as if they burned. How long had he studied the crystal? The passage of time had been meaningless while he rode his vision. Vision? A vision of nothingness, whiteness that he could not penetrate, no matter how he strained, but there was something there, within the whiteness. A hint of... of... wings... of fire... of death. With a roar he flung the offending crystal ball across the chamber. It shattered explosively.

  “Fufflorcain,” he bellowed.

  Immediately a door to his right opened and the chamberlain shuffled in. The old ogre pulled his crippled body forward as quickly as possible. Transgarin waited. He wanted to scream at the creature to move faster, but he knew that was impossible, and furthermore, it was his own fault. In a rage at yet another defeat of his army by the KaAnians, he had thrown the reporting commander across the room. Unfortunately, the body had struck the old chamberlain, breaking his leg, an arm, a few ribs, and a shoulder. Transgarin would have to replace him soon, but for now he was a reminder to keep calm in the face of disappointment.

  “You called, my Lord?”

  “Have my Master of Beasts sent for immediately, and then bring a new crystal.”

  “As you wish, Lord,” Fufflorcain bowed his head and shuffled away. Transgarin did not watch him leave; instead he rose and paced around the throne room finally stopping at a large, drape-covered window. He pulled the covering aside and stood watching the spumes of sulphurous gases being discharged from below until his Beast Master, Sarinson, arrived.

  “You sent for me, Lord?”

  “What do you know of white dragons?”

  “Very little, Lord. There are stories from long ago about queen dragons. They are the white ones.”

  “Only female dragons are white?”

  “Yes, my Lord. That is the only certainty in the story... definitely a queen.”

  “And is it correct that a female dragon has never been controlled?”

  “That is true, my Lord. The females are too strong. Even some of the larger males cannot be controlled, especially if they have been affected by a holding spell once before. They seem to build immunity to the spells.”

  Transgarin rested his long snout in a hand and thought. Sarinson stood patiently. He would wait until Transgarin told him specifically to leave. A soft knock sounded at the chamberlain’s door and Fufflorcain entered.

  “Your new crystal has arrived, my Lord,” he announced.

  “In a moment, Fufflorcain.” The chamberlain bowed his way back through the doorway. It closed. Transgarin looked to his Beast Master.”

  “How long will it take to identify three dimensions where dragons may be found?”

  “The rest of the day, my Lord.”

  “Then return here tomorrow with the information. I will have a threesome of wizards here. We are going to find a dragon to help overcome the KaAn army.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” said Sarinson as he walked backwards.

  Transgarin waited for him to exit by the main doors before he had the new crystal brought in and placed beside his throne. “Have three wizards waiting to attend me tomorrow when the Beast Master returns,” he told the chamberlain before he stroked the large crystal to life and forced his concentration into it, trying to identify the elusive cause of the terror he felt lurking in the whiteness.

  Chapter 28

  Ichaca spread his wings and floated peacefully on his back in the warm water. He twisted his head around on his long neck, and let it rest upon his chest. He was content, his belly was full, and the tarnish and damage from his time in captivity was gone. After gaining his release from guarding that accursed Sword of Sacrifice, he had eaten everything he could find. Jumping from dimension to dimension without regard for where he was, stuffing his belly, jumping, sleeping, and then eating more, jumping, sleeping, until he had found this place, the perfect world, full of tasty unintelligent creatures.

  For a few years he had rested, regenerated, and grown. He reflected as he floated. The two KaAnians who had freed him would not recognize him. Gone were the marks of imprisonment, gone were the dull colours and tarnished scales. Today he glowed with life and vitality. He gathered his wings against his body and turned over before snapping them out. With a mighty sweep he rose into the sky, beating the air into submission, climbing higher and higher, until the land lay below him like a quilt. Far off he spied the smoke of a volcano and headed in that direction, floating without effort. Shortly he circled the mount watching as searing molten earth erupted and spewed forth. Almost casually he tucked his wings and dove into the cavernous mouth of the eruption before allowing his wing to grab the heated air and carry him across the molten surface and through spires of thrusting magma which brushed the surface of his scales, turning them crimson and pure.

  With a few beats he rose above the rim and stroked off across the sky before diving to skim the surface of a massive lake, steam billowing behind him from the heat of his body and his passage. By the time he reached the high cliffs where he made his bed, there was just enough heat left to warm the rock on which he settled. He fell asleep cradled in its warmth, as the setting sun let the cool of night creep across this part of the world.

  In the morning he awoke hungry and pleasantly surprised that food had come to him in the form of three demons. He felt their presence before he
stirred. He also felt the bonds of the spell they had laid upon him. Opening his eyes he surveyed the three. They were all dressed in full length red robes which were belted with black rope. Their bald heads were bare and tattooed with elaborate designs around their horns. He tested the strength of the bonds they had cast upon him and knew he could break them.

  “Why do you bind me?” he asked.

  “You are to be a servant of our Demon Lord, to do his bidding in all things,” one replied as he stepped forward.

  “And what would your Demon Lord bid me do?”

  “That is not for us to assume, but I suspect you will be used as a weapon against the KaAn army. It is them we are fighting.”

  “Why does a Demon Lord battle against a minor race like the KaAnians?”

  “They have stolen his crystals. He wants them back.”

  “And if I do not wish to help the Demon Lord with his war?”

  “You have no choice. We are Wizards of the Tenth Order. We have bound you to our purpose.”

  Ichaca pushed up flexing his muscles until his bonds were stretched singingly tight, before he collapsed back down, feigning defeat. He watched the look of satisfaction replace the apprehension on the wizards’ faces. He hid his smile with a roar of frustration. He liked this game.

  “See, you are our captive, and can only do as we say.” The demon wizard took another step forward.”

  “Come closer, and I will show you who is in charge,” Ichaca challenged, as he made another show of stretching his bonds. This time he lifted a front claw off the ground. As he hoped, the Wizards watched the claw as it seemed to strain against the bonds of their spell, missing the pumping of his stomach that brought the gas used to flame close to the surface. Satisfied that flame would bellow when needed, he flopped back down hoping he could manage a look of defeat. It seemed to work. The wizard stepped forward, within reach.