All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters

by Vangjel Canga

  Edward said, “One I imagine you shall pass on to the consumer.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord,” Purveyor stated as his face paled.

  “How much for this sword?” Pluck questioned as she showed the weapon to the trader.

  “That sword...” Purveyor started as he eyed the prince, making sure he listened. “Now that is an interesting piece, though I am sad to say the blade must have rusted. No one has been able to remove it from its housing.” He rubbed his hands together as he said, “It would still make a nice piece to display if you’re interested.”

  She told him, “I removed the blade without difficulty.”

  “You must be mistaken. I should know. I’ve had that sword for many seasons,” Purveyor said, then turned to the prince, and stated, “See, I am an honest business man.”

  “Is this so?” Edward asked as he glanced at the weapon, then faced the trader, and told him, “If the sword does not function, then it should be given away.”

  “Given?” Purveyor uttered as if someone stole a precious gem from him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing money on a trade. “Given, you say?” he questioned again as he reached out his hand and said, “May I see the sword?”

  She handed him the scabbard.

  Purveyor grabbed the hilt, trying to remove the hand and a half sword, but it wouldn’t budge. He shook his head, studied its finely crafted handle and scabbard, and then sighed. He lifted the sheath with both hands, returned the weapon, and gave in to pressure as he said, “You’re right, my lord. I give this sword as a gift to your High Guard.”

  Pluck accepted the scabbard as she said, “Thank you.” She strapped the sword over her shoulder so that the scabbard rested on her back at an angle. Pluck wondered if there was magic within the sword as there was magic within her. Why else could the trader not remove the Lux?

  Edward removed several bags of gold and told the trader, “Our business is then concluded. Have the gifts brought to my ship right away. Here are a thousand pieces. You shall receive the remaining ten thousand once the items are delivered.”

  “Yes, of course,” Purveyor said as he greedily took the bags. “They shall be there within the nal.”

  “Pluck!” Melee shouted from outside. “To arms!”

  She entered the front room, drawing her rapier and main gauche, and looked to the prince as Edward drew his. They both rushed outside while the trader glanced out his windows. Melee had his weapons drawn on seven horsemen.

  “You!” Pluck shouted as she pointed her sword at their leader. “You’re the one who harassed that couple at Heron.”

  Matt bowed as he said, “I’m honored ya remembered me, it makes it easier. Ya know we have some business to satisfy.”

  “Maybe,” Pluck spoke as she glanced at Edward then to Melee. “Why don’t we return things as they were? These two will leave then we’ll discuss our business.”

  Matt laughed, revealing his missing front tooth as he replied, “No, they’ll stay.”

  Pluck said as she stepped closer to the horsemen, “I don’t think you followed us all this way because I prevented you from stealing a wheel of cheese.” She demanded, “What’s your true purpose here?”

  “Yes!” Edward spoke up. “Who hired you? Which of the Kingdoms? Commery, Swelldom, or Hort?”

  Matt smiled like a Black-faced Jackal finding a carcass as he told them, “That I can’t tell ya.” He commanded his men, “Kill the High Guards, but don’t harm the prince at least not yet.” He slid off his horse as his men dismounted and three men started for Pluck. Matt ordered, “No, stand down. That Phragg is mine.” Matt drew his bastard sword and lunged for Pluck as he said, “Ya High Guards are so archaic.”

  She deflected his attack and then questioned him, “Why do you say that?” Pluck countered with a volley of cuts.

  “Ya have fallen behind the times. Look at the weapons yer using,” Matt stated after he leaped from the swipes. “Sure yer rapiers might be the finest in the land, but they’re useless against weapons like these.” He swung his bastard sword over his head and brought it down, breaking her rapier in half.

  Shock seized her as the steel failed her, and she stared at the broken blade in the dirt. All those seasons she'd yearned to wield a weapon as fine as the Accolade Sword, and now she stood before seven Dreggs defeated in her first duel.

  “See, I’ve proven my point,” Matt said as he readied his sword for another attack. “Now I’ll thrust it into yer heart.”

  Her instincts took over, and she leaped back, landing on a boulder she had seen several feet away. She threw the hilt of the rapier to the ground and stared at her main gauche.

  Matt yelled at her outraged, but then he grinned and said, “Yer very agile, High Guard, but yer still without a weapon.” He lifted both hands, declaring, “And outnumbered.” He charged the boulder.

  Pluck ran for a Lofty Pine, scurried to its lowest branch, and crouched on all fours, studying the situation. She wanted to scream at the Dregg, but she had to control herself and keep the Beast within her reined.

  “Come down here and die like a man,” Matt ordered, cutting into the tree with his sword. The blade wedged into the wood, and he couldn’t disengage it. “As soon as I get this free, I’m coming after ya.”

  She ignored Matt, looking to the three men watching them, then to the two fighting Melee, and finally to the one attacking the prince. Pluck could remove her cloak, and her appearance might frighten the Dreggs into running, but it would kill her chances at ending her curse. Pluck reached up and grabbed her hood as she glanced at the prince. Could she let her selfish reasoning jeopardize Edward’s life?

  Moments seemed like nals as Pluck pondered her next action. Edward and Melee fought courageously as she stood idle. Pluck decided she had to then as if the wind carried the sound from a distant land, she heard the Woolly Tiger’s roar. Pine needles rustled as relief swept over her for there was hope. Pluck sheathed her dagger and moved her hand past the hood to the pommel of the hand and a half sword. She'd almost forgotten about the Lux.

  “What’s wrong, High Guard?” Matt asked as he grunted to free his weapon. “Ya look lost. Are ya as fragile as yer sword?”

  Pluck leaped over his head, flipped, and landed on her feet. She unsheathed her new weapon and thunder rumbled from a cloudless sky.

  Matt’s toothless smile faded as he exclaimed, “Crell! Yer not weaponless!”

  Purveyor watched from a window and uttered, “By Fletching! How did you remove it?” He remembered himself and covered his mouth, hiding again in the shadow of his store.

  The thug fighting Edward forced the sword from the prince’s hand and then he said, “Matt, I have him.” He placed the tip of his blade to Edward’s throat and blood trickled down the prince’s neck.

  Pluck held her breath. They couldn't kill him. She had to save him, but how?

  “Easy there,” Matt commanded his man. “We aren't paid to spill royal blood.” He turned his attention back to Pluck and ordered her, “Drop yer sword.”

  If she did, there was no chance for them. Pluck had to taunt him into a fight, so she shouted, “Are you afraid to meet me now that I’ve a weapon that matches yours?”

  Matt’s men looked to him; even the ones fighting Melee glanced back to see how he would answer.

  “Fass! I fear no man!” he declared. “Least of all yer petty attempts to sway me from my job. Men, let’s go. We have what we came for.”

  “No!” Melee shouted, trying to get past the two he dueled to reach his prince, but they prevented him. One broke through his defenses, cutting him across the arm. Melee dropped his rapier as blood ran from his cut, spotting his white shirt, but the injury to his arm was slight.

  Pluck watched horrified and her terror turned to rage as she felt a rumbling. At first she thought the ground shook then she realized her sword quaked, shaking her with its intensity. She feared the Lux's might and yet r
elished in it. Pluck lifted the sword, and lightning crackled from the blade, ionizing the air around her. She felt the sword’s energy surge through her arm and roared, enthralled by its vigor as she yelled, “It has so much power!” Pluck placed her other hand to the hilt to control its rampage.

  “Ah... Matt, what the Crell is that sword doing?” one of his men asked.

  “Fass! Don’t know.”

  Pluck rushed Matt, then engaged him, and each time her blade met his steel lightning flashed and sparks flew. She furiously attacked, not giving Matt a chance to counter. Her fierce onslaught forced the leader to the ground, and his men came to his aid even though they were afraid of the mystical sword. Pluck turned on them and when they lifted their swords and maces against her, she swiped across the weapons and cut them in half. The loyalty they had for their leader weakened for fear and the bandits fled, leaving him behind. Matt scurried back to a boulder like a frightened Borough Rat.

  She leveled her sword on him, controlling the rage screaming to cut him down. Through labored breath and gritted teeth, she questioned, “Who sent you?”

  “I... I can’t tell,” Matt quivered out as he put his hands up, shielding himself from the electricity crackling around the sword. “They’ll kill me.”

  Her Ghost Panther growl made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as she asked him, “What do you think I’ll do to you, Dregg?”

  Matt uttered, “What are you?”

  Pluck grew impatient and growled again as she demanded, “Answer my question!”

  “I will!” he whined. “Don’t hurt me.” He glanced around and then told her, “Yer right, one of the Kingdoms hired us.”

  “Which one?” Edward demanded as he neared them. “Tell us!” He put a handkerchief to the cut on his neck.

  Matt started, “It was the...” His brownish eyes widened as he grabbed his chest, gripping a dart that struck him. “No,” he gasped. “I wasn’t going to tell,” Matt screamed. “Crell!” He looked to them for help and realized they couldn’t save him, so he shouted at them, “All of ya can go to Crell!” He balled up and muttered, “The pain... Dreggs! A curse on Fletching!” Blood ran from his nose, then he twitched in agony and died.

  Melee and Pluck quickly surrounded the prince.

  The old beggar under the Cobalt Oak chuckled, then made the sign of evil by lifting his pinky and pointer finger, and aimed the warning at them. He said, “I can’t allow you to gain the answer to that yet.” He stood, holding a small blow gun in his other hand.

  Melee charged him as he yelled, “By Fletching! I’ll wipe that smile from your grubby face.”

  The beggar laughed again as his demeanor transformed from a pitiful poor man to a venomous warlock as he spoke, “Fools...” His appearance changed along with his clothes as his gray hair grew and transformed into a wolf’s head headdress. His dull blue eyes turned dark as midnight, his rotten teeth to gleaming fangs, a wolf’s fur robe replaced his rags, and a long, pointed, inky-black goatee sprouted from his chin. He told them, “You cannot harm me.” He turned before Melee reached him and disappeared into the oak like a ghost.

  “Witchcraft!” Edward spat, enraged he wouldn’t have his answer. “Which of the Kingdoms would use the forbidden arts?” He scratched his chin and then questioned, “Was he a Necrom?”

  “I don’t know, my lord,” Melee replied as he returned to his side. “But we better venture back to the Breakneck. I am still concerned about your safety so far out here from the others.”

  He and the prince headed for the horses as Pluck stared at the Cobalt Oak. Was he a Necrom? He didn't have the appearance of a Necrom; he looked human. The warlock didn't look like her at all, but he did use magic. Being a wielder of the dark arts, could he know what she was? This assumption frightened her. What if he told the others before she had a chance to? Her lips quivered in the shadow of her hood. What if the others cast her out? She bit her lip, watching the prince as she muttered, “What if Edward forsakes me?”

  Chapter Five

  The Initiation

  Han paced the deck of the Breakneck as he shouted, “Fass! I should have sent more men with you.” He glanced at the prince then to Melee and Pluck as the ocean lapped at the docked ship and a few Gray Gulls cried in the distance. “You should have my command for this.”

  “Nonsense,” Edward replied. “Consider this, if we had taken more men the bandits might have waited for another opportunity then we would not know one of the Kingdoms is using a Necrom.”

  “Fairy tales!” Fracas declared, overhearing their conversation from the gangplank. “There’s no such thing.”

  “Yes, but...” Han started as he grabbed the railing of the ship, looking at the port of Pass. “They did see the beggar vanish. Perhaps there’s sorcery at work and since magic exists, then Necroms could also.”

  Fracas shook his head in disbelief and threw his Jewel Apple over the side before he said, “I still say they are merely stories; ones told to frighten children into staying out of the woods.” He considered that magic may exist, but the Necroms couldn't. If they did, that would mean the old stories were true and that would mean there could be another Great War. His reasoning frightened him as he considered this time they might not escape with their lives if another war ensued.

  Edward put his hand to his chin as he spoke, “Whomever is using the dark arts does not want us to know. They killed the bandits’ leader to prevent him from revealing their identity, and what I saw was no beast but a man. We all have heard that Necroms are cat like monsters.”

  “Still...” Han started as he couldn’t get past his failure. “I shouldn’t have let you go with only two guards.”

  Edward put his hand to the old High Guard’s shoulder as he told him, “Han, I was in capable hands with Melee and Pluck.”

  “Actually,” Melee spoke up. “Pluck’s the one who saved us with that enchanted sword of his.”

  “Enchanted?” Han approached her and questioned, “What’s he talking about?”

  A salty breeze swept across the ship, blowing against Pluck’s cloak as she shamefully thought more of the Accolade Sword. “My rapier broke during battle,” she told him as she showed him the severed blade. “I’ve been dishonored.”

  “To have the blade break during a fight is no dishonor,” Han said as he took the weapon. “Only if it’s stripped.” He turned to Ardor and ordered, “We shall give you another.”

  “He does not need it,” Edward said, talking of Pluck. “The weapon he acquired from the trader is far more superior, therefore, a Sword of Honor.”

  “I saw it strike like lightning,” Melee added. “It cut through the bandits’ weapons like a sickle through grass.”

  “What weapon?” Han asked.

  Pluck unstrapped the sword from her back and showed him. Han took the black scabbard, looked the weapon over, and tried to remove the sword as Ardor watched.

  “Blasted!” Han yelled as his face reddened with the effort. “It won’t budge.”

  “Allow me,” Ardor said and then he tried. “Crell! I also can’t draw the blade.” Frustrated, he handed it to Pluck and ordered, “You do it!”

  She hesitated but then took the Lux and drew it. The unsheathing sounded like thunder, and the blade glowed lightning white.

  “Witchcraft!” Ardor spat as he stepped back from the crackling blade. “We should toss him and the weapon overboard.” He drew his rapier, wondering if the sword was a weapon of the Necroms.

  Captain Brine and a few sailors murmured their agreement and then Brine said, “Aye, evil shall befall this ship if we allow the sword to stay.”

  Their accusation appalled Pluck, and she readied herself for a fight.

  Before Han could challenge Ardor, the prince commanded, “No!” His face reddened with rage as he said, “I would be in the hands of my enemy if it was not for Pluck’s sword.” He stepped to the taller man and questioned him,
“Are you saying we should throw over everyone who possesses an item of magic?”

  “Yes!” Ardor answered without thinking.

  Han cringed, not knowing how the prince would react.

  “Then I should be first to walk the plank,” Edward spoke as he pointed toward the cabins. “Do not forget I possess the Mystic Rose.”

  Ardor’s enraged face softened to shock and embarrassment as he started, “My lord, I did not mean...”

  “Let us drop this matter then,” the prince interrupted.

  Ardor tightened his jaw as he sheathed his rapier and then he said, “The matter is dropped.” He glanced at Pluck with a look that said he would only drop it for the moment.

  Han walked to Pluck, leaned to her hood, and said, “Maybe it’s best you leave and let Ardor manage his temper.”

  She nodded, placed her sword back in its scabbard, and headed below. Ardor disliked her since she came on board. Why did he hate her? What had she done?

  Back on deck...

  “What should our next move be?” Han asked, moved to Ardor, and patted the Second on the back, reassuring him.

  Ardor remained silent, managing his temper and his tongue. What a fool he was. Him accusing the prince could cost Ardor his command.

  Edward walked to the railing and answered the commander, “The only thing we can do for now is–” He scanned the open sea and said, “–set sail for the Morgog Kingdom, retrieve my wife, and head for the Isle of Kismet.”

  * * *

  Earlier that sun’s cycle...

  Fracas stood, grabbed his long bow from the tavern’s table, and said, “Sinew... Parry... It’s time we left,” he insisted. “We must return to the Breakneck.”

  Parry grabbed a barmaid, whirled her around, sat her on his lap, and replied, “A few moments more, my friend.” He twirled his finger in her long brown hair and whispered into her ear.

  She giggled, stroked his blond goatee, and told him, “I can’t till mi shift’s over.”

  Sinew smoothed his hand over his shaven head and lifted his mug as he barked, “Another!”

  “No! You’re already drunk,” Fracas told him as he swung his bow, knocking the mug from the smaller man’s grasp. “Let’s go while you can still walk.”