The Messengers Menagerie (The Courier Chronicles Book 1)

by Joey Anderle

  “What’s she up to?” Booker asked, pointing out the black-haired women.

  “Oh,” Caesar looked at her, “She’s the ah, hm.” Caesar ran his hand through his slicked back hair. “I’m the one that let her in; I should know why.”

  His worried look at the guest ripped Auralee’s gaze away and toward the woman, and the Princess’ face immediately became a grimace. Pointing a finger at her and launching one of her attacks at the women.

  “Whoa whoa,” Booker started, then watched as the attack sliced through the air and made the blue shield ripple, “Oh, that's not good for us.”

  “What?” Caesar became very confused very quickly.

  “You need to get out,” Booker told the man, trying to push him back towards the exit.

  The Princess launched a couple of more offensive moves at Xandrie to little effect. Xandrie didn’t even bother to turn around as she stared down the rock formation.”

  “What’s going on?” Caesar asked, slapping at Booker’s hands.

  “I’m not entirely sure myself,” Booker answered.

  “Those are Portal stones,” Auralee defined, “She’s trying to summon something over.”

  “Can we do something?” Booker questioned as he finally pushed Caesar out the door they came in.

  “Not really,” Auralee answered, “I doubt she’s even entirely conscious that it is me that is attacking her, she just knows something is attacking.”

  Delvar pulled his necklace out, and it floated in his hands, “Hey, the scale is floating, does that mean something?”

  Auralee looked back, “It means we’re close.”

  An oval opened between the chanting Xandrie and the stone; drawing blue lights were being pulled out of the air around Xandrie and into it. Even some of Auralee’s red were pulled off course. The portal was siphoning off their combined magics, making the noise of a growing annoying office fan.

  “I need to get out of here,” Auralee told them, her voice going up an octave in concern.

  Booker scurried across the room to the back where a door labeled “Employees Only” was blocking their way. He fiddled with the door, but the locks resisted his attempts. “Well, I’m going to need a minute.” Booker patted his pockets, “And I’m going to need lock picks.”

  “Move,” Auralee commanded. She placed a glowing hand on the door.

  Booker, Delvar, and Mordecai could only watch as the portal got bigger and bigger, an ominous sense of dread rolled over them as they tried to figure out what could come out.

  Their questions were answered pretty soon as a soft echoing howl came out the portal.

  “No,” Delvar commanded the portal.

  “Afraid so,” Mordecai confirmed.

  “It’s a wolf,” Booker assumed.

  “I wish,” Delvar remarked, “She’s summoning a Worg, much scarier, more teeth.”

  Booker's eyes slid toward Auralee who appeared to be having a heart to heart with the door to get it open. No, take your time, Booker thought, There’s no scary sounding wolf on its way.

  The howling became less and less echo-y as time went on. Xandrie’s chanting was becoming incredibly repetitive, incredibly fast.

  Then sound just stopped.

  Booker could hear his heartbeat slowly inside his chest and thoughts race through his mind, but other than that, it was almost as if they were in a vacuum.

  He counted his heartbeats to keep from losing track of time, and after the fifth pulse, his auditory sensory slammed back into place. Booker nearly crumbled to his knees, wanting to put his hands over his ears like a five-year-old. Instead, he leaned himself against the wall and closed his eyes, limiting the number of senses he needed to keep track of as the portal sounded like a turbine as it continued to absorb magic.

  Someone grabbed Booker’s arm and shook him violently, making his eyes flutter open to Auralee saying something to him that the shell-shocked Sterling couldn’t understand.

  “Let’s go!” Auralee shouted at the phased Booker.

  “He can’t hear you,” Mordecai informed her, “Human ears are much more delicate than ours when that portal reached its point of spin, it likely damaged his ears.”

  The group turned as something thudded against the floor. A single paw stuck out the portal as it neared the end of its journey. They turned back to Booker who was still looking for his friends.

  Auralee swore, remembering the words for healing and sending the spell down her arm and into Sterling.

  When the flow ended, his eyes appeared much less erratic and notably focused. His breathing slowed as he looked around, and then spotted something that caused his face to change into horror. Grabbing Auralee’s arm and pulling her to the door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Run, RUN, RUN,” Booker yelled at the sight of the massive werewolf, pushing his team to a door. Immediately launching into a full tilt sprint down the boring white hall, Booker led the pack with his swift legs. The group ran down the hall. Delvar and Mordecai had their respective weapons, trouncing down the hall like a pair of overly committed LARP-er’s.

  “Come on guys, let’s go!” Booker motioned with his arm for the crew to catch up, “Or need I remind we are outrunning a giant wolf?”

  Delvar retorted with a huff, “You see how long a dwarf’s legs are?”

  Auralee followed suit, “Not all of us have your natural running away prowess, Sterling.”

  Mordecai picked up his pace and easily caught up to Booker.

  “There we go big guy,” Booker clapped him on the shoulder.

  Booker noted that they were quickly approaching a fork in the road, “Now which way Delvar?”

  “Uhm,” The dwarf held the scale that was bouncing against his chest, “Thataway,” He answered pointing right.

  “Thank God, I can see where you’re pointing,” Booker yelled back over his shoulder.

  “Right!” Auralee clarified.

  Booker shifted himself and slid a moment, touching the ground with his right hand to balance himself before launching himself down the next corridor.

  “Where are these things?” Booker questioned, only seeing an aisle of white walls and yellow lights ahead of him.

  There was a loud smash and rattle, sending everyone flailing about. After the group had recovered, Delvar responded to Booker’s question, “We’re getting close, don’t worry.”

  “Oh, no you’re right,” Booker responded, another quake then sent them sprawling, “IT'S ONLY LIFE OR DEATH HERE!”

  “There!” Delvar pointed at one of the many nondescript doors.

  “That holds Ranquel and Izzy?” Booker questioned.

  “Which one of us has the magic compass?” The dwarf responded.

  “Fair enough,” Booker waited at the door, one of his bouncing, ready to bust into the room poses.

  Delvar patted down his outfit, “I don’t have my lock picks on me.”

  “No way Mordecai can kick that door down, it's able to stop a bomb,” Booker informed.

  “Gentlemen,” Auralee addressed calmly, “If you would kindly.”

  Everyone gave the Princess a two-foot space around her.

  She glared at the door, her left arm becoming swirled by the familiar red lights of her magic. Bringing her glowing arm across her chest, then in a swift motion swung her open palm at the door. Causing it to collapse in on itself and fly back, taking one of the door’s bolts with it.

  Had Booker had the time to whistle he would’ve, but he didn’t.

  The human was the first to pour into the small room sliding through the door frame like a snake. Looking around, he saw a rather minimalistic area; two statues were visible the moment someone entered the room. One of a dragon mid-bite, the details to a point so fine, it’s almost like the monster was frozen in a moment in time.

  Ranquel’s statue had a similar fate, his face was shouting at something below him, his arm mid-swing but missing his sword.

  Where’s the sword? Booker thought, turning his head to fi
nd a dull scabbard with a tightly wrapped sword hilt sticking out along with a matching bow and quiver stocked with seven arrows, hanging on racks nearby.

  “Now what?” Booker exclaimed.

  “Bring him back,” Delvar answered, ripping off his necklace and holding it to the little dragon’s statue.

  They watched as the marble seemed to crack before the scale, falling apart once the blue-grey whelp extended his wings, crying out to the room. Probably because he finally had limbs in over a thousand years.

  “Release Ranquel,” Delvar shouted.

  Booker jolted to the base of the Ranger’s statue, wrapping his right hand around his left leg. The face’s angry features began to crack as another quake was sent through the walls. Izimandius flapped up and gave another small cry, zooming past everyone and out of the room.

  “No, we need him!” Booker reminded everyone.

  “No shit?” Auralee, hand to her head in worry said, “I need to sit down after that.” She followed up by slumping against a wall and passing out.

  “We need you too!” Booker exclaimed, keeping his fingers tightly wrapped on Ranquel’s statue’s calf.

  “Guys,” Mordecai pointed up to the statue’s head.

  Booker snapped his head up, dodging a crumbling piece of statue as the art fell apart.

  “Where’s Ranquel?” Delvar questioned when the statue started to crack apart, and a hollow core revealed itself.

  Booker saw a large part of the statue’s pectoral start to tilt toward him, he launched himself scrambling back as it began to fall. Looking in shock and horror as the statue crumbled before them.

  His head began to swim as the situation got the better of him.

  “What do we do?” Mordecai questioned the trembling Sterling.

  “I…I-” Booker’s mind raced with thoughts to where it felt like two minds were thinking at the same time.

  A loud crash echoed down the halls as the beast broke through, accompanied by the bright cry of Izimandius. The Whelp’s battle cry answered with the Wolf snapping his teeth.

  Sterling’s voice trembled as he attempted to piece things back together, “He- he… Ranquel was supposed t- “

  Delvar brought the back of his hand against Sterling’s cheek, “Snap out of it, you’re supposed to be a leader!”

  “I am a Runner!” Sterling shouted back, “All I do is run, and I don’t see why that isn’t a bad idea right now, it’s what I’ve done in the past, it’s what I’ll do in the fut- “

  Delvar brought another backhand to Sterling, making a loud pop and Mordecai winced.

  “OW!” Booker lightly tapped where Delvar’s hand hit him, no doubt red by now, “The fuck?”

  “Say it again!” Delvar prompted, “I dare you.” The small man seethed.

  “I said,” Sterling said, not to be intimidated by something he can’t do, “I am a damn run—”

  When Delvar brought his hand back to smack sense into Sterling, the human was ready for it, slapping his arm to send it away and threw the dwarf off balance. Sterling pushed Delvar while he wobbled and slid out from under him. The cries of Izimandius’ fight bounced through the corridor as snarls vibrated on the ground.

  “Coward,” Sterling finished walking toward the small rack of weapons, “Do you know how to use this?” He questioned picking out the scabbard and shook it with vigor, “I sure as hell don’t, and the bow?” He used the arm that had the archer’s wrist guard attached to point out the curved wood, “Last time I touched a bow, was for a summer camp!”

  Tears welled in his frustrated eyes.

  Delvar got up and dusted himself off pointing to his right. “Right now a little itty, bitty dragon is fighting a wolf several times his size.”

  He answered in a calm, collected voice, pointing a finger now at himself, “That dragon is my world’s actual embodiment of an underdog, he never grew up, but did he ever put up a fight? You bet your damn coin he did. That bracelet you picked up because it went with your shoes? Armor to perhaps the best warrior in Elven society? They don’t make anything like that anymore since Rangers were disbanded a few hundred years ago and mothers STILL tell their kids of Ranquel’s valiant effort. So, you,” The dwarf pointed a steady finger at the trembling Sterling, “Are going to do what? Run? What do you think Ranquel would think?”

  “I don’t care!” Sterling blasted back, “He,” Sterling pointed toward where Ranquel’s stature once proudly stood, “Was supposed to come back and save the day, not push his responsibilities back on me!”

  “Well, Ranquel isn’t there, is he?” Delvar asked.

  “And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?” Booker asked, a tear slid down his cheek as he did his best to keep his voice steady, “I am a Runner, I get things from A to B, I’m not a fighter, I am not a leader, and I’m certainly NOT A RAN- “

  Sterling’s vision exploded into a white light as he lost all his senses. The conscious that composed Sterling just seemed to float in some odd white plane. After a moment that felt like an eternity he was slammed back into a body.

  Opening his eyes as if it was the first time, he saw, green.

  __

  What?

  A primordial forest surrounded him, He knew this isn’t what he was supposed to be seeing, but he couldn’t quite remember why.

  “Help?” He called out softly in a voice that wasn’t his.

  “Then how are you supposed to grow?” A voice answered back from the trees.

  Who is that guy? Sterling thought.

  “But Master,” A voice called back, “Perhaps we can learn gradually?”

  “Nonsense Ranquel, the Worg is a perfect place for a Ranger to start, not too smart, but not too easy, you can do it,” The authoritative voice responded.

  Sterling took a moment to figure out the situations. There was him, who seemed to be a consciousness inside someone else’s body. The rightful owner of said body, Ranquel, and a teacher of sorts hidden somewhere in the nearby tree’s since Sterling couldn’t see him.

  While Sterling collected the information on his condition, he became aware of a growling noise. Looking forward he saw what appeared to be a wolf on steroids who only drank protein shakes and the blood of his enemies.

  AGAIN? Sterling screamed out, but had no voice to accompany his internal cries for help.

  Both the Ranquel and Sterling’s thoughts answered with the same message, “But I’m just a Runner.”

  The Worg began to circle Sterling, who spent another moment looking around at his surroundings and himself.

  I don’t remember being this white, He commented looking at the fingers, unable to tell if they were this pale naturally or because of how tightly he was gripping the swords handle, Or this tall.

  “Just another Elvish Courier,” The voice began to reason.

  Oh no, Sterling thought as puzzle parts fell into place.

  “Nonsense,” Sterling could now see where the voice was coming from, in the trees was a well-hidden man, dressed in lithe leathers that hid him well in the trees, “You keep up that talk, and you’ll get nowhere, even if you can run fast.”