The Unwilling Aviator (Book 4)

by Heidi Willard

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Glossary

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  THE UNWILLING AVIATOR (THE UNWILLING #4)

  Copyright © 2014 by Heidi Willard

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  CHAPTER 1

  "Please don't eat so close to me," Pat growled.

  Canto slurped more of a wriggling mass of living spaghetti into his mouth before he glared at her. "Dirth Worms are a specialty Ah won't be missing out on. Not when we're so close to the border."

  Pat glanced over to Ned. "Please tell me we are close to the next region," she pleaded.

  Ned glanced up at the stars overhead. The companions sat around a crackling fire eating their dinner, or in Pat's case losing her appetite watching Canto consume the squirming worms. The clearing for their camp lay just off a dirt road that they'd followed for seven days eastward from the city of Dirth. Around them stood giant oak trees well-watered by the thinning marsh waters of the Dirth region. Their branches stretched out as though reaching for the companions.

  Fred looked at the branches as he munched on his food. He couldn't help being reminded of the fight so long ago with the tree monsters. At that time he could barely get off a flame, and now he was capable of tossing balls of fire at them. He'd come a long way since those first days of adventure and mayhem.

  While Fred thought about the past, Ned pulled at his beard and nodded his head. "We should be in Kite by tomorrow, and at the capital city two days after that," he told her.

  "What is the name of the city?" Ruth asked him.

  "String," he replied.

  The name brought Fred back from his reverie and he choked on his food. "String?" he repeated.

  Ned smiled and shrugged. "They're an inventive people, but not when it comes to names."

  "Aren't they known for their flying abilities?" Percy spoke up.

  Ruth's eyes widened and she glanced between Percy and Ned. "Flying abilities?" she wondered.

  Ned chuckled and shook his head. "No, they're not gargoyles. The people of Kite are as human as any of us, but they're a very inventive people when it comes to their amusements. The region of Kite is a very windy place, and they found that by strapping large swaths of cloth to their backs they can glide through the air as well as any bird."

  Fred's mouth fell open in awe. "They can fly anywhere in their region?" he asked Ned.

  "No, they are tethered to the ground. The winds are strong and unpredictable, and to be loosed from the tether is very dangerous," Ned replied. He perked up and smiled at those who sat around him. "However, it is rather exciting watching them swoop through the skies. They have a tournament every year to crown the best flier."

  "Can we watch them?" Ruth pleaded.

  Ned gently smiled at her, but shook his head. "I'm afraid we'll be arriving early. The tournament is in the fall when the winds are strongest."

  "Oh. . ." she murmured.

  "But we're sure to see some flying, aren't we?" Percy suggested.

  "Yes. The competitors practice year-around, and perhaps we can find some money to go up in one of the flying wings," Ned agreed. He looked to Ruth with a gleam in his eyes. "Or perhaps we have someone among us who can teach their champions a thing or two about flying."

  Ruth blushed and looked at the ground. "I still need a great deal of practice," she replied.

  Pat sat beside Ruth on a shared log and scooted closer to wrap an arm around her friend. "Then you'll get that there. It may take a few days to find the treasure to destroy the stone, and we also have to find the stone," she pointed out.

  "If my education serves me then finding the stone may take that long," Percy agreed. "String is not a large city, but it is spread out across an entire valley."

  "We might not be having as much trouble finding the stone as ya think," Canto spoke up. He tilted his plate and licked the last bits of his meal, and Pat's appetite, off the top. Then he dropped the platter to show off his beard covered in the yellow blood of his wormy victims. "Ah heard some in the castle back at Dirth mention that the people in String had taken a fancy to something in their city."

  Ned raised an eyebrow. "Did they happen to mention if it was a stone?"

  "Aye. Piako was planning on offering his services to String if he could've got his own rock chipped," Canto told him.

  "Well, it seems we won't have to play seek with the stone," Percy mused.

  Ned frowned and stroked his beard. "I know of only one stone in the city of String, and that is the Swearing Stone located behind the Senex."

  Pat furrowed her brow. "Swearing Stone? Senex?" she repeated.

  "It is a stone on which the winners of the tournament swear their allegiance to the city and take their places as judges among the people. The Senex is a large marble building where their seat of government resides," Ned told her. "If the Region Stone truly is the Swearing Stone then it will be difficult to reach, much less destroy."

  "But we have Fred and your abilities as castors, unless you will bind yourself to not using your powers," Percy pointed out.

  Ned shook his head. "The people of Kite hold the Swearing Stone in high regard. Fifteen years ago there was an attempt to destroy the stone, or so they say, and they contracted the elves to place a barrier against magic around the object to protect it against theft. Staffs and other powerful magical items cannot pass the barrier, and anyone in disguise will immediately be revealed as who they are. Even I cannot destroy or pass my staff through the magic, though Fred's hidden staff is an exception. The guards prevent more mundane thieves from chipping away blocks to sell as souvenirs."

  "Fifteen years ago? Are you sure of that time?" Pat asked him.

  He pursed his lips and nodded. "Yes, and I agree with your suspicions. At that time Canavar may have tampered with the stone."

  "If we knew what he was wanting then this adventure of ours would be a lot less trouble," Canto grumbled.

  "No doubt," Ned agreed.

  "And we have yet to learn how they activate. The stones in Dirth and String are, or were, awake, but not active," Percy added.

  "Perhaps we'll find the answer in String, but not sooner," Ned replied. He stood and arched his back until there was a definite crack. "While you young ones speak late into the night I will gather these weary old bones of mine and rest," he told them.

  His leaning back caused his long, pointy hat to dangle in front of Canto's face. The gruff dwarf brushed it away and scowled at Ned. "Do ya mind keeping that useless thing out of my face?"

  Ned turned to him and chuckled. "Useless, my dear dwarf? Nonsense. This hat is a very useful weapon in battle."

  Canto scoffed. "Ah'll believe it when Ah see it."

  "Well, let us hope that time does not come too soon," Ned replied. He turned to Fred. "Fo
r you, my young apprentice, might I suggest you study the pamphlet I gave to you? The contents may some day be useful."

  Pat snorted. "I doubt it."

  "I think I'll join Ned in his intention to sleep," Percy spoke up. He stood and stretched his arms over his head. "Who takes the first watch?"

  Ned turned to Ruth. "With a gargoyle in our group we need only one watch."

  Ruth bowed her head and stood. She rubbed her jewel and her human facade fell to reveal her gargoyle self. "I will try my best," she promised.

  "Then we needn't ask any more of you. Now to the beds, my young companions. We have a long journey to reach Kite by tomorrow," Ned told them.

  Ruth strode to the edge of the fire's light while the others lay down on their blankets. Fred sat on his blanket and pulled out the crumpled pamphlet. Pat lay nearby him, and she rolled onto her stomach and watched as he opened to his last lesson spot. "What is it having you do now?" she asked him.

  Fred squinted his eyes and looked over the picture. "I think it wants me to kill myself," he replied.

  "What? Let me see that!" Pat snatched it from his hands and looked over the picture. It showed a silhouetted figure standing with its staff at a perpendicular angle to the center of the holder's body. Pat rolled her eyes. "It's not telling you to stab yourself in the gut, it's showing you a different pose for your staff." She tossed the pamphlet at him and it hit him in the face.

  Fred pulled it off to reveal a sheepish grin. "Oh, right. I guess I can do that."

  "If you can create fire balls that are capable of damaging a Region Stone then I'm sure you can manage a pose," she assured him.

  Fred stood and pulled out his staff. He positioned himself like the picture, and the next blank page revealed another picture to follow. Fred knelt down and looked over the new lesson. It showed the silhouette lying down on a blanket. "Um. . ." He glanced over to where Ned lay and found the old castor with his eyes shut, though there was a mischievous smile on Ned's lips. "What's this one mean? The one with the guy lying down?" he asked Ned.

  "It means it's time to sleep," Ned told him.

  Pat raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she questioned the old man.

  "Even castors need their sleep," Ned pointed out. He tipped his hat over his eyes and nestled atop his blanket. "Goodnight."

  Fred shrugged and laid down on his blanket. Pat rolled her eyes. "I will never understand castors," she grumbled. She turned over and lay her head down.

  The others took their positions on their blankets and soon the camp was quiet.

  CHAPTER 2

  Several hours later found Ruth the only one awake, though it was hard to tell with Sins. He sat with his back against one of the trees and had his hat low over his eyes, but his eyes were still wide open. Ruth paced the perimeter around the camp, but she neither heard nor saw anything to alarm her. Her thoughts invariably drifted to the camp conversation about the people of Kite and their dangerous amusement. Ruth paused at the edge of the trees and flexed her wings. She thought about flying high over the large city of String with the crowds far below her cheering her name as she flew to victory in their tournament. She would return to Tramadore the victor, and bring pride to her father and her clan.

  "Quiet night, isn't it?" a voice spoke up.

  Ruth yelped and swung around to find the silhouette of Ned holding his staff outlined in the dying embers of the fire. He was seated on a large, wide stone a few yards off. She clutched at her heart and gave him a shaky smile. "You startled me," she scolded him.

  Ned chuckled and walked over to take a seat on a nearby stump. "Didn't expect an enemy from the camp, or were your thoughts elsewhere?" he guessed.

  Ruth blushed and looked to the ground. "Elsewhere," she admitted.

  His eyes looked over her red face. "Perhaps at String?" She nodded, but didn't lift her head.

  "I am sorry I wasn't performing my duty. I will not let it happen again," she promised.

  Ned leaned forward on his staff and held a pensive expression on his face. "Every girl must have a dream. I imagine you haven't had a chance to do enough of that in your life."

  A small, sad smile slipped onto her face, and she shook her head. "Perhaps not," she agreed.

  Ned straightened and patted the empty spot beside him. "Then I will be the watch while you be the dreamer," he offered.

  Ruth frowned. "Do you not need more rest?" she asked him.

  He waved off her concern with his hand. "Old men like me need less sleep than the young, and the night is nearly half over already." Ruth smiled, folded her wings over herself like a cloak, and sat down beside him. She looked over the old gentleman at her side, who didn't fail to notice her perusal. "Is there something in my beard?" he wondered.

  Ruth laughed and shook her head. "No, but my father told me much about you before we left Tramadore."

  "I will deny the trouble and gladly accept the praise," Ned replied.

  Ruth covered her smile with her hand. "He did say you were a great deal of trouble when you were younger," she told him.

  "And I have yet to learn to stay out of it," he added with a wink.

  "He also told me you had improved greatly in your castoring abilities. He doesn't remember you being so strong. Did you practice a great deal to achieve such power?" she asked him. Ruth expected Ned to embrace the compliment with his usual immodesty, but his face fell. He closed his eyes and his hands on his staff tightened their grip. She set her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to catch a better glimpse of his face. "Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?" she asked him.

  Ned coughed and turned to her with his customary teasing smile. "I don't believe you could ever say anything wrong. Your heart is too pure," he commented.

  Ruth blushed and lay her hands in her lap. "I'm sure I've said a great many foolish things. I am very ignorant of the world."

  "Ignorance is easily remedied if the mind is willing," he countered. A small breeze fluttered by and washed over them. Ruth lifted her nose when she detected a sweet smell in its contents. Something small and soft hit her in the face and she snatched it off her nose. "What have you there?" Ned wondered.

  Ruth opened her palm and showed both of them a small, blue petal so thin it was partially transparent. She pinched it between two fingers and held it up to the starlight. The light glistened through the thin, shining object. "It is a petal. Do you know where is it from?" she asked Ned.

  Ned smiled. "To the north. There is an ancient grove of trees that was said to be blessed by a castor of pure heart and infinite wisdom. When he died his spirit entered the trees and endowed them with a beauty of color that is unmatched in the world."

  "Did you know this castor?" she wondered.

  Ned chuckled. "I hope you don't think I'm as old as that. The castor, Alan Pryor, died several centuries ago."

  Ruth slipped the petal onto her palm and brushed her fingers against the edges. They were as soft as silk. She looked to Ned. "May we see this grove?"

  He sighed and shook his head. "I, too, would like another sight of it, but the grove lies a day's ride out of our path."

  Ruth's face drooped. "Oh," she whispered.

  "But I may be able to help you preserve your memento," Ned suggested. He rummaged in his great cloak for a few minutes until his face brightened. "Ah-ha! Here it is." He pulled out a small, rectangular box six inches long and four inches wide with a depth of four inches. Its walls and bottom were carved from a tree of pale bark, but the inlay of the lid was clear glass. The interior was made of a soft velvet material that was stretched over the wooden bottom. There was a small clasp on the front to keep the lid closed. He offered it to her, and Ruth took it. "Place anything inside that box and it will stay fresh forever."

  Ruth's eyes widened. "Truly?" she asked him.

  He chuckled. "Truly."

  Her face brightened with a smile, and she quickly opened the lid and slipped the petal inside. The moment the lid was clasped a strange mist arose from the velvet and covered
the petal. In a second the mist retreated back into the velvet covering, and the petal remained in the center. Ruth tilted her head to one side and looked to Ned. "Did it work?" she asked him.

  "Turn it upside down and find out," he instructed her.

  Ruth turned the box upside down and was amazed when the petal remained stuck to the velvet bottom. She righted the box and peered into the glass. The petal had remained exactly where she set it. Not even a vein was ruffled. Ned smiled at her curious expression until she startled him with a wild shake of the box. She stopped and glanced at the box. The petal was the same as before. Unmoved and unchanged.

  "Is it stuck to the material?" she asked him.

  He smiled and shook his head. "No, the petal is frozen in time. So long as it remains in the box it will never age, nor wither, nor die."

  Ruth's mouth fell open and her voice was hushed. "How is that possible?" she wondered.

  "With magic and a little imagination, anything is possible," he replied.

  She held up the box and admired the craftsmanship. "But cannot this help the world?" she suggested. "Can we not save people by-"

  "Don't suggest that," Ned warned her. Ruth flinched and hurriedly set the box in her lap. Ned sighed and put his hand on the lid of the box. "Nothing was meant to last forever. Even the wood of this box will one day rot and fall away, and the magic will fade with it. That is how everything is, and how it must be. To ask for immortality obtained with magic is asking for a life worse than death."

  Ruth hung her head. "I am sorry."

  He sighed and slid his hand off the box. "You have nothing to apologize for. I had the same thoughts when I first stumbled on this box."

  "Where did you find it?" she asked him.

  "In a treasury of forgotten magic left behind by the ancient castors. I was-I was looking for answers to death." Ruth heard a tremor in his voice and glanced up. She found Ned looking up at the clear night sky, and the light above them traced the outlines of his weary face. She wondered what sorrowful memory made this man of energy so old. He sighed and rapped his knuckle on the box lid. "But this was all I found. It has its uses, and I trust you will make good use of it."