Lightfoot

by Joe Kuster

  Copyright © 2020 by Joe Kuster

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Other books by this author

  Entangled Fates

  Thoughtful Cyberpunk transhumanism meets Jason Borne, with a dash of Charlie's Angels.

  Entangled Fates 1 - Quantum Beginnings

  Entangled Fates 2 - Quantum Proliferation

  Entangled Fates 3 - Quantum Escape

  Entangled Fates 4 - Quantum Decay

  Contents

  Other books by this author

  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

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Thank you, reader!

  Other authors you might like

  Special thanks to

  Chapter 1

  The sunshine in Eden’s Meadow, and that of the lands surrounding it, was unlike most. It radiated life and energy, like all stars that supported habitable realms. However, much like anything in the multiverse, not every sun was the same. While most variances were in temperature or hue, a few just had to be different.

  Where ordinary burning balls in the sky offered warmth, light, and a chance to get a sunburn, the realm that contained Eden’s Meadow was a unique place. Born of a higher domain, it offered the beings that inhabited the mudball far below something more. In fact, it provided just a hint of primordial divinity—that and sunburns.

  TJ yawned and smacked his lips, then nestled back into his little paradise. He’d somehow found the perfect ratio of sunshine and shade for an afternoon nap. Dappled sunbeams danced across his deeply tanned skin, and there was just the right amount of soft breeze to sway the tree he was roosted in. The breeze swirled, sneaking its way down his robes and tickling the downy feathers that lined his back. Smiling contentedly at a nearby puffy cloud that drifted lazily by, he idly tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind an ear.

  He’d worked the last twelve days straight on the manual labor crew to earn an off-day, and he was intent on making the absolute most of doing nothing. As soon as he was done doing nothing, he planned to get absolutely hammered at the tavern. If he flirted with the waitstaff enough to swing a sweetheart discount, he might even manage to get something better than the watered-down potato vodka they liked to sling.

  He was about to comment to himself about it being a perfect day when a small scratching sound reached his ears. It perked his attention for a moment, but as the noise went away, so did his concerns. He made a half-hearted glance around the bark of the gigantic tree he was in, but saw nothing on its ramp-like sloped surface that warranted consideration.

  Quickly disregarding the distraction, he leaned back into the thousand-year-old oak tree and continued to let the broad leaves flutter softly around him. He was nearly asleep when an acorn thudded into the bridge of his nose.

  Shaking his head, he blinked in confusion. He opened his bleary eyes just in time to see something gray and furry hurling toward his face. Making a scream that was in no possible way effeminate, he toppled off his branch and smacked his head into the one below it.

  He’d have stopped there, but he overcorrected, and the next two blows landed on his shoulder, then another to his thigh. One limb managed to hook his ankle, slowing his descent as it bowed under his weight, then released. The air exploded from TJ’s lungs as he landed folded in half over the lowest tree limb.

  Wheezing, he did his best to angle himself before he let go. He’d planned on sliding down the broad slope of the trunk on his backside. It worked for the first dozen feet, so he tried to correct and aim for a soft pile of forest duff and a bush that might slow his fall. He about had it, but his feet slipped loose and sent him headlong and entirely out of control.

  Unknown to him, the ancient dryad that tended the forest was half-hidden in his targeted shrub. Nixy was lazily poking at her moss garden with a toe as he bodily slammed into her. She let out a surprised yelp as he landed with the hem of his robes pulled over his head.

  Blindly scrambling from atop her, he ended up with a handful of fleshy dryad boob as he tried to lift himself free.

  Affronted by his accidental assault of her person, she slapped him hard across the face, then kicked at him until he tumbled away.

  “Damn it, TJ! Watch where you’re landing,” she hollered.

  Groaning from his position amid the leaves and moss, TJ did a quick check of his person. He realized he’d gotten lucky, and nothing was terribly injured aside from his pride. Much like his life thus far, his slow fall from the great oak had been a comedy of errors that didn’t amount to much.

  He stood slowly and looked to the achingly attractive gray-skinned woman. Her green eyes dissected him as though she were seriously debating if he’d make an acceptable mulch for her garden.

  He scratched at his head, trying to work up an appropriate apology. The ability for a dryad to hold a grudge was legendary, and the last thing he wanted was for her to kick him out of her domain. Her trees towered over all the rest in the meadow, after all. That and if he managed to seriously offend her, he’d be destroyed out of hand.

  His ribs complained as he bowed deeply. “My sincere apologies, great mistress of the oaks. My personal failings are sadly well known. I sincerely hope that you may prove as merciful as you are beautiful.”

  An annoyed harrumph was all he got in response before she frowned and leaned against the tree that served as her home with arms crossed under her bust.

  She wasn’t precisely cordial about the situation, but it was better than having the tree’s roots lash him to the ground while she set about beating him until her ire cooled. It wouldn’t even be the first time.

  While not looking a day over twenty, the short, curvy woman was over a thousand years old and had a lot more power than anyone might guess from looks alone. A casual wave of her hand could cause the land to swallow entire armies. Like most of the beings that lurked around the outskirts of Eden’s Meadow, it would take nearly nothing for her to annihilate him.

  Seeing that her mild huff of displeasure was as close to a conversation as he was going to get, he dusted himself off and unfurled his wings from his back, giving them a brief flutter. Confirming the magic-infused appendages were uninjured, he pulled them back through the slits in his robe where they folded against his back.

  He glanced into the unusually thick oak’s limbs, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Staring up to the lush green leaves, his eyes caught a glimpse of movement.

  Spotting his opponent at the same moment it spotted him, he whined, “Ah… shit.”

  An overly fat gray squirrel flung itself from thirty feet, directly at his face.
TJ tried to dodge but stumbled backward over a root. The shift caused the rodent to miss his face. Instead, it seemed quite content to tuck its feet together just in time to smack into his groin with its maximum velocity.

  A pained groan blasted out of his mouth as the animal scurried up to his face. He pinched his eyes closed and tried to ignore the fact that Gus had pointedly dragged his not-so-little fuzzy testicles against TJ’s chin.

  Sighing, he carefully kept his lips as tight as possible to avoid Gus’s furry body as he muttered out, “I’ll go to see the master now, Gus.”

  With a chirp that sounded like a flurry of insults, the critter leaped free of his face.

  TJ rubbed at his bruised ribs and yelled at the animal, “You could have killed me!”

  Gus responded with another burst of chittering before dashing into the nearby foliage.

  Nixy howled with glee and doubled over. The move caused her pale green hair to change to a darker moss color as it momentarily hid her face. Her naked chest shook with laughter in a way that caused TJ’s mouth to go dry.

  TJ sat up, pried his eyes from her dark nipples, and gave the incredibly powerful, yet very nude, nature spirit an embarrassed shrug. Any sense of her anger seemed to have disappeared, so he assumed he was now in safe territory.

  “Would you like to know what Gus said?” she asked with a mirthful grin.

  TJ grumbled, “Probably that I’m a clumsy idiot that disgraces the Lightfoot name and that if I don’t get to the pavilion this instant, he’s going to chew my balls off while I sleep.”

  Snorting, the dryad nodded. “Well, that, and that you’re a dumb ass that should have just opened your wings.” She placed an elegant finger to her lips. “I had no idea you had learned to speak with animals.”

  “Eh, I haven’t. Not really. Master Thratum’s familiar just doesn’t change up his insults, so I’m starting to figure them out,” TJ admitted as he stood. Bowing formally, he offered, “If I may have your leave, honored grove mistress, I believe I’m being summoned.”

  The dryad smirked and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. It might have been his imagination, but he caught her eyes roaming his body just a little longer than was polite as he readjusted his robes. Given the nature of what she was, that was entirely possible.

  He promised himself he’d be back later. His faux pas may have just given him an excuse to come back and deliver an apology gift, along with a social call. He knew of a pink moss a half-hour’s flight away that she’d probably enjoy adding to her collection.

  Turning from the woman, he briefly looked down at his right hand. He’d somehow managed to cop a feel with Nixy and survived. That was worth a bit of bragging in its own right. With a few embellishments, the story might even be worth a few rounds on the house later. Most villagers were terrified of those that lived in the outskirts as they tended to carry quite the reputation. Even a mundane encounter was worth retelling, but anything with direct contact would have the regulars pulling up stools around him to hear the tale.

  Grinning, he bounded through the waist-high grass. Spreading out his light-colored wings to their full span, he gave a quick test flap, then took to the air with a hop. Heading to the northern side of the clearing, he soared until he spotted the large wooden frame that would soon be the celebration tent.

  He couldn’t see Master Thratum, but he spotted the area where the workers seemed to be moving the fastest. Assuming the man was up to his usual harassment of work crews, that was a safe bet to begin the search.

  Giving a few flaps to gain altitude, he caught a glimpse of bright white robes. Vectoring that way, he waited until most of his momentum was spent, then flared his wings, pulling himself to a stop and dropping to his feet before the crowd of people began.

  Dodging two workers carrying a wooden beam, he nearly stumbled. He caught himself, but only by colliding with a large cat-man.

  The man with yellow and black fur started to yell, “Hey! Watch it…” He then saw who had bumped into him and merely gave TJ a light shove. “Ah, it’s you, I should have figured. Master has been looking for you.”

  Dipping his head in apology to his coworker, he backed away and closed with the center of the thrum of people. TJ sighed internally. He just couldn’t seem to keep his footing, no matter what he did, and it wasn’t doing him any favors with the rest of his assigned labor team.

  “I said keep it level! Does that look level, Darrius-Seena? I should pluck your feathers, you imbecile!” Master Thratum roared over the din of pounding hammers. “And you! You! What the hell do you think you’re doing! Those stakes need to go all the way in! Yes, in the ground, nitwit! I will NOT have this tent fall on the Lady of the Stars.”

  An involuntary gasp slipped TJ’s lips, and he wasn’t the only one. Even the pounding of hammers stopped dead. All around him, panicked glances darted around, as though the old man’s words had summoned the terrifying woman.

  When his build team had been assigned to construct the tents, TJ had heard that a Deva force was returning to celebrate their latest victory in pacifying an entire realm. Still, no one had mentioned that Saphinium would be returning to the meadow. TJ couldn’t help but grimace. Anytime her forces returned, people died.

  Whether from overzealous courting on the part of her soldiers, their drunken displays of power, or in response to what they perceived as a slight, deaths were a near certainty. Even something as simple as having their wine glass slosh about a little too much while being placed before them might mean being dismembered.

  He had no doubt that Eden’s Meadow would lose at least a few of its citizens during the upcoming event. The various races of people that made up the village were little more than the mercurial beings’ playthings. Sometimes treated with kindness and lavished with gifts, and only moments later punished in terrifying ways.

  Shaking his thoughts free, he took several steps toward the man at the center of the crowd and cleared his throat.

  Even with his back turned, the gray-haired man gave a disappointed sigh. “So nice of you to finally join us, Tadriel-Valandras. Gus tells me you were asleep in a tree.”

  Bowing as the man turned, TJ couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. If the master were angry with him, he wouldn’t have addressed him informally. The man came from the school of using more names in direct relation to how irritated he was. Anything over three let everyone in the vicinity know to run for cover to avoid the old man’s summoned elementals that were sure to follow.

  Two names didn’t mean he was free of danger, but if he showed enough face, he’d probably avoid being used as a test target for the man’s water spells unless he said something incredibly stupid.

  “How may I serve?” TJ asked while trying to look humble.

  The old man groaned and rubbed at his temples. “You missed the name board allotments this morning.”

  “Oh… today is my off-day, so I didn’t know it was up yet. I can go put my name on it this very moment, Master,” TJ replied.

  The sheer fact the grumpy old bastard was acting so kind had TJ worried. By now, TJ expected screaming or yelling. Perhaps commanding someone else to throw a hammer at him. Instead, the gray-haired man only looked sympathetic.

  The older Breeze Dancer shook his head slowly. “Don’t bother. There was only one position left. You’re dancing at the ceremony. At her inner court’s table.”

  “But… but… I… can’t,” TJ stammered and looked down to his awkward feet.

  “You know the rules. First come, first served. The name board is sacred, so sayeth our benefactors,” Master Thratum said. Switching to a softer voice, he continued, “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. Take the next few days to prepare as you see fit.”

  TJ tried, “I… what if someone trades me?”

  The other man replied with a scoff and turned back to the work crews.

  TJ’s heart hammered in his chest.

  He was a dead man.

  This was it.

  He was going to die
.

  Chapter 2

  One foot fell in front of the other as he walked slowly along the simple dirt path. Around him, the sounds of daily life droned on. Hundreds of villagers had been crammed in the tiny tenements and did their best to fulfill their assigned tasks. Occasionally, someone would bump into him, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than what lay before him.

  He muttered, “I could swap… no… no, that won’t work. But what if… no, she’s nice, but she’s not an idiot. Maybe Talli? No… she’s already serving, so she’d probably take her chances doing what she knows best. Densa’s a good dancer, but… no, he’s better on a lute and he managed to pull band duty.”

  He’d stopped by to read the name board, but it hadn’t been good news. While the village had plenty of incredibly skilled entertainers, none would willingly risk their lives by choosing a task that would put them close to Saphinium. They had probably given their role a lot of thought before they’d opted to slot their name into the work assignment. They wouldn’t be talked out of it lightly or, likely, at all.

  As his feet reached the end of the path, his eyes lifted to scan the simple wooden building he called home. The shack was little more than four walls, a door, one slatted window, and a roof, but it kept his handful of possessions dry. He knocked the light coating of mud off his well-worn sandals before taking them off. Opening the door, he swung out the rickety window shutter, letting in more light.

  A simple straw bed lay in one corner atop the hard-packed dirt floor. A wooden stool, an unfinished dresser, and a few shelves of simple knickknacks completed the one-room affair.

  Focusing on the clutter that lined the wall, his fingers danced absentmindedly across the simple board held aloft by two lengths of tree branch. He blew out a long, slow exhale as he ran a finger along the poorly carved edge, careful to avoid the spots that were likely to cause a splinter.

  His attempt at furniture making was the type of thing that would cause the craftsmen in the village to cringe. He’d had no idea what he was doing but needed some way of keeping his items out of the mud during the last rainy season.