"-except a broken stick," Fred replied. He didn't want to do it, but he tucked the broken stick into his belt; he wasn't going to win this argument.
Ned smiled and patted the boy on the back. "That's the way! You'll make a fine guard for-"
"What are you two talking about?" Pat spoke up. She stopped ahead of them and turned with her arms folded across her chest; her foot tapped the ground and she glared at the pair.
The smile slipped from Ned's face and he quickly shook his head. "Nothing, nothing at all."
Pat narrowed her eyes. "Uh-huh, like I'm going to believe that. Your faces look guilty of something."
"Perhaps it's just the sun." Ned glanced up at the sky and squinted into the day star. "Very bright today, isn't it, Fred?" When the boy didn't reply, Ned nudged him with his shoulder.
"Oh? Yeah, real bright." Fred didn't want to be in this conversation; heck, he didn't want to be on this road with this strange pair. The boy promised himself that when he left them at the next town, he'd be sure to give back the stick.
"But what are we doing dawdling along like this?" Ned asked them. He hurried forward past Pat with his cloak billowing behind him. "We have places to be and people to see. Come, children, let's be off!" Fred hurried after the old man, and when he passed Pat she glanced down at his waist. He took hold of the stick, gave her a sheepish smile and sped up. When he looked back she followed, but with her suspicions written all over her face.
The journey was a continuation of yesterday's walk. They passed by small and large houses, small villages and through fields of trees and grass. Beyond the trees and grass could be seen hills, and beyond them lay snow-capped mountains with their stony sides. Fred wondered how large the world was with such far afield landscape. He was also curious when they'd reach the next town; his plan was still to separate himself from the pair, but he hadn't thought about it the entire day. Maybe he was getting used to their strangeness.
Fred ventured to ask about the distance when they stopped for camp. "How much farther until we reach the next town?" His feet felt like he'd walked dozens of miles; he didn't even know where he lived anymore.
Ned furrowed his brow and glanced up at the sky. The skyline had a heavier supply of trees; the farther they went the more forested the area became. "I would say another two days of travel should get us to Tramadore."
Pat groaned and sat herself down on a nearby log. She stretched out her stiff legs and winced when her feet cracked. "That far?" she complained.
"That far," Ned assured her.
"Two days..." Fred murmured.
Ned seated himself on a rock and smiled at the boy. "Were you expecting to be rid of us so soon?" he teased Fred.
Pat furrowed her face. "Rid of us? Where's he going?"
Fred held up his hands in front of himself. "No, well, it's just, maybe?" he squeaked out.
The girl glanced between the two men. "What's going on? I thought you bought this boy for a better reason than to take him for a short trip."
"I bought him in bad faith, and can't very well force him to stay with us," Ned pointed out.
"Then you should have left him where you found him. It would have meant a lot less trouble for us," she snapped.
Ned raised an eyebrow at her outburst, and she turned away from his inquisitive gaze. "Yes, well, what's done is done and we should try to make the best of it." He stood up and glanced around. "I'll go look for some wood, and you two try not to kill each other while you make a ring for the fire," he teased.
Ned toddled off into a clump of trees, and the pair got started on the fire pit. They worked silently while they gathered the stones, but when they went to arrange them Pat glanced at Ned's waist. She nodded at the stick. "Did Ned give you that?"
Fred followed her gaze and nodded. "Yeah. He said it'd be useful."
Pat wrinkled her nose. "It looks kind of broken." She held out her hand. "Let me see it." Fred stopped his arranging of the rocks and handed the stick over to her. She examined the ends, the wood, and even the thin strip of leather wrapped around the entire thing; then she handed it back. "Looks strong enough to beat a chicken. Is he expecting us to run into some fowl trouble?"
Fred shrugged and put the stick back into his belt. "I don't know. He said it'd help if he wasn't around and trouble came up."
"Help? Help how?" she asked him.
Fred shook his head. "I don't know, he just said it'd be useful in protecting-" The boy winced and slammed his mouth shut.
Pat wouldn't let him off that easily. "Protecting what?" When he didn't reply she grabbed his wrist and yanked him over the ring of rocks to her. "Protecting what?"
Fred cringed. "You."
The girl frowned, but released him. Fred pulled away and rubbed his wrist; she had enough strength in that hand as two men. "Me?" she asked him, and he nodded. Pat looked the boy up and down. "You're supposed to protect me?"
"That's just what Ned said, I didn't say it," Fred defended himself.
Pat shook her head and went back to stacking stones. "Just...just forget about it. Doesn't matter, anyway. You're leaving us in a few days, right?"
Fred wanted to ask what didn't matter, but he didn't dare. "Yeah, I guess I am." The joy he expected at saying those words didn't arise. Instead, the boy found himself wondering if he'd be forced from the group.
Fred shook off the feeling in his stomach and went back to work. By the time Ned returned with an armload of firewood the circle was done. He admired the work and smiled at the pair. "You two work very well together when you're not arguing." Fred wished Pat wasn't so good at multi-tasking, then at least he'd only have to deal with working with her or arguing.
The companions settled down for the night. Fred, feeling the odd man out and with new paste attached to his back, went to bed first, but he couldn't sleep. He lay there for an hour with thoughts of Ned's gift to him and Pat's anger at his being made her temporary protector. His insomnia rewarded him when he heard Pat speak to Ned in a hushed tone. "You really made that boy a protector for me?" she asked the old man.
"Maybe," was the mischievous reply.
"Pat's voice wasn't filled with such humor; she was mad. "Do you think this is some sort of a joke? That we can pick up a bunch of farm boys and use them as human shields to protect me? Because that's what they're going to be, meat shields. That boy there doesn't know the first thing about fighting, so he's going to die if we run into some real trouble."
Fred heard a stick play in the fire and cracked open his eyes. Ned had the fire stick in his hand, and the old man stared at the flames and contemplated her statement. "So you think he'll die?" he asked the girl.
"How can he live, especially if Lord Canaver manages to find us?" Pat asked him. Fred was intrigued by this new name; he'd never heard of it before, but from the tremble in Pat's voice he guessed the fellow was someone to fear. Pat sighed and shook her head. "You know I speak the truth, Sir Ned. The boy can't stay with us, even if he chooses to. When we come to the next town, he must go."
Ned chuckled and set the fire stick aside. He took his own staff in hand and stood. His eyes looked down on the girl with a smile. "I told you a title doesn't suit me, and you're always to call me Ned," he softly scolded.
Pat didn't flinched from his gaze. "I'm sorry, Ned, but my argument for the boy still stands. He must go."
Ned pursed his lips together, closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, perhaps you're right. He isn't trained to fight. Yes, we'll leave him at the next town." Ned moved around the fire and Fred stiffened when the old man passed close by him. Ned paused just beside the boy, and turned back to Pat. She had her eyes on the fire now, and her face showed years of worry premature for her age. "I suppose no amount of proof can change your mind?"
Pat sighed and glanced up at the old man. "Only if a miracle happens and he grows a pair."
Ned smiled and Fred felt the tip of the man's staff softly nudge him in the side. "A lot can happen in a day's time," Ned pointed out.
"I
doubt that much could happen," Pat countered in a tone of finality.
Ned took the hint, and soon the pair retired for the night. Fred stayed awake for a while longer thinking over their conversation. It looked like he had no other choice; come the next town, he would leave them.
CHAPTER 8
The next morning broke dark and gloomy. Thick, black clouds hung over them, and for Fred so did the constant realization that he would soon be completely on his own in this large, unknown world. The companions went on their way along the deserted road. No one else dared venture from their homes except to tend to necessary chores. There were also very few houses along the way, and none on the stretch of road they now found themselves.
Pat glanced up at the sky and frowned. "Do you think we'll make it to Tramadore before this storm hits?"
Ned, too, looked up and his furrowed his face. "The speed of the clouds is too great. It will strike us tonight."
The girl turned her head from side to side along the road. "Then we'll have to find a shelter or something to sleep in. Keep your eyes out for anything that can hold at least two of us."
Fred winced at the number; as the least important to the group he'd be the odd man out. The companions only stopped for a brief lunch and continued down the road. The trees grew closer to the dirt road and obscured their view of the mountains that crept ever closer. Fred stayed close to the others, fearful another of those tree monsters would snatch him away. He unconsciously reached up and grasped the broken stick at his waist. The feel of the wood beneath his fingers gave him comfort.
The weather worsened with the lengthening afternoon. The companions pushed onward while the wind picked up and tried to push them back. The clouds blocked the sun completely and the smell of rain permeated the air. Shadows crept from the trees over to the three, and in the darkness they grew cold.
Pat sidled up to Ned and nodded toward the trees. "We need to seek shelter in there," she yelled above the wind.
Ned shook his head. "I know of a small stone shelter beyond here. We can rest comfortably there."
"If that shelter still exists. You said you haven't been along here in ages," she reminded him.
"If I'm wrong then we will go into the trees," he acquiesced.
Fred wandered behind them, bundled in the borrowed cloak and miserable. The exhilaration of adventure languished beneath the harsh realities of road travel, and all he wanted was to be home. Hope revived in him when the pair ahead stopped; the shelter had been found. He hurried forward, expecting them to turn off, but they stood in the middle of the road. Fred saw they stared at something ahead on the road and followed their gaze. His eyes widened when he saw the road was covered in trees. The flora were tall, ancient oaks, and there were a half dozen with their roots firmly planted in the ground.
Pat glanced over to Ned. "Were these here the last time you went through?" Ned shook his head, and her lips pursed together. "Didn't think so."
"So what do we do now?" Fred asked them. Rain droplets bounced off of them; they would soon be caught in the full force of the storm.
The ones to answer his question were the trees. Their limbs groaned when they stretched out toward the companions, and their roots cracked as they broke from the hard soil. Fred's heart stopped beating when he realized these trees were the same as the one from last night, but there were a lot more.
Ned flung back his arms and herded the other two back. "Get back!" he commanded them. "These creatures must have heard the cry of their brethren and wish to avenge it!" He stepped forward and raised his staff above his head in a challenge to the angry trees.
Then Ned tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the hard dirt. For a few seconds Fred and Pat stared at him in disbelief. They snapped out of their daze when the trees roared with anger and stomped toward them. The pair rushed forward and each took a shoulder; they shook Ned hard, but he didn't awaken.
"Come on, Ned!" Pat cried out. She turned him over and held his head in her lap. Blood dripped from a small wound on his forehead. "You have to wake up!"
A smile slipped onto Ned's face, but his eyes didn't open. "Oh mommy, I saw a pretty tree today," he murmured.
Pat growled and whipped her head around to their oncoming enemies. She pushed Ned's head back into the dirt, stood and grabbed an arm. "Help me!" she hissed at Fred. Fred grabbed Ned's other arm, and together they tried to pull their unconscious companion away from the monsters. Ned's body didn't move an inch. "What's he got in that stupid cloak of his, a house full of pay-dirt?" Pat cried out. They tried again, but with the same result. She tossed Ned's arm aside and unsheathed her weapon. "Stay with him," she ordered Fred.
She didn't wait for Fred to nod before she stepped forward to face the creatures. They roared and let loose their limbs at her. She hacked what she could, leaving a pile of flopping, twitching branches at her feet. The creatures were hardly slowed by her efforts and formed a semi-circle around her. They sacrificed smaller limbs and followed them with the larger ones. Pat's sword sliced through the air as fast as she could manage, but a large branch blind-sided her. She was tossed to the ground and her sword slid off beneath the creatures. Their roots grabbed the weapon and dragged it beneath their bodies, and the companions heard a terrible snap as the blade broke in half.
Fred watched the horrific scene unfold as he knelt beside Ned. Pat flipped over onto her stomach and scrambled to her feet, but one of the trees caught her foot. She fell hard back to the ground and clawed at the dirt when it dragged her back. Fred shook Ned hard, but the old man didn't stir; maybe he was dead, or badly wounded. Either way he couldn't help Pat; the only one who could do that was Fred.
The boy looked around for something to help him, and remembered the broken stick at his waist. He pulled it out and the end held by the thin thread of leather knocked him in the face. Fred rubbed the bruised spot and dashed over to Pat. Other monster limbs had attached themselves to her arms, and they pulled back in different directions; they meant to tear her limbs off. Fred gave a great cry and whacked at the branches with his broken stick. Like a ruler on fingers, the creatures screamed and flinched back. That allowed Fred enough time to grab Pat and tear her from their grasp.
The trees weren't affected for long, and they came back with double the anger. Fred furiously swung his stick in every direction, deflecting and bruising the branches that came close. Pat climbed to her feet and he pulled her behind him. She didn't argue; he was the only one with a weapon. Fred and Pat stumbled backwards, and the creatures followed. The trees encircled the pair, blocking off their route to Ned and sealing them in a wall of whipping branches.
Pat pressed her back against Fred's and she clasped her hand in his; he felt her tremble with the fear of the horrible death that awaited them. "I-I'm sorry about all the bad things I said," she told him.
Fred squeezed her hand; he knew she hadn't meant any of it. "Don't give up just yet," he encouraged her.
She let out a barking laugh. "I'm pretty sure now's a pretty good time to give up." The trees edged closer and their mouths gnashed at the pair. Their branches shut off the light above them and slunk along the ground toward them. They were trapped; doomed.
Fred scowled and glanced at the thrashing creatures around them. He never imagined himself dying in such a gruesome, unheroic way; what would their deaths accomplish here? Nothing, and that made him mad. His hand gripped tightly the broken stick, and he was surprised when a sudden light pulsed at his side. Pat and he glanced down, and saw that the stick glowed. Fred raised the stick in front of him and watched in shock as the leather around the weapon untied itself. The feeble appearance of a broken stick fell away to reveal a long, smooth staff with a crook at the very top. Atop the crook lay a small, blue gemstone that gave off a new, brighter light. The creatures cried out against the burning brilliance and retreated a dozen yards.
Pat glanced over Fred's shoulder and her eyes widened. "Is that a castor staff?" she asked him.
Fred furiously shook his
head. "I don't know, it just changed to this!"
The creatures covered their faces with their limbs and rekindled their attacks. The branches swept back toward them, but this time they had a different focus; the staff.
Pat ducked behind Fred and nodded at the oncoming enemies. "Well, whatever you did you'd better do something like it again!"
The smaller branches shot out ahead of the larger ones, and pointed their sharp ends at the pair like wooden daggers. Other limbs went for the staff to wrap themselves around the stick and break it apart. Fred thought about what he did to make it change; he'd gripped it tight. The boy did likewise, and this time with both hands. The light didn't grow brighter, and the creatures kept coming. The monstrous branch at the head of the onslaught propelled itself at his head, ready to stab right through him. Fred instinctively held up the staff in front of him to block the blow, and he slammed shut his eyes.
He heard a terrible scream and opened his eyes in time to see the end of the limb disintegrate. The creature's limb had collided with his staff, or rather with the pulsing shield of light that surrounded it. The branch shuddered and pulled back, but that didn't stop the rest of it from crumbling. The destruction swept up the length of the limb and into the main body of the tree. The creature cried out in agony when its body fell away into a pile of dust, and that was quickly taken by the wind. The other creatures scuttled back, but the shield of light expanded toward them like a giant wall of shimmering brilliance. The light swept over their branches and their bodies, sweeping them all away into oblivion. In a moment the danger was gone, destroyed by the staff that had been a broken stick a few minutes before.
Fred and Pat stood dumbfounded as the storm above them finally loosened the rain. The droplets fell on the remains of the creatures and sizzled atop their smoldering ashes. The boy glanced down at the staff in his hands. The light softened and faded, and with it went the magic. The staff transformed into its original shape of a broken stick wrapped in leather. Then the pair heard a slow clap. They whirled around ready for another fight, and saw Ned standing there with a smile on his face and no longer a wound on his forehead. "Bravo, my lad. I couldn't have done it in a flashier way if I'd tried."
The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) Page 6