The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1)

by Heidi Willard

  After their initial shock at seeing him unharmed, Pat's eye twitched and her voice held a promise of violence. "You were never hurt, were you?"

  The old man straightened himself and puffed out his chest. "Quite a good actor. I should have taken up theater."

  Pat's fists clenched at her sides and Fred stepped away from her. "And you knew it would do that? That the stick would save us?" she asked him.

  Ned sheepishly grinned. "Well, I knew Fred here had the talent, and the stick had the ability. Whether or not they could come together was a bit of a question."

  The girl growled and launched herself at the old man. She grabbed his cloak and pulled their faces together. "You crazy old man! You could have gotten us all killed!" With each point she gave him a good shake.

  "B-but I didn't!" he protested. "Besides, if things would have gotten worse I would have stepped in."

  "How?" she challenged him.

  Ned smirked and held out his hand that grasped the staff. "Like this." His staff was illuminated by a brilliant light like the one from Fred's stick, but much more intense. The heat itself forced Pat to release Ned and stumble back with her hand shielding her eyes. Fred did the same with his arms, and the pair blinked like hoot owls until Ned lowered his staff. The light faded and they were able to see Ned had a big grin on his face. "See? There was never anything to worry about."

  Pat's anger wasn't quelled. "If you could do that than why didn't you do it from the start?"

  Ned raised an eyebrow as though her question was foolish. "How were you both going to believe Fred was useful unless you witnessed it for yourselves?"

  "Useful? You call dumb luck useful?" Pat snapped back. She waved her arm at the boy with his broken stick. "He was just lucky that that stick changed and saved us."

  "Really? You think it was an accident?" Ned asked her.

  Pat frowned. "No, I think anybody can save the day with the right weapon. He had the right weapon because you gave it to him. You wanted him to succeed so you could keep him around for some purpose I can't imagine."

  Ned looked into her face, saw the seriousness of her accusation, and glanced over to Fred. "Fred, come here." Fred hesitated; he would rather hide away from this argument. Ned sternly looked the boy in the eyes. "Come here. I need to show you both something." Fred shuffled his way over to them, and Ned held out his hand. "Give me the stick." The boy did as he was bidden, and Ned turned to Pat; he held out the stick to her. "Show me how you are able to perform the same trick."

  Pat scowled and swiped the stick from his hand. She looked it over for some secret button or magic touch spot, but saw nothing. Her hands felt all over the broken stick, going over every inch, but still nothing. She held it out as Fred had done; that added another failure to her list. Pat looked to Fred. "How do you get it to work?"

  Fred held up his hands and shook his head. "No idea," he replied.

  She glanced over to Ned. "What sort of trick is needed to open this up?"

  Ned leaned on his staff and grinned. "No tricks, no lies. That is a castor staff in disguise."

  "Very funny, but how do you get it to open?" she demanded to know.

  The old man nodded his head toward Fred. "Ask him, he's the only one of us here who's ever been able to open it."

  Pat blinked and glanced between the men. She pointed a finger at Fred. "Wait, so he's the only one who can do that. You can't?" Ned smiled and gave a nod. Pat looked back to Fred, and he cringed when her eyes narrowed. She marched up to him and shoved the stick into his hands. "Show us how you did it."

  Fred was at a loss. "B-but I don't know how I did it. It just sort of happened."

  "A castor staff appearing out of this old stick doesn't just sort of happen. You have to make it happen, now make it happen again," she ordered him.

  Fred glanced over to Ned, who leaned over his own staff and shrugged. "Why does this matter, anyway?" Fred asked Pat. "We're alive, why should we care about an old stick that does that? His does that." He pointed at Ned.

  "Don't you know anything about magic?" Pat scolded him. "These things just don't grow on trees."

  Ned held up a finger. "Actually, castor staffs do grow on trees. The trees just have to be special."

  Pat rolled her eyes. "Well, wherever they come from they're rare, and not everybody can use them. I want to know how you can use one."

  "Isn't it obvious?" Ned asked her playfully.

  Fred looked to Pat, Pat looked to Fred, and they both glanced at Ned. Pat gestured to the boy. "You're serious? This boy can't be one."

  Ned chuckled. "And why can't he? You've seen the proof yourself. He has talent."

  Fred's head swiveled between the pair. He had an inkling of what they were talking about, but couldn't grasp the enormity of it. "Wait, what? I've got talent for what?"

  Pat sullenly scowled and didn't turn to Fred when she spoke. "This old man here says you have talent to become a castor."

  The boy blinked. Then he glanced between them and their expressions, one amused and the other in angered disbelief. "So is this supposed to be a big deal? You two act like the color of the sky has changed."

  Ned stepped forward and patted the boy on the back. "Maybe one day you'll see it do just that, but until then you have a very important decision to make."

  "What's that?" Fred squeaked.

  "You have to decide whether to go on with your normal, boring life, or becoming a castor."

  CHAPTER 9

  Fred shook his head. "I don't even what that means. Is it a big deal to be a castor? What do they even do?"

  Pat huffed and stalked off over to where her broken sword lay. She wrapped up the remains in spare cloth from their provisions, and tucked them into a bag. Without another word she returned to the road and went off without the men.

  Fred frowned and looked to the old man at his side. "Why's she mad at me? I didn't mean to do any of this," the boy asked him.

  Ned leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. "She doesn't like surprises, especially one this extraordinary."

  "Why does that matter? You two are going to leave me at the next town," Fred countered.

  Fred paled at his outing of himself, but Ned's eyes own twinkled. "So you heard that, did you? I supposed you had, but you'd better keep it a secret from Pat. She won't like it."

  "She doesn't like me," Fred corrected the old man.

  Ned pulled at his beard and watched the girl disappear down the road. "Maybe that's what this whole sullen show is all about," he mused. Then he wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "No, nothing that extraordinary could happen." He turned back and found Fred gazing down at the broken stick. Ned's humor softened and he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You don't have to make the decision just yet. There's always time. Well, until it's too late."

  "I don't even know what those words mean. The ones about the decision," Fred replied. He looked over the stick, and a fear slowly built up inside of him. He'd wondered if it was possible for him to become a castor, and now that he knew the answer all that power scared him. Maybe he'd end up hurting someone the next time, rather than saving them. Fred held out the stick toward Ned. "Take it."

  Ned frowned. "It was meant to be a gift," the old man pointed out.

  Fred shook his head. "I was planning on giving this back to you when we got to the town. I'm just doing it early."

  Ned looked into the boy's eyes and slowly gave a nod of his head. He took the stick and placed it back into his cloak. "Very well, I'll hold onto it for you."

  "No, just keep it," Fred firmly replied.

  The old man bowed his head and gestured down the road. Night would soon be upon them and they still hadn't found shelter from the storm. The rain pounded down and soaked the pair to the skin. "We had better follow her before more trouble pops up," Ned advised.

  The men followed and soon caught up to Pat. They were quiet as they walked along the muddy road; each one was stuck in their own thoughts. Fred was consumed by the memories of the battle, an
d more than once he glanced down at his hand. His fingers were like they'd always been, a little stubby but normal. He still couldn't quite believe that he'd made that staff change like that, but the proof was right there in his memories. A small part of him was tempted to try out the stick again, but his mind was mostly made up. He didn't want to touch something powerful enough to destroy monsters with only its light. Maybe in the next town, this Tramadore, he could pick up some smaller tricks and make a living off of that. If anything, he could entertain kids.

  The companions reached the stone enclosure, and settled themselves beneath its sturdy roof. They slept well, and the next morning Fred awoke to the sound of screaming. His eyes shot open and he bolted up. He looked wildly around and saw there was no one else around; his companions were gone. Then he heard the noise again, but this time it was more faint, like a whimper. He bolted up off the stone floor and looked out toward the river.

  Fred was sure the sounds came from that way, so he sped off down a path that led to the water. He saw a pile of clothes by the riverbank, neatly folded up and with a simple towel on top of them. That's when he realized that maybe things weren't as he'd assumed them to be, but by then it was too late. He skidded to a stop at the river's edge and stared straight at Pat, who stood in the water completely naked. Without her armor she had all the curves of an aspiring beauty. Rounded hips, nice breasts, pale skin.

  They looked at each other for one long, surprised moment, and then she let out a scream like the one he'd heard and ducked down into the water to hide everything below the neck. He spun on his heels, and his face felt like it was on fire.

  "W-what the hell are you doing here!" Pat screamed at him.

  "I thought you were in trouble! You were screaming!" he shouted back. He heard her huff.

  "That's because this water is freezing," she grumbled. "I tried to walk in quickly, but the cold temperature surprised me, that's all."

  "If it's so cold then why are you in there?" Fred asked her. When she didn't reply, he worried and cast a chance glimpse over his shoulder. Her eyes drove daggers into his own, and he whipped his head back.

  "It's because she wishes to be clean for our arrival at the castle," a voice spoke up. Ned surprised both of them when he stepped out of a patch of bushes close by Fred.

  Pat glared at him. "How long have you been standing there?"

  Ned held up his hands. "I never assumed the danger was in the water, so I kept my eyes on the forest," he promised her.

  "I'm sure..." she mumbled with her scowl still on her face.

  "What about a castle?" Fred asked the old man.

  Ned waved off Fred's question. "Oh, it's nothing. We were merely invited to Lord Tramadore's castle for a banquet and entertainment. His family has ruled over Tramadore since its founding, hence the identical names."

  "M-must you tell him e-everything?" Pat chattered out.

  "You should finish your bath, my dear Pat, before you catch your death of cold," Ned scolded.

  Her face heated up so that Ned wondered it didn't boil the water. "I can't because you two idiots are standing beside my clothes!"

  Ned slipped a puzzled expression onto his face until he noticed the pile close to Fred. "Oh, these are your clothes, are they?"

  "You know damn well they are, now get away, both of you!" Pat hissed back.

  Ned pulled at his beard and glanced between the two youngsters. "You know, I expect Lord Tramadore will serve up a very great feast at every meal." Fred salivated at the thought of a feast put on by a great lord, but he snapped himself to attention and scurried out of there. Ned chuckled at the boy's hasty retreat and turned back to Pat. "If we're to abandon the boy in Tramadore, shouldn't we have the decency to make sure he's well fed before we part?"

  Pat scowled at him. "I know what you're g-getting at, and the answer is no. He wasn't invited to the c-castle, and he wouldn't belong there."

  "Oh, I don't know," Ned mused as he glanced down at her clean clothes. "He's not a bad looking fellow. A few nice clothes, a good bath, and he'll look the part of a prince."

  "I said no, now l-leave so I can get out of here," she ordered. Ned promptly turned and sat down atop her clothes and towel. Her mouth dropped open. "What in the world are you d-doing? Get off those and r-return to the enclosure! I demand it!"

  "I want only this last concession," he asked of her. His voice was soft, almost pleading. "Let the boy come with us to Tramadore Castle, and then we can be rid of him afterwords."

  Pat sighed and shivered; she wrapped her arms around herself, but her skin was too chilled to warm up with her cold hands. "F-fine, but after the castle he's gone."

  Ned smiled, stood up and gave a bow at the waist. "I will have a warm breakfast when you return to the campsite."

  "You'd better," she grumbled.

  At his retreating back Pat eagerly raised herself from the water. Ned paused and turned back, forcing her to dunk herself back into the freezing icicle river. "Oh, and don't forget to relinquish your armor to me. We wouldn't want others to know you for who you really are."

  Pat scowled at him. "I know, now leave!"

  Ned scurried off back to the campsite and Fred; the boy remained unaware of this deal, but he still hoped to have a taste of the hinted-at feasts. His hopes rose when, after breakfast, Ned advised him to clean his appearance. "Why would I do that?" Fred asked him as they sat around the warm fire.

  Ned leaned forward on his staff and gave a wink. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

  Pat rolled her eyes, but had to hide a smile when Fred bumbled about to gather a towel and rush down to the water. When he'd gone she turned to Ned. "Are you sure you're not setting him up for disappointment? Lord Tramadore is generous with his hospitality, but he is very protective of his chair."

  Ned waved off her concerns with a shake of his head. "I foresee no problems with Lord Tramadore, and as for his chair, perhaps Fred here can amuse the company by trying to sit in it." Ned looked at Pat with a twinkle in his eyes. "Perhaps you want to try your hand at sitting in the chair?"

  Pat frowned and looked away. "Maybe, if I'm invited to do so," she replied.

  Fred returned in short order, his body clean but his clothes still filthy from the first encounter with the tree monsters. Ned wasn't worried. "We'll get you a new set at Tramadore."

  "It seems we're spending more gold on his wardrobe than on food," Pat grumbled.

  A short time later the companions set off down the muddy road. The sky that day was clear, and the sun hung over them like a bright flame and warmed their body and spirits. Fred watched for this town called Tramadore, and by midday he noticed a strange mountain off in the near distance. Ned noticed the boy's gaze focused on the towering object in the sky. "Have you never seen a castle before, not even in pictures?" he asked the lad.

  Fred blinked and glanced between Ned and the gray thing in the sky. "Is that what it is?"

  "Aye, and a very grand one to match with the city," Ned replied.

  "City? I thought Tramadore was another town," Fred wondered.

  Pat rolled her eyes and glanced back at the men; she led the way. "Tramadore is the largest city in Ralcott."

  Fred blinked. "What's Ralcott?"

  The girl stopped and stomped her foot on the ground. "This is Ralcott. Everything we've seen is in Ralcott. It's one of the regions close to Sterning, the most important province in all the world." Fred stared at her with all the ignorance he could muster. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Haven't you heard of any of these things?"

  "Nope," was his reply.

  Ned laughed and herded them onward. "The world is a very large place, my dear Fred. People like to split it up into regions to better remember where they've been, where they are and where they're going." He gestured to the tower. "That is the peak of Tramadore Castle, which lies at the top of the city of Tramadore in the region of Ralcott."

  "Have they no other name for places around this city of Tramadore?" Fred wondered.

  "Well, th
e Tramadore family was also a like of conceited men, so no," Ned replied. "If they could, the family would change the region to their name."

  "You shouldn't speak ill of Lord Tramadore," Pat scolded him. "He's a gentleman and a good knight."

  Ned smiled and bowed his head. "I accept the reprimand. Lord Tramadore is indeed a good man, and I'm sure he'll show his goodness by stuffing us all full of food and giving us a fine bit of entertainment."

  Fred was nervous and excited for their arrival, and when they rounded a bend he received his first full view of the city. Tramadore lay with its back to a large, stony, gray mountain, and its front faced a few small, green fields separated by thin strands of trees that followed the winding river. The river itself ran away from the city, for the source of its water emerged from those same gray stones.

  The city was a vast maze of thirty thousand people packed behind a single gate and a fifteen foot thick, twenty foot high stone wall that ran around either side of the front until the walls met the mountain at the rear. There was a moat in front of the single gate, made by diverting the river around the front of the walls. Above the walls the city rose in steppes, each taller than the last and closer to the mountain. The castle itself was at the very peak, and its walls were carved from the very stone of the mountain. Colorful banners flew from the tops of the gray towers and from most every house, and music drifted over the walls and spilled out onto the fields.

  Fred didn't realize he'd stopped until Pat yelled back at him. "Come on. We're a day late as it is."

  Fred hurried forward and the companions reached the moat. The bridge was down and a steady procession of people walked over the large boards to pass under the gate. Knights decked out in full regalia stood beneath the archway and smiled at those who passed. They passed inside and were met with a lively atmosphere of dancers and shoppers. The gate opened up to a wide, circular marketplace with big and small stalls around the outer edge. A stage stood in the middle of the marketplace, and on that was a band playing a merry jig while dancers performed in front of the platform.