Gifted Magic - White Dragon Tower - Book 1: (Young Adult Paranormal Romance Knights, Dragons, and Magic Series)

by Kya Lind

  Traven was distracted by a slight movement at the top of the stairs. A calico cat walked slowly down the steps and around the outside wall, avoiding people, and keeping a watchful eye on the room. Traven noted that the four men he was most concerned about were as interested in the cat as he was. Perplexed, Traven mulled this over in his brain as the cat picked its way to the front door of the inn. There it sat, frowning at the closed door. Slowly, the cat turned and gazed at the people in the room. Many of the other patrons were now watching the cat. The cat froze and then it relaxed as if unconcerned, and started washing one of its front paws.

  Suddenly, the door burst open. Six Royal guardsmen marched into the inn. The room paused in stunned silence. Traven watched in amazement as the cat jumped out of the way with the most peculiar expression of shock on its face. Then its mouth fell up. The cat’s round surprised eyes seemed almost human. Before Traven could ponder this, the cat quickly skirted the soldiers and dashed out the door.

  Traven observed the reaction of the four men he had been watching. The four scrambled to their feet. The Royal Captain stepped forward and announced. “Sit down immediately. All are to be detained for questioning.”

  There was a suspended moment of silence and then bedlam broke loose. Traven watched the four men slip from of the room as the locals panicked, pushing and shoving, they poured out the doors and windows in a chaotic pandemonium.

  Within five minutes, the soldiers had subdued what remained of the crowd. Some sat in silence at the dice tables; many lie moaning on the floor. Most of the tables had been upended, and the room was a shambles. Traven remained in his seat at the back of the hall. He wondered what these locals were involved in that they would react that strongly to the Royal Captain’s words. Not that Traven thought that the captain’s methods were a good way to handle public unrest, but to each his own, he supposed. The captain scanned the room and noticed his presence.

  He approached Traven and ordered. “Attention, soldier.”

  Traven frowned; he was too tired to deal with this young upstart tonight. He sighed heavily and rose slowly to his feet. “Captain Traven Esquire, stationed at LongGray, superior General West, Sir.”

  “Captain?” the Royal Captain frowned, “Why are you here alone?

  “Unusual circumstances, sir, I am returning from a courier mission and am currently chasing a horse thief, Sir.” This whole conversation galled Traven, this captain was barely twenty if he was a day, and still wet behind the ears.

  “What do you know of a large red warhorse?” the captain said this as though he was filling in the pieces to the puzzle.

  Traven senses focused. How did this guy know about his horse?

  Traven frowned at his tone; something was going on here that he did not understand. “The red is mine, Sir. The thief stole my horse.”

  The captain signaled his men. Traven was immediately handcuffed with his arms behind his back. Traven was startled by this sudden turn of events.

  The Kingdom guard Captain smirked, “The same red warhorse that left the Kingdom stables in Gloryland six days ago? The same warhorse that is at this very second outside in the inn’s corral? That red warhorse? You are under arrest for treason.”

  “What?,” demanded Traven. This was crazy. What were they talking about? “Treason?” Since when was catching horse thieves treason? They relieved him of his sword, boot knives and short blade. The captain released the other men in the room, saying, “We have found our man; you may go now. The others scattered like fleas off a wet hog. Traven protested as the royal officers towed him outside. The group of soldiers paused once outside the circle of light spilling from the inn’s doorway and waited for their eyes to adjust.

  Traven’s adjusted rapidly. He could not believe what he saw. Someone, riding on Barn, was opening the corral gate. He would recognize his horse anywhere.

  “Hey, you,” he shouted.

  The thief jumped and then nudged Barn into a trot heading away from the group of soldiers. Traven had had enough; he was livid. He had forsaken his post, had ridden four days straight on worthless mounts, had been rained on, and arrested for treason. Now, that dandy thought he was going to ride off on his horse.

  “That is my horse,” he informed the captain, “The one I have been tracking.”

  The captain looked at him unconcerned. Traven ground his teeth, threw back his head and whistled loudly. The sound cut through the night.

  They saw the big horse pause midstride and then slam on his brakes. The unsuspecting rider flew off over the head of the stallion, landing in a crumpled heap before the horse.

  “Well,” ordered Traven, “go get him.”

  One of the soldiers looked questioningly from Traven to the captain. The captain nodded, and the soldier quickly retrieved the fallen rider. Meanwhile, Barn had trotted up to Traven, delighted to see him again and began searching his pockets for apples. One of the other guards had secured Barns reins and led him to be tied with the guards’ horses in front of the inn. The guard quickly returned dragging the rider into the circle of light spilling from the inn’s door. Traven blinked in surprise and confusion.

  Chapter 7

  The kid stood trembling before Traven and the Royal Guards. Traven was surprised at the boy’s appearance. He looked to be much younger than he had at dinner. Traven frowned. The kid before them was probably only about seven or eight years old.

  The Royal Guard Captain turned and looked the kid over from head to toe, before turning his attention back to Traven.

  “Let me get this straight. You are a Kingdom guardsman acting as a courier, chasing a horse thief, and this is the notorious horse thief?” he indicated the young boy . . . “Not a convincing defense against accused treason.”

  The kid’s head jerked up at the Captain’s words. A look of comprehension crossed the boy’s face, but it was quickly gone and the boy ducked his head. When he raised it again, seconds later, tears streamed down his very young cheeks making tracks through the dirt. The young boy looked up at the Royal Captain with huge imploring eyes, begging mercy.

  The Royal Captain sighed and cuffed the kid on the back of the head. “Go home and stay out of trouble.”

  The kid nodded repeatedly and darted away from the group of soldiers. Traven watched as the boy made his retreat. At the edge of the light the kid paused and looked back at Traven and then at Barn. Traven saw the boy wring his hands just like a girl and turn, disappearing into the dark shadows at the edge of the inn.

  The Captain barked instructions at his men. Two returned to the inn’s kitchen and procured large amounts of food and drink. The other two loaded Traven, with his arms still bound behind his back, onto one of the other guard’s horses. All of the guards regrouped and mounted. The officer that had been assigned to ride Barn was having trouble keeping control his mount. Barn kicked and bucked and resisted direction. The other guard’s laughingly chided the rider on his lack of skill, but it was apparent to all the guards that the Kingdom horse was a one rider mount. Traven cringed; one more nail in his coffin. He wondered again who the thief had been. He scoffed at the idea that the young boy had been able to control Barn for the last three days. The stable hands had said it was a dandy gent. What had happened to him? And how he had talked Barn into behaving himself long enough to be stolen? He shook his head in despair.

  The company rode for an hour before making camp in a grove of Dunbar trees. With military precision the tents were erected, sentry posted, and food distributed. Traven sat on a rotting log as the work went on around him. He was not offered food as the others ate. The company retired with one guard on sentry duty and one on prisoner watch. Traven settled against the log and closed his eyes and slipped into a troubled sleep.

  The next morning Traven was booted awake at first light by one of the guards. He rolled over and sat up stiffly. His arms were asleep. He wiggled his fingers, trying to encourage circulation to return. He immediately regretted this action as millions of pinpricks stabbed his arm
s and hands in response.

  The guard hauled him up to sit on a log. A flask of water was held to his mouth. Traven had to drink rapidly to keep the water from pouring out of his mouth and down the front of his dirty Kingdom guard vest. His hands were untied, and he was ordered to remove his armor and chainmail. Traven grudgingly compiled. His hands were retied. The other guards ate breakfast. None was offered to Traven, but he had not expected any.

  After breakfast, the Captain started his interrogation. “Where are you bound?”

  Traven smothered the sarcastic response that he was “bound” here. Instead, he answered in a neutral voice. “I have been on leave, Sir, after delivering a message to a Keep east of here. I was returning to my new assignment when I discovered that someone had taken my horse. I was trying to retrieve my horse,

  “You are delivering a message. What is your destination, soldier? Where was the message to be delivered?”

  “I delivered my message and am now returning to my post, Sir.”

  The Captain frowned at Traven and signaled to the guards on either side of him. They pulled him up until he was standing in front of the Captain.

  “I repeat what was the message, soldier?” demanded the Captain.

  “To the best of my knowledge the message concerned Duke Graves’s appointment to the regional council. I did not read the letter myself. And no message was returned, Sir.”

  “Do not lie to me, soldier,” ordered the Captain.

  “Respectfully, I will repeat that I was returning to my new assignment at LongGray Manor. I saw my horse crossing on the ferry, and decided to get him back.

  The Captain slammed his fist into Traven’s stomach. “I will ask again. Where were you going? Who is the message intended for?”

  Traven repeated his original answer. From the corner of his eye, Traven watched as one of the guards searched the saddlebags, tack, and other items on his horse.

  The guard gasped in surprise and quickly brought both the saddlebags to the Captain. The Captain pulled out two substantial cloth pouches. Traven was more shocked than the Royal Guards as one pouch was shown to contain a large number of coins and, more surprisingly, the other bag contained several pounds of silver jewelry. As the bags were dumped out on the ground before him, Traven knew this jewelry would have belonged to a wealthy noble house. He groaned silently.

  “Sir, I have no knowledge of the contents of either of those bags.”

  “Where is the message?”

  “I have no message, Sir,” Traven answered again, respectfully.

  The Captain slammed his fist into Traven’s midriff again. “You will tell me what I need to know,” the Captain stated dispassionately.

  Traven groaned, doubling over in agony.

  “Who sent you? Where are you going? Where is the message?” demanded the Captain again.

  “I cannot tell you what I do not know, Sir.”

  The questioning continued for over an hour. Traven was bruised and worn before the beating ceased.

  “We will travel to Collin Hall,” explained the Captain to his men. “The Hall is the closest keep, and they have a Minder there. He will get our answer. We have the rider of the red warhorse. He will tell us what we need to know.” The guards scrambled to pack camp and mount the horses.

  The group traveled at a medium pace for the rest of the day, stopping several hours before dark. Traven was unloaded and collapsed in a heap. His ribs hurt like fire. He felt like kissing the unmoving ground.

  Before dark, he was again allowed a drink from a flask. Traven tried to ignore the suffering caused each time he swallowed and just chugged as much of the liquid as he could in the few seconds the water was offered. Again he was not offered food.

  The night settled around the camp. He sighed; one more day’s travel to Collin Hall. He could make it he told himself. He would not think about what would happen when the Minder was finished with him. The Royal Guards were sometimes a law unto themselves. Traven thought about what he would give for a hot meal and a good stiff drink as he slid into a restless sleep.

  The tavern common room was filled with noise, guardsman, and locals. The air held a festive spirit, like a party during the holiday. Smoke, wafting above the heads of the patrons, filled the air with the aroma of smoked meat and fresh bread. Traven pushed his way through the crowd to the bar and took one of the empty seats. The sassy barmaid winked at him and in a sultry voice asked him if he saw anything he liked. She held a hand to her breast and patted the top of its roundness. Traven smiled at her double meaning and ordered a glass of the house special. The party was loud. Traven turned his back to the bar and watched the other occupants of the room. His friend, Jar, was trying to dance with a pretty young serving girl, but Jar’s apparent drunkenness made the dance comical. Traven could see that the girl was trying to prop Jar up and maneuver him back into his chair. Jar glanced up, saw Traven, and yelled for him to join them. Traven pushed off the bar and walked in his friend’s direction.

  Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the tavern door.

  “What in the world?” thought Traven.

  The knocking came again. The room had become completely quiet. Every eye turned in the direction of the sound. The knocking came once more. Every person in the room looked from the door to him. The room was as silent was a tomb. The knock came a third time.

  Traven paused, in confusion and then yelled, “Come in.”

  The door swung open, and a light shone from the outside into the tavern. Suddenly, a vision of beauty stood in the doorway. She was tall and slender, dressed in all the silks and silver of a high Noble. Her long hair was unbound and seemed to float in soft waves around her face and down her back to her small clinched waist.

  She moved slowly in from the doorway. “I’m sorry to intrude, but it is of grave importance that I speak to you, immediately,” she nodded her head in his direction.

  Every eye in the room moved back and forth between Traven and this image of perfection.

  “Of course,” he said.

  The other members of the room quickly fled in all directions until Traven and the Lady were the only ones remaining. He clumsily pulled out a chair for her. She moved cautiously forward and took the offered chair. Traven sat down in the chair facing her. Then, remembering his station, quickly stood up again. She motioned with a delicate hand that he should sit down again. He sat. He felt tongue tied. His feet shifted nervously under the table.

  The lady bowed her head and then looked up at him. “I do sincerely apologize. I did not mean to involve you in this disaster. I cannot think of how to extract you from it now unscathed. Where are they taking you?” she asked gently.

  Traven grimaced. He didn’t want to think about this subject. He had been having a good time. Why couldn’t they go back to just having a good time?

  She sat unmoving waiting for an answer.

  “They are taking me to Collin Hall. There is a Minder there.”

  “What are you charged with?”

  “Treason, but I am not really sure why. Something to do with me being the rider of the red warhorse. They are not very clear about what they want from me, except they seem to think I have a message.”

  The beautiful maiden dropped her eyes again, but not before Traven had seen the knowledge that she knew what was going on.

  “The Minder will use what you are not even aware you know to stop my mission.”

  Traven frowned in confusion. The ceiling of the tavern lifted and lightened and then darkened as memory of the Royal guard slamming his fist into Traven’s stomach flashed across the sky about them.

  “I know, and I am sorry. I wish that we had picked a different horse”. A memory of two figures, one the boy and one the lady persuading his massive warhorse from his stall flashed across the sky. “I do apologize,” she said again.

  The misery in her voice wrung Traven’s heart. Traven wanted to reach out, in comfort, and touch the hands she held clutched before her on the rough table top, but h
e restrained himself.

  She raised her head and looked at him imploringly, “I need your help. I would say it will be dangerous, but it cannot put you in more danger than you are currently in.” She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She spread her hands flat on the table before her. “Unfortunately, I cannot tell you the details. Even my being here is dangerous and not the smartest move on my part. At this point, I have endangered you further by making you aware of my presence. I have no choice, but to try my best to free you.”

  Traven jerked in surprise at her words, and glanced around suspiciously. He was dreaming he realized. This whole thing was a dream. His crazy mind trying to make sense out of the missing facts he didn’t know. Well, he congratulated himself. He had made up a marvelous story. He especially liked the beautiful damsel in distress bit. He sat up straighter and looked around the room again. His gaze caught on the movement of the images flashing across the sky. He felt like patting himself on the back. His mother had always remarked on his creative imagination.

  He looked back at the beautiful Lady, who sat across from him.

  “What exactly do you need me to do?” he asked.

  The Lady pulled a deep breath in as though bracing herself for the worst. “I need you to take the boy north.” A clear image of the young blonde boy appeared on the sky.

  Traven laughed. “I’m a little tied up right now,” he chuckled.

  “If the boy can get you lose, will you promise to take him north?” she asked, her eyes begging his help.

  Traven shrugged; this was all just a dream. Why not? He nodded his head.

  The Lady’s face lit up with delight and relief. “Oh, thank you,” she jumped up from the chair, “Oh, thank you. You cannot imagine how important this is.”

  Traven watched as she fairly danced out of the tavern. The door closed behind her and disappeared.

  “Well, shoot,” he thought. He should have required payment of a kiss before he agreed. Oh, well, he was chivalrous. He shook his head in disgust; he didn’t even accost Noble ladies in his dreams.