Aphrodite's Acolyte (5 page)

“Well met, Fidel. Shar and I have been doing business for years. You are welcome to join us in our travels.” the merchant captain said as he approached. “But I do have a few rules you must abide by before traveling together is fully approved.”

It was Fidel's turn to speak. “What name do I refer to you as and what rules should I expect?”

Fardicus responded, a slight smile crossing his lips. “Well, the name is Fardicus, only first names needed here, but my full name is Fardicus Merc. The rules are simple. We only travel with people who share our food, drink, and stories. Are you able to comply with such conditions?”

Fidel smiled, thankful there were no oddities to the rules. “Of course! So where do I set camp?”

Fardicus pointed to one of the tents and informed Fidel there was no need to set camp as it was already done. He gave Fidel the rundown of sentry schedules and his role in such duties.  Fardicus finally led the way to the larger tent in the middle of the camp.

“We call this the leisure tent. You will find people playing cards, and other various games, as well as stories being told inside. Plenty of drink and food available. Go, enjoy yourself. Get to know your fellow travelers. I will be in shortly to share in the joy. Glad to have you aboard!” Fardicus slapped Fidel on the back then headed over to his tent. Fidel entered the large tent, his heart excited to meet the group.

Fidel scanned the tent and saw exactly what Fardicus had explained. A large table to the right catering to several people playing cards. Straight ahead was a buffet table loaded with food and drink. To the left was a fire pit with people laughing and sharing stories with each other.

Fidel headed straight to the food table to grab a drink. He then headed to the card table and sat down. He worked the room counter-clockwise until he met every person in the caravan, sharing stories and drink with all. The hours went late into the night and he was in great spirits learning about all his new comrades. He retired to his tent and laid down to sleep, letting exhaustion overtake him and force his mind to rest.

The moonlight reflected brightly in the dark black orbs of the hooded observer. She stared down at the caravan from a nearby tree. She sighed impatiently, waiting for the extinguishing of the torches to indicate the camp's bedtime. A short time later, she observed the torches go out one by one, taking note of the newest addition to the group turning in for the night, a tan elf with green eyes and black hair. An oddity among the human ranks of merchants. She smiled widely as the final torch went dark.

With agility on her side, she climbed down from her high roost. She dropped the last few feet as her hide moccasins hit the ground without making a sound. She crept over to the tents slowly, peaking in each one with the excitement of a child in a candy shop. Fidel's tent piqued her interest the most. She noticed he only carried a single, small hip pack residing on the floor beside his cot. No weapons. No other items. Yet the smell of several pastries filled the air in his tent. The bag appealed to her.

She slowly glided into Fidel's tent, staring intently at his back looking for signs of stirring. She heard a couple sentries talking in the distance. She reached down and grabbed the pack, opening it up to see a miniaturized smorgasbord of goodies. Suddenly, the tent flap snapped shut and Fidel rose to his feet, smacking the pack out of her hand.

In a panic she attempted to run through the wall of the tent, only to slam into an invisible force knocking her down on her buttocks. She looked up at Fidel and he stared down into her black orbs, hard. She started to speak but no sound could escape her lips. Something invisible grabbed her left hand and then her right, pulling her arms behind her as-if caught by some invisible sentry. She looked up at Fidel, her eyes pleading for forgiveness, her face guarded by the black shroud covering all but her eyes.

“Tell me your name, thief.” Fidel said flatly.

She started to speak and found sounds were now permitted to form. “My name is Abigail. Abigail Lapillus. Please sir, please don't have me arrested. I was simply hungry and your tent smelled the finest of them all!” Abigail crossed her legs over each other, showing she had no desire to make an escape. She bowed her head in obedience.

“Abigail Lapillus? I know that name, although I do not know why. Do you live in Harlow's Hovel?” Fidel pressed on gently. She shook her head fiercely. Fidel stood over her for a minute, trying to decide what to do in the situation. “What do you propose I do?” he asked. She looked up at him with a desperate look in her eyes.

“Let me go and I will never bother you again,” she stated. Fidel entertained the idea but, instead, he sat down in front of her on the ground and opened his pack.

“What kind of food do you prefer?” he inquired.

Abigail looked at him with surprise. “You would feed me after I have tried to steal from you?” 

“Who said I was going to feed you?” He said with a very serious look. “Perhaps I was going to eat your favorite food in front of you just to upset you more.”

Abigail's head drooped at the notion, her previous lifestyle proving such an act was very much possible.

Fidel laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I'm just kidding Abigail! I know a little of the rough life and having to starve. Please, what is your favorite smell emanating from this pack? By the way, my name is Fidel.”

She described the smell of roast with potatoes so he pulled the meal from his pack. He then released her bonds and informed her she was free to go. Abigail nodded her head in thanks and departed the tent quickly, taking the roast and potatoes with her.

A few moments later, he heard the sentries in the distance shouting about a dark figure running away from the camp into the woods. Fidel stood at his tent door looking out among the trees for a few minutes. He grabbed a mug full of water and raised it to the trees in the distance, gulping down the liquid with just a few swallows. Abigail saw the gesture and grinned, knowing the would-be toast offered by the elf was for her. The black-haired beauty was certainly interested. He turned and retired back into his tent for the evening, resetting his magical traps and adding chimes to his tent flap to wake him a little sooner.

The rays of the rising sun penetrated the open flaps of Fidel's tent and glared straight into his closed eyes. He rubbed his eyes in protest to the intruding sunlight. He rose from his bed, yawning with every movement. He looked down on the ground and noticed his pack was still there, but the chimes he hung up the previous night were laying on the ground next to a pine box. A small note was resting against the box. He opened the note and read it. The note read
Thank you. I will be watching.
He swung open his tent flap and squinted toward the trees outside the camp, scanning for a hint of Abigail's presence. He put the note down and checked his pack, none of his items were out-of-place. He scratched his head and smiled, thinking he just made his first friend.

The rest of the camp was waking. Fardicus' voice was echoing through the camp, barking orders at every member of the caravan to make final preparations for the journey. Fidel packed up the cot and the tent and placed both in his hip pack. A few of his fellow travelers awed at the pack's ability to hold such items. He could hear one of the travelers state he had to get himself one of those nifty packs.

Fidel looked back at the gates of Harlow's Hovel and smiled, showing more appreciation for the gifts his father had bestowed upon him. His eyes followed up the road to Harlow's Keep as a fireball shot out from one of the windows, exploding over one hundred feet above the caravan. Fidel rose his arm in salute to his father, knowing it was Methvas who lobbed the fiery magic.

A few hours into the trek, Fidel marched to the front of the caravan and struck up conversation with Fardicus. He asked several questions on how long the journey would take and what to expect. Fardicus explained to him it would be three days to march around the Lake of Accudo, a large body of water brought forth from Heracles' mighty strike. Then two more days march before they broke free of the oasis-like realm of Harlow's Hovel, to enter the Desert of Rivolus. Ten nights of marching was required to get through the desert until they reached any evidence of life. Five days after that, they should arrive in Puldechra. Fidel then dropped back to the rear of the caravan and chatted with more of the other travelers as they walked.

The road was easy for the first day as they made their way west to Lake Accudo, then followed the northern path along the bank. Lake Accudo's water shimmered from the sunlight as the fiery star dipped into the western horizon. Fidel heard Fardicus order the caravan to halt and to start setting up camp for the evening. Fidel quickly set his tent and hurried to help his travelers get their tents set as well. After he finished helping his comrades, Fidel assisted in the peeling of potatoes and setting the fire for the camp.

Fardicus came over and tapped Fidel on the shoulder. When Fidel turned to face him, Fardicus nodded his head, motioning for Fidel to join him in his tent. Fidel entered Fardicus' tent, noticing it was just as plain as his own, with exception to an extra chair. Fardicus motioned for him to sit down and Fidel complied.

“Why do you work so hard?” questioned Fardicus abruptly.

“I just want to help. The faster we set up, the longer we can enjoy our time together!” Fidel replied.

Fardicus grinned wide at the response, showing appreciation for Fidel's eagerness. “You are twice as old as the oldest traveler in this group, yet your energy is three times that of a six-year-old. I admire your race and the longevity that accompanies it.” Fardicus continued, “I have to tell you something of the desert we will be crossing in a few days. There is a very high chance bandits will attempt to rob the caravan. The men out there,” Fardicus pointed out toward the camp, “those men have fought many battles. Killed many bandits. Have you ever had to kill anybody?”

The words carried a harsh reality to Fidel. He had never run anybody through. “No. I have not killed.” Fidel answered, “And I would doubt that killing would be required. If you beat somebody hard enough to steal their reason to continue, my father always told me that's usually enough.”

Fardicus considered Fidel's words intently and started to speak. “Yes, you can take their passion. But what happens when they heal? They will be back on the road attacking another caravan. What justice would have transpired if you allowed that to happen?”

It was Fidel's turn to contemplate the words. He considered them for a moment, and reached into his teachings. For this scenario, he could only rely on his own intuition.

“Well, Fardicus,” Fidel said, “I respect the fact that I may need to take somebody's life, and if that time should come, I will execute with prejudice. But I like to believe people will learn. Maybe they won't learn from their first loss. Maybe it will take two or three losses. But I believe they will learn, and that is the justice I prefer. The ones that don't, they will usually end up dead by their supposed allies anyway. But don't you worry Fardicus, people I care about getting harmed is enough to draw a life taking swing from my staff, or a lightning bolt from my hand. I care about my comrades in this caravan.”

Fardicus stared at Fidel for a minute, seeing a spark in the elf's green eyes flare up on the last statement. “Well, Fidel, I am very pleased to have you aboard. Surely a fight will be found and I am anxious to see you perform. Thank you for your time. Let's go enjoy this evening, shall we?” Fardicus opened the tent flap and they both headed to the large tent for some enjoyment.

A few hours had passed and it was about time for Fidel to do his sentry duties. Fidel gave a few of his comrades a hard handshake as he prepared to head out for the evening. He headed back to his tent and stood outside for a few moments, staring up at the night sky. The glimmering stars, a full moon, and the fine smells of the food made the night enjoyable. Combined with the companionship of the fellow travelers, Fidel felt very comfortable.

He started wondering how he could be so content on a road surrounded by strangers, and a lingering sense of danger, while his parents were probably worried about him. He reminded himself that all children must face a similar feeling. He reminded himself the guilt will pass. He pulled his staff from his pack, still in awe with the packs abilities, and headed out to relieve his fellow traveler of his post.

Fidel quickly learned the role of sentry was really quite boring. While it allowed for plenty of time to look within, or awe over the wonders of the skies and insignificance of civilization, the job itself was quite without hazard. He kept pacing the road side, veering into the darkness in hopes of a glimpse of danger, and became better acquainted with his new light-as-a-feather staff. He was quite embarrassed when his staff came to a halt against a sword as he met the eyes of his reliever. They exchanged some chuckles and words before Fidel headed back to the camp.

As he settled in for the evening, Fidel couldn't help but wonder if Abigail was truly “watching him,” so he decided to put the idea to the test. He pulled one of his traveling meals from his pack and retrieved a mug of water, then set both down just outside his tent flap. He stared out to the trees lining the trail, raised his hands, and pointed to the food and drink. He laid down in his cot and listened to the chirps and hums of the forest creatures lullaby him to sleep.

The morning came sooner than desired for Fidel. His dreams took him back to his previous childhood, reliving the memories of his blacksmith father. Learning how to shape steel, repair armor, and ultimately how to fight with various weapons. His memory took him through the sequence of his staff fighting, with his first lesson being not to hit yourself in the back of the head.

Fidel climbed out of bed and found his boots. He put them on and headed out of the tent to go bathe in Lake Accudo. As he walked out of his tent, he glanced down and noticed the food he left out was eaten and the mug was empty. He looked to the forest trees and smiled. Abigail was watching, he knew. He picked up his pace to the lake as he wanted to get his bathing done before Fardicus started barking.

The rest of the days on the eastern side of the Rivolus Desert carried on in much the same way. The travel was easy along well-worn roads and among the several small villages scattered throughout the temperate and lakeside region. Green trees, fair weathered evenings, great company, and an invisible friend accompanied Fidel on his westward journey toward his homeland.

A few days later, when they reached the Rivolus Desert, the routine changed to travel at night with a heightened sense of security. Fidel often traveled near the middle to back of the caravan, guarding the flank and rear of the three-wagon train of goods. Three nights into the desert, something did happen.

Fardicus yelled, “Halt! Torches ahead!” The coach drivers pulled back on their respective reins, bringing the horses to a stop. Fidel's fellow travelers took defensive positions surrounding the caravan. Fardicus raised a yellow flag, indicating a required heightened awareness was necessary.

The group was comprised of mostly merchants, but the way they were acting was indicative of a highly trained battalion. Fidel felt slightly out-of-place with this situation being very new to him. Fardicus sent a rider up ahead to investigate the torches seen just over the horizon, with the instruction to turn around and ride hard should trouble be had.

Less than twenty minutes passed and the rider returned with a quick, but not hurried, pace. He described the scene ahead as a ransacked merchant caravan. At least ten deaths on the field and all the goods stolen. Fardicus turned to the group with a solemn look in his eyes. He announced the group would move northward for half a nights march, then continue west in hopes of avoiding similar disaster.

Some of the fellow travelers asked about the chances of the bandits being north and Fardicus shrugged, conceding the point. He let them know the scene had evidence that the marauders appeared to have headed south with the stolen loot, tracks in the sand indicating such. The group straightened up like disciplined military men, turned the caravan northward, and continued their march through the night with no further incident.

Fidel was asleep in his tent under the hot afternoon sun when Abigail flew threw his tent flap, breathing heavily. She shook Fidel vigorously. He jumped to his feet, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Fidel, bandits on their way from the south!” she took some deep breaths, “They have stopped for a few but I do not know how long they will remain, probably until nightfall!”

Fidel reached for Abigail's arm and asked her to slow down and explain. She explained the situation. At least ten heavily armed and seasoned bandits were approaching from the south, following the wagon dug trenches in the desert sands. Fidel asked Abigail if she would be willing to report the situation to Fardicus and she declined, curiously stating “personal reasons”. Fidel nodded his head and gave Abigail some food and water he had saved for her. She gladly accepted and informed Fidel she would not be around on his return. He had not understood her theatrical approach to things, but didn't question it. She had her reasons. He then headed out to talk to Fardicus.

Fardicus awoke as Fidel sat down in the single chair in the tent. Fidel explained the situation to the captain. “How do you know this information, Fidel?”

“Magic. You know us mages and our scrying abilities, do you not?” Fidel responded deceptively.

“Yes, I guess I have heard of such abilities. Never from a traveling mage but hey, you are different after all!” Fardicus slapped Fidel on the back and continued, “I trust your news is valid. We will dig holes to store our goods before departure and will place five men in each wagon to keep the element of surprise. We will travel west, have our confrontation, then come back to collect our belongings. Sound like a plan?”

Fidel thought over the details and nodded. The plan was good. And if the bandits were ten, the odds were in their favor. It was time for Fidel's first real battle on the roads of Mirater.

As they left, Fidel scorched the sand with fire, creating a glass marker to identify where to search for their goods. The caravan headed out with three drivers, a lead scout, and Fidel taking rear guard. Five of each of the comrades resided in the back of every covered wagon, waiting for the command to spring forth with ranged weapons and join the forthcoming fray.

The group marched for an hour without incident. As sure as the sun set that day, torches appeared on their left flank riding fast toward them. Fardicus, being the scout in front, called for a halting of the wagons as the soon-to-be swindlers approached. Fidel pulled his staff from his pack and tossed the pack into the last wagon. He felt his heart beat faster, excited and scared at the same time. He concentrated on calming his nerves.