The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) (14 page)

"Me?" Fred squeaked out.

"Yes, you. It's your room, after all," Ned pointed out.

Fred shot him a dirty look, and nodded at the man's staff. "But you've got a staff."

"So do you," Ned countered. He glanced down and Fred followed his gaze; Fred realized he still held the broken stick.

Fred paled, and Pat looked between the two of them. "What is wrong with you two? You both look like you've seen a ghost."

Neither replied; Ned watched Fred and waited for a reply. The boy wrestled with dual emotions; one to flee and the other with the knowledge that he held a kick-ass weapon in his hands. Fred tightly gripped the stick and glared at the room. He took a deep breath, and stepped inside. The room was dark but for the window that looked down on the fields. A soft, cool breeze blew in and rustled the flimsy draperies atop his four-post bed. Fred squinted and clutched the stick as he looked over every inch of the room. His eyes settled on the corner beyond his bed; something stirred there that wasn't controlled by the wind.

Fred stiffened and raised a shaking hand as his companions came up behind him. As they followed his pointing, a shadow stood up behind the bed and a cloak fell away to reveal a man dressed in dark clothes. Ned pushed in front of the youngsters and held out his staff; the stick glowed and revealed the murderous man known as Deadly Sins.

"Good evening," the assassin greeted them. His voice was deep and suave; Pat wondered how someone with such a voice could be a killer-for-hire.

Ned nodded at the man. "Good evening, dear sir. What brings you back into the pleasure of our company?"

The hooded figure turned those dark eyes on Fred, who slunk behind Ned and looked over the man's shoulder. "That boy is a problem for me. I solve all my problems." The man swiftly pulled his miniature crossbow from his cloak and pointed it at Ned's shoulder. "Now step aside, castor. I've only come for the boy."

"My weary old bones ignore such orders. Even I can't get them to move when they've made up their mind to stand still," Ned replied. He lifted his staff higher and the room brightened; the assassin stepped back further into the shadows. "But if you would be kind enough to set your weapon down, we may talk this over."

The assassin crouched down and pushed off the floor, propelling himself toward them. Ned swung his staff down at the man's head, but the assassin was too fast; he jumped aside and backhanded the staff. The assassin's hand sizzled when it connected with the wood, but the staff flew out of Ned's hand and the light vanished. Pat unsheathed her weapon and dodged around Ned. Their foe pushed on Ned's side and the old man stumbled into her. They fell to the floor in a mess of thrashing arms and legs.

The assassin raised his weapon and aimed it at Fred's chest. Their enemy pressed the trigger and a deadly dart flew from the weapon. The boy held up his arms to shield himself, and with them came the broken stick. The stick transformed into its alter ego staff and the room was illuminated by its brilliant light. The poison dart hit the pulsing heat from the staff and disintegrated only inches from Fred's chest.

The assassin jumped back from the heat and lifted his arm over his eyes. "So that's how you did it. Good to know." The man reached into his cloak and pulled out another dart; this one was different. The color was a shimmering gray, and atop the point was a small, faintly-glowing crystal. He armed his weapon and pointed it at Fred.

The boy had had enough; he hadn't survived so many other attempts on his life just to be shot in his own bedroom by some guy with a handkerchief over his mouth. Fred lowered his arms and slammed the bottom of his staff on the floor. The air vibrated with tremors and a thin beam of light swept out of his staff and across the floor. It barreled into the assassin, and carried him across the stones and out the window. His hands clawed at the frame, but he fell backwards into the abyss of the night. The last they saw of him was his cloak slipping over the sill.

Fred stood frozen for a few moments, and then he fell to his knees. He grabbed the staff with both hands, and leaned on it while his heart thumped madly in his chest. Behind him Pat pulled on Ned's arm and hefted him onto his feet. "Please tell me you weren't trying to protect me," she half-joked to the old man.

"No, my promise to protect you still stands," he replied. His eyes fell on Fred, who still sat there shocked by what he'd done. "But I failed to protect him."

Pat followed Ned's gaze and her lips pursed together. She walked over and knelt in front of him. Fred faced forward and his eyes stared unblinking right through her. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him; Fred lifted his gaze to her, but she didn't see any recognition in his face. "Are you all right?" she whispered.

His voice was deeper, and echoed through the room. "Who are you?" he asked her.

Pat started back. "It's me, Pat. Remember?" He continued to stare at her as though she was a stranger; she shook him harder. "Come on, Fred! Remember me!"

At the mention of his name Fred blinked and winced. He clutched at his head and slumped over; Pat caught him before he fell to the floor. The staff in his hand reverted to its useless form, and Ned shuffled over to them. He leaned down and frowned. "Do you remember who you are?" he asked the boy.

Fred squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. He shook his head, and afterward nodded. "Fred," he choked out. "My name's Fred."

Ned smiled, but it was full of sorrow. "Let's get him onto the bed."

The pair pulled Fred to the bed and hefted him atop the covers. The boy closed his eyes and was asleep in a moment; the stick remained clutched in his hand. Pat sat down next to him and frowned. She didn't turn away when she asked her question. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's exhausted from the effort. He used a very powerful spell to knock the assassin back," Ned replied.

By this time they heard commotion in the castle, and footsteps ran down the hall outside the entrance. They heard the doors to their other rooms open until Fred's bedroom door flung open. Lord Tramadore rushed inside with a contingency of guards behind him. "There you three are," he breathed, relieved at finding them well. He noticed the boy on the bed, and Ned turned and glanced over the guards.

Lord Tramadore took the hint and waved them off. "Calm the other guests. Tell them it was merely the old castor practicing spells," he instructed his guards. They left and Tramadore approached the bed. His lips pursed together and he cast an accusing look at Ned. "What happened?"

"We had a guest, the assassin from earlier," Ned replied. He nodded at the boy. "He was after the boy, and Fred knocked him out the window. The effort took most of his strength."

Tramadore furrowed his brow. "After the boy? What for?"

"For his ability to see through his cloak. Fred appears to have an innate gift of seeing through sorcery," Ned revealed to them. "This perhaps better explains his inability to use pay-dirt."

Pat's eyes widened and she glanced over her shoulder at the old man. "That's why you wished for Fred to go into the room first! He would see the trap before any of us!"

Ned nodded. "Precisely."

"So the assassin waited in this room for the boy?" Tramadore guessed.

Ned set his hand on Tramadore's shoulder. "I'm afraid so, old friend. Your castle defenses have been breached, but there's no cause for alarm. Most other assassins are not so skilled as this one, and the fellow has learned his lesson against dealing with this castor."

"So what now?" Tramadore asked them. "What will you three do?"

"Our chances against our foes are decreasing," Ned commented. He turned his eyes on Pat; her hand lay atop the boy's. "Has this convinced you that he needs to come with us?"

Pat stood up and continued to stare at the boy. He looked peaceful sleeping there. "This has only convinced me that we've brought trouble to this boy. He deserves a normal life, and-" she turned to Tramadore, "-I ask that you use your influence to give him an apprenticeship somewhere in your fine city."

Tramadore glanced over to Ned, who turned away, and he returned his gaze to Pat; the lord nodded. "Very well. I will use all my resources to make his life comfortable."

"Thank you," Pat replied. She stood up and covered Fred with blankets. "May I ask another favor of you, Lord Tramadore?"

"Anything, my dear," he answered.

"Please put a guard on this boy. He needs protecting for this night, at least."

Lord Tramadore bowed his head. "It shall be done," he promised.

"I will stay with him until they are in place, so there's no need for you two to remain," Pat pointed out.

The men bowed their heads and left her. Guards were quickly procured and sent into the room. Ned paused in the hall outside his own door, and turned to his old friend. He had a sad smile on his face. "It seems I am getting too old for these sorts of things."

"That's the way of the world, old friend. We must make way for the young," Lord Tramadore replied.

Ned closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, and we must hope they have the strength to fix the troubles we have caused."

CHAPTER 14

The next morning broke bright and clear. The shadow of the attempted assassination was swept away by the dazzling sun, and the festivities continued in the merry town. Inside the castle Fred groaned and turned over. A beam of sunlight shot into his eyes and they creaked open. He saw a figure close by the window, and the memory of the previous night came back to him. He sat up and his hand missed the edge of the bed; he tumbled to the floor and knocked his head hard on the harder stones.

"Damn it!" he cursed. Fred sat back on his legs and clutched at his head. He remembered he wasn't alone and his head snapped up; a guard stood near him with a suppressed smirk on his face.

"Did you need help, sir?" the guard asked him.

"What? Oh, no, I'm fine. I meant to do that, it's my morning stretches." Fred stood and looked around; his companions weren't in sight, but the door was open. He glanced back to the guard. "Could you tell me-"

"-where your friends are?" a voice finished. Fred swirled around and he saw Captain Spalding in the doorway. "They are down in the dining hall eating their breakfast. Would you like me to accompany you?"

Fred frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Why would you need to do that? This place isn't that big."

"We have orders from Lord Tramadore to protect you. Until we're told otherwise then you must have a guard with you at all times," Spalding explained.

Fred cringed. "At all times?" he repeated.

The captain smiled. "At all times," Spalding confirmed.

"If I can't get out of this then I guess you can come with me," Fred agreed.

Spalding, the guard and Fred went to the dining hall and found the room as jovial as the night before. The guests were all aflutter with the news of the assassination attempt on Sturgeon and the earthquake from the night before. Fred wondered why they stared at Ned, and not him; not knowing the lie Lord Tramadore told his guests for the previous night's tremor. They were curious about his armed entourage, though, and he received his fair share of attention.

Pat noticed his entrance and watched him move down to take a seat beside Ned. "How are you feeling?" she asked him.

Fred shrugged. "Like somebody hit me on the head with an anvil."

"That may have something to do with the fall out of bed," the guard spoke up.

Fred glared at him, and Spalding intervened. "If you're comfortable, we'll be on our way." The captain and the guard left them.

"You fell out of bed?" Pat asked him.

He appreciated the concern in her voice, but waived off his humiliating awakening. "It's nothing," he mumbled. He glanced between the two. "So what happened last night? I don't remember anything after-"

Ned put his hand over Fred's mouth and his eyes darted tot he other guests. More than one conversation died down to focus on theirs. "For another time," Ned advised the boy.

Lord Sturgeon was conspicuously absent from the breakfast, but his son, Percy, was one of the guests. After the three companions finished their meal and rose to leave, he came up to them with a bright smile on his face. Percy held out his hand to Ned. "I wanted to personally thank you for saving my father's life," he told them.

Ned ignored the distending hand. "We were merely fulfilling our duty to protect those who needed it," he replied.

Percy dropped his hand but shook his head. "Not everyone would do the same, especially for my father. He's made a great many enemies in his dealings, and I'm grateful that at the first attempt you were there to intercede." He looked to each of them and stopped on Pat; his smile brightened. "But I hope this won't cut short your stay here. Tonight is the fireworks display, and no place in the world can beat our men with gunpowder."

Pat blushed and looked down. Ned glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "We had planned to stay here one more night, but our plans may change," Ned replied.

The girl's head shot up. "Surely we can stay here one more night," she pleaded with him.