The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) (3 page)

"If that bag is full, then what did you give that lord in exchange?" she asked him.

Ned cloaked his face in an expression of false innocence. "Well, shall we say that I am out a few pounds of pay-dirt?"

Pat paled, but Fred was confused. "Pay-dirt?" he repeated.

Pat's voice told her horror. "You gave a lord with six knights pay-dirt?" she asked him.

Fred held up his arms. "Wait, what's pay-dirt?"

Ned smiled and pulled out another bag from beneath his cloak; Fred wondered if the underside of the cape was covered in such bags. The old man opened the drawstring and dipped his fingers into the opening. He drew forth a pinch of dark brown mud, and nodded at Fred's hand. "Hold out your hand, young Fred." After a moment's hesitation Fred obliged, and Ned plopped the mud down into his palm.

All three of them intently watched the mud; nothing happened. Ned chuckled and swiped the mud from his hand, but Pat was dumbfounded. "Is there something wrong with the pay-dirt?" she asked the old man.

Ned turned to her. "Hold out your hand and we shall find out." She did as was asked, and he set the mud into her palm. This time something happened; the mud changed its shape and color, and became a gold coin.

Fred's eyes widened, as did Pat's own eyes. "What is this? How did it not work for him?" she asked Ned while she nodded at the boy. Ned shrugged, snatched the mud from her hand and put it back into its pouch. He tucked the container back beneath his cloak with only a smile on his face while his companions were very confused; Pat wouldn't be brushed aside. "Ned, why wouldn't the mud work on this boy? Is he immune to magic? Is that why he's coming with us?"

"Magic..." Fred repeated. That's what this old man could do; magic. He was a magician of sorts, maybe one who performed tricks to earn money.

At her questions, Ned smiled and shook his head. "I haven't any idea what you're talking about, but the mud is working just fine." Ned leaned in toward Fred and winked. "It changes to gold when it senses greed, and your former lord had quite an abundance. He didn't even need to hold the stuff to affect the change."

Pat stiffened, and her voice was strangled. "You gave him only pay-dirt in exchange for this boy?"

"Of course. Pay-dirt is much easier to come by than gold coins," Ned countered.

Fred and the old man jumped back when Pat let out a roar of frustration. Her eyes burned with her anger and she stomped up to Ned and shoved her face into his. "Do you have any idea what trouble this may cause? We could be thrown into the locks, or worse, be found out! Would this boy be worth that much trouble? Would your brilliant plan look so brilliant?"

Pat's tirade was interrupted by the sound of a great cry of fury and anger; the noise dwarfed hers. They all stiffened and turned to the source of the anger; Damskov manor. Ned weakly chuckled. "It appears we had better make haste to some hiding shrubs, or Fred's former lord will have more words with us than we care to hear."

The three hurried on their way down the road, but the sounds of men shouting and horses pounding down the road told them they needed to seek shelter. Fortunately the path was well provided with bushes, and Ned led the way into one of the thicker bunches. Their hiding was none too soon because a troop of horsemen galloped toward them. The horsemen stopped a few feet from where they were hidden. Fred had a good view of the road through an opening and saw that one of the men was Lord Damskov. He recognized several of the others as the knights in the service of the lord, as they wore heavy silver armor that glistened in the sun and had long broadswords at their hips. Each one carried a helmet on their saddle, and they clanked whenever they so much as sneezed.

Damskov stood up on his stirrups and surveyed the area. "Where in all the hells have they gone?" he exclaimed.

"Perhaps they have reached the town?" one of the knights suggested.

Damskov whipped his head toward the man. "They left not more than half an hour ago. How were they to travel five miles in such a short time?"

"You did speak of one of the strangers knowing magic," the knight pointed out.

Damskov was cowed by his knight's comment, and seated himself back in the saddle. His eyes glanced over the road, but the hard-packed dirt didn't show any footprints. "Damn that castor and his filthy magic! He'll pay me what's due even if I have to search the world for them!"

Damskov kicked his horse and flew down the road, closely followed by his men. When the sound of the horses faded the three companions ventured forth from their hiding spot. Pat had a grave look on her face. "What now? We can't go to the town without them finding us."

Ned nodded. "I must admit I expected the magic to last longer and allow us a greater head start. Perhaps I'm growing rusty in my old age."

"Rusty or not, we can't go there," Pat insisted.

Ned shook his head. "The town may be large enough to avoid the lord and his knights. As it is, it's a chance we'll have to take," he replied.

"May be large enough?" Pat repeated. Her voice was filled with disbelief and anger. "What do you mean may be large enough? Do you not know the route we are taking?"

Ned grimaced and gripped his staff. "I must admit the way has changed some since my last visit. The town we are traveling to was a growing village on my last trip through it."

Pat exploded in ire. "You informed my watchers that you knew the route by heart! Have you deceived them as you deceived that lord?"

"I have not. I told them I had been along the route, and I have," Ned calmly explained.

The girl wasn't soothed by his words. "That is not how they took your words!"

"Then they were mistaken in their belief of my geographic skills, but not in my ability to get you where you need to go," Ned replied.

Pat threw her arms up in the air and paced around in circles. "What fools we have all been to trust this mission to you! What novices! This boy is less foolish than we!"

Fred scowled at the insult. "I was forced on this journey. I was not fooled into accompanying this lord," he reminded her.

She paused. "Lord? Lord?" She gestured to Ned, who gave them all a wide grin of appreciation. "This is no lord. I have my doubts that he is even so much as a decent man!"

Ned straightened at such an accusation, and his eyebrows crashed down over his fiery eyes. Fred and Pat stepped back when a sudden wave of air rose up from beneath his staff and swept over them. The old man suddenly didn't look so old as his hand tightly gripped the staff. His voice was strong and firm; there was no hint of old age in the tone. "I will keep the promise I have to your watchers, my dear girl, even if it costs me my life. You have my word as a man and a castor that you will reach your destination." The wind died down and the old man leaned on his staff; his age returned to his body and voice, along with his humor. "But first we have a few miles to travel before nightfall. Let's get started."

He walked past the pair of shocked teenagers, who glanced at one another. Fred wondered what sort of trouble he'd fallen into, and how he'd get out.

CHAPTER 3

Ned walked a few feet and turned around. "Don't dawdle now! We must find lodgings before night or we may be robbed of more than our gold."

The pair, not wanting to anger him, jumped at Ned's command and hurried after him. They walked on in silence, each prepared to take cover along the road in case their new enemies should present themselves. The teenagers walked on either side of the old man, and Fred noticed Pat glanced at him several times. He scowled at her. "What? Is something wrong?"

"I want to know how you were able to avoid the pay-dirt magic," she replied. Fred shrugged, but Ned let out a chuckle. She shot him an ugly look. "What's so funny?"

"Haven't you guessed? He didn't fool or deflect the magic because he has no greed for money," Ned explained to her. "No doubt it comes from his having never had any."

Pat scoffed at the idea. "How ridiculous, of course everyone wishes for gold. It's man's greatest motivator."

"And woman's," Ned added.

Fred listened intently to their conversation. When the secret was revealed, he glanced down at his palm. It was true that he hadn't wanted the gold, but only what the gold represented; freedom. He wanted to be free of the servitude of any lord, to be his own man. That meant being free of money he knew he'd never earn, and wouldn't steal.

"Boy." Fred was shaken from his thoughts by the title; Pat was calling him. "What skills do you have? How much can you lift?"

"My name is Fred," he replied. He would be polite, but he wouldn't let himself be pushed around by a girl hardly older than himself, and wearing armor, too.

Pat wrinkled her nose. "Fred? What sort of a name is that for a boy? Haven't you any longer name, like Frederick?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, but my parents never mentioned it before the Boo took them when I was seven," Fred told her.

The girl frowned. "Boo? What in the world is that, some sort of monster around here?"

The old man chuckled and Fred looked at the girl as though she was a fool. "No, the Boo came for them. Haven't you ever had someone taken by the Boo?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't even know what the hell it is," Pat countered.

Sensing a headache-inducing argument about to erupt, Ned sought to intervene. "In some areas Boo refers to Death, probably stemming from the idea of one being scared to death," the old man informed her.

Pat cringed at her lack of sensitivity. "Oh. I...I didn't mean anything-"

"I don't care. It was a long time ago," Fred interrupted. Remembering his parents reminded him that he was traveling away from both his home and their graves.

The remaining four miles were crossed, and they rounded a bend to gain their first view of their destination. The town was set in a low plain beside the river that provided the area with irrigation and drinking water for Damskov's manor. The bushes along the road gave way to stands of trees that stood in patches, beneath which grazed cows in green fields. The town itself and its buildings were housed behind thick stone walls ten feet high and three feet thick. Gates led into the town, and were watched by armored men with swords at their waists.

The nearest gate was also watched by a few of the knights of Damskov. The three companions stopped at the side of the road behind a group of stones. Other travelers passed by to sell wares in the town marketplace. Pat glared at Ned. "What now?"

Ned pulled at his beard and glanced around. His eyes lit up when they fell on a tall, covered wagon that rolled toward them. The driver on the box was an old woman, and the steed was a sorry mule. He stepped into the road and flagged the cart down with his staff. The old woman grudgingly stopped her vehicle, and her narrowed eyes looked at the old man. "What's wanted?" she snapped at him.

"We're in need of help, old mother," Ned politely replied. "Will you allow us to hide in your cart so we may enter the town?"

The old woman looked over the three, particularly Fred. He frowned in turn; there was something strange about the woman's face. Almost like it didn't fit right on her head. "And why are you wanting to do that? Got yourselves into some sort of trouble?"

"Something like that," Ned admitted. "It may be dangerous, especially if our foes finds us."

The woman straightened her small form and cackled. "You must think me a fool, but I'll go along with this joke." She nodded back toward the wagon. "Hop in and hurry, for I've fruit to sell. And mind you, don't squish any of my vegetables!" she scolded as they quickly climbed inside. No sooner had she said that than Pat stepped on a cantaloupe. The vegetable gave a soft squish and, as a last revenge, squirted its juice in Pat's eyes. The old woman turned her head and glared at the girl. "You'll be paying for that one, Miss Armor."

Pat scowled but didn't argue. They seated themselves on the crowded floor and pulled the extra cloth from the wagon covering over themselves. The woman cracked her whip and they plodded off down the road. The wagon rocked from side to side at a pace equal to a toddler's. The distance was short and they soon heard the noise of people and commerce; they'd reached the town gates.

"Whoa there, old mother," a man's deep voice called out. The wagon slowed to a stop. "What have you here?"

"Vegetables as always, now let me pass," she shot back.

"I'm afraid there's been some trouble along that road you came from, so we'll have to ask to search your cart." Fred's heart pounded and he heard the sound of armor clank alongside of the wagon.

"Now wait a minute! I won't have your filthy hands on my vegetables!" their driver protested. "If'n you're going to touch them then you need to wash your hands!"

There was a general murmur of laughter from other people who passed by the wagon on their way into and out of the town. A crowd even formed to watch this affair. The lead guard stepped forward and uneasily glanced at the onlookers. "Listen, old mother, we will only take a moment to look for-"

"-to look for nothing with your grubby hands!" She waved her hand back to the river outside. "You go wash your hands in there or you're not touching my food!"