The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) (9 page)

Pat pressed her back against Fred's and she clasped her hand in his; he felt her tremble with the fear of the horrible death that awaited them. "I-I'm sorry about all the bad things I said," she told him.

Fred squeezed her hand; he knew she hadn't meant any of it. "Don't give up just yet," he encouraged her.

She let out a barking laugh. "I'm pretty sure now's a pretty good time to give up." The trees edged closer and their mouths gnashed at the pair. Their branches shut off the light above them and slunk along the ground toward them. They were trapped; doomed.

Fred scowled and glanced at the thrashing creatures around them. He never imagined himself dying in such a gruesome, unheroic way; what would their deaths accomplish here? Nothing, and that made him mad. His hand gripped tightly the broken stick, and he was surprised when a sudden light pulsed at his side. Pat and he glanced down, and saw that the stick glowed. Fred raised the stick in front of him and watched in shock as the leather around the weapon untied itself. The feeble appearance of a broken stick fell away to reveal a long, smooth staff with a crook at the very top. Atop the crook lay a small, blue gemstone that gave off a new, brighter light. The creatures cried out against the burning brilliance and retreated a dozen yards.

Pat glanced over Fred's shoulder and her eyes widened. "Is that a castor staff?" she asked him.

Fred furiously shook his head. "I don't know, it just changed to this!"

The creatures covered their faces with their limbs and rekindled their attacks. The branches swept back toward them, but this time they had a different focus; the staff.

Pat ducked behind Fred and nodded at the oncoming enemies. "Well, whatever you did you'd better do something like it again!"

The smaller branches shot out ahead of the larger ones, and pointed their sharp ends at the pair like wooden daggers. Other limbs went for the staff to wrap themselves around the stick and break it apart. Fred thought about what he did to make it change; he'd gripped it tight. The boy did likewise, and this time with both hands. The light didn't grow brighter, and the creatures kept coming. The monstrous branch at the head of the onslaught propelled itself at his head, ready to stab right through him. Fred instinctively held up the staff in front of him to block the blow, and he slammed shut his eyes.

He heard a terrible scream and opened his eyes in time to see the end of the limb disintegrate. The creature's limb had collided with his staff, or rather with the pulsing shield of light that surrounded it. The branch shuddered and pulled back, but that didn't stop the rest of it from crumbling. The destruction swept up the length of the limb and into the main body of the tree. The creature cried out in agony when its body fell away into a pile of dust, and that was quickly taken by the wind. The other creatures scuttled back, but the shield of light expanded toward them like a giant wall of shimmering brilliance. The light swept over their branches and their bodies, sweeping them all away into oblivion. In a moment the danger was gone, destroyed by the staff that had been a broken stick a few minutes before.

Fred and Pat stood dumbfounded as the storm above them finally loosened the rain. The droplets fell on the remains of the creatures and sizzled atop their smoldering ashes. The boy glanced down at the staff in his hands. The light softened and faded, and with it went the magic. The staff transformed into its original shape of a broken stick wrapped in leather. Then the pair heard a slow clap. They whirled around ready for another fight, and saw Ned standing there with a smile on his face and no longer a wound on his forehead. "Bravo, my lad. I couldn't have done it in a flashier way if I'd tried."

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, and 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.