The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) (6 page)

Ned glanced between the pair and chuckled. "You two look like a cute couple, but I can't figure out who the wife is."

The youngsters paled and jumped away from each other. Pat looked at Fred's dress and wrinkled her nose. "Get out of that stupid getup immediately," she ordered him.

Fred scowled back. "I can't, that guy tore up my other clothes."

Ned put a hand on Fred's shoulder and turned him toward the market. "Then I suppose I had better properly attire my young serf. After all, I wouldn't want my lie-detector to be stolen away because of his feminine beauty."

CHAPTER 6

New clothes were procured for Fred, more comfortable than his old ones and with fewer patches. When he showed himself to his companions, Fred noticed Pat looked him over with more attention than she'd ever shown before. He whipped his head around to find any faults, but saw nothing. "What? Is there a hole somewhere?" he asked her.

"You actually look like a human instead of a pig," she answered before she turned away.

Ned smiled, and glanced up at the sun overhead. "We have enough daylight to gather supplies and find lodgings," he told his companions.

"Or gather supplies and head out," Pat corrected him. "With you two causing so much trouble I don't feel we're welcome in this place."

The tales of Ned's confrontation with the knights and Fred's transformation from girl to boy ran rampant throughout the town. Rumors sprang up of both evil and good magic infecting the citizens, and the people were uneasy. The market was less crowded than usual, and people hurried about their errands and constantly glanced over their shoulders. Ned stroked his beard and nodded. "Yes, I can see what you mean." He sighed. "What a pity. I was hoping for a nice, soft bed rather than the hard ground."

Pat rolled her eyes. "We'll be sure to find a nice haystack for you," she quipped.

They gathered their provisions and wound their way to the opposite end of the crowded town. Another gate lay at the back, and they had no trouble leaving the city as they had entering it. The dirt road curved and continued to follow the river, and they'd traveled far enough to see around the stone walls when Fred paused. He glanced back at the front road far off, the one that led to Damskov's estate. He wondered if he'd ever see his old home again.

"Come on, boy!" Pat yelled at him.

He whipped his head around and scowled. "My name's not boy, it's Fred!"

"Hurry up or I'll call you a girl," she replied.

Pat grew quiet when Ned passed by her and stepped up to Fred. He looked over the young man with that odd smile Fred had seen the first time they met. "It comes down to this every time, doesn't it?" he asked Fred

"What comes down to this?" Fred asked him.

Ned nodded toward the road that led back to the estate. "Every road before you means there's one behind, and we're always looking back wondering if we should have stepped forward at all. Maybe we would have been better standing there." Wagons passed by them, and other people walked in and out of the gate. "It's fear and regret that keep us rooted to one spot, and we miss much of life standing there watching the world pass by." Ned leaned forward and glanced into the boy's eyes. "I think you're one of those who doesn't want to just watch. You want to know those people and see those places."

Fred leaned back and frowned. "How do you know I won't just run away?" he challenged the old man.

Ned had a twinkle in his eye as he tilted his head to one side. "Because I know you." A chill ran down Fred's spine; those words sounded so familiar.

Pat's shrill voice ruined the moment. "Are we going to stand here all day? The sun will set in a few hours."

The boy rolled his eyes, but Ned laughed. "Yes, I suppose we had better get moving. Are you coming, young lad?"

Fred shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Fred had no better place to go than with them, so he followed his new companions. To distract himself from the homesickness he focused his attention on the old man known as Ned. This strange person had terrifying abilities, ones he'd never before heard of, and sometimes Fred swore the old man was familiar. The sense of deja vu and those strange abilities scared and yet interested his unlearned and curious mind. Fred wondered how someone so ordinary in appearance could acquire these skills, and perhaps teach them to a certain young boy.

These abilities, however, didn't leave Pat in awe for very long; she was more angry with the old man than curious. She walked by Ned's side and glanced over to him. "You know, you're going to have to be more careful about throwing that staff around," she scolded him.

"Oh? Was my show too much?" Ned asked her.

"I'll say," she retorted. "What if a real castor had been around and saw you doing that? They might have been on the other side, you know, and told someone about what and who they saw."

"What's a castor?" Fred spoke up. He hadn't received an answer at his last question.

Pat looked over her shoulder at the boy with one eye on Ned. "A castor is an old man who doesn't know how to show restraint. We might have been able to have them let us go for a few gold coins."

Ned grinned and chuckled. "I had no idea the term castor was so exclusive. I'm afraid a great many people will be disappointed in knowing they aren't one."

"So you're a castor?" Fred asked the old man.

Ned stopped, spun on his heels, and gave a flourish of his arms as he bowed. "A castor is me, and I am indeed a castor."

Pat slapped her forehead. "Must you broadcast it to every waif you pick up?"

"I'm not a waif, I'm a serf! There's a difference!" Fred protested.

"You're right, you're not a waif. You're just useless," she snapped back.

Ned stepped between them and held up his hands. "A moment, children. Let's have less arguing and more talking about me."

His words were meant to be a joke, but Pat turned to him with such a look of fury that the humor in his face died. "Yes, let's talk about you and how well of a job you've done protecting me" She marched up and poked him in the chest. "So far you've managed to pick up a boy we know nothing about, anger a local lord and his knights, and stir fear in an entire town." Each point was punctuated with a finger poke. "How the hell is that getting us to-" She paused and glanced over to Fred. "Getting us to where we need to be," she rephrased.

"Patience, my dear Patricia. We won't get to our destination overnight, and the boy here may prove more useful than you believe," Ned replied.

Pat sneered at the boy and turned away from them. She marched down the road, and Ned slid over beside Fred. "There's nothing so terrifying as a woman," Ned whispered.

"You mean a woman scorned?" Fred asked him.

"No, I meant a woman. That one's absolutely terrifying when she's angry, and to see her scorned would frighten us all to death." Ned glanced at Fred, and the humor in his face dropped off. "But you truly don't know what a castor is? Not even a gut feeling about them?"

Fred shook his head. "I've never heard the word before."

"But what does your gut tell you? Nothing at all?" Ned prodded.

Fred thought over the question, then shrugged. "Some sort of magician?"

Ned sighed and turned his face away; Fred wondered if he'd said something wrong. "Yes, I suppose that's one way of looking at castors. They're able to perform amazing feats. Some call it magic, others call it tricks. I for one prefer to call it a gift from the gods to be cherished and used wisely."

"So not everyone can be a castor?" Fred asked him. His heart fell when Ned shook his head.

"No, not everyone has the gift, and many who do can only perform simple tricks such as using the pay-dirt." Ned turned back to him and grinned. "There are normal humans who use potions, as you experienced for yourself with that slave seller."

"How do you know if you're a castor? Is there some sort of a test?" Fred wondered.

Ned looked the boy over carefully and pulled at his beard; his eyes twinkled with that mischievous look. "Now why would a simple lad such as yourself be asking that question?"

Fred lowered his head. "I'm just curious, that's all, my lord." He'd forgotten his place with this strange man.

Ned laughed and patted the boy on the back. Fred stumbled forward and nearly fell. "That's one fact Pat got right. I'm not a lord, and am not fond of the title. You call me Ned from now on and nothing else. Well, unless you're mad at me. Then I can't stop you from calling me all sorts of things."

"But you bought me, sir," Fred pointed out.

"With fake money," Ned countered. "You're as good as a freed man, or an escaped serf. If anyone asks, I would take the freed man title. It causes fewer questions and less time in a cell."

Fred blinked. "Freed man?" Never in all his short years would he had expected that title to be confirmed upon himself.

"Yes, and that means you can go anywhere you'd like, though I would advise you to put some distance between your former lord and yourself. He's liable to miss you so much that he'll try to drag you back again if he saw the chance."

"Anywhere I'd like..." Fred glanced up at the sky; the only place he wanted to be right then was in his little hut by the warm hearth.

"It hurts leaving everything you've ever known, doesn't it?" Ned's voice was so soft Fred hardly recognized it. The boy only nodded; he didn't trust himself to speak as tears pooled in his eyes. "Perhaps you were meant to know and see more."

Fred looked back to the ground and shrugged. "I guess, but what am I supposed to do? I don't know a trade, and if I went on to another estate I'd be a serf again."

Ned pulled at his beard and watched the boy. "Well, you could follow us for a while. That is, until we reach a large enough town where you can find work," he suggested.

Fred sighed. "What other choice do I have?"

"Are you two stopping again? We only have a few more hours of daylight!" Pat yelled from her spot far down the road.

Ned chuckled. "It seems she's taken a liking to you, or she wouldn't care that you're falling behind." The old man didn't wait for a reply, but walked forward to catch up.

Fred didn't see it that way, but he hurried after Ned without argument. The three met up and continued on their journey down the dusty road. They passed small farms and large estates, and wandered through villages that were only small huddles of houses. The road wound its way beside the river with only a few dozen yards of lush green grass and large trees that separated the travelers from the water. Here and there the river bent away from the road and made for a nice camp spot. Night was coming on when they stopped at one of those picturesque spots that was comfortably concealed behind a large swath of tall, wild bushes. The grass there was soft, the trees a comfort against any threat of rain, and the hurriedly abandoned campsite was a very interesting mystery.

The three companions stood at the outer ring of a campfire circle and looked about them at the mess. Bags lay torn open over the sitting logs and blankets, spread out for sleeping, were tossed around the whole area. A teakettle lay smashed beside the fire rocks, and there were a few unburnt logs stacked in the pit. Ned bent down beside the prepared logs with Pat behind him, but something out of the corner of his eye caught Fred's attention.

Fred saw marks in the dirt made by the frantic clawing of a man. He followed the marks out of the campfire ring and toward the river, where the man's nails dug into the green grass and tore up clods of mud. The trail led to a tall, wide tree with a large hole in the trunk. The marks ended at the base of the tree, where there was a small pile of bark. Fred stood on the roots to take a look into the hole.

The other two by the fire examined the debris and unused fire. Ned's lips were pursed together and he shook his head. "Whatever attacked these people struck without warning."

Pat noticed a boot laying not far from the fire and picked it up. "Yes, but what do you-ah!" She screamed and dropped the boot. Fred and Ned whipped their heads up and around at the girl, who pointed a quivering hand at the boot. Her face was pale and she stuttered out her words. "T-there's a foot in there!"

Fred's face lost its color, but Ned stood up and walked over to the boot. He carefully lifted the clothing item and glanced inside; his face grew more grave. "It seems we have a larger problem than I guessed."

Fred trembled and froze; the problem with his trembling was that he hadn't moved. He heard a noise behind him and slowly turned his head back to the tree. His eyes widened when a pair of large, unknown eyes stared back at him from the trunk, and the limbs bent down to grab at him. The tree was alive, and the hole he stood in front of was the mouth. Fred screamed and lost his grip on the trunk. He fell back onto the ground among roots that tore from the ground and tried to grab at him. He kicked and dodged, and managed to roll out of their reach toward the fire pit.

Ned and Pat rushed forward and helped Fred to his feet, where he turned around and his mouth dropped open. The tree tore itself out of the ground and stretched its limbs high above the foliage on its head. The mouth let out a great roar and its roots burst up beneath the companions' feet. Ned and Pat avoided the clinging plant, but Fred didn't snap out of his stupor quick enough. A root tangled itself around one of his legs and pulled him off his feet. He had the wind knocked from his lungs, and he didn't have time to recover before he was dragged along the dirt to the creature. He reached the tree and was lifted off the ground, his back scraped up and his shirt torn. He twisted and turned in midair, but couldn't catch onto anything.