Chapter 9

"Will you stop playing with that staff! You're spooking my horse."

Startled by Daphne's complaint, Tory lifted his hand from the Dedek Stick secured his saddle's lance sling. He didn't realize he'd been fiddling with it again.

"Sorry."

She laughed. "I'm just giving you a hard time. Though I have to admit it's more than a little disconcerting when you pop in and out like that."

He liked when she laughed. It had a musical quality to it and her eyes lit up like bright sapphires. She was already a very beautiful girl but when she laughed ... well, it made it even harder for him not to stare. He was especially fascinated by the light smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her very cute nose.

"What?"

Those brightly lit blue eyes he liked so much were now staring back at him, with more than a little amusement, he realized. Embarrassed, he averted his gaze back to the swaying head of his horse in front of him.

"Nothing," he told her, shaking his head. "I'm just still surprised you wanted to come on this trek."

"And miss seeing that bastard drawn and quartered?" she growled. "Not on your life!"

Chirurgen and his two cronies had been immediately deposited in the city jail, with the plan that they were to be tried the following day. Unfortunately, they were not there when the sun rose—leaving behind several dead watchmen in their wake instead. It was actually a rather bizarre choice for the former bounty hunter to make, as there was now a significant amount of money on his own head.

Had he just stayed put and faced the judge, his punishment would have been relatively minor—probably just a small fine. Now, convicted of murder in absentia, a shove off the bridge above the falls would be waiting for him—despite Daphne's wishes for something far more bloody. Because of that, all his and the other two men's possessions, including their horses, were turned over to Tory—much to the young man's surprise. He would have thought Pavel should have gotten them—since the knives were thrown at him—or even more so the families of the dead watchmen, but that was not how it worked in this world.

No, Tory was the one who actually defeated Chirurgen, and—by default—his hired men, as well. He had not killed them, however, so he only had the right to those things the men had on their persons. But since the defeated men chose to flee rather than face justice, and committed murder in the process, the rest of their belongings—including all free titles and holdings, not to mention a rather odd looking hand mirror—were handed over to Tory, as well.

So Tory was now a freeholder, Sir Hector Valderrama of Stojespal's Tower, and a knight in the Duke's service—all at the ripe old age of fifteen. He couldn't help but shake his head at that one. He'd thought at the time that he was too young, but he was wrong. Turned out fourteen was the standard age of majority for males—and twelve for females—among the realms of Chaos.

It was this bizarre change of status that explained why he was now currently three days out from Judgment Falls, with his own band of retainers, on his way to his new landholding. In addition, there was a sizeable troop of the Duke's Cavalry accompanying him. Evidently it was their job to protect the new freeholder and re-capture the escaped prisoners, if possible. Personally, Tory wanted to decline the honor and simply head for Ravenrock. Unfortunately, he was outvoted. Both Pavel and Miri thought taking possession of the holding was a good idea, while Daphne was strictly interested in getting a bit of revenge—not that he could blame her.

"That magic stick really fascinates you, doesn't it?" Daphne asked, breaking into his reverie.

Startled, Tory glanced down to find his fingers yet again tracing the patterns of the metallic threads in the wood. Withdrawing them, he glanced over at his horseback companion with a self-conscious expression. He nodded. "To be honest, I'm still surprised Chief Bran let me keep it," he admitted.

"I must say, it's the first time I've ever heard of that."

Tory turned to see that Dalibor, captain of the light cavalry troop, had dropped back and was now riding along at his right side. A tall man in his thirties, he had dark hair and a nasty, jagged scar crossing his nose and right cheek. Fortunately, his demeanor was unlike the scar, which he said was his reward for not ducking. As affable as he was brave, Tory was more than glad to have this veteran of the Great War by his side.

"Do you know much about the Dedek, Captain?" Tory asked, curious for any little scrap of news he could get on the mysterious people. "Everyone I ask seems to give me conflicting information."

"A little," the soldier replied, moving his head and shoulders in a sort of half shrug, half nod. "And the only reason I know anything at all is that I was in the castle on guard duty during one of the assassination attempts. There I was, minding my own business, when this little bearded man pops out of nowhere right in front of me and tells me to follow him. Scared the crap out of me, he did."

Daphne gasped in amazement. "What did you do?"

"Why, follow him, of course!" the captain responded with a laugh. "We were running down a corridor when he suddenly came to a halt. I nearly ran him over, he stopped so fast. I was about to ask him what he was doing, when he grabbed my arm and told me to shut up. I was amazed at how strong he was. He nearly yanked it out of the socket, pulling me toward the wall. Good thing he did, though, because coming the other direction were three armed men who had no business being there at all."

"What did they do when they saw you?"

Tory smiled as he watched and listened to Daphne get totally engrossed in the tale. He had to admit, the light cavalry leader was a good storyteller. While he could already guess where the story was going, it did confirm his suspicion that the Dedek were the primary reason the Duke survived all those assassination attempts.

"That's just it, they didn't see us. The little man had one hand on his stick and the other on me, and the men went to run by as if we weren't even there." Dalibor paused for dramatic effect, then continued with a roll of his eyes.

"Of course, the Dedek had to let go—yelling at the top of his lungs and swinging that magic stick of his. Not wanting to be shown up by someone who only came up to my waist, I did the same. It short order, the three men were dead and the little man and I were out of breath."

The captain laughed and shook his head. "His name was Honza and though it was not the last time I ever saw a Dedek, it was definitely the most memorable."

"No doubt," Tory conceded.

"I have to say, the Dedek are very secretive but I did pick up a few things from them during the Great War. For example, they have a different way of speaking to each other versus humans. Sounds really strange, to tell the truth. And it turns out that 'Dedek' is just the word they use for themselves." Dalibor shrugged at the memory. "Growing up, we always called them brownies but not anymore—not after all they've done for the Duke."

"Are they related at all to fairies?"

Tory could hear Miri giggle behind him. Even he struggled to not laugh out loud at Pavel's predictable question.

The captain, however, took it all in stride. "Now those are the rarest of the Hidden Folk—as beautiful as brownies and dwarves are hairy. The way I hear it, they used to be all over the place centuries ago but not anymore."

"Hidden Folk?" Tory hadn't heard that term before.

"Yes. To answer your comrade's question, I don't know if any of them are related at all, but dwarves, brownies, pixies, fairies, will-o-the wisps, among others, are commonly referred to around here as the Hidden Folk."

"Pavel's favorite topic is fairies," Tory tried to explain. "He even dreams about them in his sleep."

"You don't say." Dalibor's voice came off as non-committal but his expression was clearly curious. He knew something.

"What?"

"Stop!" Miri's voice carried loud and clear, interrupting the conversation and calling the procession to a halt.

Tory looked back at her in confusion. She, however, simply pointed to the sky ahead of them. There in the distance, barely visible over the tops of the trees, were several columns of thick, black smoke.

When the conversation first shifted from the Dedek to fairies, Miri couldn't help but giggle. She found Pavel's fixation rather sweet, really. And she wondered—like the captain seemed to—if there wasn't more to his dreaming. Running her fingers over the Veeli pendant Beyla gave her, she wished she could talk to the older woman.

In truth, she wished she could talk to anyone about the beautiful fairy women and the gift they'd given her. Most of all, she wished she could talk to Tory. As close as she was to her brother, she thought it strange that she hadn't. They talked about everything. Well, everything except this, she mused, gazing down at the pendant in her hand.

It was actually a rather puzzling gift. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a small, leather pouch on a lanyard around her neck. That's not what it felt like, however. When she closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the leather thongs, what she felt was not leather but a fine link chain. Likewise, the pendant itself—she could feel—was actually some sort of metal disk with raised rays radiating out from a central gem of some sort. Not that she could see it, unfortunately.

In fact, it never looked how it felt but always changed to match what she was wearing. Never flashy, but always understated, it was as if it didn't want to be noticed. It was uncanny, really, and Miri didn't know what to think about it. There was even a warmth to the pendant when it laid against her skin. In fact, it was starting to really warm up, just like before.

Agitated, the eight year old looked around the river valley, and the wooded hills on either side of them, in a near panic. Something was wrong, she just knew it. And that is when she saw the smoke rising over the trees ahead of them, multiple plumes rising up and being caught by a breeze. And this was no wispy chimney smoke, either. No, it was the dark, sooty variety that Miri instinctively knew came from much bigger fires. No one else was seeing it, though.

"Stop!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

Her brother twisted in his saddle to look back at her but rather than try to explain it, she just pointed. It took a few moments, but then he saw it, too. The news spread quickly and the captain readied his troops to ride and ride hard.

"What do you think?" Tory asked the cavalry captain. They'd both already agreed the smoke was likely from the village of Red Feather, just north of the tower.

"Slavers," he replied, looking back over his shoulder at the smoke plumes. "They typically round up the people and torch the village to cover their escape. It's unlikely they know we're here, though. If we move quick enough, we could catch them before they make it to the pass."

Tory nodded. "Let's do it."

Word filtered up and down the line about their change in plans. Miri, however, could not help but feel it was all still so very wrong. They had just started moving again and were about to transition to a gallop, when suddenly—in her mind's eye—she could see everything. It was like a flash going off in her brain and she instantly knew the truth. It was a trap. The burning buildings were only a lure. Death was all around them, hiding in the forest at the edge of the meadow they were currently riding through.

Terror leapt into her throat, and she screamed out yet again. "Stop! It's a trap!"

The captain called out for some sort of maneuver, and the horses and their riders pinwheeled off to the left.

Miri, meanwhile, was quickly overrun by another vision. Images of death, like before, flowed through her mind. Knives were not the heinous instruments this time, however. With unmistakable clarity, she could see the flight of the crossbow bolt and watched it slam into Pavel's chest—knocking him from his horse. There was no saving him. It had pierced his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Knowing she had mere seconds, she fiercely goaded her own horse—propelling it into the collier's mount. Taken totally by surprise, Pavel did his best to rein in his unhappy horse, leading it off to the left.

Miri breathed a sigh of relief. The vision vanished from her mind the moment she bumped her friend out of the way of the bolt. He was safe—for the moment. Unfortunately, she was not. The pain of the bolt, as it slammed into her own shoulder, was unlike anything she'd ever felt before in her life.