Magic Astray (The Llandra Saga) (2 page)

Berry chittered angrily, far too fast for Randall to follow. He stamped one of his tiny feet on the map and crossed his arms, looking just like a petulant child.

“You’re talking too fast! I can’t understand you. Now, what’s the matter?” Randall asked, suppressing a grin at his friend’s antics.

The donnan repeated himself more slowly, though Randall still didn’t grasp the meaning. “No what? I don’t understand that word.”

“No...tree children,” Berry replied, grasping for another way to get his point across.

“Oh! You mean elves, right? That was the word for elves?”

Berry nodded excitedly and then pointed to another section of the map high in the mountains. “See rock children,” he finished, following it with another word Randall didn’t recognize.

“Rock children? Dwarves?”

Berry nodded again. “No elves, see dwarves,” he repeated, his arms still folded across his chest.

“But I don’t know anything about the dwarves. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” Randall asked, still imagining the vast riches he could earn selling the elven trinkets.

Berry cocked his head sideways in the expression that Randall had come to understand as the creature’s version of a shrug, and then clambered up onto Randall’s shoulder. “I don’t think there’s anything else useful here, Berry. None of this magic stuff is going to do me any good,” he decided, indicating the study with a sweep of his hand. “Besides, it feels kind of creepy skulking around here. Let’s leave the old man’s memory in peace.”

* * *

Randall had originally decided to head straight for the road between Geldorn and Paranol immediately upon leaving Erliand’s home. It seemed to be the easiest route to reach Shaderest forest, and he was pretty sure he could find the path that Brody and his crew used to travel from Paranol to the elven city once he got close enough. But once he set up camp for the evening and pulled out his map, he noticed another notation that caught his eye: There appeared to be a second elven community marked on the map.

Randall hadn’t noticed the marking before, because it was actually quite some distance from Dyffryn, and he had focused his attention on the names he recognized. But this other city, Llyn, was quite close. It was only a few days’ travel or so from Geldorn.

“What do you think, Berry?” Randal asked. “It looks like I can save maybe a week’s travel by going to Llyn, and it’ll take me close to home. I should probably drop by and let everyone know that I’m doing all right. Besides, Erliand circled it on the map. That has to mean something!”

Berry snorted and turned his back. He was still put out by Randall’s decision to visit the elves.

“C’mon Berry,” Randal wheedled. “I don’t want to fight about it. Tell you what. Let’s go visit the elves first, and then we can go visit the dwarves afterwards. Dyffryn is on the way to the Ironpike Mountains anyway, and we can pick up some elven artifacts there. If I’m going to trek half-way across the country to meet up with the dwarves, it’d be nice to make a little money along the way. That way, we can both get what we want.”

Berry chittered tentatively, and clambered up into Randall’s lap, nuzzling his head into Randall’s chest. It was clear that the donnan wasn’t completely satisfied with the decision, but the compromise had mollified him somewhat.

The next day, Randall broke camp with enthusiasm, whistling while he worked. He was taking the first positive step toward his future since he had left his home last spring, and it was a good feeling. Berry assisted, as always, stuffing the smaller items that he could carry into Randall’s travel sack, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Randall hoped that his friend would cheer up once they hit the open road.

According to the map, the easiest way to get to Dyffryn would be to take the road toward Paranol, veering off to the north just before reaching the town. There was no real point in heading into the city itself; the pair of travelers didn’t have any money to pay for a night’s stay or a meal at an inn. The return trip would be a different matter entirely, however. Randall smiled to himself at the thought of a hot bath and the prospect of sleeping under a roof for a change. If he played his cards right, he’d earn enough money for at least that, if not considerably more.

As the pair of travelers made their way toward the elven city, Randall found himself wondering what state the world was in. He had made it home shortly after the Mage rebellion that had overthrown King Priess. Though the heart of the fighting took place in Ninove, he was certain that there had been resistance elsewhere as well—and that fighting might still be ongoing. Randall knew first-hand that not everyone in Tallia would welcome Mages with open arms, much less accepting Mages as rulers.

It had only been a little over a year, after all, and it would take considerable time to mobilize an army and move it across the country to stamp out any last vestiges of King Priess’ power.

Still, Randall wasn’t that concerned, at least on this part of the journey. All the country on this side of the Great Red River was considered inconsequential backwaters. Though the thought stuck in his craw, he had seen enough of the large towns near the capital of Ninove to know it was true. Nobody would be sending any armies this way any time soon, no matter where the people’s loyalties might lie. There would be no guardsmen on the roads, and certainly no army blocking his path. It was far cry from the last time he had made this trip, with Aiden and his Rooks hot on his tail.

Randall didn’t actually expect he’d see anyone on the road at all, as a matter of fact. Sure, this was considered the busy season for travelers from Geldorn to make the trek to Paranol for barter, but ‘busy’ in this part of the world meant one or two travelers on the road a week, if that. Randall let his mind drift, imagining what it would be like to meet with the elves in Dyffryn, and what the city might be like. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice the large tree trunk that had been hauled across the road until he was right on top of it.

Berry clambered down from his spot on Randall’s shoulder, and scampered up to the log, sniffing it enthusiastically, like some kind of bloodhound.

“I wonder who put this here,” Randall mused, as much to himself as to Berry.

“I did,” a voice called out from just behind Randall.

Randall spun to face the voice. The speaker was a young man, not much older than Randall himself. He wore simple clothes: breeches, a slightly worn tunic, and ankle-high boots. If it weren’t for the crossbow he had in his hands, he might’ve been a farmer’s son from Geldorn or any of the surrounding communities.

The sight of the crossbow might have alarmed Randall in the not-too-distant past, but after all he had been through, he found the sight of the young man more amusing than anything else.

“And why would you want to do a thing like that?” Randall asked the stranger, though he was already certain of the answer.

“It’s like this, you see,” the teen answered. “With the king dead, there’s no one to pay for the garrison at Geldorn. None of them lot are willing to patrol the roads without pay, so I keep this here part of the road free from bandits. Seeing how I’m providing a valuable service and all, it’s only fair that I see a little coin for my efforts. The log in the road makes sure that folks stop long enough for me to collect the toll. Travelers pay their five ringets, and I move the log so they can be on their way with their merchandise.”

“I have no merchandise, and I have no cart,” Randall answered with a grin. “What’s to keep me from just going around or stepping over the log? I really don’t need to pay you to move it for me.”

“Everyone pays the toll,” the young man stated flatly, reaching down and putting one hand on the crossbow dangling from his belt. He scowled menacingly, but Randall took note of the stiffness in the young man’s movements, as well as the way his breath had quickened. The boy was clearly nervous—he hadn’t been at this sort of thing for very long.

“I don’t think so,” Randall replied, looking the other squarely in the eye. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to continue on my way. You can shoot me in the back if you want to. I won’t lie—killing a man whose back is turned is easy. What’s hard is living with it afterwards. I hope that’s a burden your soul never has to bear.”

The young man continued to meet Randall’s gaze for only a moment before dropping his eyes and slouching his shoulders. Randall had guessed correctly—the boy was no killer. “Go on, then. Hurry up before I change my mind,” the aspiring highwayman grumped, trying to save a little face.

“C’mon Berry! Let’s go,” Randall called to his friend. Berry had stood motionless next to the log throughout the entire exchange, crouched in an aggressive, low stance. Randall wouldn’t have given two ringets for the value of the highwayman’s life had he decided to take violent action.

At his friend’s call, Berry chittered merrily and scampered toward the two young men. The stranger flinched backward at the donnan’s sudden movement; he obviously hadn’t noticed the little imp before. His eyes grew wide, darting back and forth between the pair of travelers as he backed away.

“Oh! That’s....that’s a... You’re..you’re...” he stammered. His eyes never left the donnan as Berry clambered up Randall’s leg and onto his shoulder.

“Randall Miller,” Randall stated, amused at the boy’s reaction. “Nice to meet you.”

The young man stood frozen, staring at the two adventurers until Randall cleared his throat. “Ahem. My mother always taught me that it’s polite to give your own name when introductions are being made.”

The young man flinched again, and began babbling quickly. “Right...uh, I’m Eamon—from Waverly. You’re really Randall Miller! You’re like the greatest Mage on Tallia!” The young man continued, not noticing Randall’s wince at the last comment. “You’ve single-handedly killed like a dozen Mages. If it weren’t for you, the Mage rebellion would have ended before it ever even got started, and King Priess would still be on the throne.”

Randall eyed the young man warily. He was only a little surprised that the Eamon had heard of him. Randall
had
been at the capital when the fighting had broken out, but he wasn’t the central figure that this young man seemed to think him to be. Eamon’s face held a mixture of fear and excitement, though excitement seemed to be winning the battle for dominance.

“Well, it didn’t exactly happen like that, you know,” Randall demurred, looking the other over with a critical eye. “What are you doing out here robbing good folk anyway? Shouldn’t you be at home, tending your fields?”

The young highwayman’s chest deflated at the last comment; Randall had evidently guessed correctly that he was probably some farmer’s son. Eamon looked down and scuffed his feet in the dirt before quietly answering.

“Pa died a couple of years ago of the whooping cough,” he said. “I’m not so good with the farm, and things have been pretty bad since King Priess’ death. It was either this, or starvation.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear about your pa,” Randall said, feeling a little guilty for his earlier judgmental attitude. “What about your mother?” Randall asked, “What does she think of all this, then?”

“She died when I was just a baby,” Eamon replied, still looking down. “My whole life, it’s just been me and Pa. And now, it’s just me.”

“That’s rough,” Randall said. “I’m sorry I came down on you so hard. Still, I can’t say as I approve of thievery. There’s got to be something else you can do to make ends meet.”

“Like what?” Eamon snapped. “It’s not like there are any jobs around here these days. People are scared, and they’re not spending any money that they don’t have to. Even in the best of times, it’s not easy to make a living if you’ve never been ‘prenticed. Now, it’s all but impossible.”

Randall knew the truth in Eamon’s words. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that he found himself desperate to earn an apprenticeship to make his own fortune. Suddenly he was struck by a flash of inspiration.

“Well, if you have nothing keeping you here, why don’t you come with me? I’m heading to Shaderest forest to trade with the elves and then on to Varna on the Lake and maybe Ninove. We can make a little money and see a bit of the world. It’s bound to be better than what you’re doing now, and you’ll earn honest pay.”

Eamon’s eyes grew wide as Randall outlined his plan. “Really? You’d take me with you? To see elves? That’s amazing!”

“Sure, why not?” Randall chuckled. “Berry and I could use the company. Which reminds me: Eamon, this is Berry,” Randall said as he nodded his head sideways toward the imp on his shoulder. “Berry is a friend.”

“Uh...hi,” Eamon stammered, involuntarily shuffling back a half a step.

Berry leaned forward on Randall’s shoulder, with the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips, as if the donnan were tasting the air.

“He connects,” Berry chittered, sitting back on Randall’s shoulder with a satisfied air. “It is well.”

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?” Eamon asked, not realizing that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah, he is at that. He talks a lot, but I don’t understand him half the time,” Randall said with a grin, shaking his head.

“You mean you can talk to him?” Eamon asked, incredulous.

“Sure can, some of the time at least. But even when I think I know what he’s saying, I still don’t always get what he means. Luckily, he understands me a whole lot more than I do him,” Randall answered with another grin.

“Show me!” Eamon ordered excitedly. “I wanna see him do something!”

“Berry’s a friend, not a pet,” Randall chided. “He doesn’t do tricks. Now c’mon, let’s get this log off the road. We’ve got a long way to go before reaching Shaderest.”

 

Chapter 2

Eamon kept a respectful distance as they traveled toward Paranol. He had begun the journey with enthusiasm, but now that they were on the road, he hung back several paces, keeping his distance.
Must be having second thoughts,
Randall mused as he looked back over his shoulder to see the troubled and somewhat puzzled expression on the young man’s face.
Well, whatever’s on his mind, he’ll spit it out sooner or later.

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