Enchanted Realms

Chapter 4

Josh pulled his cloak tighter and fingered the stones on the chain around his neck, marveling at the generosity of strangers.

After the wyvern attack, Josh had packed, said his good-byes and left, wanting to cross the Alsace border by dawn. His climb had become steeper and the chill deeper, the higher elevation and thickening night both contributing to the cold. He pushed onward, doubting that the reprieve reluctantly granted by Guardian Kingstead was anything but temporary.

The necklace he now wore sported pearl, lapis lazuli, aquamarine, amethyst, turquoise, garnet, red and clear beryl—all of the semi-precious stones. He wondered at the stranger who"d visited just before he"d gone to bed.

His father John had asked all the villagers wanting to see Josh to return in the morning—Jenny"s warning having come afterward—but after everyone had gone, another knock.

At the door had been a wizened man with eyes aglow like the setting sun. “I have to see your son,” the old man had said.

When he"d stepped inside, Josh had seen why his father had relented. The eyes were literally aglow, embers deep inside a fire pit, blazing balls refracted like suns through a thick haze on the horizon, twin beacons of red, flush with warning.

“You"ll need this,” he"d said and had thrust at Josh a ring on a chain. Around the ring were sixteen semi-precious gemstones, more valuable for having been assembled in one place, their sizes and strengths nearly identical to each other.

The old man with fire for eyes had departed with a nimbleness that belied his age, nary another word for either father or son.

Josh had held it up for his father to see. “What do you suppose it all means, this series of strangenesses?”

“Tis long passed strange,” John had said, staring at him in awe.

It had disturbed Josh to see his father afraid for him, afraid of him. The man he"d looked up to all his life now looked up to him.

They"d packed Josh a knapsack with a change of clothes and an extra layer for the cold, a flask of watered-down wine, a few victuals to stave to stave off the night from fast, and Josh had departed, stopping to look a last time at Jenny"s body where it lay in the barn.

Their parting had been solemn on his father"s part, Josh making a few attempts at mirth. He"d not been able to cajole a smile from his father.

The slope he now climbed into the darkening night blocked out the daunting mountains beyond. The focused light from the white crystal showing him the path, Josh had no way to see the heights before him, for which he was glad. Had he seen the treacherous heights ahead, he might"ve turned back despite the fate that awaited in Alsace.

He trudged doggedly into the night, his breath soon frosting before him, after a time crystallizing around nose, mouth, and even brow.

A light ahead caught his attention: A watchtower beacon. Astraddle the trail ahead was a lone outpost, guarding the road for who knew what purpose, since only the hardiest or most desperate of travelers would be out at this time in this clime.

Perhaps it"s the most desperate of traveler they watch for, Josh thought. And with that in mind, he summoned a cloak and masked his presence. I"m sure it"s a clumsy one, he thought, his skill untried and the cloak likely penetrated with ease by practitioners of greater acumen.

He crept toward the tower, its stone base intimidating, and its arch over the road gravity-defying.

The torches burning merrily, the tower seemed quiet, as though recently vacated, the only sound the crackle and hiss of pitch and the wind-whipped flame itself, the sound not unlike a flag in a breeze.

Josh walked under the arch without incident and kept right on walking, only a glance or two behind to assure himself he"d not been sighted.

Perhaps fifty yards up the ascending trail, his height about even with the tower tops, he glanced back one last time and—

“By the bleeding wyrm!”

—bumped into someone.

The shape obscured, someone stood there, but he couldn"t see who.

“Oh,” the voice said, now a whisper. “It"s you!”

Sounded slightly familiar and slightly feminine.

“Bleeding wyrm is right!” he said, recognizing—

The cloak feel and Alyson stood there, hands on hips, scowl on face. “Keep your voice down or we"re wyrm-bait.” And she dragged him off the path and into the brush.

Thick conifers screening them from the watchtower, Josh whispered loudly, “What the wyrm are you doing here?”

“I have to come with you,” she said.

“You have to go home,” he insisted.

“You can"t tell me what to do, Wyrm Talker. Already acting like a king!”

“I"m not the king, I don"t want to be king, I wish you"d stop saying it, and I"m never returning to this wyvern-forsaken place again. Ever!”

She looked as dismayed as she had the first time he"d said it. “If you won"t be king, how am I ever to become your queen?”

He threw his head back and had to cover his mouth for the fear of alerting the tower with his laughter. He fell to the ground, clutching his sides, his body shaking.

“What"s so funny?” she asked, her voice a harsh, sharp whisper. Finally, hands on hips, she kicked him.

“Hey!” he protested, rolling over to shield himself. Giggling, he climbed to his feet. Cold tears of laughter on his colder cheeks, he shook his head at her. “Look, it"s not safe where I"m going. You can"t come with me, even if you were my queen.”

She frowned and sniffed, then turned away, her shoulders up and shaking as though she were weeping.

“I didn"t mean it like that,” Josh said, hating himself for making her feel rejected. “I"m sorry, I just … you can"t … it isn"t …” He heaved a sigh.

She peeked at him from behind her shoulder.

“I"d really like to have your company.” Well, that at least was honest, he thought, wondering how to persuade her to return to Alsace.

“Oh, good!” She turned, suddenly bright. “I"ll set the pace for an hour, and then—”

“But I can"t take you, Alyson. I"m so sorry, I really wish—”

“But you have to!” She looked as though on the verge of tears again.

“Why?”

She looked over her shoulder toward the kingdom they"d left behind, a real tear slipping from one eye. “My parents … they … Oh, Josh, I don"t believe it! They told … told the Guardian …” she could barely speak “… told him I"d marry that brat!”

Josh frowned. “Tony?”

“Tony!” And Alyson threw herself into his arms, weeping disconsolately.

“And he said if I didn"t he"d banish us all.”

Josh tried to imagine her parents and their children having to leave Alsace, cross the mountains into the neighboring kingdom, and try to find a home with only the clothes on their backs. And then he tried to imagine the spirited Alyson marrying the sullen, dour Anthony and being the wife of the future Guardian.

I can"t send her back into that! he thought, wondering what the wyvern he was going to do with a girl in tow.

How bad can it get? he wondered.