Chapter 3: Questions and...more questions?

  Zeth could feel tears welling in his eyes as he picked himself up from the ground and trudged after the trio. His hands were tightly tied with rope, and Sword Lady was proudly holding on to the other end. It wasn’t the first time she tugged at it, to make him stumble. Her cackling became more boisterous with every tiny sniffle or remark he made. Of which, he had a lot at first. But life – and by that, I, of course, mean, lawful kidnappers – teaches harsh lessons, so he opted to be silent. He was a Kavalier man! He wouldn’t show weakness, he’d make his father proud! He exhaled like a proud bull and willed that determination to last…the trek to that Lord of theirs had just barely begun. It really wouldn’t bode well if he ended up dead somewhere on the way. Whichever mysterious cave those guys had chosen, he had to make sure to get there in one piece.

  And back. Hopefully.

  Another harsh tug had him stumbling on the rocky pathway.

  “Oi, Bigsword riffy wench, yes, you! Stop that. I won't take this lightly!” he snapped the rope holding his hands in a swift motion. Lightning rained from the sky, followed by a roar of thunder. The wind picked up, swirling all around them in a tornado.

  “You’ve made me angry! I’ll make you pay.” With that, he rolled on the ground, kicked the woman off her feet and onto her back. As fast as the wind, he settled a boot on her chest and pushed. She flailed pathetically, but couldn't move the mighty weight off of her. She just looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.

  Oh yes. Good.

  He picked up her enormous sword with ease, twirled it around for pizazz, and brought it to her neck.

  She eyed the sharp edge, mouth wobbling. “I am very sorry, please, don’t hurt me anymore! I swear, I’ll untie you. I’ll even give your cactus back!”

  Zeth grinned and opened his arms wide just as Fergus, roughly the size of a big sheep, no, bigger, came from the skies to land in his arms, warm, not spiky...safe…

  Zeth snapped back to reality. Yeah, wouldn’t that have been nice. Fergus was at home, keeping the stupid Token safe. He would never risk his best friend on a journey like this. And that damned sword was bigger and wider than himself. The heaviest thing Zeth ever carried in his life was a single, small, bag of flour. His arms would probably pop off if he tried to lift that monstrosity. The only thing he could realistically do from that daydream was to use his voice. As in, scream ‘riffy bigsword wench’ to her face. But, sadly, she wasn't facing him, so he settled for glaring a hole at her back. Very thoroughly.

  “Merdis, leave the child be,” said Old and Wrinkly. He was the only one so far not to, well, do anything remotely bad to Zeth.

  Sword Lady, or, Merdis, exchanged a look with him, before huffing out a truly audible sigh.

  “Ugh. Fine.”

  Zeth let out a silent huff of his own and discretely looked at Old Wrinkly. He seemed the nicest of them. He didn’t really do much of anything, really. He was just…there. Nice was probably not the right word for him though. He looked like someone you never really want to cross. With heavy eyebrows, stuck in a permanent frown, with thin, tight lips and high cheekbones, coupled with that extremely long, thin beard that looked like silk, he seemed very distant and noble-y. If that was even a word. Not that Zeth knew many fancy words. Old and Wrinkly was even dressed noble-y. His long, flowy robes did a great job at cleaning the dirt path to the bakery.

  Zeth’s attention snapped from the old man to the strange black lines on the ground as they neared them. They were thicker than he thought. And they followed a pattern. An enormous pattern, with lines, circles, squiggles and some sort of lettering spanning across the whole thing. The black colour came from singed grass, dirt, and..was that molten rocks?

  He took a vague sniff, and, yup, there it was, a faint, but very distinct smell of burnt grass, dirt, and something unpleasantly sulphuric. He gagged, trying to get the unpleasant twang out of his throat.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The whole thing was circular in shape and, from what Zeth could tell, could fit half the bakery inside.

  In his idle observation, he didn't release the group had stopped walking, and crashed nose-first into Merdis’s back. She gave him a stink eye and patted her sword for good measure. Zeth gulped and took a step back. Away from her, away from Big and Ugly.

  Not that that worked, because hello and behold, said Big and Ugly waddled right up to him.

  “We stop here. You, baker-brat, one wrong peep from you to our Lord, and I’m cuttin’ off that tongue of yours,” he waved a meaty finger in Zeth’s face. The boy had a sudden, and violent urge to bite it off and…wait…

  He looked to the right, then to the left, cocked his head and spun in a circle. Yeah, nope. There was nobody there, aside from the four of them.

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” grinned Merdis and tugged the rope lightly. “Just sit tight and hold on to your bum. Don’t want you losing it on the way.”

  What?

  Before he could get another question out, or, you know, defend his posterior, the other two gathered around the old man.

  He was crouched near a black line and was reverently gliding a gloved finger over it. The wide, closed-mouth smile he had made the hair on Zeth’s arms stand. He could practically see the glint in those grey eyes of his.

  Yeah, ‘nice’ should definitely be replaced with ‘creepy’.

  But whatever that thing was, that man knew. Did it have anything to do with the whole mess at home? And why did they stop there? Did those lines have anything to do with that? And the cave, too! Whichever one it was, they were always far away, oftentimes in regions hard to go by. Very perilous. Zeth had heard many a ghost story from the local ragtag kids and your usual stray hermit. So how in the world were they going to get there?

  There...was no way they were going on foot, right? If they had a Lord, and those guys were from the Guild, approved by the Emperor himself, they had to have a proper means of transport. Horses? Carriages? The Steam Machines? Anything..?

  And why the riff would he risk losing his bottom?

  He needed answers. And the one who could give them painlessly, well, for Zeth at least, was Old and Wrinkly. After all, they needed him alive and well, right? Why they would need a baker was beyond him, but still.

  So, with a deep, steady breath, he walked to the man as close as the rope let him, and discretely coughed. Merdis and Ugly both tensed.

  Old and Wrinkly slowly turned to look at him.

  “Um, where..”

  “Don’t fret, child. The young Lord is waiting for us near the Yotsu Crossing,” said the man, brows furrowed. “Grint, Merdis, I am going to reactivate this one for one more journey. After that, I..-”

  “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get you your rest old man,” Big and Ugly – Grint – waved his arm in a wide arch. “Just get this over with. We needed to be back ages ago.” He rounded on Zeth with a sneer. “It’s all your fault. If you’d have hurried up and came like the good little dog y..-”

  “Grint.” Old and Wrinkly’s voice was as cold as steel. The big man, obediently, went silent. Though he did level a few nasty glares and mime a headchop while he was at it.

  The old man straightened up to his full height and walked to the middle of the black circle. “Get to your positions.”

  The other two went to the edges, Merdis dragging Zeth with her.

  “Elbows in, feet apart, keep your balance at all times,” explained Old and Wrinkly. “And do not panic. It’ll be over in a matter of seconds.”

  Zeth gulped audibly.

  The man then spread his arms wide, horizontal from his body. His right hand was palm up and three of his fingers were curled in a fist. His left was palm down with only his middle finger, bent halfway.

  “?ě in,” said Old and Wrinkly, precise and sharp voice somehow overwhelming Zeth from every direction possible.

  Nothing happened.

  The boy shook his head and blinked. Black lines were still black, Riffy Lady and Ugly were still there, the sky was still blue. Or was it purple? No… Zeth’s stomach lurched and he doubled over, hacking. The ground was closer than ever before. And red. Why was it red? Wind rushed in his ears, whispering a strange, hollowing melody. Kind of familiar. Why did it sound angry? His ears hurt. Pale as a ghost, he raised shaky hands to cover them. Just as he did, the ground beneath his feet lurched away and he fell into blissful darkness.