Noah sat on the box seat of his canvas-covered wagon, holding the reins of two horses, who constantly bayed their displeasure at the additional weight on their harnesses. Dust rose over the dirt road as dozens of wagons, horses, and soldiers trampled the ground mile after mile. The lead wagons kicked up a fine layer of dust, coating the unlucky wagons and men at the tail end of the caravan. Each of the coachmen and soldiers at the back of the caravan wore handkerchiefs pulled up around their noses to keep from inhaling the dust.
Every wagon in the caravan flew a white parlay flag that would let the other races know that they were a non-combative trade group. Sometimes the flags worked and other times they had little effect on the violence that would descend upon them. Each of the four races possessed goods desired and needed by the other races, allowing a certain degree of decorum for the trade caravans to travel unmolested. But, the land between territories wasn’t called the Wilds for no reason. The Wilds were governed by none, controlled by none, and enforced by none.
The caravan was returning to the human settlement of Greenwood on the coast after a trading expedition to the nearest fae territory. The men and women of the caravan, so tense and on guard when setting out, were basking in the joy of well-earned wealth and the promise of safety not even a few hours away.
Noah sat in the coachmen’s seat of his wagon sideways with his feet propped up. He lowered his brown felt cowboy hat to keep the afternoon sun out of his eyes. His long black hair fanned out into a veil that reached down to his shoulders and covered his neck. His outfit was all-around eccentric. Black trousers, a white ruffled shirt, and a black leather trench coat that reached his calves.
Laid across his knees was a mixed metal cane that contained traces of iron and silver. The handle of the cane ran horizontally on top of the straight metal that made up the bulk of its body. The tip of his cane was currently flat, but with a press of the hidden button on the handle, a spring-loaded blade would shoot out, turning the cane into a small spear. The blade of the cane had a detachable head that would unscrew and allow him to use a blade of whatever material that his opponent was weak to.
He currently had an iron blade screwed on as they had just made an expedition to a fae territory. In his trench coat pocket, he held a small metal container that contained other blades should the need arise. Silver, bone, and even wood blades were stored orderly and waited for Noah to call upon them.
The caravan normally kept to single file on the dirt road to avoid creating a clustered target for ambushers. This close to the safety of Greenwood, however, the wagons had broken rank and had formed a small congregation toward the tail end of the caravan. Noah kept to himself as he listened to the other drivers and soldiers gossip around him. The most vocal of which was a young lad of around fourteen, Lazar. Lazar was a skinny beanpole of a boy who was flushed with the success of his first caravan trip into the Wilds. His bronze skin was even darker than normal after weeks of walking beneath the sun.
He walked the reins of an extra pack mule with his leather boots kicking up dust on the road. His britches and shirt were full of holes, but he’d be able to afford some replacements after this trip. His black hair was shorn close to his scalp and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get more than a few stray hairs to grow on his chin. Noah cracked his eyes and spied on the lad from under his cowboy hat, wondering why such a young man would risk his life in the Wilds.
“Did you see that elven woman? She was the most beautiful lass I’ve ever seen. Forget these human wenches. I’m going to marry an elf when I grow up.” Lazar kicked a rock on the dirt path and became lost in his fantasies as the other men and women in the caravan laughed. A small smirk found its way onto Noah’s face, but he didn’t partake in the fun. The creak of the wagon wheels and the neighing of the horses fought to be heard over the boisterous laughter.
John, a giant of a man with a thick grey beard, jumped off of his wagon and landed in a plume of dust. Corded muscle framed the man and scars could be seen along the length of his right arm. He had an eyepatch over his left eye, but no one had ever seen behind the patch, making many believe that he wore it for ascetic purposes. John was one of the few caravanners who had more experience than even Noah. He commanded respect, and if you wanted to survive, you’d best heed his advice.
“Oh ho, you think so, lad? You think you are going to marry that beautiful elven teenager?” He clapped Lazar on the back, causing the boy to stumble forward a few steps.
Lazar caught his balance and whipped his head around at John with narrowed eyes. “That’s right John. Just because you return to a cold bed every night doesn’t mean everyone has to.”
The other men and women gave a hooting laugh at John’s expense, but John never lost the sly smile on his face. “I stand corrected, Lazar. You are both old and wise. Enlighten me though, what did this elf look like that caught your fancy?”
Lazar looked off into the distance in a daze. “She had beautiful golden hair, the color of sunlight streaming through hay. Blue eyes a deeper blue than any water or sky I’ve seen. She almost seemed to glow in the forest, the trees making way for the sunlight to illuminate her beauty.”
John and the others gave a moment of silence for the beauty of the elven girl and Lazar’s first love. Raucous laughter exploded out of the caravan, spooking the horse and mules as well as Lazar himself. Lazar’s face flushed, and he pointed at each of the caravanners in anger.
His arm shook, and his lips quivered. “To hell with all of you. You’ll see. I’ll marry that elf and you can all go home to your ugly wives and husbands.”
This seemed to make things worse as the men and women doubled over, laughing even more violently than they already were. John had tears in his eyes as he threw a heavily scarred arm over Lazar’s shoulder. The lad’s legs almost gave out on him as he accepted the weight of the giant’s arm.
“Listen, lad. The Seelie territories might not kill us on sight like the Unseelie, but they would never send out their high-ranking elves to trade with low beings like us humans.” The other caravanners snorted and began laughing once again.
Lazar shrugged the giant’s arm off of his shoulder and pinned the men with a glare. “I saw the elf, not thirty feet in front of me. You dare make me question my sanity? I have trained with the other children to build my tolerance to such evil.”
John wiped the smile off of his face and sighed. “Lad, we do not question that you saw an elf. We only question that an elf was actually there. Every one of us has been tricked by the Fae at some point in our caravan runs. The exposure that kids get to fae magic isn’t strong enough to build a resistance to their magic in their own territories.”
The men chuckled good-naturedly. Smith, a man with long blonde hair down to his mid back, laughed self-deprecatingly from his box seat. “I strayed from the caravan to relieve myself one time and thought that I had found a jar full of silver coins. I hid the jar from everyone and believed I had struck enough riches to last a lifetime. Once we left the fae territory, I checked the jar discreetly in the middle of the night. Turns out, it was a jar full of leprechaun shit. Little bastards thought it was hilarious.”
“Tell him, Owen.” Smith turned to slap the coachmen sitting next to him on the wagon, who had gone awfully quiet. The pale man with a shaved head was as red as a tomato, ready to pop. He shook his head and kept his eyes down at his reins.
“Tell him Owen or I will,” John threatened with a smirk on his face.
Owen slapped the front of the wagon, causing the horses to neigh loudly. “You bunch of bastards. You promised me that we would never speak of this again.” Owen’s lip quivered and his eyes transformed into that of a starving puppy, begging for food.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The men looked over at him with sad eyes and sighed until John broke the silence. “Oh, fuck off Owen. We’ve all been tricked by the Fae. Don’t sit there as if you’re heartbroken your chastity was taken like some young lass. “
Owen’s eyes narrowed in a flash as his sympathy tactic failed. He blew a breath that displaced the lingering dust in the air and gripped his reins with white-knuckled strength. “Fine! You lot are cruel, unfeeling creatures. I laid with a female satyr. There, I said it. Everyone happy.” His yell was so loud that the entire line of thirty-plus wagons heard his declaration.
A hushed silence fell over the men as they took in this scandalous information. Some of the newer men who had never heard Owen’s story had eyes nearly poking out of their head. Lazar gasped and gave the sign of the cross to ward off such malicious evil. Smith seemed to be crying with his shoulders shaking in uncontrolled sobs.
Owen had his eyes squeezed shut and acted as if he was in physical pain at the declaration. Suddenly, Smith couldn’t hold it in anymore and busted out with a barreled chested laugh that carried across the landscape. Owen’s head snapped up to glare daggers at his former friend. One man, then two, started to chuckle until the rest of the men followed suit. They all pointed and laughed at Owen, whose fury would match an enraged shifter. He stood up on his box seat, and his hand gripped the iron sword strapped to his waist.
“Oh, sit down Owen. We are only having a laugh. We have all been tricked by the Fae and don’t make me start sharing secrets about all of you.” John turned to the caravanners and pinned each of them with a glare. That shut them up fast. John was the most veteran man in the caravan and knew every story about everyone.
One woman, dressed in men’s clothing of a trouser and shirt, failed to stifle her giggles, which cut across the silence. Owen snapped his head toward the woman.
“And what are you giggling at, my dear lady Lin? Perhaps the lad would like to hear of the magical fae ointment you purchased to keep your skin pale and wrinkle-free.”
The woman snapped her head up as her giggles cut off in a croak. She hid her red face beneath a large straw hat that protected her delicate skin from the sun. Her straight, long black hair was bundled into a ball beneath the hat. She wore an eyeglass that hung over one eye and held a comically large crossbow in her arms. The men turned toward the best sharpshooter in the caravan with obvious interest. The woman who could stare down a pack of shifters and hit them with a bolt in the eye from a hundred yards away with her heart rate never increasing kept her head down, hiding behind the enormous hat.
A muffled voice rang out from underneath the hat, “Owen! You swore upon your ancestors!”
Owen snorted. “Eh, they weren’t an honorable lot anyway. Bunch of thieves and rogues.”
Lazar looked between the two of them, bickering like secret lovers, and finally called out in exasperation, “Well, what happened?”
Owen smiled wickedly. “Oh, Lin was taken in by the sprite’s stories of a magical ointment that could slow the time of aging. She spent two full caravan trips worth of silver on the small bottle. Turns out the ointment caused hair to grow uncontrollably wherever it was rubbed into skin.”
Owen chuckled. “Caused quite the panic as we all thought a half-shifter hybrid had snuck its way into the caravan.”
The caravanners roared with laughter, and Owen cried tears of joy as he slapped the side of his wagon. With a speed that would impress a vampire, a bolt thudded into the wood of the box seat between Owen’s legs, impaled in the wood, and wobbled. Owen’s laugh cut off in a squeak, and he gulped.
Noah’s eyes widened beneath his low-hanging cowboy hat and followed the path of the bolt to see a red-faced Lin slowly lowering her crossbow. Note to self. Do not have fun at the best shooter in the caravan’s expense. Owen became quiet, not finding the humor in his story any longer. The caravan grew quiet for a moment as fear permeated everyone.
Lin’s small voice somehow carried to the other wagons, “That never happened.”
All the caravanners nodded their heads. She could have told them the sky was green and they would have agreed with her at that moment. Lin’s head swiveled around, looking for another target to shift the attention to. Her eyes found Noah, somehow avoiding all the scrutiny thus far. Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled.
“What about Noah? He’s been here longer than any of us other than John. How about it, John? Tell us about the time the Fae tricked Noah.”
Noah didn’t move from his position and as far as the caravanners could tell, he was fast asleep beneath his cowboy hat.
John released a long sigh and shook his head. “I can’t do that Lin.”
The other men leaned in with interest. “Noah’s never been conned before?” Lazar asked.
John snorted. “Never been conned before? He gets conned so much that I can’t tell what is a con and what he does on purpose.”
“We once found him bound spread eagle and naked in the middle of an incantation circle. A group of pixies had decided to sacrifice him to their goddess of nature. No one could understand how the foot-tall creatures had overpowered him and tied him up.”
Noah didn’t move, but whispered out from beneath his hat, “I told you I was selling the rope and wanted to prove how sturdy it was. It was all a careful plan to make a sale, good sir.”
John guffawed. “What about the time in the black bear shifter territory when we found you about to be executed for trying to ride a cub like a horse?”
Noah peaked out from under his hat and placed his hand on his chest in scandalous affront. “That cub bet me I couldn’t ride it for more than thirty seconds without being tossed. It was a fair and valid bet.”
John gaped at him. “It was the Alpha’s son!”
Noah shrugged his shoulders. The little arrogant brat deserved to be taken down a peg or two. John narrowed his eyes at Noah’s lack of shame.
“Oh, you have an answer for everything, don’t you?” He smiled. “What about the time the very forest turned its wrath against you after you stole that magical fruit the nymphs had been letting ripen for decades?”
Noah grimaced and rubbed at the scar on his shoulder that still itched. A tree limb had defied physics and whipped around to pierce his shoulder during his glorious escape.
“Yes, I may have miscalculated on that one.”
The men laughed at the legend of the caravan. Everyone respected Noah because he had risked his life in sure-death situations more times than anyone could count and yet, he remained defiantly living.
John laughed with his head thrown back. “I remember when you first joined the caravan, Noah. You were a wee lad, younger and smaller than even Lazar over there. You had no fear and threw yourself without abandon into sure death countless times. I don’t know which god you have looking out for you, but you have the luck of twenty men.”
The caravanners cheered good-naturedly, but Noah wrung his hands around his cane with such force that his knuckles cracked. He ground his teeth and closed his eyes underneath the privacy his cowboy hat afforded him.
“Aye, my good sir John. My luck is the fable of legend and death himself has been unable to intervene in my adventures.” He trailed off in a whisper that only he could hear, “No matter how reckless I am.”
“But, but. What did I see then?” Lazar asked in a heartbroken whisper. His one true love had been stolen from right underneath him.
John sighed at the sight of the heartbroken lad. He once again put his giant arm gently around the lad’s shoulder and patted him softly.
“Same as Owen, probably. One of the Fae probably glamoured themselves into a form that would attract human men. The Fae are a lecherous bunch and won’t stop at mere tricks to bed humans. Seelie may not feed on the pain and suffering of other beings like the Unseelie, but they are far from a harmless race.”
Eyes downcast, Lazar accepted this news with a self-deprecating smile. His head abruptly shot up with wide eyes, and he jumped back away from John while unsheathing his iron sword. The soldiers in the caravan took battle positions, unsheathing their swords as well, and scanned the grasslands for a threat. Lin had her crossbow sweeping back and forth as steady as could be, daring an enemy to enter her sight. Noah didn’t move other than to grip his cane tighter and place a hand in his trench coat around a leather pouch.
“What is it? Does anyone have eyes on it?” Smith yelled from beside Owen in the box seat, who was also whipping his head from side to side to detect any attackers.
John crouched with his sword drawn, scanning the tall grass. His hand reached into the pocket of his leather coat. “Where is it, lad? What do you see?”
Lazar stood rigid with his back to the grasslands as if the threat was coming from inside the caravan. “If the Fae can use such illusions on humans, how do we know that we are all humans here? The real John may be dead or imprisoned back in the fae territory, for all we know.” The men started cussing and spat onto the dirt path while sheathing their swords.
John sighed as the tension bled out of him. “Lad, the Fae and their magic are the most dangerous of the four races. They are nigh invincible, but we have nothing to fear from them if we stay out of their territory. Their power and very life itself are tied to the portals they originally came through during The Revolution. Stray too far from the portal, and they lose their magic. Stray further still, and they lose their life.” John patted Lazar on the back with a sad smile. “Any illusion would have long since broken.”
The coachmen grumbled their displeasure at the false alarm and returned to their wagons to get a few hours of rest before they arrived in Greenwood. The soldiers held their vigilant guard walking beside the wagons and would until they crossed into the human territory.