Chapter 3

TRAPPINGS

Thinking about Beth’s comments about his outfit, Devon looked down at his torn and filthy clothes, something he hadn’t bothered to do until now. He was wearing black, cloth trousers at least six inches too short for him and a tight, black T-shirt with a picture of a wizard on it. Like the trousers, the shirt was far too short, leaving his midriff exposed. The upside was that it showed off his muscular abdomen. Devon stared at his chest in wonder. Was I ever this fit? I’ve got the physique of a god, yet my whole body is a stranger to me. His shoes were a canvas-like material with rubber soles. They were travel-worn, dirt-covered, and extremely tight. He checked his pockets and found a large, multi-bladed knife, some matches, and a grimy handkerchief. Judging by his clothes, he hadn’t been a wealthy man. Devon froze when he noticed the ‘Hello Kitty’ watch on his left wrist. What the hell? Hello Kitty? What am I, six?

Izzy thought. She was currently orbiting his head and had gone back to her shocking pink colour.

Devon glared up at the wisp then shook his head. Acquiring better clothes had just been added to his to-do-list. Wait! How can I know what ‘Hello Kitty’ is if I have no memories? He pondered. My mind might contain some things deeply buried somewhere. Maybe there’s a hope they’ll come back eventually?

It seemed his best hope of acquiring a better outfit was raiding the horse’s saddlebags. He looked up at Jet. She was a beautiful creature with a coat of the darkest black that shone with vitality. Her mane was long and lush, as was the shaggy hair on her head and fetlocks. Now and then, he caught sight of her ample tail as it swished. She’d been watching him contently since he’d woken up. Jet’s big dark eyes seemed amused with what occurred around her, and she appeared to have all the patience in the world. Devon felt an unexplainable closeness to this creature that went way beyond mere friendship.

“Is it okay for me to clamber on board after a rummage through your bags?” he asked Jet.

She nodded her horsey head and seemed to smile at him. He felt a feeling of affection radiate into his mind from her.

Devon stood and stared at the horse. Just as when Izzy communicated with him, the words had simply appeared in his mind. These words were slightly different. They felt bestial. There were more images and emotions associated with the thoughts and less grammatical form. His mind seemed perfectly capable of translating all the parts into one exact meaning, though.

he thought to Izzy.

She changed red and started to orbit Devon’s head. Izzy replied.

This night just keeps getting weirder. I hope I remember this dream when I wake up.

Izzy thought.

Devon thought. He could imagine the response he’d get from Beth.

Izzy mentally giggled at him. She changed a dark shade of green and perched on his shoulder.

Devon didn’t know how to take that idea. So, like a lot of things recently, he ignored it. He walked around Jet and reached into one of the saddlebags on her back.

Feeling around in the bag, he didn’t manage to find anything. It was empty. Typical! I had a fifty-fifty chance to discover the full one. Frustrated, he walked around Jet to the bag on her other side. He still couldn’t believe just how big she was. What did she eat? He reached inside and, once again, rummaged around for any contents. As Jet was so tall, the bag’s top was above his eyeline, meaning he could only search using touch. The second saddlebag seemed to be just as empty as the first.

he thought loudly.

she responded.

Devon refused to be put off by her odd terms of endearment.

Izzy said.

Devon considered everything that had happened since he had woken up. He wondered about the telepathy and the changes to his body. Could ‘magic’ be a real thing? He certainly hoped it was.

Izzy said.

If you want magic, then we need to fix a few things. One thing at a time, though. Put your hand in the bag and think the words ’equip armour’,> the wisp explained.

Hopefully? That didn’t fill him with confidence. He was contemplating stripping the two nearby corpses and taking their clothes, but he decided to give this a try first. The worst that could happen was that he ended up feeling a little foolish.

He tentatively reached into the saddlebag again. As he did so, he visualised the words ’equip armour’. At first, nothing happened, but as he closed his eyes and began to concentrate harder, he felt his existing rags disappear. He felt a cold breeze against his naked body. Then thick, well-fitting garments embraced him snugly. It felt as if he had grown a second skin. One much warmer and tougher than the original. The garments fitted perfectly. He opened his eyes wide and gasped. He was now dressed in tight, black leather armour, top and bottom, and was also wearing the most comfortable pair of tall boots he could imagine. Bracers and fingerless gloves finished off the ensemble; all black, all beautifully made.

Devon shifted his weight around in his new outfit and tried a few stretches. The clothes moved and stretched with him. They didn’t constrict him in any way; they just continued to fit perfectly, no matter what pose he struck. Devon was thrilled.

Izzy prompted him.

Devon jumped. He’d been so busy admiring his new armour that he’d forgotten about the world around him.

He reached back up into Jet’s saddlebag and thought ‘equip weapons’ as instructed. This time it happened instantaneously. He felt a slight weight materialise on his back, under his arms, and on either side of his waist. He cautiously lifted his right arm and looked at his armour. There was a scabbard, aligned almost vertically under his arm that he hadn’t noticed before. A textured handle protruded out of the bottom of the sheath, defying gravity somehow. He carefully pulled the handle, and a vicious-looking straight blade slid cleanly down and out. Devon didn’t need to look to know that he had an identical dagger underneath his other arm too. He felt it nestled there.

The blade was made from a sinister, dark metal that gleamed ominously when it moved. It had tiny symbols etched along the ten inches of its narrow length, and its double edges looked wickedly sharp. Its handle was jet black and made of a slightly pliant material that produced an excellent grip. With respect, he slid the dagger back into its sheath.

He examined two pockets near his waistline that he’d felt fill with something. Sure enough, now each one had a handle sticking out of it. The handles were within easy reach of each hand.

He pulled on the two handles and examined the knives they belonged to. They each had five-inch diamond-shaped blades that looked wickedly sharp. Like his other blade, they were black. The edges tapered sharply to a slim handle that ended in a hollow circle and was nicely weighted for throwing. He went to replace one of the blades in its sheath, but he saw that there was already another handle protruding from it.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Izzy said.

Devon asked, in shock.

Izzy replied.

Devon shook his head. That was way too much to dwell on now. More for another time. A glance over his shoulder revealed the handle of a sword that protruded above his shoulder at an angle. He reached back and grabbed it, then felt it snap free. It wasn’t in a sheath. A look over his other shoulder told him that, like the daggers, he had one on either side.

The sword was lethal looking, which was a good start. It had a double-edged blade, slightly over two feet in length from tip to shoulder. The inside edge curved gracefully back to the hilt, while the outside edge was straight. The width stayed narrow for nine inches, then the outer edge stepped outward a little and continued back to the shoulder. It was forged from the same sinister, dark metal as the daggers, which seemed to absorb any light that dared to venture close. The blade was covered with inscriptions arranged in tight patterns. Its hilt was also jet black and sculpted to fit a single hand, then expanded to become a streamlined handguard before it met the blade. It was a work of deathly art.

He gave the sword a swing then instinctively accomplished a stylish riposte and a swift lunge. He replaced it with reverence taking care not to cut his head off.

Devon asked Izzy.

she replied.

he asked.

As if prompted, Beth shouted over at him from beside the van. “Are you going to stand there all night, or shall we get going?”

“On my way,” he replied to Beth. Now for the moment I’ve been dreading. He took a deep breath then turned to eye the stirrup that hung at Jet’s side.

Izzy coached him.

Devon took another deep breath. With a swift action, he leapt up and landed cleanly astride the saddle. Happily, he even managed to end up facing in the right direction. Bonus! Still working hard not to interfere with his instincts, he grabbed the reins, struck a pose, then gave Jet’s sides a gentle tap with his feet. A glance down revealed that he already had his feet in the stirrups and at the right height too. He experienced a deep sense of happiness, sitting in Jet’s saddle. He felt as if he had spent many happy years sitting right here. A memory, perhaps?

He looked back at the saddlebags to make sure they were now closed securely. He knew he’d forgotten to do it, but the bags were sealed and tightly fastened as he’d hoped. It might be weird having mysterious stuff in his possession, but he could get used to it.

Mercifully, Jet seemed to sense where Devon wanted to go and at what speed. he said to his horse.

The horse looked back at him without slowing and whinnied happily.

Beth still stood by the van, and now she was watching him and Jet with great interest. “That’s a beautiful horse you have there.”

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Devon replied proudly. “Her name’s Jet.”

Jet lowered her head and nuzzled Beth’s shoulder gently.

Beth giggled, then blushed.

“I think she likes you,” Devon said, trying to be friendly. He felt self-conscious and automatically ran his hand back through his floppy hair.

Izzy thought to Devon. she added, with amusement.

Devon thought to his new winglady. Winghorse? Just as he’d finished his thought to Jet, he received his first sense of a faint but growing bond between himself and the horse. It was tangible, like a spiritual rope – another oddity.

In all honesty, he was starting to enjoy himself. His human sense of self, now deceased, was fading, along with his confusion.

“You’ve dressed for the occasion, I see,” Beth said, eyeing his equipment warily. “You look like a one-man army.”

“You said you needed help. I’m the help,” Devon replied. “Now, are you going to stand there all night, or shall we get going?”

She looked up at him and grinned. “Touché.”

Izzy said. What? I just said that to my god. Where did these urges come from? Izzy wondered incredulously. Is it even allowed between a priestess and her god? This is all happening far too fast. How? She was extremely grateful that Devon couldn’t read her thoughts as she could read his. Mental communication was not telepathy. It was just an alternative way to chat. Devon was no telepath, and so at least she got to keep her secrets from him. Right now, that was a mercy.

Devon went crimson. Luckily, Beth missed his embarrassment as she turned toward the wagon at that moment.

Beth forced the creaking door of the van open, then clambered into the driver’s seat. Seconds later, the engine reluctantly spluttered to life while belching a large cloud of black smoke from its rear. There was a loud crunching of poorly synchronised gears, and the vehicle lurched forward onto the road. She was on the move.

Devon guided Jet to trek after the vehicle with a gentle squeeze of his legs. The van wasn’t going anywhere quickly in its current state, and Jet easily kept pace with it. It didn’t seem like Devon’s input was required at all. The horse knew what he wanted and just got on with it. The exhaust fumes overwhelmed his sense of smell, and he got Jet to speed up a little so he wouldn’t have to inhale them.

Ten minutes later, Beth pulled a fair way off the road and then turned the van around to face back up the road. She cut the engine and leaned out of the window. “It’s getting lighter,” she said, scanning the horizon. “I suppose dawn is coming. We’d best hurry if we want some shadows to lurk in when we get there.” She scrambled out of the van and stood there, waiting.

Devon guided Jet over to her and grinned down while reaching out his hand. Beth looked up and frowned at Jet’s sheer size. He knew she was debating whether she could manage the jump without his assistance. She sighed and reached up; Devon closed his fingers around her wrist and pulled. Beth shot upward and landed neatly astride the pillion seat.

She laughed in a way that revealed her inner little girl. “I could probably see my house from up here,” she giggled. “Shall we go?”

“Same direction as before?” Devon asked Beth whilst looking over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’ll tap your shoulder when we need to leave the road.”

A naughty thought occurred to Devon. “Hold on tight,” he warned her. Two taps on Jet’s side sent her off at a swift trot, and he felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest.

he thought to Jet while grinning to himself. Jet shot forward as if she’d been stung and began to gallop hard, gaining speed with ease. Sure enough, Beth quickly squeezed him more tightly, and Devon revelled in her closeness. If this were his new life, then he’d take it.

****-****

Beth tapped Devon on the shoulder a few minutes later as they raced along the side of the dilapidated road. Her hand reached in front of his face and pointed left toward a well-used dirt track. Devon nodded and pushed his heels in and back against Jet’s side. Immediately, she started to slow down to a brisk trot as they followed the track.

After a short while, the track wove into a wooded area that had been skirting the concrete road. Soon, trees walled the rough road, hemming them in on either side. The weak dawn light disappeared into shadow, and they were back in partial darkness once more.

Not far into the woods, Beth tapped his shoulder again, and Devon brought Jet to a stop. She leaned forward and whispered into his right ear. “The slaver encampment is just a few hundred feet up ahead. The track bends left then heads deeper into these trees. It ends where the trees open out into a clearing.”

“What’s the plan?” Devon asked. As far as he was concerned, he was here as ‘the help’.

“Oh!” Beth sounded like she’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit barrel. “I planned to go in and get my friends.” She paused, then confessed, “I hadn’t gone as far as the details.”

“We could leave Jet just at the point where the track bends left. I suppose we could sneak to the edge of the clearing and have a look, then make a plan?” he offered. Devon didn’t know what skills he had to call upon. Apart from being able to kill a man with a pebble at thirty paces, that is.

“That’ll work for starters,” Beth replied.

Does she even want me here? Devon contemplated.

Izzy said.

Devon said. He wasn’t sure if the wisp had to follow him around or whether she just chose to.

Izzy replied, turning a redder shade of pink. She hadn’t meant her words to sound quite so sentimental.

he asked. He felt like he needed to add something because he was asking a lot of her, and she had helped him a lot already.

Izzy hmphed at him.

Devon grovelled.

Devon turned his attention to Beth. “Up for an adventure then?”

“Uh-huh,” Beth replied. She was trying to hide her fear but failing.