Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer by Jamie Ott (love books to read txt) 📕

She reached around and yanked out the blade.

Infuriated, and without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and threw the dagger at Andrada.

It landed right between her eyes.

The Imperator yelled.

Lyssa left the room.

Down to the ground floor, through the wall, and down the tunnel, she went.

She gathered her items. Right as she was about to take off running again, she heard the sounds of hoofs.

Looking back, she saw the shadow of Romans galloping down the mountain.

She hurried back through the forest, and didn’t slow until she reached the deserted village.

Exhausted, and having lost a lot of blood, Lyssa crawled into the first deserted straw hut.

Desperately, she wrapped her shoulder, and then passed out on the ground.

~~~

The next morning, when she made it back to the Romani camp, she untied them. She knew the Romans were expert trackers, and they’d likely kill them all.

“Everyone, pack up. You have to leave,” she shouted.

“Why?” asked a young man, named Gulzar.

“The Romans are coming. The town is destroyed, and they’ll be coming in this direction.”

“How do you know, were you followed?” asked another woman.

But it was too late. She should have never stopped in the village.

From out of the trees, came a dozen Roman soldiers.

They were just as brutal as they were rumored to be. It didn’t take long for them to slaughter everyone, except the children who would likely be imprisoned, and later enslaved.

Romans typically despised the Romani people.

Lyssa was the only one who got away, and just barely. They’d brought their toughest warrior.

Although he couldn’t take Lyssa, with a damaged shoulder, he gave her quite a beating before she finally sunk a sword through his ear.

She couldn’t have felt worse. If she’d just stayed away from the palace, the Romanis would still be alive. Yes, they were terrible, dirty thieves, but she didn’t want to see their children suffer in jail because of it.

Without any real direction, she wandered through the forest, until, exhausted, she could no longer walk.

She fell to the ground, and crawled to the nearest tree.

Leaning her back against the trunk, she unwrapped her arm. Blood oozed out, copiously, and there was a slight stench that indicated the beginning of an infection.

She should have cauterized the wound already. Hopefully, she hadn’t waited too long.

Lyssa looked around for flint stones.

Her brother taught her the Egyptian Bow Drill, but just the slightest movement caused her excruciating pain.

It wasn’t hard to find such stones in that particularly rocky floored forest. She seized the first heavily crystallized quartz she could find. Then she gathered some moss, twigs, and branches; she even managed some pine tar.

She set them in a messy pile, pulled out her dagger and struck the rugged blade with the rock, sending sparks into the moss.

After fifteen minutes with no results, she cried.

Frustrated, she hit the blade so hard that it skidded across the surface, sending an array of sparks into the moss, which became immediately enflamed.

She cried even harder with relief.

Lyssa threw in the little twigs, and then small branches. Finally, one of the sticks was aflame.

She pulled the stick, blew it out, and braced herself.

“AAaaaaggghh!!!” screams echoed out for miles.

She threw the branch back into the fire and pulled another one, and placed it to the back of her shoulder, too.

“AAAGGGHHH!!!!”

Flocks of birds left their places in the trees.

“Breathe,” she said to herself. “Breathe.”

Instead, she passed out.

Meeting Lucenzus

Chapter 3

When she woke, her fire was out, and it was dark. She was face down, sleeping on the ground. Her face was partially numb from the grains of sand that’d pressed into her skin.

Someone stood before her, looking bemused.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

The man had the orange-est colored hair she’d ever seen.

“How long have you watching me?”

“Oh, just a few seconds.”

Using one arm, she pushed herself up off the dirt. Looking at her shoulder, she noticed it had soaked through its binding.

“That’ll need to be cleaned. It’s infected,” he said.

He took a bag from off his shoulder, and set it on the ground. From within, the man pulled out a smaller medicine bag.

“You need stitches. Sit down,” he said, motioning to the ground. “I have war wound training.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not gonna harm you; I promise. Now, if you let that infection go, you will lose your arm, and maybe even your life. Better to take a chance on me, don’t you think?”

She considered him a moment, and then settled down, leaning her back against the tree.

The man rearranged the pile of moss and kindling. From out of air, a fire enflamed them.

“How did you do that?”

“With the power of my mind.”

He untied the straps of his medicine bag.

“Who are you?”

“Lucenzus.”

He opened the medicine bag and pulled a small leather vial. The man moved closer to her.

“May I touch you?”

“Yes.”

He unwrapped the binding from her arm. Lucenzus got another leather bag and uncorked it. He doused water over her wound, and then scrubbed it with a handful of lavender that he, also, pulled from his bag. Then he rinsed it again, and poured acidic vinegar over both sides of her shoulder, making her scream.

“Sorry, but vinegar is an antiseptic, as is lavender. It’s necessary to fight infection. Now, I’m just gonna stitch both sides up at the corners, so that the wound can drain,” he said.

When he’d done, he re wrapped it and added, “Keep it dry. If it gets moist, open it up and let it breathe; otherwise the infection will continue.”

“Thank you.”

“Drink,” he asked, pulling out yet another bag.

She thanked him and took a sip. From it, the most delicious wine greeted her.

Lucenzus gazed at her as if he were contemplating.

“What is it you want to say?” asked Lyssa. “Spit it out.”

“Are you Lyssa, daughter of King Decebalus?”

Her mouth dropped. She felt in her sleeve for her baselard.

Lucenzus, noticing her action, waived his hands at her in a ‘please stop’ gesture.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Lyssa pulled out the blade anyway. She pointed it, and asked, “How did you know my name?”

“I will show you, but I need to reach into my bag.”

“Slowly, then,” said Lyssa. “Just so you know, I’m skilled at knife throwing. Try anything, and this blade will be in your neck.”

Gently, he pulled back the flap of his bag and pulled out a drawing. It was a miniature of the portrait her father hired an artist to make.

“How did you get this?”

“Your father sent it to your mother. She gave it to me.”

“You’re lying,” she said angrily. “Tell the truth!”

“It is the truth. Do you think it merely coincidence that I showed up, here?”

“Explain.”

“First, please, put away the knife. I know you’re strong, but I’m like you, Lyssa. You won’t be able to take me.”

“What do you mean by, ‘You’re like me?’”

“Put away the blade and I’ll explain. Really, haven’t I proved that I’m not going to hurt you? So let’s be civil, please.”

Lyssa tucked the knife back into her scabbard.

“After your father left the palace, he was apprehended by Dacian traitors. He’s been taken to a villa somewhere near Orsova, and placed under house arrest. Your father sent a messenger to your mother, telling her that you’re in danger. She sent me to get you.”

“I don’t believe you. What’s my mother’s name?”

“Sana Mortisia, daughter of Vik Mortisia XVII.”

“Okay, so what now?”

“You are to come with me. I will take you to her.”

~~~

The next few days, they walked many miles. Lyssa couldn’t help but ask one question after another about her mother.

What was she like? What had she been doing all the years? Was she educated, and a lady?

“Lyssa, I’m sorry, but I don’t know all the answers. Though our settlement is small, we don’t rub shoulders often. I only volunteered to come and get you because it’s my job. I take trips, deliver messages, and guide people. Before this, my father kept me up on the hall.”

“What hall?”

“Valhol.”

“Odin’s hall for slain warriors?”

“You know of it?”

“Yes, my governess taught me; only she told me it was a mythological place.”

“It’s no myth; it’s a real place. Things have changed over the centuries, though.”

Over the course of their journey, Lyssa came to like Luncenzus. He was nice, calm, intelligent, informed and nonjudgmental. Lyssa’d never had a crush before, but she contemplated, more than once, about kissing him. His lips were pinkish and soft looking. He had blue eyes that were like azure beads.

One day, they came upon a settlement.

People worked in and out of straw huts. The grass was ample, lush and green, and the sky was gray blue.

They were definitely not in Dacia anymore. The temperature drop was a shock to her.

Lucenzus was kind enough to rent rooms at the inn, for them, and ordered that a cloak be made for her.

The inn was nothing more than a very large barn with rickety wood slats and a straw roof.

Lyssa’s room was the tiniest she’d ever seen, for it was the size of a closet. On one side of the room was a heap of straw that lay on a wood cot.

The lady of the inn brought her a basin full of water. Lyssa washed her face and body, and then rested for an hour before meeting Lucenzus for dinner.

When she woke, it was twilight. The first stars twinkled in the sky.

She walked around to the dining area. The town’s workmen had cleared off, and a semblance of night life was emerging. Men drunk and danced in the road, while scandalous looking women walked up and down the muddy road.

The dining hall was nothing more than a couple long wood benches that many people crowded into for a bite. Many appeared to be passing through town, while others were there simply to mingle.

Across the room, Lucenzus waited. A bottle of wine and a candle lit.

He stood up as she sat directly across from him.

“Have a nice rest?”

“Yes, very,” she said.

“I took the liberty of ordering lamb stew.”

“Sounds great,” she said, helping herself to a glass of wine.

Ripping a chunk off the loaf, she asked, “Where exactly is Valhol?”

“It’s right above where we’re headed, which is Valhala. The sister city used to be a sacred place, but now the last of the Primas are gathered there. Now, only the Priests are up on the hall.”

A lady came and set a medium sized pot in their midst. Fragrant lamb steamed forth.

“We should make it in a few days.”

“You never answered my question: Why did you say you’re like me?”

“I’m of similar blood, as you.”

They tucked into their stew a moment, before Lyssa asked, “What’s does she look like, my mother?”

“Oh, like you. She’s got long dark hair and large beautiful brown eyes. A very striking lady; equal in darkness and beauty, to the fairest.”

“How is it that she’s dark like me, and yet you’re fair complexioned.”

“We all belonged to other ethnic groups, at one point. Primas ruled this Earth, the way the humans do, now.”

“You are one of these things, too?”

“Half, and so are you.”

He must have noticed the disbelief in her eyes, for he said, “It’s the truth. You’ll see soon.”

She took a few more bites and considered his words.

“So she’s a commoner?”

“No, not exactly. Our people don’t view each other in caste. There are the leaders, and there are the non leaders.”

“You don’t know anything else about her?”

“No, but really, what’s the rush? You don’t need to know everything now. You’ll, both, have much time to talk. We’ll get there soon, I promise.”

That night they retired early.

The next day, they stocked up on supplies, and continued their journey north.

A week and a half later, they ended up at a settlement where a friend of Lucenzus took them in for a couple nights.

It was even colder than their last stop. Grey clouds hung close to the ground, and herds stayed close together.

Just like the last town, the houses were made of wood and straw. The people