Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer by Jamie Ott (drm ebook reader txt) 📖

large fire, around which a settlement of twenty or so people worked. Some of the women were sewing, while one man carved out a piece of wood.

They looked up at the sounds of their approach.

“This is Lyssa. I’ve invited her to stay awhile. Treat her like family,” said Bali.

The men looked approvingly while the women gave her nasty looks.

“Lyssa, why don’t you help Chandra with the leathers,” he said, indicating a middle aged woman with frizzy hair and a dirty dress.

Lyssa went to her side and helped her sew the pieces into shoes for their kids. With her quick, strong hands, they finished the work in an hour, making the lady very happy.

“You have the hands of a lady, but they’re so strong,” she smiled.

The sound of children laughing made her look up.

Several men were making their way back to camp, and six children followed.

They carried lines with dozens of fish.

Chandra introduced her. They nodded their heads, silently, and went about their way.

Since there was still light in the sky, Lyssa helped a man, named Eli, with fixing several wagon wheels. He was also pleased.

“You’re so small. You don’t look like a good worker,” he told her.

Though they were impressed with her work, they still regarded her with a cold shoulder. Only the kids seemed to take a liking to her, admiring her pretty purple dress and clean shiny, straight hair.

After a dinner of fish and wild mushrooms, one man played a little wood flute.

“Lyssa, take this,” Bali said, handing her a large brown fur. “It’s going to get cold.”

She accepted it appreciatively, as the temperatures had already fallen. Dacia was always known for its alternating desert-like temperatures.

That night, she couldn’t get to sleep at all. The ground was too hard and the cold chilled right through her fur. She couldn’t stop shivering long enough to relax.

She turned over and saw Bali and Eli walk into the trees. They both glanced at her.

Something about the way they looked at her made her uneasy. She shook it off, and rolled back over.

Sometime later, after finally having nodded off, a pair of rough hands grabbed her and forced her into a sitting position.

“What’s going on,” she asked groggily.

Someone tied her hands with rope, yanked her up off the ground and dragged her into the trees.

“Eli, what are you doing?”

A few feet ahead, Bali talked to a man in a rich purple robe with a silver sash.

His greedy eyes examined her head to foot.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take her.”

They bartered numbers.

Lyssa’s brother had taught her how to get out of simple bindings.

Easily, she turned her wrist, and tugged the middle cord, which she twisted over, allowing her left hand just enough room to squeeze out.

Right as her wrist was freed, Eli threw a net over her.

“She got out of the bind,” he said.

Lyssa place each hand on a piece of rope, right above her head, and pulled outward, ripping the net in half.

They stood, frozen with surprise a moment before reacting.

Eli grabbed her by the arms and tried to subdue her, but she slipped out, turned around and punched him to the ground.

“Get her!” shouted Bali.

Lyssa grabbed the baselard from within her sleeve.

The man in the purple robe tried to grab her by the shoulder.

She ducked, turned, and swung the knife into his spine, dropping him like dead fish.

Without a moment of hesitation, she yanked the knife out and swiped at Bali, who jumped back and pulled out a knife of his own.

They circled each other several times before the sounds of footsteps came up behind her.

“Well,” said Bali. “That’s twice I mistake you. You work and fight. You’re not really a lady, are you?”

She didn’t have time to respond. A person was right behind her.

She stepped left, turned and slammed the knife down into the young man’s neck.

“That’s my son!” shouted Bali, who ran at her with his knife raised.

Lyssa leapt right, and rammed her blade up into his chest.

She yanked the baselard out of his chest, wiped it on the ground and looked around.

Two others from the camp had woken. It appeared they’d been watching them for a time.

Together, they ran at her.

Two of the men came at her with swords. Lyssa bobbed and weaved right and left, as she walked backward.

When both men accidentally crossed their swords, Lyssa stabbed the one on her right, through his hand and removed his sword.

The man fell to his knees, yelling.

The other one continued to poke and jab at her. Lyssa met each attempt with her sword.

Frustrated by his inability to conquer her, he raised his sword to the sky, meaning to bring it down with all the force he could muster.

It was a mistake because Lyssa’s brother taught her exactly what to do, in such a situation. He even dubbed it an easy win.

She brought the handle of the sword downward to her left as she stepped forward and left. Easily, it sliced through his midriff, as he brought down his sword with all his might, impaling his own self even further.

Lyssa drew back her sword.

The man stood in shock for a moment, and then something shiny and red poked out from his gut.

He grabbed his stomach, trying to push his entrails back in.

Lyssa took his sword and ran back to the camp with the intention of getting her things and leaving. However, the Romanis were determined to kill her.

A melee ensued that lasted a good hour, even the women tried to subdue her. Several of them died as a result.

She owed it all to her brother. Yes, she was a strong woman, but she’d never have survived if not for his pushing her to learn to handle a sword.

By the time the sun peeked down on them, only the children and six of the Romanis were left. They were too injured to fight anymore.

Lyssa shredded the net and tied them all together, even the children.

“Now that is how you tie someone up,” she said.

Her brother also taught her nautical knots. One would have to saw their wrists off to get out of them.

She sat by the fire and watched them all for a moment.

The women cried about not hurting the children, and the men looked at her as though she were evil. They murmured curses at her.

Ignoring them, she laid back and fell asleep.

~~~

Sometime later, there was a stirring. She opened her eyes to find that a woman had, in fact, escaped. Her ropes had been cut.

Grinning, she went after her. It was nearly impossible for the average woman to outrun Lyssa.

She brought the woman back and tied her, face forward to the trunk, with extended hands and ankles around the tree.

Another wonderful lesson from her brother: tying one up this way was a classic method of torture. Essentially, keeping someone suspended in between a sitting and a standing position.

“After a few hours, it’s almost like hanging from a cross,” Dracus told her.

They watched as she picked up one of the leather straps that’d been hung out to dry.

“Tell me, how many slaves have you sold? How many young lives’ have you ruined?”

She walked back and forth.

When they didn’t reply, she asked, “How many beatings did you give them, before they submitted?”

When they didn’t reply, she drew back her arm and brought the leather strap down, hard, into the woman’s back.

She screamed at the top of her lungs. But the Romani were a cold and hardened folk. Motionless, they sat, unfazed by the woman’s suffering.

“You should all rot in hell. She’s one of you, and you don’t care if I beat her?”

Again, silence.

Lyssa sat down at the fire and made breakfast.

She put stewed lamb chunks and mushrooms in some spiced ale and gave it to the kids.

Later that day, she went to the river and filled a couple buckets of water. When she made it back to camp, she made tea and gave the kids bread and water.

“How long are you gonna keep us tied up like this?” asked Chandra.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Right now, I just like watching you suffer. Maybe I’ll keep you indefinitely.”

After she’d supped, she checked their bondage and announced that she would go to town.

She grabbed her morning star, crossbow and arrows.

“If you can’t escape, which I’m sure you won’t,” she smirked, “don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

Lyssa wanted to find news of her father or the castle. Whoever broke into her room didn’t look like a Roman soldier. For all she knew, he could have been an assassin.

If he was an assassin, she could find her father or brother, and tell them what happened. Maybe the King would get rid of Andrada, once and for all.

But if it were a Roman Soldier, staying in the forest was a bad idea.

As she got closer to the village, she became frightened. The town was deserted. Stands were upturned, fruits, bread and other items were strewn everywhere.

Blood stained the gravel.

Several men and women, and one child, lay dead in the dirt behind the stands.

The Romans must have finally come. Who else would do such things to the Dacian people? Not even her father was as cruel.

She picked up an empty sack. Lyssa picked up food and other items from the ground.

At the town well, she filled her leather bag with water and doused herself.

Lyssa knew it was a bad idea, and she was scared. But she had to know, without question, that her brother and father were either alive or dead. She would only leave her father and brother when she had absolutely no other choice.

So she followed the road back to the forest, and followed the rocks back to the palace.

~~~

It was midnight.

Once again, the lamps on the castle wall had been lit.

She set her sack and her weapons down, even the money her brother left for her because she needed to be able to move lightly.

Taking only her knife and morning star, she ran across the field as quickly as she could. Her espadrilles were still at the entrance of the tunnel.

Holding her breath, she walked against the grade. The hole she’d busted into the wall was still open.

Lyssa left the ground floor, and ran up several flights of stairs before reaching her brother’s floor.

Immediately, she knew something was wrong, for his room was always blockaded at night. He did this for the same reason as she: to protect himself from Andrada.

Still, she approached the archway and inspected the room. It was empty.

The dungeons were in the back of the palace, but she needed to get to the key room first.

Up another set of stairs, and down a black as pitch hall, she went. In the room at the very back was the key room.

Carefully, Lyssa applied pressure to the door until the iron split.

The door swung back, freely.

She grabbed the enormous metal key ring, and ran back down the stairs. On the ground floor, she veered right, toward the dungeons.

They were empty.

Her heart sank.

Her father’s room was on the top floor. Andrada could be there, but she had to see if her father was alive, still.

Once more, she ran up several flights of stairs. Her father’s room wasn’t blockaded, either.

She stopped in his archway.

On the bed, highlighted by a flickering candle, Andrada was lying next to a man. He was not her father.

Almost as if sensing her, they opened their eyes, simultaneously.

Lyssa recognized him from the statue in the town center; it was Imperator Trajan.

She walked up to them with her knife at the ready.

“Scream and it’s over,” she said.

“Lyssa,” said Andrada. “What is this?”

“Where’s my brother and father?”

“Gone, and if you had any sense, you’d have stayed gone to,” she said.

Imperator made a swift movement. He sat up and grabbed her wrist with the knife, and pulled her onto the bed.

She punched him in the face, making him slacken his grip.

Lyssa ran to the archway, when something hit her in the back of her arm.

Her mouth dropped at the sight