The Faerie Trader

  The Faerie Trader

  Chronicles of Alburnium

  Short Tale

  by

  J.R. Castle

  Castle Creations Books

  The Faerie Trader

  Copyright 2020 by J.R. Castle

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Find out more about the author at Jackie Castle’s Story World,

  To keep updated on new releases, sign up for the Castle’s Story World Newsletter

  Or email her at jackiecastle@jackiecastle.com

  Cover art created by Castle Creations

  Castle’s Other Works

  From

  The White Road Chronicles:

  Illuminated

  Luminosity

  Emanate

  Radiance

  Ignited

  Ablaze

  From

  The White Road Tales Novellas

  Captured

  Stolen

  Ransom

  The Chronicles of Alburnium

  Blood and Water

  Silver and Light

  Gold and Fire (coming soon!)

  For Young Readers

  The Sentinels Archives: Through the Portal

  For Romance Lovers

  Madison Creek Bed & Breakfast Series:

  The Grimwood Legacy Series

  Lavender Vale Farm

  Dedication:

  To those who’ve tried and tried.

  They say a saint is just a sinner that keeps getting back up.

  Keep trying and don’t give up.

  Both riches and honor come from You,

  and You reign over all.

  In Your hand is power and might;

  in Your hand it is to make great

  And give strength to all.

  Chronicles 29:12 (NKJV)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Ah, wonderful, wonderful. This should settle my debt with those blasted hoofers,” Jael Azazel exclaimed as he cut several matsutake mushrooms. The centaur clan loved adding mushrooms to their stews but hated having to collect them. His last trade with them had gone a little sour when the batch of wild turnips unknowingly rotted before he reached their domain deep in the Melodies Forest.

  He shoved the morels into his collection bag hanging over his shoulder, then waded into a nearby stream.

  Studying the clear waters for any fish, he dipped his large hands into the current and splashed his bearded face with the cool water. Once his goat legs were submerged, he also washed the mud from his hooves and picked a few stickers from the thick umber fur covering the bottom half of his body.

  He needed to find a safe place for the night, somewhere off the main path that wound through the Forest. Whistling a lively tune, Jael hopped up the stone embankment, his hooves barely clinging to the slick mossy rocks. He still had enough rabbit stew left in the pot to get him through tonight. Maybe the centaurs would allow him to stay with their clan for a moon cycle. They always had plenty of food, comfortable caves to sleep in and enough brute force to keep the baddies away.

  First, he’d need to get on their good sides again.

  Jael shivered, then paused a moment to study the darkening shadows. Maybe it was time to go back home. If only he could make a profitable trade, then he’d have something to show for his wandering travels and long absence. Maybe then she’d forgive him and let him stay for a while. He missed his clan and the vale they lived in very much.

  As he reached the top of the rise, Jael headed for his cart. It wasn’t much more than a grayed wooden box sitting atop two spoked wheels. He pulled it along by grasping the two poles or slipping his arms into the shoulder straps.

  Strange how the more he walked toward it, the farther away it seemed.

  Despite quickening his pace, the distance between him and the cart only widened.

  “Oy! Stop!” Jael started running, his hands waving over his head. “Stop. Someone, stop my cart. It’s…rolling away?”

  But how?

  His whole life’s possessions, and all the hard-earned items he’d found to trade, were inside that cart! He shouted again, but it only rolled down the lane faster.

  Had someone stolen it? Jael couldn’t imagine who would want that weathered old box cart. There wasn’t much inside of value aside from a few rare stones and plants.

  The cart bumped along the narrow dirt trail toward a fork in the road. Surely, it would roll to a stop, hopefully before it hit that tall pine. He sped up to a gallop.

  No, no, no! Don’t wreck, please don’t wreck. He’d built it with his very own hands and still had a few splinters to prove it.

  The cart slowed a little. The distance between him and his livelihood closed. Almost there… he reached out willing his fingers to grab hold of a lead of rope trailing behind.

  Then it turned onto the right fork.

  Jael slowed for a moment. That road led toward the dwarf village. Oh no! That was the last place he wished to be!

  “Oy! Hey! Thieves!” When the lane made another sharp turn, he caught sight of a woolen blue cap. dwarfs for sure! How many had been sent to bring him in? Blast it all!

  There must be at least two dwarfs, if not three of the conniving boogies.

  “Stop! Okay, game’s over. I’ll come along nicely, just bring back my…” They increased their speed once the road headed straight through the thick woods again. Soon, they’d reach a bowl-like canyon where the dwarf colony lay.

  Jael slowed to a stop. His cart headed straight for the entrance, an ornately carved stone arch sitting atop a rise surrounded by a wall of tall rocks, thick growth of vegetation, and two sentinel houses that reeked of Brownie stench. He blew out a long breath and, for a brief moment, considered simply building a new cart.

  No! His fists clenched and he followed along, no longer running. Nope, he’d enter with his head held high. The cart was dragged up the stone stairs.

  “Hey there,” Jael shouted. “Watch the…oh, never mind.” If he got it back in one piece, it would be a miracle and nothing more.

  Ol’ Ravalin, the king of the dwarf clan, probably had sent his grunts after Jael’s head. They’d probably use the cart to build the pyre to torch him with.

  Fighting back the dismal thoughts pounding in his head, Jael neared the archway, making a wide berth around the first brownie house, a mound of mud with round entrances spiraling up the length of the abode. The little nippers remained inside, seemingly uninterested in interrogating Jael on his business with the clan this time.

  That wasn’t a good sign, either.

  Once he reached the rise that overlooked the hamlet, he could no longer see his cart. His heart raced. Hopefully, they’d not take out their anger on it. Hopefully, they’d not take it out on him, either. Beyond the arch, the land dropped down into a rocky vale that surrounded a natural spring pond in the basin.

  “Think!” He slapped his hands against the horns growing on top of his head. “Think of a way out.” His mind raced over the goods he had stashe
d in the cart. Not much. It had been a lean week. He patted the bag still hanging from his shoulders. Mushrooms…not enough. Not nearly enough to satisfy the dwarf king.

  His shoulders slumped with hopelessness. The king had requested that he find the glowing stones that lined certain roads across the land. Jael had never heard of anything like them, but Ravalin insisted they were indeed real and could only be gathered by people of a certain type of character.

  The king’s wicked grin had left Jael wondering if he would qualify. A nagging doubt had kept him from looking too hard for the elusive stones.

  The okbolds had shared tales of hidden roads covered in white, glittering stones that would lead one to the King of the whole land. He’d laughed at the time. Weren’t tales of a powerful king nothing more than silly nighttime stories told to entertain naive children?

  The moment he stepped a hoof over the threshold of the village, two guards dressed in leather and silver gear appeared from the thick undergrowth on each side of the arch. They both pointed finely crafted metal spears at his neck. The one to the left gave a grunt and a jerk of his head for Jael to follow along quietly.

  He headed along the narrow gorge carved into the side of the granite walls. Every once in a while, he came to an opening where the stench of dwarf sweat and coal fires wafted out. Could be worse, Jael mused. If they used trolls to dig their caves, the smell would be nearly unbearable.

  However, this clan remained somewhat self-sufficient and depended on the brute strength of lesser dwarfs and slaves to pull from the land what was needed to survive.

  Ravalin Chert was not a power-hungry ruler, nor greedy in nature. But he wasn’t a push-over either. He’d be furious over his requests going unheeded by Jael who was one of his top suppliers.

  Jael chastised himself for becoming so careless. Perhaps a little greedy, himself, for the elves and centaurs paid more handsomely for goods than dwarfs did.

  The third entrance they came to was adorned with carvings around the squat oaken door. The first guard rapped the butt of his sword against the wood. Grinding metal sounded from the other side before the door swung open.

  “State your business,” said a female dressed in fine silks and gold-trimmed cape. Was this Ravalin’s newest mate? Was she important enough to bow to? The last thing Jael wanted to do was to insult a female dwarf. To his surprise, this one wasn’t built like most females of the clan. She didn’t even have thick, curly hair growing around her squat face. Some females had it growing over their faces, making them hard to tell apart from their male counterparts.

  Jael placed his palm against his bare chest and offered a slight bow. “I was summoned, my lady. A few of your kinsmen confiscated my cart and brought it here. I’m assuming King Rav wishes to speak with me?”

  Her narrow nose wrinkled as her pearly grey eyes took in his muddy fur and sweat-covered arms and chest. He probably looked like a wild beast to her, which in truth, he was.

  Ravalin was friends with more humans than most creatures cared to associate with. It was well known that he liked to put on airs, acting and even dressing like humans from the Outlands.

  To each his own, Jael mused.

  “Enter, faun.” The woman stepped aside. “I am Maroth Chert. I do not believe we’ve met before, though I’ve heard my mate bellowing about you quite often. Glad to see you finally answered his summons. He requires a special herb to cure an ailment that our healers have been unable to handle.”

  She motioned for him to follow her down a series of twisting tunnels. “His patience is running out. I hope you’ll be of use. The last tradesman to fail him is still hanging from the gallows. Birds have nearly pecked his bones clean.”

  Jael’s stomach churned, not just from the earthy smells coming off the burning oil torches, but the scent of something putrid. Something gone terribly wrong. He tried to only breath out of his mouth.

  Maroth continued, “Be glad when they’re finished. The old badger won’t let anyone take down the poor fool until there’s nothing left but bleached bones. Since then, we’ve had trouble with trade. Think word got out about Rav’s malady, so they’re staying far away.”

  They entered a large room where a roaring fire burned in the center fire-pit. To Jael’s surprise, natural sunlight filtered in through several tall glassed-in windows. Only faeries and Kobolds were known to make glass and those who did live in the few cities that welcomed creatures into their midst.

  “Who’s here?” asked a weak, gravelly voice from a dark corner of the room. Usually, Ravalin’s throne sat in that area, but this time there was a four-poster bed.

  Jael sniffed the air again, detecting the scent of rotting flesh. This was bad. His hands clutched the bag’s straps as he neared the dais where the bed was placed. Maroth hurried forward and stuffed a couple of pillows behind her mate’s back.

  “There you go, my rock. Good news, your trader Jael is here now. Perhaps the good fellow has something to help cure your ailment.”

  Ravalin pushed her aside with a feeble shove of his shaking hand. “Good fellow my rotting foot! Conniver! Liar! Thief, no less. He takes our bests and returns with his worsts. Where are the goods I ordered, goat? The glowing stones? They can be boiled and the water used to wash away the infection eating at my leg, fool! Have you ever tried? After we’ve sheltered you? Offered protection when you’ve needed it?”

  Ravalin’s piercing pale blue eyes narrowed on Jael. A sheen of fevered sweat covered the king’s brow and dampened his graying beard.

  Jael bowed deeply until he crouched on the bottom step. “I beg the king’s pardon. The stones you speak of have not been found. I do not believe there is such a path running through the Melodies Forest. I do not recall what else you’ve requested of me, I’m afraid. You see, I deal with so many—”

  “Liar!” Ravalin roared before going into a coughing fit.

  His mate scrambled to fill a bowl full of water and held it to Rav’s scowling lips. “Drink, my pet. Let’s hear the faun out. Maybe tell him what the healers say you need and—”

  At that moment, the doors of the great room burst open as three lesser dwarfs, all wearing linen shirts and leatherworking pants, entered carrying familiar-looking baskets and a cloth bag that sent a shiver down Jael’s back, all the way to his trembling tail.

  He sank onto his haunches, knowing this was going to be the end of him.

  Chapter Two

  “Not much ‘ere, Sire.” Said the first dwarf as he and his companion rummaged through Jael’s belongings.

  “Oy, hey there,” Jael stammered as they poured out the items from his satchel. A scrap of rolled parchment skittered across the dirt floor. He tried to grab it, but Maroth was too fast and managed to get to it first.

  “What have we here?” She grinned, showing her yellowed, chipped teeth. Ugh, what did Rav see in her? She was sturdier than his previous wives. Perhaps he liked strong, brutish females. To each their own, Jael mused with a sneer of his nose.

  He held out his hand. “Nothing that will interest you, trust me.”

  She unrolled the paper and held it up to the dim glow of the nearest window. “Oh pixie fluff, bet this isn’t your sister, is it? Hum, looks like ol’ Jael has himself a filly back home.” Her horse-like laugh would have made a centaur jealous.

  Maroth held it out to her husband, who waved the paper away. “She’s out of his league. Done told the silly goat that he’s wasting his time pining after her.” His glassy gaze locked on his men. “Is there nothing in the trader’s bags that’ll help?”

  They’d found the herbs Jael had collected. Centaurs had trouble bending down low to the ground. It made them venerable. Jael arranged fairly decent trades with the clan by doing the work for them. They did make some tasty stews with his herbs. A few that were inclined toward the healing arts used them for medicines.

  Maroth snatched the bag still hanging from his shoulder. “Whatcha got in here?” She sniffed at the contents, then hugged the bundle to her chest. “Ah, t
hese’ll go nice in me stew, they will. Who you trading all these goodies with, I wonder?” She stepped closer.

  The smell of burning wood and garlic hit Jael’s sensitive nostrils.

  King Rav grunted, “Whoever’ll pay the most handsome price, I suspect. Never mind those faithful customers you leave lacking, goat. I should have your hooves shaved down to the nub. No healing stones. No—”

  “What’s this—?” one of the dwarf’s asked, holding an earthen pot to his lumpy nose. “Tis smells like…” he cringed, “ugh. Don’t like tha’ smell!” He almost tossed the pot away. Jael started to lunge forward to save it, but the other servant beat him to it.

  “Daft fool!” he scolded.

  Maroth moved quickly for a female dwarf. She had the jar in her hands, sniffing at the contents. Her eyes closed in pleasure for a moment, before the serene expression twisted into a scowl that she turned on the first servant. “You petrified piece of dung! No surprise the likes of you would hate tis scent of the healing fruit. Out with you. Both of you, rots. Get out of me husband’s chambers. Send for our healer. I need her to see what she can do with this. Tisn’t enough for nothing, but perhaps it’ll help and give me man more time.”

  She turned on Jael. “Where you get this, runt?” Snatching hold of his ear, she gave it a sharp twist, digging her claw-like nails into his flesh. Jael cried out, his legs giving beneath him.

  “Don’cha lie, neither. Tell Maroth where you get the healing powder. Aren’t you friends with the Forest Maiden? She don’t normally give her healing fruit to any ruddy beast, she don’t.”

  “True,” Jael gasped. “You’re hurting me! Rav, call off your mate, will you?”

  King Rav folded his arms over his chest. “Answer her, goat. Then I’ll think on it.”

  Tears welled in Jael’s eyes as he sank to his haunches. “The elves. They trade with the Lady. I trade with them. But—” He’d only made the trade once for that small pot. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was. They’d told him to put a spoonful in his morning tea to help keep him in good form.