The Witches of Aba Nam Book 1: The Orb

By Ross Homer

Defeated in war by Teus, Lord of Moraduhnim Castle, the beautiful young queen of Aba Nam is captured and tortured for two years. Teus stripped Viktoria Ceridwyn Coer Kilarra of her health, realm and magical abilities in the war that saw black, white and gray magics used by both.

Almost dead from her continuing defiance, she manages to escape.

Escaping, though, has its own set of problems. Like falling in front of an oncoming automobile. This one is driven by Taagen Davis, novelist and avid bicyclist. He barely stops in time.
Recovering from the injuries incurred in the war, the young queen tells Taagen a tale of a legendary object that must be protected at all costs.

When she’s strong enough, she shows him a small sample of her once powerful magic. Taagen takes time to think about what she’s told him and decides her story is reasonable. Of course, his falling in love with her didn’t enter the decision at all. He decides to join this beautiful young woman on her quest.

Their destination is the secret location of the Orb of the Worlds.

Arriving on Aba Nam through a portal called a Gateway, Taagen discovers it to be nothing like Earth. For starters they have to fight a band of Teus’ mercenaries within minutes of arriving. With swords, no less!
Driven to conquest by forces unknown to him, Lord Teus has not been resting on his victory. He too is striving to find the Orb.
Nothing will stand in his way; neither stronger magic, nor the young queen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ross Homer
• Release date: Sep 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301294794

Ross Homer

I have had a passion for writing and photography since my early teen years. Over the years, I wrote many short stories and ideas for several novels. I am working on my Witches of Aba Nam seriesas well as The Scepter of the Nile series, and a series I plan to build around my Ed O’Malley short stories.Because my family moved fairly often during my childhood, I developed a vivid imagination. Many of the places, sights and sounds I encountered enhanced my writing style with color and liveliness.I graduated from Fresno High School in Fresno, California and attended Fresno City College for a couple of years. My major was history and Western Civilization both of which added depth of my writing, especially the Scepter of the Nile series.I’ve lived in Alaska since 1976. With her beauty, wildlife and her sometimes very strange and eccentric people there has been no lack of inspiration. As I needed to earn a living and help raise a son, some of my inspirations got put on the back burner of the ‘ol wood stove. I did manage to write several short stories, a novel or two and publish several articles during that time. Now that my son is grown and on his on, I left the nine-to-five world and have revived my passion for writing full-time.The first book in the Witches of Aba Nam series, The Witches of Aba Nam, Book 1: The Orb is listed at: www.Kindle.com, as well as www.Smashwords.com. The second book in that series, The Witches of Aba Nam, Book 2: Arena is in final editing and should be available late fall 2013. The first book in the Scepter of the Niles series, The Scepter of the Nile, is being edited and will be available in spring 2014.

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The Witches of Aba Nam

Book 1:

The Orb

By

Ross G. Homer

The Witches of Aba Nam, Book 1: The Orb

Published by Ross G. Homer

Copyright © 2010, 2018 by Ross G. Homer

Cover Design by: M. Joseph Murphy

All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws.

The Witches of Aba Nam, Book 1: The Orb, is a work of fiction. With the exception of names, locations and events that are historical, all other names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any electronic or printed form without permission of the author.

Prologue

The final battle for control of the worlds of Aba Nam left injured and dying humans and…others, littered across the north side and crown of a steep, treeless, boulder-strewn hill. The stench of blood and burning bodies in the dank, hot, moisture laden air added to the misery of those who survived.

The killing and destruction had intensified over the two years each side battled for supremacy. Both sides used magic: white, black, and gray with ever increasing ferocity. The magical energy brought to bear on each side, by each side, left entire landscapes twisted and torn into fearsome shapes as if ripped from some terrible nightmare. Gania, the largest of Aba Nam’s continents, had taken the brunt of war and the terrible energy used by magical forces. This caused major weather changes. For most of the two years of war, gray clouds and drizzle-filled skies covered the land.

Alas, one side must always go down in defeat. In the battle for Aba Nam, it was the Queen and her forces. As her army lost strength and resolve, her foe, Teus Nwakoulev, the Lord of Moraduhnim Castle, gathered strength with each battle his forces won. As the Queen’s losses mounted his power increased.

The forces of darkness were winning the war. There was no way to avoid it. Desertion had become rife within the Queen’s armies. Many fled into the ruined forests to forage, to live, or die. Many of her mercenaries saw the end coming and changed sides, often with a fatal clash of swords.

The Queen of Aba Nam leaned her aching and battered body tiredly against a muddy outcrop of unyielding, blood splattered rock at the top of a barren hill called Tor Loke. To get here she and what remained of her meager forces had fought a desperate battle for survival rather than conquest. As she gazed over the destruction around her, she had to accept that her defeat was imminent. Beside her was her chief warrior Schwingtoe Seven Travelers, his wife Mayabala and a small band of loyal friends, family and mercenaries. Many were injured, several desperately, and were in need of a Healer. All were very tired, hungry and dispirited. Compounding their misery, ominous dark clouds gathered overhead promising more hot rain to come.

During that long, exhausting last day, the forces of darkness battled repeatedly up the hill. The Queen and her tiring defenders pushed back with swords and fists and feet. Her ability to wield her own mighty magic was flagging.

But even the enemy had to stop to rest and regroup. Teus Nwakoulev’s men were every bit as tired as the Queen’s. Although his constructs were magical creatures, it took energy to create them. The more he made, the more it cost him, physically and magically. He, too, had to stop and rest. To use the magic he wielded, large quantities of food was necessary to feed the demands on his energy.

Schwingtoe Seven Travelers called out to his fellow warriors, Come. Gather around me. The ragged band came from their battle positions to stand with him.

He pointed toward the edge of the bluff. There are too many of them and far too few of us. As distasteful to us as this is, I fear our only recourse now is escape. He swiped wearily at the blood running down his face from a gash on his forehead.

Mayabala Seven Travelers sagged dispiritedly beside her huge husband. She was trying with all her own fading might and magic to save the life of their daughter, Kai Seven Travelers, who had sustained a terrible sword wound to her left side. She noted that the bleeding had almost stopped as she continued to push a blood soaked rag against the wound.

Mayabala looked over at her Queen and said, Schwingtoe is right, Majesty. We must flee this place. It will not be long before they come at us again and I fear that we will no longer be able to defend you. She stared fretfully around at the bodies on the ground. Lying amongst the dead and dying enemy were many of her own friends and family. Had she not been battling beside Kai during the last assault, she too, would have been among the dead. Mayabala worried that Kai’s injuries might be too deep for her meager healing abilities to overcome.

Shaking her head slowly, Mayabala looked from her daughter to the Queen and repeated her husband’s thought, We are so few. She gently stroked Kai’s brow, brushing her filthy deep auburn hair away from her face.

The dejected Queen continued to lean against the rock, her head sagging against her chest at the failure of her cause and the loss of her people. Her sword grip rested heavily and loosely in her hand, the tip of its blood-stained blade in the dirt at her feet. Mayabala’s words struck her with the force of blows. She looked up and nodded at Mayabala, agreeing with the sad assessment.

The Queen turned her head to Schwingtoe. I agree with you both. We must go now. She touched her forehead lightly. I feel them beginning to stir down there. Exhausted, she shoved herself away from the rock. Her bruised and battered face was twisted into a mask of fear and fatigue. The effects of constant worry and battle etched deep lines making her look years older than she was.

The sky continued darkening in the west, and the heavy clouds above began to leak the promised rain. As the Queen’s strength and energy faded, her ability to command more than the most basic of magics faded with it.

Wearily, she said, I think I can create a cloaking spell. I am weakening and it may not work. She moved her hands and said a few words in a strange language.

The Queen and her group slowly and quietly began to move between the huge dark brown and black boulders littering the crown of the tor and down the far side. Schwingtoe picked up the injured Kai in his mighty arms and carried her. As they descended, they could hear the barks and yells and whistles of the dark, constructed creatures that were now swarming upward to where her small band had been. The sound was terrifying. Hot rain began to fall heavily as they were halfway down the hill and quickly soaked the warriors.

It was full dark when the Queen and her troops reached the bottom. She felt luck was with them as it appeared her magic worked and they had escaped undetected. The deep forest at the base of the hill rapidly swallowed them into its dense woods. Several miles deeper into the forest a scout found an abandoned hut. The Queen gathered her people together inside. Mayabala cast a faint light spell that tried fitfully to drive away a little of the darkness. The dim light barely reached the four bare walls punctuated by the door and the two rectangular spaces that used to contain windows. The thatched roof gapped open in several places, its wet, rotting, vermin-infested straw lying matted on the dirt floor. Neither of the witches had enough left in them to create some kind of fire to dry out the dankness of the place.

The Queen looked around at her ragtag group. Leaning against the far wall and still holding his daughter Kai in his arms was Schwingtoe Seven Travelers. He was a warrior standing over seven feet tall and weighing four hundred pounds of rock-hard muscle. Next to him, squatting down on her haunches and leaning against the wall, her head resting tiredly against his thigh was his wife of many years, Mayabala. She was a woman of intense beauty and the mother of their four daughters. Kai was the third eldest.

The others were standing, leaning or sitting dazed on the dirt floor trying to find moderately dry places. These included several cousins, friends, and a few, still honorable mercenaries. They all were exhausted and despondent…defeated .

The Queen sighed. By the Sorceress! Must more of them die on my behalf? They have so much more than this…this slaughter to live for. Tears crept down her grime and blood streaked face. The Queen counted slowly. Gods! There are only seventeen of us. She shook her head and remembered . . .

When the war started she had had the command of thousands. The white and gray magic of the Weave had been her dominion. She was so strong that at one point Lord Teus narrowly escaped defeat. But as before, in an earlier time, she had underestimated his strength, abilities and need to conquer. Because of her arrogance, he managed to rebuild from his early losses. The Queen knew he must have promised some incredible reward to the agents of the black arts because the Lord of Moraduhnim Castle had suddenly become far more powerful. His magic overpowered hers at every point.

She was wrong, oh so wrong.

He created huge, evil, and vicious things from a world where nightmares reign. They were the turning point of the war.

Peering out into the darkness, the Queen thought, fortunately for all of us it takes so much of his energy to create and maintain those creatures. He can only use his magic sparingly. Unfortunately today had been one of those times.

Something, some vague shape, flitted silently through the deep shadows in the woods as she stared into the darkness. Shaking her head she turned back to the group. My friends, she began sadly, I have to finally admit it. We have lost to Lord Nwakoulev. We have nothing left with which to resist him or his forces. Her people nodded. No one argued with her. Who could argue with the truth?

She nodded to Schwingtoe, Mayabala and the others. You will leave now and go to the Port Zeia. Find a Healer for Kai and the rest of you. Then take a ship to the Aric Isles. You should be safe there for a while. You can begin your recovery and perhaps make plans to take back our world. Teus must be stopped. If you do not succeed, the Lord of Moraduhnim Castle will continue to destroy Aba Nam just to spite me. The words she spoke were undeniably true.

Fatigue strained her voice. I will stay with a few volunteers and fight a rear guard action to give you time to escape.

Schwingtoe started to protest. My Queen…!

The Queen raised her hand to stop any protest. "I am still your Queen and you will do as I say. I ask for volunteers to stay and fight with me. I want only volunteers. I will not look unfavorably on any of you who leave with this group." She nodded at Schwingtoe and the rest. There was no doubting the power of the Crown in her voice. Mayabala began to cry; silent tears crept down her blood and dirt encrusted cheeks. Schwingtoe simply nodded. Once commanded, there was nothing to do but follow her orders.

The Queen of Aba Nam covered the injured girl in his arms with the remains of her royal cloak. As they left, she said, Take care of Kai. I feel that she is important to our future. Again Schwingtoe nodded and the group silently left the tumble-down hut. Six had volunteered and stood with her as the rest left with Schwingtoe. They knew this was suicidal but their love for their Queen and Aba Nam overrode fear for their lives.

The Queen used some of her waning strength to conjure a small meal for the few to share. After eating, each person tried to get comfortable and sleep. A guard watched the silent forest outside the hut.

The night deepened, the rain finally stopped and the clouds began to part. The second of Aba Nam’s moons had set. Above, the softly glowing nebula known as the Fires of A’ne spewed its neon-like red, yellow and violet lights across the sky through the breaks in the dark clouds.

The enemy attacked swiftly, quietly…efficiently. There was no resistance. No one had time to draw a dagger much less a sword. In the moonlight the Queen saw the unlucky woman who had the watch at that hour. She lay dead on the floor in a spreading pool of her own blood, her throat deeply slit.

The Queen stood in defeat with the sword blades of many hideous, bug-eyed, night monsters pointed at her throat. She watched as each of her companions were bound roughly and thrown into the backs of two wagons. She, too, was bound and thrown like refuse into a third wagon. As the wagons started in motion, a club came down on the back of her head, relieving her for the moment, of the anguish of defeat.

It would be over two years before she saw the light of freedom again. Of the others captured, the Lord of Moraduhnim Castle ensured that she would watch and hear their cries of pain and terror as they were tortured and eventually put to death.

Chapter 1

The Story Begins

Taagen Davis, the mystery writer, was nobody’s idea of a hero. At thirty-four, he was a fat, out of shape, two hundred and sixty pound dough-boy. He was, at the moment, being made painfully aware of that fact. If anyone mentioned the possibility of his being a hero to him just then, he would have laughed out loud. Because at that moment Robert C. Crazy Dog Wilberforce, Dog, as he was called by his short list of friends, was kicking Mr. Taagen Davis fiercely about the head and body. He was also about to relieve Taagen Davis of his wallet and Rolex. He’d already taken the diamond Piaget watch from Taagen’s editor, Thelma Crawford, as well as her purse and laptop bag that contained her new MacBook. Taagen had presented the watch to her when his first book made the Best Sellers list. That Taagen Davis was on the losing end of this particular business proposition was because he had tried, pointlessly as it turned out, to protect Thelma from Dog.

Lying painfully on the pavement, Taagen watched as the swoosh of Dog’s running shoes carried him away as fast as they could. Lying there, he realized what a waste his life had been to this point both physically and emotionally. There was the rocky, childless marriage of ten years that recently ended in a bitterly contentious divorce. There was too much good booze, better food and he was physically lazy. He damn sure wasn’t in the shape he had been in way back in college when he’d been into karate and kendo.

Had Thelma Crawford not looked like everyone’s white-haired grandmother and Taagen, a soft, over-stuffed feather pillow stand-in, the robbery might have gone much worse. As it was, on that fine early October evening, he only received three cracked ribs, a busted nose, nasty and soon to be painful bruises. Luckily, Thelma had escaped injury. At the hospital, a young, attractive and pudgy rookie policewoman, Officer Rodriguez, reiterated exactly how lucky he and Ms. Crawford were. She had already seen, in her short tenure as a San Francisco policewoman, some horrific results of muggings and strong-arm robberies. Later, after Officer Rodriguez and her partner left him, Taagen decided that it was finally time to get serious about getting his shit together. Years ago he’d been good at various sports in high school and college. Hell, he had even reached the sho-dan level in kendo his senior year at the University of Southern California. Now, he couldn’t even remember the first basic move of either karate or kendo.

He decided then and there that he was no longer going to be a well off, well-known, couch potato. It might work for some fantasy writers, but not him and not anymore.

Eighteen months later, after a strict regimen of dieting, daily workouts and extensive time in the gym, Taagen Davis was in the best shape of his life. He’d lost sixty-five pounds, had turned the flab to muscle and regained his knowledge of kendo and karate. He had also ridden a bicycle in two, hundred mile races. He placed second in the first one and third in his second attempt.

He also found himself in the wrong spot at the right time or the right spot at the wrong time, depending on one’s point of view.

As a reward for all his dieting and hard work, Taagen gave himself a custom, fully suspended, all carbon mountain bike. He took the bike into Yosemite Valley for a weeklong bike trip along a section of the John Muir trail that had been only recently opened to cyclists.

The late June weather was perfect and a mild winter had left the trail system in excellent shape. The incredible panoramic views of the Sierras, the aroma of high mountain pine, the weather and near perfect trail conditions had made for superb biking. Taagen enjoyed himself enormously on his seven-day ride and felt rested and relaxed when he finished. The months of diet control and conditioning had paid off.

Taagen’s base camp was at the finest hotel in Yosemite Valley. While he worked hard getting back into shape there was no reason to suffer for it. Consequently, he tried to stay in the best possible hotels whenever he could.

He was banged-up, bruised, sunburned, had all sorts of scratches and bites and bone tired. All this meant he’d had a wonderful time biking.

In his room he tiredly dropped his equipment on the tan, deeply carpeted floor. He stripped off the dirty biking clothes and walked across the suite to the bathroom. The hot shower was the perfect capper for the week.

After drying with one of the hotel’s thick, soft towels, he dragged a razor over week-old stubble and brushed his teeth. Smiling at his reflection, he struck a phony weight lifter’s pose. Not bad for the old fat guy, he mused. If one would consider being almost thirty-six years old. The shower and shave had revitalized him.

Since it was still early afternoon, Taagen dressed casually in a pair of faded khaki pants and an oversized bicycle brand name t-shirt and slipped his bare feet into his oxblood loafers. He walked out onto his balcony, fifth floor, and admired the view up towards Half Dome. The glacier carved rock glowed orange as the afternoon sun deepened the green of the forest at its base. Taagen remembered climbing there on one of his college breaks with a glorious red head then wondered whatever had happened to her. After a few moments of reflection on how incredibly happy and lucky he was, he wandered down to the bar for a cold beer.

Taagen entered the bar and did a quick survey to see where he would sit. The area was quiet, the air cool and softly carried the aroma of mountain pine from outside. There were two couples who looked to him as if they could be newly-weds. They were holding hands over by huge, heavy wooden framed windows. An attractive older woman wearing a red 49’ers sweatshirt and faded jeans was sipping a tall drink alone at a table just inside the bar. The woman smiled at him with sparkling green eyes and tipped her drink to him. She had short-cropped white hair and a slim, athletic build. He noticed a tattoo on the back of her left hand. Looked to him like a dragon or some such.

Large, soft blue area rugs covering the dark gray flagstone floor soaked up his footsteps as he continued across the room. A young man with long dark hair and a pretty white-blonde young woman with a pleasant smile and a nose piercing sat at the bar talking quietly. A golf match was on the big screen behind the bar, the sound muted. Taagen had plenty of choices of where to sit as the bar was mostly empty. He selected a table across the room under one of the windows. It was several tables away from the two couples, who giggled and talked quietly.

He pulled a chair and waved at the server. She smiled at him, her appealing heart-shaped face lighting up.

Taagen could not help but see how attractive she was. Since he spent months working to get into shape, there had been no women in his life other than Thelma. This was a condition which he hoped to correct sooner rather than later.

The server was a bit over average in height and had sandy blonde hair with streaks of lighter blonde. At no great surprise to him, her eyes were startlingly light blue.

She also noticed him as he crossed the room and wondered if he was with someone. Liking the way his pants fit, she smiled widely as she came to his table. Then she recognized him as the biker several of her friends had talked about.

Her uniform consisted of a thin, light blue blouse over dark blue pants. Her impressive bosom played havoc with her blouse and her pants were taut across her firm butt. Her name tag said, ‘Charli.’ Taagen smiled at her. Damn she’s hot, he thought. But a bit too young. But still, if offered, I’d be a fool to turn her down.

After he ordered a dark ale, he leaned back in his comfortable chair, his legs stretched out under the table, his ankles crossed, and enjoyed the relaxing, quiet ambience.

When Charli brought his ale he caught a whiff of her slightly musky perfume. He also got a long look at her barely contained breasts when she bent and set it on the table. He reconsidered how young she might be. She’s a little bit older than I thought, probably mid-twenties. I wonder if I should ask what she’s doing after her shift. Smiling, he took a long swallow of his drink and looked at her as she chatted with the couple at the bar. She sure spent a long time allowing me a good look at her girls.

Charli, on the other hand, noticed the lack of a wedding band or a cheater’s mark, the pale line where a ring might go, on his ring finger. She grinned into the mirror behind the bar, watching him sip his drink. She was hoping he’d ask her out and, barring that, wondered if he’d be offended if she asked him out.

He sipped the cold brew and looked out the windows overlooking the golf course. That was one sport he’d never picked up. He thought it boring, although watching Tiger Woods win his first Masters a few years back had been one of the most exciting sporting events he’d ever seen.

A door crashed open behind him, startling him and causing him to spill his beer all over the table. Grabbing a handful of napkins, he began mopping up the spill before it ran off the table and onto him. Four men entered the bar from the golf cart rack. They were laughing, being loud and making rude comments about some girl they’d seen. One of them saw the spilled beer on Taagen’s table as they passed. While trying to get a look down Charli’s blouse as she helped clean up the spill, he loudly commented on the number of drunks the bar let in these days.

Taagen realized the man had meant him but he held his temper. Asshole, Taagen thought, and took more napkins to the spill.

Charli brought him another beer. It’s on the house sir. She smiled at him showing even white teeth. Lord, even her teeth scream surfer girl.

Taagen smiled up at her. No, no Charli. I’ll pay for it. Blame those fools. He nodded at the foursome that had just shoved past the newlyweds towards a large table past the far end of the bar. He handed her a ten and waved off her attempt at giving him change.

She nodded thanks and shrugged, looking at the foursome. Thanks, sir. Now I gotta go deal with that lot. Christ! The other girl called in sick again and I gotta tend bar too. She twisted up her damn ankle hiking a couple of days ago. Shit! Taagen noticed her Australian accent and watched her hips sway as she strode over to the table next to the foursome. Smiling as he took a sip of the fresh ale, he thought, she looks pretty damn good coming and going. Yeah, I’ll ask her out.

The guy who made the rude comment about drunks was well on his way to being that way himself. Taagen guessed he’d made good use of the liquor cart out on the course.

Hey cutie! The man called to Charli. We could use some drinks here. His pink and yellow shirt suited him perfectly; loud and obnoxious.

Charli scowled and turned from the couples who by now were looking a little frightened. Yes sir, I know. I’ll be right there.

"No, girlie, you don’t get it. I mean now!" He thumped the table with a hard index finger.

Taagen looked at Charli and then scowled at the table with the four men. Hey you! The loudmouth jerk pointed that same finger at Taagen. You gotta problem? Turn around. This ain’t none a’ your business! The guy was average height, heavy-set and wide in the shoulders, with thinning close-cropped brown hair and spider veins all over his nose. Probably an ex-football player, Taagen thought. The extra thirty or so pounds he carried didn’t help him a bit. Dude’s heading for a heart attack.

Taagen smiled tightly at Charli who was trying to decide what to do. In a calm voice, he said to the foursome Now why don’t you gentlemen wait your turn? Can’t you see she’s by herself this afternoon?

The loudmouthed jerk in the screaming pink and yellow shirt snapped, I said shut up and turn around or I’ll stuff that bottle of queer beer up where the sun don’t shine. He started to rise.

Taagen now had a problem. The guy was drunk and rapidly becoming belligerent. The two couples looked terrified; the two at the bar looked as if they wanted to be elsewhere. The woman with the white hair watched the unfolding scene with a bemused expression.

He knew his time in the gym and dojo prepared him to handle an idiot like this, but four of them? He took a long deep breath to settle himself and considered what could happen.

Rising from his chair, Loudmouth staggered as he got his feet tangled and lost his balance. He clutched at the air wildly and accidentally grabbed Charli. As she tried to move away, his hand caught her collar, almost jerking her off her feet. As he continued to stagger, the blouse ripped and he caught her thin bra strap with his fingers.

The ripping of the blouse sounded loud in the room. She pulled away from him and grabbed at her now broken bra strap trying to cover herself with her torn blouse.

Taagen stood and moved toward her and noticed several details immediately. One, Loudmouth was drunker than he thought. Two, none of Loudmouth’s buddies wanted to help him. And three, Charli’s powder blue bra was well-filled.

Loudmouth finally managed to regain his balance and shoved Charli away. Beat it, bitch. I ‘cn get my own drink. He then turned on Taagen. An’ what’s this? A queer to the rescue? In a faggot t-shirt? Drinkin’ queer beer? You one a’ those fagotty fly fishermen? Look guys, he pointed at Taagen’s feet. No socks. Did I call it or what? He started to lumber toward Taagen.

One of the men at the table called out, laughing, C’mon Harve. Sit down, man. You’re drunk. Leave the guy alone.

Loudmouth was now Harve. He glanced at his companions. Not on your life, Tommy. I’m gonna teach this interferin’ homo a lesson. And with that he made the last of many ill-considered acts that day.

He swung at Taagen.

In the slow-motion moment when Harve started to swing, Taagen was again faced with a couple of choices: leave or stand his ground. He figured he couldn’t leave because Charli would undoubtedly get the short end of the deal. So he had only one choice. The guy was a loudmouthed asshole, possibly with the food distributor’s convention being held at the hotel. He was overweight and out of shape.

All of Taagen’s training fell into place a moment before Harve’s fist should have connected. Taagen whipped his left arm up to deflect Harve’s blow. Then, rotating his right shoulder forward into his next move, he snapped the heel of his right hand sharply into Harve’s solar plexus.

Harve doubled over and fell to the floor gasping like a carp out of water. Taagen’s sensei would have been proud.

Taagen dropped back into open stance and looked at Harve’s table warily. None of the other three made any move to help the gasping Harve.

Tommy held up his hands, palm out. Uh, hey man, we’re sorry about this. Ol’ Harve there’s been hitting the sauce hard since yesterday. He always does on these trips and he had a bad day on the course. When he sobers up he’ll apologize and give the waitress a generous tip. He meant no harm.

Taagen took a deep breath and stepped over to face Tommy. You tell that asshole he better get help for his problem. I’m a nice guy who hates to fight although I easily could have turned him inside out. The next guy he runs into may well do that to him.

Taagen turned and walked over to Charli who was still trying to cover herself with the ripped blouse.

Another guy at the table suddenly said, Hey! You’re Taagen Davis, the writer. I’ve read all your books. Shit man, we’re sorry. They stood and helped Harve to his feet. Harve glared at Taagen but managed to keep his mouth shut as he was helped from the bar. Tommy tossed a wad of bills on the table.

Are you okay? Taagen asked Charli who was still trying to do something with her blouse. His eyes wandered down to her well occupied bra. She caught the look and he grinned weakly.

Sorry, he said.

Still shaken, she managed a smile. Yeah, mate. I’m okay. No real harm done, though not for his lack of tryin’. I’ll kill Gloria when I find her, the’ bitch! What the hell am I gonna do with this blouse? Or this? She waggled the broken end of her bra strap. I can’t very well run the bar this way.

Taagen’s weak grin turned into a genuine smile. Tell you what Charli. I tended bar back when I was in college and there aren’t many people here. Why don’t you go change? I’ll watch things here and you’ll get all the tips. I promise.

Charli thought about it for a second or two. She nodded and with a promising smile, left the bar. She returned twenty minutes later in a fresh bra and blouse.

The white-haired woman at the corner table nodded at Taagen and tipped up her drink in a quiet salute. She drained the glass and with a satisfied smile, sat the empty glass on the table. Rising, she dropped a couple of bills and left the bar. The two couples returned to holding hands and, although momentarily frightened, had enjoyed the confrontation. What a tale they would be able to tell their friends when they got home.

Taagen Davis, hero.

Later that evening Charli rewarded Taagen most excellently for his chivalry. Most excellently indeed.

After a filling breakfast the next morning, Taagen took Charli on a bike ride on the trails along the Merced river. They enjoyed the morning on the trails and an exceptional afternoon in his room.

In their night and day together they came up with nicknames for each other: he was Mr. Writer Guy, she was Surfer Girl.

As he had to return to San Francisco later that evening, they ate an excellent early dinner in the hotel’s main dining room and parted very good friends.

On the porch of the restaurant she kissed him and said, I’m gonna miss you, Mr. Writer Guy. I’d give you my phone and address but my roommates and I are moving next week. They had another long kiss. I’ll email you in a few weeks when I have my new contact info.

They knew that it would never happen. They’d had an incredible evening and day together both knew that was the end of it.

A tired but satisfied Taagen Davis finished packing his Land Cruiser for the drive to San Francisco. While stuffing his camping and biking equipment in the car, he spent some time considering his next novel. Using the what if scenario, he kicked around a couple of ideas.

He had no further problems with Ol’ Harve or his friends. In fact, true to Tommy’s word, when Ol’ Harve sobered up, he wrote a short apology note to Charli and included five one-hundred-dollar bills in the envelope. Taagen smiled as he tossed the last of his bags into the back of the SUV. Maybe that dipshit’ll learn something from this. Five hundred bucks is an expensive lesson. He’s lucky Charli didn’t call the Park Police as well.

A young bellman commented on how light the bike was while he lifted the full carbon-framed bike up to the roof-rack.

Standing in the cool night air talking to the bellman about bikes in general and this one in particular, it occurred to Taagen that maybe a mystery involving bicycling might offer a different twist. Smiling, he thought, if it worked for horse racing, it should work for biking.

Taagen chose to drive his favorite route back to the city as he knew it well. It allowed him drive on ‘automatic’ and think about his next book. The newly re-paved road was smooth as glass. The night air clear and warm, moonless and beautiful. The stars glittered like gems scattered on black velvet through the open moon roof. The cool sounds of Rick Braun’s latest CD floated from the twelve-speaker stereo system.

He was wool gathering, thinking about the new story, when a figure suddenly appeared down the road at the far reach of his headlights. In a split second Taagen snapped back to reality and slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a stop within an inch of the person. Leaning forward, the person put a hand on the hood for support.

Damn! he shouted through the windshield. Of all the stupid things. He jammed the gearshift into park and slapped on the emergency flashers. Throwing open his door, he ran around to the front of the car ready to yell at the crazy-assed idiot for standing in the road.

As he rounded his car, the person collapsed to the road in a loose heap. He knelt down in the glow of the headlights and found it was a young woman. He also saw blood pooling under her right leg. Looking closer he saw a ragged gash high on her right thigh. Shit! Did I do this? A quick glance up at the front of the Land Cruiser showed nothing.

Jesus, lady! We’ve got to get you off the road. But first he had to stop that ever widening slow flow of blood.

He snapped his Leatherman open and as he reached to slit her pants open, he felt a small shock like static. As she didn’t