Delayed in Transit

By D.N. Taylor

In a world of magic Blessings gifted by gods, the Porters were viewed as both the weakest and the strongest, for their god Hermes gave no Blessings. Until one day, when a Porter gave the ultimate sacrifice in defense of his cargo— and received the ultimate compensation.

Porter Lugot lost a precious cargo on his first Commission for his Order of Porters, and with it he lost his life, until he was dragged back to the living by the will of a being he could not defy. Without his fellow Porters, he is lost and alone, seeking not but death. But even death is denied him.

But in the midst of despair he is given a ray of hope— a clue to find his lost cargo, and regain the respect of the Order of Porters. Now, Lugot must face a challenge he never expected to face!

This is the first in an epic fantasy series, Delayed in Transit. Grappling with themes of life and death, belonging and exclusion, failure and redemption, this series finds a contemplative hero who has failed those he trusts. Can he redeem himself? Does he even want to try? Find out today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098355432

Book preview

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN: 978-1-09835-542-5

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09835-543-2

Contents

Accepting the Commission

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Accepting the Commission

The Grand Hall was huge, hundreds of feet wide and twice as long. Huge marble columns rose from the tiled floor to support the lofting roof. Huge windows, filled with crystal-clear glass, dotted the walls. Knights, resplendent in full plate armor, stood at every pillar and under every window.

At one end of the room was a set of huge oak doors inlaid with carvings of trees, cities, and groups of people.

At the other end, upon the same floor that commoners and nobles walked upon, sat a throne. It was simple, without much decoration. On both sides of it was a statue, ten feet tall and intricately carved.

The statue on the Throne’s right side was of a tall and noble-looking woman in sweeping robes. In her right hand, she carried a long scepter, the top adorned with hanging apples and grapes. In her left arm, she carried a small child. She was looking down at the child with a soft and kind smile while the child looked at her, its face lit with pleasure.

On the throne’s left stood a towering figure. It was clad in armor that covered its chest and waist, but its arms and legs were bare. A shield more than half its height rested on the floor before it, the statue’s left hand holding it upright. Its right hand was held loosely at its side, almost purposefully not gripping the hilt of the long sword that hung from its hip. The sentinel stood tall, almost proudly displaying the fine lines of what could only be scars won in battle that covered its arms and legs. The face was just visible below the wide helm, long hair spilling from the back to cover its neck and shoulders. The eyes under the helm looked out toward the door with a calm and purposeful air, challenging someone to call him to battle again.

Before the throne stood a human woman. She wore close-fitting armor under a long embroidered robe. Her hair was long and black, braided and hanging down her back. On her head, she wore a small circlet of twisted gold and silver. Her face was stern, but her eyes were kind and she smiled as she looked down at the small baby in her arms.

The baby was sleeping peacefully, wrapped in a plain, simple blanket.

The Queen gently touched the baby’s face with one finger. Her face worked with emotion and her eyes watered a little. She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and took a deep breath, then straightened and turned to face the men that knelt before her.

There were seven men on the stones before her, spread out in a small v-shaped formation. Each rested a hand on his raised knee, the knuckles of his other hand on the floor before him. They were dressed simply in traveler’s clothes, not armor. They each wore travel-stained cloaks across their shoulders and a single long Dagger on his belt. The only adornment on each was a circular silver belt buckle, etched with a small pouch, the drawstrings of the pouch lifted up and transformed into wings.

The hoods of the men’s cloaks were pushed back, showing their faces.

Two of them were old, their faces lined from wisdom and trials. One had long hair that reached his shoulders, while the other wore his cut short. Both of them had beards, grey with many winters. They knelt at the front of the group, the long-haired one at the lead with the shorter-haired man on his right.

The third was almost as old as the first two and knelt on the leader’s left. His face was almost as lined, but he had a clean-shaven face and scalp, his head almost shining in the light of the torches around the Hall. He was significantly more muscular than the others, and seemed oddly out of place with their wiry forms.

Three of the others were neither old nor young, with heads full of thick brown, black, and blonde hair respectively. One knelt on the left and two on the right.

The last man knelt on the far left of the group and was almost visibly shaking. He was, by far, the youngest looking, and had thick red hair. His face was so smooth it looked like he hadn’t even begun to shave yet. His eyes were an almost painfully bright blue, and he fixed his gaze upon the floor before him with all the courage he possessed.

The Queen swept her powerful gaze slowly from one end of the line to the other. She paused and gazed at the red-haired boy silently for a moment, making him blush as he felt her eyes on him. Her lips twitched and she returned her gaze to the leader of the group.

Thank you for coming, Master Porter, she said at last, her voice clear and ringing with authority.

It is always an honor to receive a royal summons, Your Majesty, the leader replied. His voice sounded rough compared to the Queen’s, but it was filled with a strength that belied his apparent age.

I only wish the summons had not been necessary, the Queen replied, her eyes moving to look out the window.

Black smoke, incredibly thick, was rising and visible through the window. It was far away, but frighteningly close as well.

Honestly, Your Majesty, we had begun to fear you would not summon us in time, the leader said, bowing his head lower. The kingdom’s forces are already breaching the outer defenses. If we wish to get you to safety, we should have left some time ago. As it is, we will barely be able to escape in time.

Hm. I see. So you could not guess my intention after all.

Your Majesty?

I do not intend to run, Master Porter.

Do not— Your Majesty, the bald man half shouted, the whole party shifting nervously. You cannot mean to remain. The kingdom’s forces outnumber your own three to one, and the ratio of combat Blessings is even higher than that. You cannot fight and win. We must get you to safety.

Did I say anything about expecting to win, Porter Sezio? Her voice was calm, but its firmness stilled the shuffling of the group instantly.

Sezio lowered his head more, the fist clenching tighter.

The Queen looked at Sezio for a second, then turned her gaze back to the leader.

The leader of the group had not looked away and met the Queen’s gaze levelly. The pair looked at each other for several endless minutes, then the Porter closed his eyes and inclined his head a fraction.

So. You mean to stay, and buy time for your people, he said.

We have known each other all our lives, Master Porter. I’m honestly surprised you did not realize my plan sooner.

He grunted. It has been some years since we last spoke, Your Majesty. I supposed I was hoping you’d finally learned to be at least a little selfish in that time," he replied, smirking a little.

The Queen laughed softly. The sound made her seem more like a maiden in the fullness of youth than the lordly woman she appeared to be, and the eyes of the gathered Knights gleamed. They carefully did not look at the other members of their group.

It had been some time since they had last heard such a soul-cleansing sound from her.

Master Porter, I have always been selfish, she said with a small smile. It is simply my wish to selfishly take on the troubles of others so they may live in peace. Is it not the same for you?

I suppose it is, Your Majesty, said he replied, shaking his head with a low, soft chuckle.

The man on his right smirked and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The Queen looked at the group fondly for a minute, then her smile faded and she turned her gaze back to the leader.

May I assume you now guess my intention in calling you here? she asked softly.

… You may, Your Majesty, he replied, pain etched in his voice as he lowered his head and whispered, however much it pains me.

It must be done, the Queen said, just as softly. I will not survive this battle. But my people will. And we have already sent as many of them away as we could. Those who remain are those who refuse to leave. I would charge them with treason… if the knowledge that so many of them stay because they share in my belief did not fill my heart with elation.

The Queen touched her chest with her free hand, her face working again.

In that case, Your Majesty, the leader said after a moment, forcing his voice to be strong again. I would ask you to choose the courier for this mission. The one who receives your order will, in turn, be bound to the task with all the strength given to us by Hermes.

Will he? the Queen asked quietly, sweeping her gaze across the men before her. Sezio the Strong, Alifo the Grey, Conrad of the Dark Mines, Hungil of the Earth, Jokul of the Plains… you have brought many distinguished Porters with you, Master.

I thank you for your praise, Majesty, the Master Porter replied. Each of the men before you has completed numerous dangerous missions in his time and has never failed in the trust I placed in him. I would stake my life on each of them completing any mission given to him… no matter the cost.

On each of them, you say, the Queen repeated softly. Shifting the baby in her arm a little, she stepped forward. Her footsteps echoed around the Hall as she moved to the left side of the group and slowly walked down the line. She examined each man’s face carefully, gazing at something no one else could see.

She reached the end of the line and looked down at the last member, turning to face him fully.

I do not know of this one. Such flaming hair and bright eyes… one would have expected many legends and stories to be told of one so young if he were among your hand-picked few, Master.

Honestly, Your Majesty, he is one of our newest Porters. He has yet to make a name for himself. In fact, he is clumsy and unskilled, with little more ability than a farmhand. He faced many trials during his training, as all do. He nearly failed most of them. He barely ranked average on others. And some he got through only because others did worse. He is not physically a match for any of the others here.

The young boy blushed and bit his lip. He lowered his head further at the Queen and the Master’s words. They cut deep, deeper than anything, for they were true. He had yet to take on a single real mission for the Porters. When the Master had called him, he had felt that this was his time. But then he’d seen the group he would travel with and heard where they were heading. He knew he was in far over his head. He wanted to scream at them that they’d made some mistake, that he shouldn’t be here, that he wasn’t up to the task they wished him to undertake.

"But his heart, Your Majesty, is strong. He has a will within him that puts even mine to shame. He knows his limits, he knows where he stands… and yet he does not shrink from the challenge. He does not run. He stands tall and moves forward even when the strong have fallen to the wayside. He has not proven himself a man truly worthy of the title