Parlee and the Dragon Keys: Fantasy Adventure with a Twist of Faith

By PJ Waldeck

Before being betrayed and imprisoned, Parlee must find her way through sleepy villages, a guarded bridge, a mysterious cove and an enchanted forest on her way to Braunfield Castle. In her pocket she carries one of the three Dragon Keys which legend says holds the freedom of her world, and a scheming Generals power in check.
No truly noble quest would be complete without an entourage of diverse companions, and Parlee and the Dragon Keys provides them.
Miles: a humble donkey cart driver who offers Parlee a ride and has a familiar face that she cant quite place. Through Parlees youthful eyes he seems old and worn, but in his case looks are deceiving.
Kig: a dashing swordsman, with questionable credentials, is Parlees soul-mate, but true love never follows a straight course which puts their devotion to one another to the test.
Smolder: a Moon Dragon who is eager to learn more about humans and quickly forms a bond with Parlee; but even this sweet-natured friend has an agenda of his own.
One of these three friends will betray her, one will deliver her to the enemy and the third will desert her for a pretty face. Knowing all this in advance will not help you to untangle the web of intrigue and plot deceptions that will lead you on an adventure with a twist of faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490844862

PJ Waldeck

PJ Waldeck is the writer of numerous poems, short stories, and children’s books. In her debut novel, Parlee and the Dragon Keys, she has created a central character who the author admits is far braver than she would ever dare to be. PJ was born and raised in Minnesota and currently lives in view of the mountains with husband Carl, son David, and a border terrier, Millie.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

P arlee set her travel bag down on her packed trunk, walked back into the dimly lit room, and stopped resolutely in front of the stone fireplace. She slowly inhaled the smell of ashes from last night’s fire and exhaled in a cleansing puff of air. Scanning for the right floorboard took only a moment, but Parlee still hesitated before kneeling to pry open the hidden recess. She was alone, yet somehow the retrieval of the box that she had placed here four years earlier gave her an uneasy sense of…what was this feeling? Foreboding? Fear? Anticipation? Whatever it was Parlee needed to shake it off and proceed as her cousin Annie had instructed. Reaching into the darkness below she easily found the right box and pulled it into the light. The box contained a green velvet bag with a gold crest looking just as crisp as the day she had hidden it away. Over the last four years she had walked over this floorboard many times to light fires and pop popcorn with few thoughts to what was just beneath her feet. She lifted the bag from the box and felt the weight of its contents drop into her hand. The cold brass key shimmered softly in the dim light and she felt the coldness penetrate her skin and it caused her to shiver. The ancient text in some forgotten alphabet ran up and down the blade and twisted around twice before becoming the tail of an elaborately carved silver dragon at the large end of the key. There was the glint of a blue gem by the dragon’s mouth where a single word was carved. I wonder what it says, she asked out loud breaking the silence in the room. Since receiving their keys, the three cousins, Annie, Rama and Parlee, had each tried to decipher the words on their own key. Over time the girls had grown weary of trying to read their keys and had each put them in a safe place, all but forgetting about them. But now, Annie had sent Parlee a letter summoning her to meet with her cousins at Braunfield Castle.

A knock at her front door startled Parlee and she quickly placed the key in her dress pocket, put the velvet bag back in its box and once again entombed it beneath the floorboard. As she stood she gave the key a reassuring pat of confirmation and the floorboard a solid tap of her shoe. Coming, she called toward the front door, but felt no real hurry to be on her way. Parlee paused to read the embroidered plaque above her mantel silently at first and then aloud. All will be as it should be. She swallowed hard, I do hope so. Her voice came out in an uncharacteristic pitch above her normal speech and she cleared her throat. She looked down once more at the secured floorboard and let out a nervous puff of energy as she walked toward the door. I’ll be right there, she called again as she picked up her travel bag from off her packed trunk.

Parlee stopped by the front door and turned round to look longingly at her bookshelves, which were speckled with mementos from long walks, several colorful glass vases, but mostly they were covered with her worn but much loved leather bound editions. Parlee had the collective works of Clemons Jonas Zebulon, the poetry of David Carlspring and two copies of The Prophesies, one of which she had already packed in her bag. A few books still stood in a stack on the floor near her tapestry covered reading chair where Parlee had been sorting through them. She walked over to the chair and picked up a book of poetry from the top of the stack and placed it in her bag. With one last glance at her home she pushed her chestnut curls behind her ears and opened the front door.

Sorry to make you wait, Parlee apologized.

Eileen rose from the bench outside the door, Let me help you with that, she offered as she reached for the trunk.

Parlee sat her bag down on the porch and the two girls found that it took some effort to half drag, half lift the trunk over the threshold and onto the porch. The metal handles groaned at the process. Eileen was a bit shorter than Parlee and the strain made the petite blonde’s face redden.

Are you taking every book you own? Eileen scolded.

Just the heavy ones, Parlee teased back.

Once on the porch Parlee and Eileen let the metal handles clunk back down to the sides of the trunk, which let out one last creak over the ordeal. Parlee grabbed her coat from a hook inside, and closed the door with a familiar dull thud and lifted the latch into place. Who knows when… her voice faltered, …when…I shall return? She rested her palm on the warm wooden door for just a moment.

Eileen put her hand on Parlee’s shoulder, but didn’t speak. The time for discussion was past and Parlee needed to go.

Thanks for helping me with my trunk, but you didn’t need to come over so early, Parlee said to her friend.

Yes, I did. I needed to see you off and to bring you these. Eileen picked up a pair of golden tan suede pants from the bench she had been waiting on.

A pair of pants? Parlee smiled. Just when do you think I’ll need a pair of pants? I’m going to be at Braunfield with Annie. Then she added with a mock aristocratic voice, I’ll most likely be wearing fine gowns and sipping on nectar. Not running around the countryside in pants.

Well, Eileen said in defense of her offering, you never know. It’s always good to be prepared for anything. Besides, they’re too long for me and I’ll never get around to fixing them.

Parlee accepted the pants with thanks and put them in her already brimming trunk. Eileen helped Parlee put on her coat and the girls turned to look out at the yard of sweet grasses and wildflower border. No fence, but rather a low hedge of sumac marked off the boundaries between Parlee and her nearest neighbors. An oak tree at each corner of the yard offered shade and the lovely sound of rustling leaves. There were no homes directly across the road from her. There was only an old grove of trees surrounding a meadow with a small stream. It was such a peaceful view Parlee spent a moment to let it soak into her memory.

Then she slung her bag on her shoulder and nodded to Eileen. The girls left the trunk sitting on the porch with an ivory shipping label prominently displayed which read: for delivery to Annie Maroon, Braunfield Castle, Nim’s Port, Willram. They headed down the five wooden steps and across the moss covered paving stones. Each step took Parlee further from her front door and the comfortable familiarity of home.

I can walk you to the edge of town if you like, Eileen offered.

Thanks, but I’ll be fine.

You’ll want to avoid the General’s guards.

I know. I will, Parlee assured her.

I wish they had never come to Druiton. My friends from up north have told me more than a few stories of how the guard infiltrated the city slowly and then when the people realized what was truly going on it was too late to get rid of them, Eileen spoke with barely a breath between words.

That won’t happen in Druiton. There are only a handful of his guards here.

Parlee, don’t be so naive. That’s how it started up north. Do you really want to be one of General Epagale’s subjects?

"Of course not, I haven’t been that sheltered. I’ve heard my share of stories. He certainly fits the description of evil in The Prophecies, ‘the Charming Deceiver’." With this said, the two walked in silence.

Parlee’s thoughts returned to the journey at hand. Her heart was consuming more than its share of space in her chest. It beat in a wild unknown rhythm as they continued to walk. Parlee’s sensible brown shoes were nearly silent on the paving stones but as the girls stepped onto the coarse gravel of the road they made a satisfying crunching sound. Parlee’s plain chocolate cloth coat topped her knee length olive dress and brown woolen hose. Eileen was wearing a lighter coat and shivered a bit as a breeze caught hold of her. Parlee fastened only the top button of her coat and for a moment she held her bottom lip lightly in her teeth. Her mind fought the urge for that last look toward home. As they turned the corner her shoulder brushed against a lilac hedge whose blossoms were long since gone and she knew that she could no longer see her home from here, even if she did look back. The longer side of her parted curls fell across her face and she once again tucked them behind her ear. The girls kept moving and the gray canvas bag on Parlee’s shoulder shifted slightly. A breath, half sob, half relief, trembled from her lips. She was on her way.

The road they turned onto next was familiar and often quite busy. Because of the early hour the road was all but deserted. Parlee felt safe in her own neighborhood with each neat little cottage having a different type of hedge that encompassed the yard and the same moss covered paving stones leading up to the door. These were the comfortable familiar sights that made up her world. They arrived at Eileen’s yard and stopped. Parlee smiled as she looked at the rose trellis on either side of Eileen’s porch. Parlee had helped Eileen put the roses in three years ago. They were climbing and twirling around the trellises in joyous abandon. Parlee remembered how much trouble it had seemed at the time and now the effort was well paid for in the generous display.

I guess this is it, Eileen managed to choke out with her arms tucked tight around herself.

Don’t you start. I must go. Annie needs me.

I know, Eileen said without looking into Parlee’s eyes. When she did finally look up she could see that Parlee would miss her too.

I’ll write to you, Parlee said with a gentle embrace.

Eileen returned the hug but was only able to nod in reply and turned quickly to walk to her front door.

"I will write," Parlee repeated after her.

Eileen stopped midway up the paving stones and turned to look at Parlee. Be careful. Sending letters from Nim’s Port is not the same as sending letters across the plains. There aren’t as many traveling merchants coming this way to carry them anymore. Not many can get the proper papers to travel this far. When Eileen saw the saddened look on Parlee’s face she added, But I’ll know that you meant to write to me. There was a moment of quiet before Eileen spoke again. Don’t worry about your trunk. I’ll see that it gets on its way. And I’ll be sure to make your last two woolen deliveries.

Thanks. Parlee had already left a note at the inn for any traveling merchants going to Nim’s Port, but she appreciated that Eileen would check on the trunk. Goodbye, Parlee called as she watched Eileen rub her arms briskly on her way up the walk. Eileen gave one last wave goodbye from her step before she went in and closed her door.

Parlee turned and took a step and then another. After a time of silent melancholy and many dusty steps, she had passed from her world into less familiar territory. She thought ahead to the long trip she was making. Her biggest fear was to come across General Epagale’s guards as Eileen had said. The few guards Parlee had met were vulgar. They seemed to have no problem taking what they wanted from fruit merchants and choosing any table in the local tavern whether it was occupied or not. On a few occasions she had overheard conversations of malicious treatment of young women and she prayed it was only rumor. On any account she wouldn’t want one of them detaining her and discovering the key. Even Eileen didn’t know about the key, for Parlee hadn’t read all of Annie’s letter, even to her trusted friend.

Parlee’s long shadow had begun to shorten and she stepped as if she were stepping into its large dark void. The road seemed uneven and the lawns less managed than in her little corner of town. As she walked and looked about at the subtle changes in her surroundings she heard hoof beats coming up behind her. Her heart quickened its pace as she imagined one of the General’s guards on horseback. She turned to see merely a lumbering donkey cart coming up behind her. The driver made a clucking noise to the donkey that seemed so used to the ritual that he acknowledged with a swish of his tail and a twitch of his ears. The cart was nearly even with her as the driver called to the donkey to stop.

Whoa, Digby. The man glanced at Parlee and asked simply, Ride? Parlee’s soft gray eyes looked up at the man on the cart. She paused and dipped her hand into her coat pocket and rubbed the coins she knew she would need for her journey and felt the large brass key in her dress pocket below it. She had been hoping that she could get rides from families traveling between towns, but a donkey cart going through several towns would probably exceed her budget. She was about to decline when the man added, No charge.

Parlee gave the man a smile. Thank you, sir. I would like a ride. She settled her bag in the back and climbed up beside the man who gave a tap of the reins as she sat down. The donkey swished his tail and twitched his ears in response to the clucking noise the man made and began to pull the cart along. How far are you going? asked Parlee once she had made herself comfortable.

Digby! called the man sharply after his donkey. We’ll stop to eat in a bit. Eyes forward. The driver fell silent and Parlee thought that she should just be thankful for the ride and not disturb him again.

Miles, the man said abruptly.

You have miles to go? Parlee asked hopefully.

No. My name’s Miles, he said with a glance at her and then back at the road.

I’m Parlee, she responded.

That’s a pretty name, he said without looking directly at her.

Thank you.

It was now that Parlee was able to truly regard her fellow traveler. He seemed to sway back and forth as if one with the cart and donkey. His hair was brown, but was beginning to show gray at the temples. Having just turned nineteen herself, Parlee judged him to be quite old, perhaps even forty. His clothing was old and unkempt. His pants were of heavy dark purple cotton and his ivory shirt had once been white with a small gold stitched pattern that now only appeared in areas of the least wear. Around his neck he wore a leather strand with a small glass case containing some blonde hairs tied in a knot that wound around with no beginning and no end. Miles felt Parlee’s stare, patted the pendant with a rough hand and said, My sister, and added in a whisper, We were close. He didn’t speak again for some time, but Parlee thought he must be going through some private memories and reliving the hurt of her loss.

Not wanting to interrupt, Parlee sat in quiet reflection of her own. She too knew the hurt of loss. Her parents were figments from her childhood. They were all together and happy one moment and the next instance she could remember clearly was several years later. In between there was only a hazy recollection of events and even hazier faces. Try as she may the fleeting moments would not stay still long enough for her to focus on them. She couldn’t recall the exact moment of separation nor the circumstances of their deaths. It was as if that time was cut cleanly and completely from her mind. What she could recall was that she was sent to live with her Uncle and Aunt Maroon and their daughter, Annie. She spent six years growing up with her cousin Annie at Braunfield Castle. They were more like sisters than cousins. Annie was two years older than Parlee and seemed to know so many fun games. They had explored Braunfield Castle from top to bottom in their many adventures. In the first few months their cousin Rama had visited from time to time, but she had been left a small parcel of land that she needed to attend to and could never stay for long. In the last few years she would send letters of regret that she couldn’t come at all.

It was suggested by Lady Maroon one evening at dinner that Parlee should return to Druiton to shut up her parent’s house and sell it. Instead, once Parlee returned and saw the old books that her father and his father had collected over the years and the silent loom that her mother had helped make a living at, she decided to stay and make the house her own. She felt a connection to her youth and family that overwhelmed her even at fifteen. At times she could imagine them being there with her. Papa with a book and pipe in the tapestry covered reading chair and Mama at the loom making the most beautiful blankets. Parlee’s Uncle and Aunt understood Parlee’s desire to stay in Druiton, but Annie missed her dreadfully and they had written to each other once a week faithfully at first. Over time the letters became less frequent but the theme was always the same, the girls missed each other’s company. This would be the first time that Parlee would be back to Nim’s Port since she left it four years ago.

The silent duo rode through a small village a short distance from Druiton, which was just coming awake. One shopkeeper was sweeping, one was putting out crates of fruit, and still another was stacking boxes to hold his door open for business. None of them bothered to look up at the passerby’s. The long row of shops was followed by neat thatched roof homes on either side of the road.

As they rode along Miles offered her some bread; and water from a jar with a lovely glass stopper. I hate to stop unless I have to, he added as he retrieved a couple of apples from a rough burlap bag behind his seat. Parlee thanked him as she took the apple and bit into its crisp skin.

They reached the far side of the village and Parlee’s eyes once again settled on the woven hair in the glass case. Feeling bad that he may have been rude earlier, Miles patted the pendant on the leather strand, cleared his throat and spoke. Her name was…Seera, she heard him say with reverence. Everyone that met her fell under her spell. His eyes glistened as he spoke. There was something special in the way she treated her friends. Y’know? Each one felt like they were her best friend no matter how long apart or distant they were from each other. She was smart, friendly, silly and thoughtful. Her friends were from all generations and life long. After the words ‘life long’ he fell silent again and continued to stare straight ahead. Stones cracked and rumbled under the wooden cartwheels. His throat tightened and a glint of memory filled his eyes as he said, I miss her every day. His voice softened and slowed as he repeated, every…day.

Parlee wanted to console him, but without knowing either the circumstances or what might be of comfort to this gruff looking man, she merely whispered, Sorry, and bowed her head. This seemed to satisfy his somber spirit and he rubbed his nose with a sniff, made the clucking noise and gave the reins a light tap. Digby responded with only a slight quickening of his pace and the now familiar swish of his tail and twitch of his ears.

Another village and yet another passed with longer stretches of open land between them before either of them said another word. Miles spoke first, We need to pick up a friend of mine in the next town. He’ll be waiting on me when we arrive. Then he turned to Parlee. Do you have provisions to sleep in the open air over night? Before she could think or give an answer he added, You’ll be able to pick up whatever you might need in Cooperton. Parlee had planned on sleeping in the open air in the evenings and did have what she should need for traveling in her bag. The coins she carried were worth just enough for the journey, but she hadn’t anticipated purchasing much beyond the absolute necessities and had a little extra for an emergency. Parlee was glad for the idea that she wouldn’t be alone and welcomed the thought of trading stories over a campfire before sleep.

CHAPTER 2

C ooperton was much larger than Druiton and Parlee found no end of interesting sights and amusing people to look at as they made their way to the center of town. The common people passing on the street were very well dressed and had the look of being important and on their way somewhere wonderful and exciting. There was of course the requisite number of street performers plying their trade in the squares. Parlee liked the musicians and men juggling on stilts best. The squares had men roasting nuts and savory meat for sale; whereas the animals, fruits and vegetables at a bustling market seemed more like what she might see in her own small town market. When Parlee asked once if they might stop for a moment, Miles simply reminded her that he hated to stop unless he had to.

An ever increasing number of uniformed guards were passing them, but gave only a casual glance of interest if they looked at the pair at all. It felt a bit intimidating to see so many more of them here. Perhaps Eileen was right about the slow buildup of forces in Druiton.

There was a wealth about Cooperton that was most evident in its architecture. Back home there was only one lovely fountain at the center of town. If her count was correct they had already passed three of them, each one a bit grander than the last. Parlee couldn’t help but think how nice it would be if Druiton’s fountain had even one of the four full-sized bronze horses in the center like the last one they passed instead of its simple cascading marble tiers.

The homes in one area were fenced and far more lavish than any in Druiton. There was an abundance of columns, iron, colored glass and carved stone work. When Parlee had passed this way on her way home four years earlier she didn’t appreciate the sights around her. Now she took them in with renewed understanding of what it took to build and maintain them. Eileen was an able teacher when it came to being aware of one’s surroundings. Parlee had a sudden pang of longing to see her dear friend and to share what she was seeing.

As the area they were passing through became more affluent looking Parlee wished that she were wearing a nicer coat and not her simple cloth traveling coat. She brushed back her hair behind her ears, tugged at her coat lapel in order to straighten it and sat more upright. Miles had been observing Parlee out of the corner of his eye and offered, You look fine. Parlee looked at him, laughed at herself quietly and then went back to watching the sights as they passed.

Miles finally called to Digby to stop in front of a three-story Inn. The hand painted wooden placard hanging out front was carved with the name Miner’s Cove. Cooperton had been built by K.C. Cooper on his discovery of minerals and ores in the area. Many had followed his lead and the town grew rapidly and showed no signs of going bust any time soon. The Inn appeared to have just been freshly painted and the wide window boxes at street level were crowded with bright red flowers. The curtains in each of the large windows above them were pulled open to let in the sun and air. On the top floor every other window had a terrace enclosed by black wrought iron, which several of the patrons were taking advantage of. Miles got down from his seat and stretched his legs as he walked around to offer his hand to help Parlee down. After giving instructions and a coin to a waiting stable boy, Parlee and her companion headed for the door. My treat, he said pointing at the menu board as he held the door for her.

I can certainly pay for myself, said Parlee gently, as she passed in front of him.

My treat, he repeated with a smile. The smile suited him and Parlee could only reflect the smile back and thank him.

Parlee’s eyes had not yet adjusted from the bright light of outdoors to the dimmer lighting of the Inn as she took a few tentative steps forward. She stepped as if the ground before her were flat. The three steps down were a blur as she tumbled forward into the arms of a dark haired stranger.

Are you all right? asked the stranger. Parlee looked up into a pair of concerned green eyes.

I’m…I’m fine. Fine…I think. Yes, fine. I’m fine. Fine. Parlee sputtered as she attempted to right herself and straighten out her rumpled dress and dignity. As she stood up and stepped back to gain her own balance Miles came down the stairs behind her.

I do believe she’s fine, he laughed. Good catch, Kig.

Miles! replied Kig with delight. I was wondering when you might arrive. The two clasped hands and gave each other a hardy hug in greeting.

Let’s get a table and not stand in the entry like common rabble, Miles suggested. The dining room, which had gone silent when Parlee tumbled, returned to the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes and silverware.

Kig led the way. Miles took Parlee’s arm, both to steady and guide her. The three walked to the back where fewer of the other patrons were dining. A group of Epagale’s guards occupied two of the larger tables and Kig made a point of not passing too close to them. Once they were seated away from the crowd and Miles had ordered for the three of them, he leaned forward and tapped his glass with the glasses of his table mates, To friendship and family.

Kig and Parlee repeated with a little more reserve in their voices, To friendship and family, and took a sip of a delicious cold cider. Miles had topped off his cider with cinnamon liquor from a bottle that was brought to their table with the carafe of cider.

I suppose introductions are in order, said Miles as he leaned back in his wooden chair. As you know I am Miles Sha…

Shannon, Miles Shannon, interrupted Kig, I can introduce myself. He turned to Parlee and said, I am Lawrence Kigglethorpe. As you have heard my friends… he looked at Miles directly, …and acquaintances…

Hey, hey now, laughed Miles.

And acquaintances, repeated Kig, call me Kig.

I’m pleased to meet you, Kig. My name is…

Parlee Bryce, interjected Miles. He spread his hands as if he were performing magic.

How, how do you know my last name? asked Parlee slowly.

I know all, laughed Miles.

Parlee felt a bit odd thinking that he knew her name all this time. She sat back in her chair and stared as she waited for an explanation. Miles calmly took another sip of cider and then noticed that she had not taken her eyes off of him. Do you know me? Parlee asked. There did seem to be something familiar about his face yet she felt quite certain that she had never met him until this morning.

It’s stitched on your bag, offered Kig. Miles made a gesture of asking forgiveness backed by that endearing smile. Parlee just smiled back and shook her head and sniffed a laugh. All was forgiven and forgotten in an instant.

Miles leaned toward Parlee, Poor Kig, he’s been waiting for me for a couple of weeks. Then to Kig he asked in his booming jovial voice, Did you finally finish that book you were brooding over? Miles began to laugh and the conversation from then on was loud and fun. Parlee took in most of what was said and began to realize that her traveling companions would make the long journey ahead go by much more quickly.

Between all the silly chatter Parlee was able to interject the question most important on her mind, How far are you going?

Miles smiled his infectious smile and replied, All the way. When I get there, I’ve arrived. His gestures matched his words.

I mean, Parlee tried again but it was hard not to get caught up in all the laughter, what is your destination?

Well, said Miles with a slightly more serious tone, I’ve always found, no matter where you go…

…there you are, laughed Kig, who had obviously heard the reply a time or two before.

The three laughed and chatted all through dinner, dessert and two more glasses of cider until one of the innkeepers approached their table. All right, my dears, off you go, she said.

Right you are, Mildred. We’ve a long journey ahead. We should get some sleep, said Miles as he emptied the bottle of cinnamon liquor into his glass. He rose and handed Mildred four large coins.

It’s only two, she said, trying to hand back two of the coins.

Keep the change, Millie, keep the change, winked Miles.

Good night and thank you, kind sir, winked Mildred back at Miles as she gave him a dramatic curtsy.

Off we go then, said Miles to Kig and Parlee, as he took one last sip from his glass.

I still have my room upstairs for at least one more night. If you don’t mind the close quarters, we can all stay in there tonight, Kig offered. There was a sleepy nod of consensus as they gathered their things and left the table.

Up the two flights of creaky wooden stairs Miles, Kig and Parlee went. An occasional burst of laughter from any one of the three would set the others shushing them. At one point Miles started to break into some old ballad from his generation and Kig and Parlee said shush together and then they all burst out laughing. Finally they found themselves at Kig’s room. Kig flung the set of doors open and the three walked silently in as if sleep had somehow suddenly overtaken them all.

Parlee, you can take that room. Miles and I will sleep out here, said Kig with a gesture toward the only other door in the room.

Parlee was too tired to argue or to be noble, so she opened the door turned back to the men and said, Thank you, both. Good night.

Parlee entered the room. Behind her she heard the two men go from lighthearted to a more serious toned discussion. After she closed the door she only heard bits and pieces as she changed for bed, lay down and drifted off to sleep.

Parlee’s nose woke up first. What is that delicious smell? she wondered. She stretched and looked around her room. She had been too tired the night before to notice anything but the bed, but now she saw that it was simply decorated with minimal furniture; the bed of course, a wooden chair at a small writing desk in front of long heavy dark curtains, a wardrobe and a nightstand with a practical little lamp. Parlee sat up, pulled the covers up around her and stretched again. She knew she should get up and check on Miles and Kig. Just as quickly as the thought had passed through her mind, there was a knock at her door.

Parlee, It was Kig’s voice that came through the door, are you awake yet?

Yes, Parlee called back, I’m awake.

Just checking, we should be going shortly. Miles is getting Digby ready downstairs and loading the cart with things he thinks we may need.

Oh, dragon frass, thought Parlee. They’re already awake and I’m still lounging here. I’ll be right with you, called Parlee. She put on her dress, threw on her coat and grabbed her canvas bag. She patted the brass key in her pocket to check that it was still there. It was. She came out into the main room and saw Kig sitting out on the terrace on one of two chairs at a table with a plain white cloth covering it. He wore brown boots, gray tweed pants, a wide brown belt and a crisp white shirt. A dark cape was slung over the back of his chair. The table was filled with croissants, butter, fruit and tea.

Kig looked up from his book and smiled at Parlee. Come on out and have a seat. There’s plenty and Miles has already had more than his share.

Parlee set her canvas bag on one of the two couches that sat facing each other in the middle of the room on either side of a low table. She came out onto the terrace, sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. As she took a sip her eyes met Kig’s. He smiled over the top of his book as he took a bite of strawberry. Mildred bakes her own croissants, ‘the best in town’, if you ask her. Have one.

Seeing that Kig seemed in no apparent hurry; Parlee relaxed and looked at the cover of Kig’s book. I’ve read that one. It’s wonderful. He’s one of my favorite authors.

Mine too, said Kig as he set the book down on the table. This is my third time reading it and I still discover new ideas and images that I didn’t get the first time through.

I feel the same way. I hope he writes more, said Parlee as she bit into her croissant.

Parlee and Kig talked about books as they finished eating. They talked about books as they gathered their belongings. They talked about books all the way down the two flights of stairs and out to where Miles was waiting to help them place their things in the cart with the supplies he had purchased. Kig assisted Parlee up into her seat and said, I’ll see you two in a bit. Parlee half expected him to kiss her hand as he slowly released it and turned to walk toward the stable. She watched as he walked away. His dark cape was over one arm and he placed a small camel colored hat on his head that had three long black feathers attached with a large silver medallion.

Miles cleared his throat. He’ll catch up. Don’t worry.

I’m not worried, said Parlee who turned to see the sparkle of a smile in Miles’ eye. I just thought he was riding with us, that’s all.

Nim’s Port, said Miles. We’re going to Nim’s Port. Parlee turned crisply forward in her seat, looked straight ahead and didn’t speak. She knew if she did that Miles would only think there was more between her and Kig than there was. After all they had just met yesterday. She hardly knew him. Yesterday was the first day she had seen those liquid green eyes, that dark thick mane of hair and…she suddenly became aware that they weren’t moving yet. She turned to look at Miles who repeated, He’ll catch up. He has a fast horse. Miles chuckled as he gave Digby a tap and a clucking sound. Digby swished and twitched and they were off.

Two villages passed before either Miles or Parlee said anything. Miles broke the silence. What are you reading? he asked. In truth she hadn’t really been reading the book in her hands at all. She had been looking at the scenery and wondering when Kig would catch up to them.

It’s a collection of poems, Parlee answered. She was glad she had grabbed the book before leaving home. She enjoyed the poems on long trips because they allowed her to put them down and pick them up without losing track of a storyline.

Read one, said Miles.

Sure, answered Parlee. She paged back a couple of poems to the beginning of the book, cleared her throat and began to read:

"The Door of Love and Life"

"I walked one day toward the door of love and life unending

Past a steady stream of those who’d failed to enter from it wending

Another line of strong and wise had gathered closest to it

By virtue of their mighty powers that they could place upon it

The strong would push and pull with might and strength beyond compare

The wise debated and discussed the wisest way in there

But strong and wise were soon defeated and joined the endless stream

Of those who’d tried and those who’d failed and given up the dream

I spent some time beside the door for I too heard the call

Of youth and life and happiness that waits beyond the wall

Now as the line began to wane I thought I’d take a turn

I got in line and waited till my time to try was earned

I heard the laughter from both lines as I stepped up to try

I surveyed the door, turned the knob, pushed and stepped inside

The laughter turned to silence, and then cheering took its place

For I entered in with simple faith and a little thing called grace"

Hum, Miles would say after each poem. He seemed to be enjoying the reading and it did make the time pass faster. A sandwich of thick home baked bread with cheese and a jar of tea for each of them was pulled from under the seat around two o’clock. Parlee continued to read following their light lunch on the move.

They were about halfway through the book when Miles pulled Digby to a halt. Parlee looked up from reading to see Kig sitting on a large black horse in front of them. I’ve found a campsite for the night, said Kig to Miles. Parlee, he said with a nod and tip of his feathered hat in her direction. Kig turned the large black horse and rode just ahead of them down the road.

How did he get ahead of us? asked Parlee.

Kig’s traveled these roads so many times he finds trails that an old donkey cart like this one could never use, answered Miles. Now, where were you on that poem about the seashore?

Parlee tried to focus on her book and continue reading but she couldn’t help but give an occasional glance at the man riding just a bit ahead of them. It wasn’t long before Kig came to a stop a short ways off the side of the road. It wasn’t a large clearing but the trees did offer shelter and there was already a stone circle for a fire pit left there by previous travelers. Miles pulled Digby to a stop where Kig directed and he and Parlee got down off the cart and surveyed their surroundings