3001, p.1
3001, page 1
3001
Ginger Lee
Copyright © 2020 by Ginger Lee
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
ISBN 978-0-578-69307-1 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-7350544-0-7 (ebook)
Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design.
Editing by Augustin Kendall, Clarify Editing.
Interior formatting and design by Janell E. Robisch, Speculations Editing.
For Brian and Alex Jane
Table of Contents
Title and Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Playlist
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
There were two routes. One wound from north to south, the other from west to east. The ancient tunnels twisted through Freywood Mountain. At its heart flickered an ever-burning fire. It marked the exact middle; the Crossroads deep inside the earth. The light from the fire lit up the huge cavern, as large as a small city, which served as a rest stop for travelers. Hustle and bustle was all around. Merchants bartered from tents full of food and supplies for sale or trade. Traveling musicians played jolly music beside the tavern, everyone’s favorite spot to stop for a drink or a card game. Years ago, someone had built cabins for a good night’s rest.
Rory Larken was an innkeeper of sorts. She kept the sleeping quarters clean, did laundry, and made a hearty breakfast for those who stayed. At only thirty years of age, Rory was a widow. She had lived in the middle of the mountain since her husband, Shaw, passed away ten years before. The loss left her alone, and she needed a warm, safe home where she could earn a livelihood. Winters could be bitter in Freywood, and she never worried about freezing so far from the outside. Rory wasn’t even sure she could freeze. Even though she was strikingly beautiful, with pale skin and hair as bright as the sun, she had never remarried. There was a peculiarity about her. Others who lived in the cavern whispered about her differences, but they were never spoken of aloud. Her ability made her vital to those around her. The fire that never extinguished, the source of light and heat for so many, was perpetuated by Rory’s own hand.
Since childhood, she had felt an electricity, a vibrating running through her body. She never met her father, but her mother always told her this ability came from him. Her mother would not tell her why her father had left before she was born, but he had passed on some of himself to her. Rory had not known why, but she now made use of it after a personal tragedy on the outside.
Ten years ago, she became sick with a life-threatening fever. As a child, she often had an above-average body temperature, but this was a first. She had never suffered any childhood sickness.
Afraid of her getting worse, Shaw ventured out in the evening to harvest arrowroot to break the fever. As he returned, he smelled a hint of smoke, then noticed the glow of a fire on the other side of the hill. Only, it was too large for a campfire. Their small home blazed, engulfed in flames. Shaw threw down everything he carried and ran into the burning cabin. Rory’s body lay untouched by fire. He got the window open next to the burning bed and managed to get his wife through, but he didn’t make it out.
Rory knew what had sparked the fire. The same spark that kept the Eternal Flame alive. After what she had done, she dedicated herself to never ending any kind of life again, human or animal. She became careful and consumed arrowroot daily to stave off another high fever.
Her predecessor, a lumberjack, had kept the flame thriving in the usual ways. He was very old when she made her way to the middle of the mountain. She needed to be useful, and he was more than happy to retire his role. She had resided at the Crossroads ever since.
A fellow named Lawson drove the wet wagon through every evening with a fresh supply of water from the falls located on the south side of the mountain. Rory used a lot of water doing laundry, cooking, and bathing, so she traded for her share. Lawson left a sack of his dirty clothes and blankets to swap for the ones she washed for him. Thus, a daily routine began. She also gave him any leftovers from breakfast after the children of the cavern dwellers had their fill.
For the first few years she resided in the hidden city, he attempted to woo her. He was nice-looking enough, and they shared many conversations about mutual interests, but Rory had no deep feelings for him.
She also didn’t trust herself not to hurt another person. Each night, she poured her bathwater into a small moat that encircled her tent to guard against another incident. She learned to control her spark as far as she could tell, but she couldn’t be too careful.
Rory lay fast asleep one winter’s eve when she was awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. The seamstress, Lilian, shook her shoulders.
“There’s a man! His poor horse brought him to the Eternal Flame. He’s almost frozen to death! Can you help him?” she begged.
Rory slid her dress over her head and ran after her.
A group of healers, who always stopped to stay for the harshest part of the winter, encircled the man beside the fire. They had stripped him down to his underpants because his garments were covered with a thick layer of snow and ice. The fire melted the ice from his dark hair and beard, but his lids stayed shut.
Rory could see that his chest barely rose and fell as he took shallow breaths. The oldest healer and one of Rory’s only confidants, Nigel, worked at finding a healthy pulse.
He shouted to the crowd that gathered, “Macon! Bring me your strongest ale!”
The tavern keeper ran for his special concoction. The healer knew of Rory’s capabilities and motioned for her. As she kneeled over the tall man, Rory laid her hands on his cold cheeks. He let out a pain-filled moan.
Without reservation, she ordered, “Help me lift him.”
The men obeyed and she scooted underneath as they laid his upper body in her lap. Her warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes; she was afraid he wouldn’t make it.
Macon handed the bottle over, and Nigel poured generously.
Rory whispered in the stranger’s ear, “Drink, my friend. We are going to bring you back.”
He took the entire bottle.
Nigel asked her quietly, “Is there an empty cabin? We need to get him into a warm bed, and you need to lie with him.”
Rory stared wide-eyed.
He understood her expression and assured her, “You can save him. There’s no one else. Only you can do this. I will explain to the others. Don’t worry, my dear. They will understand.”
She nodded in acceptance.
They gathered him up on a sled and pulled him to a cabin. Nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Rory waited outside while Nigel and his companion, Renfroe, undressed the man and placed him in the bed. Renfroe handed her another bottle of ale and sent her in.
The windows were covered with muslin. Flames crackled in the small fireplace. Rory had not been naked with a man since Shaw, but this was necessary. She crawled in behind him and pressed the length of her body against his freezing one. She put her cheek on his, held his large cold hand in her hot one, and wrapped her leg over his hip. Her body vibrated against him, surprising her. The sensation was a first. Rory emitted heat from her head to her toes, and he responded quickly. His breathing returned to a normal rhythm and she felt his heartbeat strengthen.
After about an hour, he began to make noises. She thought she heard him whispering and propped up to hear him better over his shoulder.
His voice was hoarse. “Don’t worry. I know.”
She responded, “Sir? Are you okay? Are you feeling better? What do you know?”
He replied, deeper, louder now, “I know why you are here. Why you have to do this for me, and I’m very thankful. You saved my life, I think. You didn’t have to, but you did.”
She soothingly hushed him. “You need your rest. I need to stoke the fire. Are you warm enough? Feels like you are.”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Let me get dressed. Don’t turn over yet.”
After a moment, she added wood to the fire and threw a few sparks in, then spoke. “Okay. Would you like to sit up? Do you remember the last time you ate anything?”
He groaned and scooted upright. “Not really. I think I could eat my horse, though. I’m guessing he’s still alive, since I’m here.”
She walked over and pulled the wool blanket up, covering his well-defined chest.
“Yes. That horse of yours is the real hero. He’s being treated like royalty, I’m sure.”
She padded over to the door and cracked it open to see the pair of healers leaned upon each other, asleep on a bench. The couple always wore brightly colored robes that flattered the
She touched the nearest shoulder. “Nigel, he’s awake and doing well, but we need to feed him. His name … we don’t even know his name.”
Nigel hurried away to the tavern, which was always open. They served a hearty stew, perfect to satisfy the no-name stranger.
Each cabin had a tub, and Rory trotted off toward the water tank. It had to be nearing morning, and she figured the man would benefit from a hot bath. She enlisted the help of the stable hands to gather buckets of water and instructed them to bring them in.
Nigel met her back at the door and handed her a tray of food and more ale.
“Don’t you want to check him over?”
“Oh, I trust he’s in good hands, my dear,” he replied with a wink.
He turned and motioned for Renfroe to follow as they made their way back to the tavern. Rory entered and sat the tray on the table beside the bed. She lit the lamp with the touch of her fingers.
Three young men filled up the tub. Rory eased down beside the man, broke off some bread, and handed it to him.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Jacoby. What’s yours?”
“I’m Rory. I’m what you would call an innkeeper.”
He smiled knowingly.
“I think you’re a lot more than an innkeeper,” he said, gesturing over to the lamp.
The tub was full, and they were alone again. She wasn’t sure why, but she was exposing herself totally to this man. She placed the tray in his lap and went to stand over the water.
“After you eat, you can get a good, thorough cleaning. Watch this.”
She let her palms hover over the surface. As Jacoby filled his stomach, he watched the water begin to boil in awe. She dipped both hands into a bucket of cool water when she was done. She panted and took a few deep breaths.
“Amazing!”
“The stew?” she joked, but the smile left her face. “The others don’t talk about it. They know what I’m capable of, but it’s never discussed, at least not to my face. That’s why the healers brought me to you. I’ve never shown that to anyone before.” She pointed to the hot water.
“I guess you’ve experienced what I can do intimately. Are you married? It doesn’t matter really, but I would feel better if you weren’t.”
He sat the tray down and swung his feet off the bed, keeping the blanket over his lap.
“No. One day, I hope.”
He was the finest specimen of a man she had ever seen. He would tower over the other men here, and his features were all male, yet beautiful at the same time. His voice stirred something inside her.
“You ready for a dip?” She reached over, grabbed a pillow, and placed it in his lap.
“Hold on to this. I’ll help you over there.”
Jacoby held the pillow with one hand, and she held the other.
“Your hand. It’s not hot now. You control it well?” he questioned.
“Yes. I’ve learned the mind is a powerful thing.”
She handed him a chunk of goat-milk soap, took a towel from the dresser, and placed it beside the tub.
“I’ll leave you be for a little bit. I’m going to wash your clothes. It won’t take me long. If you feel up to it, we can go check on your horse.”
He stepped into the soothing water, and she stepped outside.
Lilian’s daughter, Shannon, already stood at the washbasin cleaning Jacoby’s clothes along with those of the others staying in the cabins.
“Morning, Rory! I figured you’d been up half the night and could use some help. I also heard the stranger is very handsome. You know there’s a shortage of good-looking, available men around here. I want to make a good first impression. I wish to make a good wife one day.”
Shannon was eighteen and more than ready to marry. She was beautiful, kind, and a hard worker. Rory liked her but felt a twinge of jealousy arise. She internally scolded herself. She had no right to deny the young girl the opportunity to find love.
“Is he? Handsome? You would know …” she asked secretively, like the topic was forbidden.
“Yes. Very. Now, let me dry his clothes quickly, so he won’t be walking around here naked.”
Rory laughed. She noticed his clothes were a bit unusual. They were so well made that she couldn’t fathom how a seamstress accomplished such perfect stitching.
“Why don’t you bake him something sweet and give it to him tonight at the tavern?” she suggested to Shannon.
“Oh, yes! I know just what to make,” she replied.
Rory headed back to the cabin. She knocked before going on in. He sat by the fire with the towel wrapped around his waist.
“You look lively. Are you okay?” she asked with a warm smile. He did look amazing, considering his condition only hours before.
“I can’t believe how good I feel. I think it was you,” he said seriously.
“Me?” Rory was feeling nervous for the first time around him. “I just warmed you up and fed you,” she said meekly.
He lightened the mood. “Well, I wouldn’t be here without you. This place. It’s the Crossroads, right? I passed through, but that was a long time ago. I’d love a shave. You have a barber, don’t you?”
She nodded. “As a matter of fact, we do. Hal can take care of you. We can stop there before we go to the stable.”
Rory watched Hal delicately use a short blade to remove the black beard. She cringed with every swipe, thankful when it was over. Jacoby looked at least five years younger. Maybe he wasn’t too old for Shannon.
He rubbed his perfect jaw. “So?” he asked, looking dashing.
Her stomach did a flip. “You look like a prince.”
She questioned him outside as they walked to the horse stalls. “Are you? A prince? I’ve never seen the prince of Freywood. You could be him.”
He shook his head. “Not I, my fair maiden. I’m a bounty hunter, among other titles. You see, I was commissioned by the king of Freywood to kill the … group of dragons that killed his livestock and soldiers this past summer. The very same dragons that terrorized three other cities. They tend to hide in cave dwellings during the winter, so I made my move when I knew they would least expect it. I will spare you the gory details, but I was successful. I waited too long, though. A terrible freezing storm pushed its way through right when I tried to get back. I should have waited it out a bit, but I didn’t, and you know, it almost killed me.
“Imagine surviving a battle with dragons only to suffer death by the cold.” He laughed. “That would be tragic.”
Jacoby’s black horse was the biggest Rory had ever seen. He had been groomed and fed. The way Jacoby touched the beast, she could tell they were close companions. Nigel walked in with Renfroe in tow and shook Jacoby’s hand.
“My good man! You survived! Ah, our Rory did the trick. Sir, you must stop by my tent. I need to check you over, and although you miraculously didn’t get frostbite, I have some salve that will soothe your muscles.”
He turned to Rory. “My dear, you must go. Sleep, bathe, and join us at the tavern for dinner.”
She had to admit, she was about to pass out.
Jacoby took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll save you a seat beside me.”
Rory blushed, gave a bow, and went on her way. She took a cool bath and slept longer than she had planned.
Rory woke and put on her favorite dress. It was deep red velvet and tied in a tight corset at the waist. The supple fabric dipped lower in the front than her other dresses, showing a tasteful hint of her ample curves. She had never worn the garment in public or called attention to her beauty before.
Rory paused on the porch of the tavern to peek inside before she went in. Jacoby sat at a long table surrounded by several of the cavern’s single women. He oozed charm. They were all having a good time. She figured he had already consumed several mugs of ale. She couldn’t blame him. He had cheated death and lived to tell his warrior tales. Shannon, close by his side, fed him berry cobbler.
