Free The Book of Deacon by Joseph Lallo

paradise,"
she said.
    "I, for one, am glad to be rid of it," he
said. "I have a natural coat that I cannot remove, and the summer
can be downright unbearable. About the only thing I do miss is the
hunting. My, but those forests were stocked. I could go for weeks
without repeating a meal."
    He breathed a sigh of remembrance, but
pressed onward. Myranda scanned the stark white countryside and
tried to imagine it as he had described. Gentle rolling hills, a
brilliant green instead of white. Warm breezes blowing, perhaps a
fluttering of butterflies among a patch of wild flowers. She
realized that no sight like that had ever truly blessed her eyes.
Indeed, the closest she had come was the dream a few nights ago,
before the darkness had come. Leo might as well have been
describing a dream, though, because it was a place she would never
be. It might exist somewhere, but crossing the battlefront to see
it was as likely as reaching the stars with a step stool.
    "It reminds me of what I imagine when I think
about the Chosen," she said.
    "The Chosen?" he replied
    "The Chosen Five. Surely you heard that old
tale when you were a child," she said.
    "As I said, most of the tales I was told
focused on convincing me just how awful my brethren were," he
said.
    "Oh, well, you missed something. There is a
long story that my parents used to tell. It tells of a time in the
future when the war is at its absolute peak, and the world itself
is on the brink of destruction. On that day, the gods will look
down on the world and proclaim that an end to the fighting must
come. And thus there will arise five warriors with the strength to
strike down the strongest foe, and the wisdom to set things right
again. The tale differs greatly from person to person in terms of
just what these warriors will look like. As for me, I picture five
noble knights in shining silver armor, astride white horses, riding
across a green meadow," she said, thinking back to the bedtime
stories of her youth.
    "Sounds nice. I would have liked to hear that
one," he said.
    Pleasant conversation filled an hour or so
more of walking before one of Myranda's frequent glances to the
east brought her the sight she'd been dreading all day. Melorn
Woods, a small forest well known for its hunting. It would
certainly suit the purposes Leo had in mind, which meant that her
company would soon be leaving her. Carefully, Myranda shifted to
the right side of the road, away from the forest. If she could keep
his eyes on her, he might not notice the woods for a few minutes
more. Leo only smiled when she did so.
    "Clever," he said. "I suppose I should be
flattered."
    "What?" Myranda said, mock innocence on her
face.
    "You don't want me to see the forest over
yonder," Leo replied, pointing squarely at the woods without
looking.
    "I did not . . . How did you . . ." Myranda
stuttered confused by the immediate collapse of her plan.
    In answer, Leo pulled his hood back and
shifted his finger to the tip of his sensitive nose, tapping it
twice before tugging forward the hood to conceal it.
    "Oh, yes . . . I had forgotten," Myranda
said.
    "This is where we part, then. I truly enjoyed
your company. If ever you find yourself at an arena, do look into
the fighters' listing. I fight under the name ‘The Beast,'" he
said.
    "I never thought I would have anything to do
with one of those places, but now I just may," she assured him.
    Leo held out his hand for a farewell shake,
but Myranda pushed it aside and embraced him warmly. He reluctantly
returned the gesture.
    "Before I go, I have been meaning to ask. How
much money was stolen from you?" Leo said.
    "I would say there were at least twenty
copper coins in the bag. I had plans for that money." She sighed,
shaking her head.
    "Well, it just so happens I have got a bit
more money than I can carry, so if you will just do me the favor of
taking it off my hands. . ." said the friendly creature, digging
into the heavy bag in his cloak.
    Even before he had finished making