Free Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) by Anthony St. Clair Page A

Across from the bar, a large world map hung on the wall. Jay wove and twisted through the crowd until he stood before it. The map was large enough and detailed enough to show not only the world’s countries, but also states and cities. Much of the map wasn’t even visible, though; it was stuck with pins representing where the patrons came from. Not just travelers but locals too, Jay saw; India itself was covered in pins.
    The countries he had visited were also well represented. Ireland alone had twenty pins stuck in and around New Galway and the surrounding country. Maybe a sign pointed them here, he thought, remembering the red hair and the white sign of a long-ago memory.
    He looked west, across the Atlantic Ocean and the North American continent, until he stopped at Idaho. Other than a couple of pins stuck in Boise, the state was empty. Jay traced the green shape of the state with his finger. The map is not the world, he thought. Still, for a moment he expected to see the river there again, or smell freshly sawed cedar in his dad’s workshop, or hear the excitement in his mom’s voice as she read from another guidebook.
    Instead, he remembered the door opening, the rain pouring in sheets behind the man walking in.
    Jay lowered his hand. “Maps are dreams, hopes, and memories,” he said to himself.
    Beneath the frame a clear, covered tray held pins. Jay stuck one in Idaho and turned away before the memories could come back.
    On the pub’s corner stage, ten people sat in a circle, playing music and singing. The musicians too were local and foreign, though Indian and Celtic sounds and rhythms dominated. People clapped hands, tapped feet, and whooped as a fiddle and a sarinda dueled, their respective players bowing furiously. Other people called out tunes, and the musicians acknowledged each request with a nod.
    Jay trudged to the bar, finally resting his elbows on the polished mahogany. The only person behind the bar was Jade, and she moved so quickly that Jay could hardly keep his eyes on her. He watched her as best he could, fascinated with how regally and gracefully she moved. No glass slipped from her hands. No miscounted change dropped to the bar. No patron even had to repeat a drink order. And Jade never stopped moving. Her every motion was efficient to the point of ruthless yet elegant as a bird in flight.
    Now and again, she seemed to blur like a skip, a bad spot in her motion that Jay couldn’t follow. Jay chalked it up to needing a beer. She was busy at the other end of the bar, mixing five drinks and pulling a pint of Deep’s Special Lager. She bent over to get something from a low shelf. No rush then, Jay thought. I’ll just… enjoy the view.
    And then she was there in front of him. Looking irritated.
    Jay realized he was a few seconds behind events. “Huh?”
    Jade’s hand seemed to twitch toward something underneath the bar, but she stopped herself and grinned razors. “I said he’s over there. With your pint.”
    “What? No… Who?”
    The irritated look sharpened in her blue-and-gold eyes. “Let me know when you unpack your brain, backpack boy,” she said. “Who do you think?”
    Then she was gone, a blur behind the bar again.
    At a table in the middle of the floor, Faddah Rucksack lifted his pint to Jay and beckoned to the empty chair behind a brimming stout.
    “You look rested,” Rucksack said. “Or at least a little less like hell. Now it’s time to be restored.”
    Jay set his daypack under the table as he sat down. He tucked a chair leg through one of the straps and ignored the endless rustle, which was audible over the talking and the music. “I could do with a drink. Thank you.”
    “After the day you’ve had, you’ve earned a pint. Welcome to India, my lad!” The men clinked glasses and drank deeply.
    Rucksack set his glass on the table. “It’s been quite a path for you,” he said. “I think we have a bit in common, Jay o’ the road. Could just about figure we were