Picayune Read online

  Picayune

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Dedicated to my loving mother Carol and the memory of my father Roger. They taught me to believe in myself and to capture my dreams.

  Picayune

  © 2011 John DeJordy.

  All Rights Reserved.

  All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of John DeJordy.

  Distributed worldwide by John DeJordy and regional distributors.

  All rights reserved. Made in the U.S.A.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover art by Sarah Ellerton.

  Visit the author’s website at www.johndejordy.com

  Terminology

  These are most of the names of characters and places found in the book and their meanings

  Alacrity: Cheerful readiness, zeal

  Ameera: Arabic for Princess

  Boulanger: French for baker

  Brusque: To the point

  Dauntless: Fearless

  Dauphine: French for Princess

  Decoct: Extract flavor by boiling

  Eyas: Young hawk

  Gerent: Ruler or manager

  Gofer: Employed to do errands.

  Hyas-Tyee: Hyas is big, Tyee is boss; so literally “big boss” Jocund: Jolly, merry, cheerful

  Kaninchen: German for rabbit

  Kecker: Sound an agitated badger makes

  Lacer: From Latin: lacerta

  Maharajah: From India, a ruling prince

  Maharani: From India, the wife of a Maharajah

  Memento Mori: Latin for “Remember, all must die”

  Moxie: Courage, nerve, vigor

  Mundunugu: Shaman, medicine man from East Africa

  Phineas: Loud mouth, flashy

  Picayune: Of little worth

  Puissant: Powerful, mighty, potent

  Rascal: A mischievous person or animal

  Savoir-faire: Knowing what to say and when to say it

  Sibyl: Prophet

  Taiga: Forests in subarctic lands

  Tarpan: Prehistoric wild horse

  Timorous: Full of fear

  Trailblazer: One who makes a path in untamed wilderness

  Victor: Someone who has overcome an adversary

  Author's Foreword

  When I started Picayune, I wanted to create something fun that could be read by anyone, yet target a younger crowd who might enjoy a light story.

  As I created the characters, I gave them personalities that reflected their names. In doing so, I hoped to offer the reader new words in a way that would be fun, but also educational.

  Thus, most of the characters' names and some places – while they might seem odd – will give you clues about who they are.

  Picayune, who some might identify as a Spanish coin, begins thinking of himself of never amounting to much, and in doing so introduces the alternate meaning of the word: of little worth.

  It is my sincerest wish that you enjoy my creation.

  John DeJordy, June 2011

  Chapter 1

  A cold wind blew through the blackened trees of the mire. The moldy scent of rotting vegetation and fetid mud irritated Picayune's nose and eyes. The once-beautiful forest now had a thick layer of muck and grime coating everything, strangling all but the hardiest plants. Yet, the land had an eerie glow. Something unnatural raised the hair on the knight's arms and neck. Above him the night sky was clear and starry, but his companion below snorted and flicked his ears back at the unusual quality of the landscape. Their arrival in the forest had sparked a series of unsettled calls from unknown creatures as if they were warning each other of Picayune’s presence.

  He spun his family's heirloom in his hands as his eyes darted left and right. The long sword, Puissant, still dripped blood from their recent kill.

  Picayune looked behind him in the direction of Port Haven. Even though he had already traveled a week from it, he could still see the former majestic splendor of the Crown City. Recalling disturbing images of the city's fate, he closed his eyes and grasped the reins tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

  He shifted in the saddle as grim memories filled his mind.

  * * * * *

  His betrothed, Dauphine, was at his side when the ear-piercing shriek filled the sky.

  He ran with her through the cobblestone streets, trying to avoid the chaos of fleeing people. When the black dragon bore through a steeple, the fallen rubble pinned her legs under tons of debris.

  “Take this,” she beckoned from beneath the stones, handing him the gem her father had given her.

  “You know I’ve never cared for the magical baubles your father makes.”

  Another scream from above and the sound of an explosion made him instinctively jump back as more of the wall crashed down at his feet.

  * * * * *

  “Noooooooo!” he cried aloud, startling his horse, Dauntless, as he returned to the present, slashing the air with his sword. When the echoes of his yell diminished, the calls from distant animals increased in intensity as if in response.

  He remembered the look on the face of the king.

  * * * * *

  As they stood in a dilapidated space that used to be the throne room, the look of despair on the king's face burned into the knight’s soul. “Defeat that hideous monster at any cost,” the king told him.

  Picayune accepted the quest and ran to his mount. “You have never failed me in any of the epic battles we have fought. Together, we will see another victory.”

  * * * * *

  Picayune took a deep breath as he returned to the present. Filling himself with a new resolve, he slid from his stallion's back into mud that oozed around his feet. He glowered as he lifted a plated boot in disgust. Wiping grime, sweat, and blood onto his sleeve, he no longer cared about his tunic; the fabric wasn't fit for rags after the abuses of the mire.

  Dauntless whinnied, prancing in place behind him, catching Picayune's concentration. The normally pristine, pearly white horse was stained with dirt from a hard day's ride and blood from the many vile denizens that had dared to stand in their path.

  After removing a rag from under the saddle, Picayune wiped blood from the blade. Dauntless snorted and flicked an ear to catch his owner's words. “You've seen more death than a legion of the king's best warriors.” The knight patted the animal's thick neck to calm him, then traced a finger down the blood groove of his blade. “Puissant, do not fail me tonight.”

  Strapping the weapon to his back, he removed a metal heater shield from the stallion’s saddle. The dented interior had enough reflective surface
left to show him his condition. He sighed in disgust at his disheveled appearance and slung the shield on his back over his sword.

  With one hand, he lifted his pouch so the other could retrieve the one item that would guarantee his victory. He removed the faceted emerald his love had entrusted to him. He spun the jewel around several times in his hand, feeling the edges as he stared at the black star pattern deeply embedded in the stone.

  I hope her father was correct when he blessed this, he thought. I still don't understand how something as simple and pure as this gem can find the weakness of my enemy, but I trust her conviction without question.

  He replaced the gem inside the safety of the pouch and examined his surroundings.

  He shook his head at the steep incline of the mountain that jutted oddly up from the mire about two horse-lengths away and ventured forth. His first step was disastrous as he sank into the murky water up to his knee. Unable to maintain his balance, he fell face first. As vile liquid filled his mouth, he yanked his head back and, in so doing, ripped his face on a thorny vine he had not seen. He slumped back down to his elbows. As the blood dripped off his face, the sludge consumed the crimson drops, and they disappeared without even a ripple. A gust of wind swept the metallic scent of blood into the stale air and the howls of distant creatures increased as they attempted to locate the source of the new scent.

  Picayune vomited the contents of his mouth and his last meal into the blackened water. The mess dripping off his face burned his nose and mouth. After several failed attempts to free both arms, he dedicated all his strength to his right arm. He grunted and yanked it free, opening a deep gash as he raked his hand over the same submerged thorny vine.

  Frustrated at his own ineffectiveness, he decided help was needed. “Dauntless, come here, boy,” he commanded.

  The well-trained destrier stepped gingerly to his master. The horse lowered his head to allow Picayune to grab the reins. Dauntless pulled him from the trap and deposited him on the side of the steep incline.

  Picayune lay in the cold mud as he struggled for breath. Attempting to stand, he staggered, grasping for anything that would aid him. Once on his feet, he took a deep breath and took a tentative step on the moist leaves. His boot slid, and he grabbed a gnarled tree to stop his fall. With a scowl on his face, he drew Puissant and slashed a dead, six-foot high tree, cutting it cleanly at the base.

  Using the trunk as a walking stick, Picayune got to his feet and looked up. One of the twin moons, Finn, had risen above the cold, partially clouded summit of Mementomori Mountain. The moon cast an ominous orange glow on the barren trees as it stared down on him. The face of the moon seemed demonic this night.

  He looked at Dauntless, who had moved right behind him. The steep incline would be difficult enough for him alone. “Stay here, boy.”

  Bracing his foot at the base of a small clump of dead trees, Picayune pulled himself cautiously up the steep slope. His cloak caught on the pointy branches numerous times. After several failed attempts to tie the cloak out of the way, he ripped it off and left it. Each time he thought he was making headway, he'd slip and have to double his efforts. When he managed to reach the summit, Finn was high in the night sky, and its twin moon Fang was just above the peak.

  Picayune started to brush himself off, but froze in place when he spotted the opening. He stared in wonder at the cavernous jaw. The entrance was large enough to admit a herd of elephants. The top of the archway had an overhang filled with sharp rocks hanging down like teeth. It reminded him of a hungry animal's mouth. The access glowed in the light of the twin moons as if ready to breathe fire. The deeper recesses of the maw were still cloaked in the umbra, eager to swallow any who entered the abyss.

  As he stared at the tunnel, a squeal of agony echoed from the shrouded mist below him. He recognized Dauntless’ call and experienced a pain in his chest so severe that he placed his hand over his heart, and fell to one knee. When a second shriek was cut short, he moved to the edge and looked down into the darkness. For a moment, he considered going after whatever was responsible. He ground his teeth together as he spun back to the opening of the cave. After a few slow, steady breaths, he stepped near the cloaked hole.

  The putrid smell of acid wafted out of the cave in waves of hot steam. Picayune choked on the scent, drawing his sleeve to his mouth and nose to filter the worst of the stench, but his eyes still watered.

  He stepped inside and was engulfed in blackness. Feeing around his various pouches, he found a small corked vial and removed it. He ripped off part of his tunic and wrapped it tightly around one end of the stick, then doused it with the contents of the flask. He fumbled for his flint and steel and lit his walking stick. The flames only chased the shadows against the walls, but he found some comfort in the light. After taking only a few dozen steps, he came to a chasm. The only way down was a thin ridge that seemed to spiral into the darkness.

  With his back to the wall, he continued sidestepping with small, precise movements. He shuffled down the sloping, circular ledge into the darkness.

  The stories about the Pit of Blazes don’t do it justice, he thought to himself. Time melted as he descended. Each movement seemed to take an eternity, but he dared not increase his speed. In the darkness of the tunnel, he couldn’t risk a foolish mistake. The ledge would sometimes narrow to smaller than the size of his full boot. The heat intensified as he ventured deeper. Grimy sweat trickled down his face and the back of his neck. He tried wiping some of the moisture away, but the action was useless. From the corner of his stinging eyes, he noticed evil shadows.

  One of the shadows darted right at him and he jumped to avoid the collision. The ledge gave way, and he fell. He dropped his torch and his arms flailed as he plummeted. His yells echoed in the cylindrical shaft, and the shadows chased his descent. Finally, his fingers managed to catch an edge. He swung his other arm around, grabbing the ridge with his other hand, and dangled without moving. He took a few deep breaths, feeling light-headed as the pounding in his ears drowned out everything else. He pulled himself up enough to get a knee planted, then pushed himself up face-first to the wall. With no space to turn, he continued down with his face dragging on the craggy surface of the cave.

  After an unknown amount of time, he reached the bottom. He retrieved his torch, which had burned down to nearly half its original size. Here, the passage opened into a monstrous cavern, the ends of which disappeared into the darkness in every direction. The darkness also eased in its intensity, allowing him to see farther. Stalagmites jutted up from a floor covered with ubiquitous pools of an ink-like liquid.

  He paused to listen for any sign of life, but heard only silence. “Where are you, vile beast?” he shouted, not expecting a reply.

  A powerful voice rumbled the ground with enough force to almost knock Picayune off his feet. “Who dares enter my home?”

  Picayune steadied himself. He glanced up at deadly stalactites that vibrated dangerously. He regained his composure and stood tall. “I am Picayune the Noble. I have come to put an end to your villainous ways. The king has commanded me to slay the creature that has been terrorizing his lands.”

  The dragon's laughter echoed and shook the entire chamber, knocking a few spears loose from the ceiling. “I haven't heard such arrogance in several hundred years. Perhaps I will play with you before I make you my meal. But surely there is another reason you are here. I smell hatred burning within you. That doesn't come from loyalty to a liege. It fills me with delight.”

  “I would have done it without his order. You killed my fiancée, and now you will die.”

  The creature stepped forward. Yellow, cat-like eyes glowed, illuminating the ebony wyrm's face. The dragon shook its head and more spikes tumbled down. It yawned, exposing two-foot long incisors. Its underside dragged on the terrain as it crept closer to Picayune. Like a lion stalking its prey, the dragon was ready to pounce.

  Picayune tossed his torch on the ground, readied his shield, and drew his sword. As alw
ays, before he entered any battle, time seemed to freeze. This was no exception. He studied his foe. His warrior’s instincts told him not to delay. He cleared the distance between them and swung his sword.

  The beast dodged Picayune's attack and, with a fiery hiss, reared back. Saliva sizzled, dripping from its jaws onto the ground. The dragon rushed and snapped at him. Picayune dodged the attack and slammed the beast in the head with his shield.

  The dragon coiled its neck like a python in an attempt to wind around Picayune's back. Picayune anticipated the move and brought Puissant down. It made contact with the neck, and struck the writhing mass. The long sword cut through the tough hide without any resistance, slicing down to the bone, but the skin seemed to heal almost as fast as the knight damaged it.

  The dragon snapped its head into the ceiling, dazing itself. Its eyes narrowed, glaring at its opponent. It snickered deeply, sending a shiver down the knight's spine. The beast swiped its giant, clawed hand over Picayune's head, missing him. The target wasn't him, however, but the torch on the ground behind him. The wind from the move was enough to extinguish the fire. With the only source of light removed, all Picayune could see were those sinister eyes swaying back and forth in a hypnotic stare.

  Out of nowhere, his shield was ripped from his hand, and Picayune crashed to the ground. His armor clattered, and he struggled to rise. The dragon was quick. It pressed claws on Picayune's chest and pinned him. The warrior thrashed under the weight, unable to free himself.