The First Adventure

by Mark Boutros

  ‘We’ve got a wedding and an execution to stop, Karl.’ Oaf untied a boat, the others stood next to him.

  ‘I can’t…’

  ‘What about Sabrinia?’ Questions asked.

  ‘I wish I could do something for her, but we’ll just add to the body count. I fought Arazod and I was hopeless. I’m going to find a cave of my own and live out my days in peace. I’m done with danger. And near death, well, I don’t want to be close to that ever again.’

  ‘Did Sabrinia give you a good life?’ Questions put a hand on his shoulder.

  She did. She always looked after him. He couldn’t look Questions in the eyes.

  Oaf glared at him. ‘After everything we’ve been through, you want to give up now?’

  He saw no other way and hoped they’d realise the same thing. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Oaf huffed. ‘I guess deep down you’re just a coward.’ He looked hurt and climbed into the boat.

  Questions stared at Karl but he had nothing to say. Her shoulders fell and she joined Oaf.

  Karl sniffled. They had done so much for him.

  He watched them all get in the boat and row into the distance.

  ‘Good luck and be careful. It’s a strange world out there,’ he muttered.

  40

  Karl walked along Reech’s coast. The night sun hugged the sculptures and made them seem real. He sat on the shore and watched the boat full of people who had made him feel worth something disappear towards Flowforn. Be safe, friends. Thank you for the adventure.

  He was no use. He’d only get in the way. He imagined saving Sabrinia countless times, but when he thought about it realistically, he always died.

  ‘Do you mind if I join you?’ Larnela asked.

  Karl gestured to the sand next to him.

  Larnela stabbed her sword into the sand and sat.

  ‘How do you do it?’ he asked her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Live life on the run. I could use some advice.’

  ‘It’s not something I ever wanted to do. As far as choices go my options were poor. Run while death chased me, or stay in a room and die.’ She chuckled.

  ‘I know the feeling…’ Karl picked sand off his trousers, remembering being imprisoned.

  ‘I ran to be with the person I loved. But as we got older, running got harder.’ A wave washed around Larnela’s sword.

  ‘Does it ever get easier? I’m already exhausted and it hasn’t been very long.’

  She lay back on the sand and looked up at the night. ‘For a short time we got to live a normal life.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘We found a village, and that’s when Sastin softened and called off his hunt. We had a home, got married, and...’ Larnela choked up.

  ‘What?’ Karl asked.

  ‘Nothing… We just got to be normal.’

  Karl lay back. ‘If Sastin called off the hunt, why didn’t you go back to Flowforn?’

  ‘Ludan.’ She sighed. ‘He refused to let there be an escape against his name and would cover his continued hunt with made up missions to trick his king.’ Larnela scooped sand up and let it fall through her fingers. ‘I woke one night to a fire raging. My husband had disappeared to save himself.’

  ‘What a guy…’ Karl shook his head. ‘At least you survived.’

  Larnela smiled and sat up. ‘We’re in front of Ludan’s grave…’ She pulled her shirt up to show two long scars on her ribs. ‘But I was lucky.’

  Karl winced.

  ‘I kept his sword as a memento of the years of suffering.’

  ‘Well if he’s dead, surely you can stop running?’ Karl rolled onto his front and propped himself up on his elbows.

  ‘It’s not that simple. The longer you run, the more people you end up having to run from. You get desperate and make enemies out of your need for food, shelter, water, and anywhere you stay you bring danger to. There are Ludans everywhere.’ Larnela took a breath. ‘You have to make big sacrifices. I…’ She tried to say something but stood up and pulled her sword from the sand.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter…’ Larnela wiped wet sand from her blade. ‘You have friends and you can change this place, Karl, to stop people having to ever run again.’

  ‘But I’m not a hero.’

  ‘Neither was the great King Sastin you look up to.’

  She had a point.

  Larnela wiped sand off one of the sculpted row boats. ‘Heroes aren’t born, Karl, they become. And from the way your friends look up to you… I’d say you’re their hero.’

  ‘Are you just saying all of this to get me to leave you in peace?’

  Larnela laughed and then looked down at the sand. She pushed the row boat towards the shore.

  ‘I’ll take your non-answer as a yes.’ Karl helped her. ‘Why don’t you come? Then you can help to stop the running too.’

  Larnela shook her head. ‘I may carry a sword but unless I have to, I no longer have the strength or desire to swing it.’

  ‘I get it…’ Karl stepped into the boat and extended his hand.

  Larnela shook it and smiled at Karl. She pulled him in for a hug and squeezed him. He wasn’t sure what to do, so hugged her back.

  ‘Good luck, Karl.’ She pushed the boat away from the shore.

  Karl rowed for Flowforn. He wished he’d gone with the others so he didn’t have to do all the rowing. He looked back at Larnela. He noticed a drop of water hit her blade, but there wasn’t any rain.

  41

  Karl’s boat approached the rapids. He feared the chomping, watery teeth could crush his bones. He gripped the sides of the boat and braced himself for the first, short drop.

  He fell to the back of the boat. It spun, the bow facing backwards and the stern rising. Karl scampered to the middle to steady it.

  Water smacked his face and blinded him.

  ‘That all you can do?’ he yelled.

  He coughed and gripped the seat, every muscle strained. The water bashed him from all angles. He couldn’t open his eyes and was at the mercy of nature.

  He pressed his body against the boat.

  He wished he had gone with his friends. Oaf would be steadying the boat, looking as calm as ever. Questions would be asking questions about water, and despite it being annoying, it would be a welcome distraction. Bar Witch would probably be cackling, telling them all they were going to die, while Frong would no doubt have a story about the first wave.

  The boat hit a rock, flipped, and Karl crashed into the water. He thrashed and gasped but water hammered the back of his throat and shot up his nose. He fought and he fought but the rapids swallowed him.

  As he sunk, he found one more burst of defiance deep within. He would not die here. He kicked and pulled his arms through the water, breaking through the surface. He took the biggest breath he could.

  The boat threatened to abandon him, but he grabbed it and held on.

  It dragged him over the final drop and into the calm of Flowforn Basin.

  The base of the Wrath of Arazod was in view. Karl climbed on top of the capsized boat and rested there, his body battered. Each cough felt like it would shatter his insides.

  The boat drifted towards the cliff.

  Soaked and panting, Karl dragged his feet up the hill towards Flowforn.

  His friends appeared in the distance, under a statue of King Sastin. A pained scream from the castle pierced the night.

  ‘Karl!’ Oaf gave him an overly tight hug.

  ‘I’m sorry for having a… moment. But dying does that to you.’

  Marlens raised a hand. ‘It wasn’t death it was—’

  ‘A technicality,’ Karl said. ‘We need to save our world.’

  'Can you convince them?' Questions pointed to Scrath and the adventurers.

  'Convince them of what?' Karl asked.

  ‘Some of us have been thinking,’ Scrath said. ‘Maybe we don’t get involved in this.’

  Others murmured in agreement.

&n
bsp; Bar Witch nodded. ‘There are battles and problems all over Flowfornia that Flowforn has never bothered with, so why should we rescue it?’

  Scrath opened his palms. ‘We could live where they’ve already destroyed. Less chance of being revisited.’

  Karl shook his head. ‘And how long do you think that will last?’

  Nobody had an answer.

  The Fool, tied to a tree, fought against its restraints. ‘Must return to guard castle. Kill intruders.’

  ‘Oaf, can you silence the prisoner please?’

  Oaf picked up some twigs and jammed them into the Fool’s mouth.

  Karl pointed towards the castle. ‘As long as they rule, nowhere will ever be safe, because there’s always a chance they’ll come back. Especially now that the idiot can fly. You think he’ll stop at Flowforn?’

  Questions smiled at Karl.

  Karl took a breath. ‘We are the only chance this land has.’ He shook his head at the cruelty of the situation. ‘We can make it a place where nobody has to hide in caves, or dirty taverns.’

  ‘I cleaned that tavern once a sunset!’ Bar Witch said.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I was just—’

  ‘Then why would you say it?’

  ‘It was just an example.’ He wished he'd not said anything now.

  ‘Well get a better one next time,’ she said.

  Everyone else nodded in agreement.

  Karl sighed. ‘Fine. I’m sorry… Your tavern was impeccably maintained. Can I carry on?’

  Bar Witch nodded.

  ‘As I was saying… We, together, can save Hastovia. Sabrinia let Arazod take over, because Flowforn has an army of about three people, so she had no choice. We have a choice. We can hide, with destruction spreading around us, always scared we’ll be next… or we can change things…’

  Oaf smiled at him.

  ‘Alone… that’s exactly what we are. I know I was… But together, we are so much more. So much stronger.’

  Scrath looked at his Tree-Cyclopsi and nodded.

  ‘We have a group of people with so many different, albeit obscure skills, that we are an army. An army of friends who want to make a difference.’ He clenched a fist.

  ‘Damn right!’ Marlens put her arms around her rotund duo.

  Karl pointed at her. ‘We have adventurers that have seen most of Flowfornia and can easily break into anywhere.’

  Frong raised a finger. ‘It depends how you define, easily. The word has roots in—’

  Karl pointed to Oaf. ‘We have the strength to smash Lord Ragnus’ joyless face in.’

  Oaf nodded.

  ‘And we have the smarts, speed, trickery and above all…’ he looked at Questions and Oaf, ‘… heart, to be able to overcome fear, doubt, and any creature that blocks our path!’

  They all cheered. Questions beamed.

  Karl raised a finger. ‘Maybe let’s not cheer. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.’

  The others agreed.

  ‘So, let’s go and save this world from an irritating pigeon with anger issues.’

  They all smiled, inspired.

  ‘Do we have a plan?’ Questions asked.

  He frowned at the question. ‘We need to split up. And that’s kind of as far as I got. So now we consult the experts.’ He turned to Sags, Frong, and Marlens. ‘Ready for another adventure?’

  Karl used his nail to carve a plan of the castle into the dirt.

  Marlens paced in front of the group and pointed to the gardens on the plan. ‘Tree-Cyclopsi. You make some chaos here.’ She poked at five points. ‘These four columns, and the statue they form a square around. Pour what’s in these jars on each target.’ She showed them a jar of blue powder and a jar of yellow dust. She put them back in a sack. ‘Make sure they mix together. You’ll have just enough time to get out of harm’s way, so pour ’em onto the targets at the same time and run.’ She threw Scrath the sack of jars. ‘Be careful, I only got five of each, no spares.’

  Scrath looked at the sack like it contained all of their hopes of success.

  ‘Bar Witch, you cause a distraction at Flowforn Arch,’ Marlens said. ‘It’ll drag Fools away from the courtyard so we can climb in through the waste well wivout havin’ to deal wiv too much grief. Divide and break in. Any questions?’

  Questions raised her hand.

  ‘Yes, Questions?’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Questions asked.

  Marlens shook her head. ‘Any proper questions?’

  Questions raised her hand again. Marlens ignored her.

  ‘What do we do once we’re in the courtyard?’ Karl asked.

  ‘We improvise.’

  ‘Improvise?’ That didn’t sound good.

  ‘Every adventure has parts where you ’ave to go wiv the flow.’

  Karl let it sink in. The unknown. The theme of his life.

  Oaf pointed to the tied up Fool. ‘As you heard, the Fools have been ordered to kill any intruders.’ He looked at Karl. ‘We need to try our best not to kill them. It’s not their fault.’

  Karl was proud of him.

  They marched towards the castle no longer as individuals with strange quirks, but as a group, an army with so many quirks the greatest scholars of the mind would throw away everything they had learned.

  They split off in their various directions to begin their missions.

  42

  ‘You’re to stay here,’ Scrath told Wob. He climbed a ladder of Tree-Cyclopsi and reached the top of the wall.

  ‘But I can—’

  ‘No, Wob. I can’t put you at risk. Stay by that tree, please.’ She was stubborn like her mother and he didn’t want her to meet the same fate.

  She scoffed.

  Scrath scanned the gardens. At the opposite end was the path that linked it to the courtyard and alleys. Scrath had heard about how beautiful Flowforn’s garden was, but reality disappointed him. The bright green grass he’d heard about was yellowy brown. The statue of King Sastin wrestling a dragon had been altered so it was Arazod doing the wrestling. The majestic blue and white flowers he’d heard about had withered. It looked like it was part of an abandoned city.

  Scrath took note of the Fools’ movement along the lines of dying bushes and flowerbeds. Four Fools armed with spears, moved along their paths at the same time. They would stop, look left, and return to point A, stop, look left again, and return to point B.

  The bottom Tree-Cyclopsi, Brog, climbed to the top of the wall and the rest followed. Scrath looked down at Wob, her eye full of anger, but he knew she’d eventually understand.

  ‘If things sound bad, you run back home,’ he told her.

  She pulled on her neck hairs.

  The Tree-Cyclopsi climbed down the other side and hid behind a fountain. Scrath worried their distinct appearance would get them all caught. Little one-eyed orange, bald creatures with hair from the neck down would receive a lot of attention, but he had to trust the plan.

  Scrath mimicked an owl’s hoot to see if it would distract the Fools. It didn’t. He meowed like a cat. Again, the Fools didn’t react.

  ‘Perfect,’ he whispered. He handed everyone their jars. ‘Stop when you hear the owl’s hoot. Go when you hear the cat’s meow.’

  ‘What if I hear something else?’ Brog asked, ever the idiot.

  ‘Then you do nothing.’

  ‘A stop nothing? Or a go nothing?’

  ‘Just carry on as you are unless you hear one of the noises I mentioned.’

  Brog processed it. He probably still didn’t understand.

  Scrath pointed Grum to the northwest column. Grum made his move, got half way and heard the hoot. He took cover behind a signpost to the admin building. On the cat’s meow he made his way to the column.

  Scrath sent Prob to the northeast without trouble.

  He sent Darf. She found the southwest column without incident.

  Brog ran for the southeast column, the closest one. He got confused by the owl’s hoot an
d ducked. He heard the cat’s meow and looked around, scared.

  Scrath used gestures instead.

  Brog fell over. The jars bumped off the ground.

  Scrath froze.

  A Fool turned around but saw only hedges.

  Brog retrieved the jars and was close to his column. Just one more Fool to avoid.

  The Fool turned away to patrol the entrance.

  Brog made it. They might succeed.

  ‘Yes!’ Brog shouted, victorious.

  Scrath slapped himself on the forehead.

  Brog, cursed himself and threw the jars into a bush.

  The Fool turned and pointed its spear at him. Its expression turned.

  Brog raised his arms. ‘I’m sorry. I was just looking—’

  ‘Kill intruders.’ The Fool drove its spear into Brog’s stomach. He looked over at Scrath, tears in his eye.

  Scrath held his fist to his mouth. Four hundred years of life, gone. His legs trembled and his neck stiffened.

  ‘Intruders!’ the Fool yelled. ‘We need more Fools to stand guard.’

  43

  Bar Witch counted roughly thirty Fools, including Behemoth Fools, guarding Flowforn Arch. She bit her tongue. There was no way she could approach them; too many swords, clubs and daggers. She hid behind a tree and studied them. They scanned the surroundings.

  Bar Witch tapped her chin. She rolled her eyes into her head and a blue glow flowed through her veins. ‘Baldigotum!’ A hairless, miniature goat leapt out of her cloak. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and tapped the goat’s legs to get it moving towards Flowforn Arch. ‘Good luck.’

  The Fools chased the goat. It bleated and bounced, evading death.

  Bar Witch caught her breath and smirked. It was working. Another Fool joined, then another, until six Fools chased the goat, swiping their swords and throwing their spears at it.

  She shook her arms to relax and rotated her shoulders. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head again. The blue pulse burned her veins and left cracks in the skin of her arms.