Wes cocked an eyebrow. “You have a skill for—of course you do. Alright, let’s see it.”
Taking a moment to note the duration of her Run Away had increased with her Endurance to nine seconds, Eve stepped off the road and into the wild grass. Better to fall on soft greenery than hard dirt.
Bracing herself for another tumble, Eve took off. The plains raced by as she activated her skill, her chestnut hair blowing wildly in the wind. The seconds ticked by. This time when the ability wore off, she was ready.
Eve jumped.
Instead of her upper body falling ahead of her feet, the girl transferred as much momentum as she could into the leap. She made it six feet into the air before the plummet.
Eve hit the ground running, her knees buckling from the force of the landing. She stumbled forward, barely keeping her balance as her arms flailed wildly.
From his vantage over 350 feet away, Wes applauded. “Do it again!” he called out.
Eve held up her hand in a rude gesture. Well, that kind of worked, she thought as her breath caught up with her. It’s not exactly graceful, though. Useful for running away but not charging in?
She held her position away from Wes for a few minutes as her Stamina recovered and the cooldown refreshed. Already new ideas formed. By the time she once again began to run, Eve had another plan in mind.
As she rapidly approached a still-recovering Wes, the Messenger Girl counted down the seconds on her only ability.
Seven.
The wind rushed past, pleasantly chilling the scrape on her cheek.
Six.
The grass swayed beneath her feet, blown to and fro by the speed of her passage.
Five.
Her heart raced with both exertion and joy.
Four.
Eve slowed, actively forcing her pace to diminish beneath a full sprint. The final seconds of her skill ticked away, and again her upper body lurched beyond her legs’ ability to keep up. Her arms flailed. Her feet flew wildly forward, each stride falling just short of catching her extended tumble.
Until they didn’t.
One solid step followed another, until Eve’s desperate stumble transformed into an easy, unenhanced run. She came to a halt just next to Wes, doubling over as she let out bursts of laughter through gasps for air.
“That was fast,” the Initiate said. “What’s the trick?”
Taking a moment to regain her breath, Eve replied, “Just ‘cause it lets me run twice as fast doesn’t mean I have to. Just gotta make sure to slow down before the skill times out.”
“Makes sense. Congrats on mastering the art of running away.”
Eve smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand.
“Hey, if I’m gonna be stuck sitting here with a hole in my leg, I should at least be allowed a little fun.”
Eve snorted, turning around for another attempt.
“What’re you doing now?”
“Joke all you want,” she replied, “but I haven’t mastered it yet. Still came in too quick on that one.” With a breath and a prayer, she was off.
It took two hours—primarily spent waiting for her Stamina to recover—for Eve to grow comfortable with the skill. She still found herself careening forth whenever she misjudged her speed, but at least she kept her feet every time.
By the time she returned to Wes’s side, the stress of the workout and the blistering afternoon sun had left her drenched in sweat.
He didn’t even need to open his mouth to get the message across.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eve replied to his look, “you don’t smell fantastic either. You can buy me a room at the inn when we get to Fidsworth.”
Wes raised his eyebrows. “I can buy?”
“I saved your ass, didn’t I? Besides—” she pulled out her handful of coppers—“I only have enough money to buy my bread. I wasn’t supposed to stay the night.”
“You’re going to Fidsworth for bread? Why didn’t you just get some from Mrs. Lundt back home?”
“You tell me,” Eve said, unwilling to explain further. “How’s your leg?” She extended a hand to peek under his shin guard.
He swatted it away. “You don’t want to look. Believe me, I wish I hadn’t. It’s recovering, but it isn’t pretty. Give it a few more hours.”
“In the meantime—” Eve grabbed the sword, dragging it closer—“let’s talk about your gear.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what half this shit even does. I mean, obviously armor is armor, and Mrs. Lester told me about the Ring of Regeneration, but most of this stuff is so old it’d take a bloody Historian to identify it.”
“Some of it’s gotta be enchanted, right? Let’s start with this.” She ran a finger over the old weapon, her skin coming back up the color of rust. “Cleaning it would be a good first step.”
Before Wes could get a chance to protest, she plucked a handful of grass, wadding it up into a makeshift brush. Pressing the flat of the blade into the dirt, she got to work.
Results were mixed.
While the scrubbing managed to remove some of the decay, her improvised tool left its own verdant stain upon the ancient saber. “Shit.”
Wes rolled his eyes. “This is why we use actual brushes to clean steel.”
“You have an actual brush?”
He opened his mouth to speak, said nothing, closed it, exhaled, then finally replied, “Da wasn’t about to load me up with smithing supplies when I left this morning.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Well, I guess you couldn’t possibly make it dirtier.” Wes reached out to reclaim the sword.
“Hold on,” Eve stopped him. “Look at this.” She traced a finger along the grass stains. “There are symbols here.”
Sure enough, the viridescent marks turned out darker in a few particular areas along the flat of the blade. The shapes spelled out something, but for the life of her Eve couldn’t determine what. “Any idea?”
Wes leaned over to peer at the runes. “It’s not any language I’ve ever seen.”
Eve shrugged, flipping the weapon over to examine the back side. A quick scrub with the grass-brush revealed yet more of the strange figures.
You have learned the basic skill Appraise!
Keen eyes and a quick wit can glean a lot from very little. Understand basic information about a person or thing.
“Gods below,” Eve swore. “I got a new skill.”
“Wait, seriously? For rubbing some grass on an old sword?”
“Apparently.” Turning her gaze back toward the item, Eve activated her new ability.
Rusted Sword
Rarity: Uncommon
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s not exactly useful. Just says it’s a rusted sword.”
“Gimme that.” Wes reached out to reclaim his weapon, turning it over in his hands as he examined the runes for himself. He gave it a few minutes before his shoulders deflated. “Nothing.”
“Maybe you have to find something new? I already discovered the runes. Hells, it’s not like you're short of crap to look over.”
Wes didn’t hesitate to drop the blade as he turned his attention first to a leather shoulder pad with frayed seams.
While the man worked, Eve tested her Appraise on everything from her dirt-stained pants to individual strands of grass to the road itself. None of the targets provided useful information about themselves or the skill she used, until her attention turned back to her traveling companion.
Level 2 Flame Initiate
Uncommon Tier 1 Class
Interesting, Eve mused. Does it always tell a person’s class, or do I only get Wes’s because he already told me?
She got her answer when, twenty minutes later, he discovered a set of initials stitched into the lining of his vambrace.
“Got it!”
“Nice! Now use it on me. I wanna know what it tells you.”
“It tells me that you’re a… level question mark Messenger Girl.” He sputtered. “Messenger Girl? R
eally? No wonder you have a skill for running away.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I also have a skill for rubbing grass on old swords.”
Wes fell back in a fit of laughter, his entire torso shaking with mirth as he lay upon the soft grass. Eve mirrored his sentiment, though she managed to stay upright. The absolute ox of a man was still giggling when Eve spoke again.
“It gave me your exact level—probably something to do with the fact I out-level you. Though with class rarity having such an impact I imagine that’s more important.”
Shielding his eyes from the sun as he lay on his back, Wes’s tone turned serious. “You know, you’re quite a bit better than me at this whole ‘adventuring’ thing. Maybe you should be the one with the Epic quest.”
Eve snorted, if for different reasons than Wes might’ve assumed. “Not on your life.”
“Yep, that’s fair. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”
Me neither, Wes, Eve thought. Me neither.
* * *
It was well past four by the time Wes was recovered enough to restart their journey. Eve didn’t mind the wait. Indeed she rather enjoyed the lazy afternoon, well in need of a rest after the morning’s excitement.
The fledgling adventurers wiled the hours away with shared stories and lighthearted banter, each teasing the other for all manner of things in and out of their control. The conversation continued as they reembarked.
Once his wounds had mostly vanished, Wes was kind enough to lend Eve his Ring of Regeneration for the duration of their trip. Though the dried blood remained, the cuts and scrapes along the girl’s palms and cheek knit shut well before the outer structures of Fidsworth came into view.
The blue gloom of twilight colored the air as the travelers finally arrived.
The road through Fidsworth was the same packed-earth as back home, the shops and houses the same hewn wood, and the roofs the same dry thatch. The townsfolk came and went in much the same way as in Nowherested. Even the inn sat just as many lots away from the town’s edge as The Sower’s Mug.
“So, on to the baker, then?” Wes asked.
“Yep,” Eve answered as they traversed the town’s center. “If I remember correctly, it’s right over… shit.”
Sure enough, the bakery was precisely where she’d expected to find it. She did not, however, expect to find the building unlit and the door latched shut. “They’re closed.”
Wes shrugged. “Ah well. You were gonna spend the night here anyway. We’ll just get you your bread in the morning.”
“Yeah, I just…” Eve trailed off. “It’s fine. You’re right. I can just get it tomorrow.”
Wes turned. “Great. Now that’s out of the way, I’m in dire need of a hot meal.”
Eve nodded, trying not to worry about her quest. It’s late, she told herself. Of course the bakery’s closed. Everything’s fine. It’s all normal. She unclenched her jaw. She’d made it to the next town over; now all she had to do was buy a loaf of bread. If she could wait until evening for Wes to recover, she could wait until morning for the shop to open. Easy.
The Laughing Swine sat mostly empty on this particular night, the denizens of Fidsworth still anxiously awaiting their own day with the Questing Stones. Wes haggled with the innkeeper as Eve surveyed the common room.
What few patrons there were fixed their eyes upon the new arrivals, some with curiosity and others with suspicion. It wasn’t common in these parts to see a stranger so heavily armored as Wes, even if his getup looked like it belonged in a trash heap.
One man in particular caught Eve’s attention. Though his thick brown hair and unkempt mustache weren’t out of place in the farming village, the way he kept his eyes trained on Wes certainly was. His wasn’t the cautious gaze of a townsperson watching an outsider, but a deep scowl at some perceived slight.
Just as Eve thought to implement her new appraisal skill, the man leapt to his feet and bolted from the tavern. Interesting, she mused. I wonder what’s got him worked up.
Wes interrupted her train of thought with an iron key pressed firmly into her hand. “One room at the local inn, as requested.”
“Right. Thanks. Did—um—did you see that guy just run outside?”
“No? Is something wrong?”
Eve grit her teeth, trying to decide if the man’s odd behavior was worth the fuss. Ultimately, it was the layer of sweat which still so uncomfortably glued her blouse to the skin beneath it that forced her hand. “It’s fine. I’m going to go wash up.” She stepped past the bulky mage and onto the stairs beyond.
A hot bath and a hearty meal later, she’d forgotten all about the strange man in favor of the more familiar worries over her confusing quest and limited class. At least, Eve reassured herself as she lay comfortably on the straw pallet, tomorrow morning I can get that damned bread.
CHAPTER FOUR
The First Milestone
A POUNDING AT her door stole Eve away from the sweet embrace of sleep. “Oy! Open up!”
Eve groaned, rubbing her heavy eyelids as she trudged across the sparse room. She undid the latch. Four men stood outside, each a head taller and a hundred pounds heavier than she. A quick Appraise identified them as two Blacksmiths, a Farmer, and a Tanner, all in their mid teens.
“What do you want?”
“Your boyfriend,” the Farmer said. “Where is he?”
Now, Eve would’ve liked to snap back with a dry ‘excuse me?’ or a taunting ‘I have a boyfriend? Why didn’t he tell me?’ but in her grogginess, the best she could manage was a slurred “What?”
“That weasel Randy said he saw you come in with one of those adventurer types. Trouble is, that sword he had don’t belong to him.”
The man must’ve taken Eve’s exhausted silence as lack of comprehension, because he explained further. “Sword was pilfered from my da ages ago. Hells if I know why your boy painted them green, but I’d know those sigils anywhere.”
“He’s not my—look, he’s not here. And I’m sure if you asked nicely Wes’d be happy to give you your sword back.”
The man placed a meaty hand on the wooden door, forcing it to swing farther open.
Eve stepped back to avoid being struck.
The Farmer scanned the room, confirming the truth in her words. “We’ll see about that. Don’t take kindly to thieves ‘round here.”
Eve opened her mouth to defend her fellow adventurer, to tell the man he couldn’t have known the weapon’s history, anything in the hope they’d leave Wes be. She never got a chance.
The thugs slammed the door shut.
It took the girl more than a few moments both to finish waking up and calm her racing heart as the encounter sank in. The realization that she, a helpless Messenger Girl who couldn’t exactly run away in a confined room, had unlocked her door for four strange men in the middle of the night hit hard. “Ma would kill me,” she muttered to herself.
At least they were only looking for Wes. Eve’s eyes shot open. Wes! “Ayla’s tits,” she swore in yet another display of behavior that would earn a lecture from her mother. She dashed across the room, rushing to re-don her boots. Magic class or not, Eve didn’t favor Wes’s odds against four opponents, especially without warning.
Shoes tied, Eve made it halfway back to the room’s exit when a hurried tapping rang out behind her. She turned.
“Wes? What the hells are you doing?”
The man, of course, couldn’t hear her on the other side of the glass window, but the look on her face was clear enough. He waved her over.
It wasn’t until Eve swung the window open to find him desperately clinging to the eave that she remembered they’d slept on the second floor.
“We need to leave,” Wes said in the loudest whisper she’d ever heard.
“Why are you here?”
“They tried my room first. Luckily, I was smart enough not to open the door when they started knocking. Just made it out the window before they kicked the door in.”
I slept throug
h a break-in? Eve cursed her lack of awareness. “Did you know?”
“That Mr. Potts gave me a stolen sword? Of bloody course not. I didn’t even want a non-stolen sword!”
“Right, right. Move over. I’m coming out.”
Wes shuffled along the sill, his feet barely reaching the wooden crossbeam that extended an inch from the sheer wall beneath them.
Eve’s didn’t.
“Shit shit shit,” she whispered furiously as she dangled from the open window.
“Okay—um—can you make it over there?” Wes pointed at the vertical beam running down the building’s corner, over eight feet away.
“Do I look like I can bloody make it over there?”
“Right. Yes. Um… okay, here’s what we’re gonna do…” Wes inched away, expertly descending the wooden structure until he reached the dirt below. He held out his arms. “Jump!”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Eve, we don’t have time for this! Those thugs are already searching.”
“Alright, alright, just… give me a moment.”
She gulped. Come on, Eve. You can do this. If you can turn back to fight off gods-damned wolves you can face a ten-foot drop. I just need to let—fuck.
Her hand slipped.
Eve plummeted. Her outstretched toes collided with the crossbeam they’d so failed to reach, sending waves of pain up her leg as she peeled away from the vertical wall. Her heart raced, somehow convinced this was the moment of her death in spite of all evidence to the contrary.
She fell for but a second before Wes caught her. That is, using the word ‘caught’ rather loosely. Only one of his extended arms actually intercepted her drop, striking her directly in the upper back. The impact hurt.
Fortunately for Eve, the man’s failed attempt happened to impact at just the right point to raise her torso above her lower half, spinning her such that her feet hit the ground directly beneath her.
Heart pounding, Eve stood. “Nice catch.”
This Quest is Broken! (This Trilogy is Broken (A Comedy Litrpg Adventure) Book 1) Page 3