The Adventurers Guild

by Zack Loran Clark

  Brock turned to see that Zed had taken the training staff. All eyes were on Brock; it was his turn to choose a weapon.

  Frond’s gaze flicked from him to the tentacle, and she scowled. That told Brock he was onto something.

  He took the mounted tentacle from the wall, buckling a bit beneath its weight.

  “What are you doing?” demanded the robed man, Hexam.

  “Choosing my weapon. You said anything from the wall, right?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Frond said, seething, taking a step forward. “That can’t possibly be of use.”

  “Then it must be of value, if it’s on display here,” Brock said. “So I’m guessing my odds of getting through this test intact are better as long as I’ve got this with me. Doesn’t that make it a weapon?”

  Frond clenched her jaw. “Suit yourself,” she ground out. “But I think you’ll be sorry.” She pointed toward the arched doorway at the back of the room. “Walk all the way down the hall until you come to a door. Go through it, all together, and shut it behind you. I’ll be along with instructions.”

  Brock breathed a little easier, knowing they’d be together for what came next. But as they shuffled out of the room, he felt a dull pain blooming in his lower back. He was already regretting the tentacle.

  They walked along a hallway lined with closed doors and lit at regular intervals with hooded lanterns. When the trophy room was well behind them, Liza stepped to the side, allowing Zed and Jett to walk ahead of her. Brock had fallen to the rear as he struggled with his burden.

  “Need any help?” she asked.

  “Actually, if you’d—”

  “Too bad,” she said sharply. “Now listen. I’ve seen you twice in my life. And both times, you managed to make a complete spectacle of yourself, for no good reason I can see.”

  Heat rushed to Brock’s cheeks. “Right, because your family didn’t make any kind of scene at the Guildculling.”

  She flinched at the reminder, and Brock felt a momentary twinge of guilt, but she regained her composure immediately. “We’re not talking about Micah. We’re talking about you. And you need to start thinking about the consequences of your actions. Because you’re part of a team now.”

  “Oh yeah?” Brock said, unable to keep the defensiveness from his voice. “So who died and made you team captain?”

  She pursed her lips and gave his tentacle a pointed look. “I think you’re about to.” Then she flipped her ponytail into his face and hurried up the corridor, forcing him to struggle to catch up. His legs burned, his fingers ached, and he felt certain the ground was sloping gently upward.

  “May I never see the monster they cut this from,” he muttered, then regretted wasting the breath.

  He caught up to the others as they stood contemplating a heavy metal door that blocked their way.

  “What do you think we’ll find in there?” Jett asked.

  “My guess is it’s something that’ll want to hurt us,” Zed said.

  Brock tried to quip, but only wheezed.

  Liza held up her shield and drew a blade with her free hand. “Stay behind me until I tell you otherwise.”

  Brock wanted to disagree on principle, but he found he couldn’t argue with that plan. Instead he turned to Zed. “We stick together,” he said. Zed eyed the tentacle skeptically. “It’ll be fine. They obviously don’t want to get their recruits killed on the first day.”

  “Not all of us, at least,” Liza said. She kicked open the door, and the four of them charged ahead into bright daylight. The door slammed swiftly behind them. Brock held the tentacle out ahead of him like a lance, standing back-to-back with Zed as he waited for his vision to clear.

  “We’re outside,” Zed said.

  “Obviously,” Brock said. “The sun is—”

  “No, I mean we’re outside. We’re outside the wall!”

  Brock blinked furiously, and he saw the great stone wall to one side, and on the other…trees.

  “Apprentices!” called a familiar voice, and they all turned, looking up to the very top of the wall, where Alabasel Frond loomed over them.

  “Here are your instructions: Survive the night.” And with that, she ducked from view, leaving them to the forest and the strange, sinister sounds that came from it.

  Zed blinked as his eyes adjusted in the glare of the morning. Slowly, the muddy radiance became crisper, more detailed.

  His first thought was: Green.

  The world outside the wall was vivid green. Trees clumped together, as crowded as the stalls in the marketplace. Their branches fought for space like squabbling siblings. The morning light poured in from between them, casting flowing patterns into the fabric of lush grass just beneath.

  It was quiet beyond the wall. Zed heard a sound like voices, a whole chorus of whispers, and he realized only slowly that it was the wind blowing through all those leaves.

  His second thought was: We’re going to die out here.

  He took a retreating step, and his back hit the metal door that had been sealed shut behind them.

  “She’s kidding, right?” he said, trying and failing to restrain the high note of panic in his voice.

  “Right,” said Brock. “Frond. A real merry entertainer, that one.”

  “Hey!” Jett called back up at the parapet where the Basilisk had just been standing. “Hey, wait! What about food and water? How are we supposed to eat?”

  The only answer he received was the squawking of a bird in the distance.

  “This isn’t a test,” Zed said. “This is murder! We haven’t even been trained!”

  Liza frowned. She had been silently watching the tree line since Frond disappeared over the wall. “Be quiet,” she said. “We don’t know what’s out there.”

  “I think that’s his point,” said Brock.

  There was a squall of noise in one of the trees. Zed screamed, dropping the wooden training staff he’d selected from the weapons wall, and covered his head. A flock of birds emerged from within the tree’s branches and gusted away.

  “Will you calm down?” Liza growled. “If there is anything out here, it sure as Fie knows where we are now.”

  “Sorry,” Zed said, reaching down to retrieve the staff. He caught the tail end of a protective look Brock was giving him, as he turned to face Liza.

  “I’m getting pretty sick of your team-leader act,” Brock shot at her. “You think just because you’ve got fancy leathers and a couple of daggers that you’re better than us?”

  Liza scowled, but she didn’t so much as turn her head in Brock’s direction. “Better than you, at least. Whatever statement you were trying to make with that…thing…I hope it was worth it to you. It’s got to be more useless than your friend’s stick.”

  Brock hugged the tentacle tighter to his chest. “Now you’re just being mean. Ser Feeler is very sensitive.”

  Jett snorted.

  Zed turned his attention from the bickering. There was something strange about the air here, a quality he couldn’t quite place. As a wind picked up and set the leaves around them fussing, he breathed in deeply and tasted a crispness come with it. A tingling sensation climbed across Zed’s spine then—a restless, vivifying thrill.

  “Does anyone else smell that?” he asked. “It’s…minty.”

  Brock quirked an eyebrow, but for once, Liza didn’t chastise him. Instead she nodded.

  “It’s probably the wards,” she said. “The ones that the Mages Guild uses to repel the Dangers. Supposedly the magic smells of mint.”

  “I don’t smell anything,” said Jett.

  “You’re not a wizard,” Liza said. “Or a sorcerer,” she added, nodding at Zed. “My mother once hosted Magus Chhibber at one of her salons. She said it takes magic to sense magic.”

  “So if the wards repel monsters,” Brock said thoughtfully, “we should be safe near the wall, right?”

  Liza opened her mouth to reply, apparently in rebuke, but paused. “I suppose that makes sense,” she said fi
nally.

  “Oh, thank you,” Brock breathed, dropping the tentacle to the ground with a groan. “That thing was really starting to get heavy.”

  “Somehow I doubt the test is as simple as staying near the wall,” Liza said. Still, she lowered her shield and relaxed her shoulders, rolling them around.

  Jett eased off his enormous clanking knapsack, then leaned back and plopped down beside it. “They’re probably just trying to scare us,” he said breezily. “I heard the smith initiations involve enchanted buckets they got from the mages. The water inside is always ice-cold.”

  Zed also sat down, but kept his back firmly planted against the wall. He set the training staff in his lap, and looked out again into the tree line. Now that his heart had stopped beating so intensely, he was able to concentrate more on his surroundings.

  Even the wall was greener on this side. Ivy clung to the stone like emerald veins in a great gray neck. Zed’s eyes followed the wall along its curve until he saw the city gate, maybe a hundred yards away.

  Even after all this time, the vestiges of the old road could still be seen leading away into the forest. The stone was cracked and covered with lichen, but once it must have been a wide, grand artery into the city, bringing life-giving resources and travelers of all kinds.

  Birds sang in high, sweet voices—much louder out here than within the city walls—and everywhere the sunlight touched, motes of pollen and dander sparkled in the air, like magic dust in a fey story.

  The forest loomed just behind it all, cool and stoic. It felt to Zed like a single dark figure, watching them with shrouded eyes. He avoided looking at it directly.

  Hours passed in silence. Zed spent his first morning as an adventurer picking at grass and listening to the temple bells ringing from over the wall. Morning faded into midday one clang at a time, and before he knew it the sun was high overhead.

  This close to the wall, he could sense the hum of the city, alive and bustling on the other side. Soon the smell of freshly baked bread floated over, taunting them.

  “I’m starving,” Jett said bleakly. “I thought they’d feed us, at least.”

  “Feed us to what?” Liza cracked. Catching herself in a joke, she turned quickly back to the tree line.

  “Maybe we should eat the tentacle,” Zed said. “That’d show them.”

  “Leave Ser Feeler out of this,” Brock responded. He was standing, but had leaned back against the wall. The pose was casual, but his eyes scanned the woods just as intently as Liza’s. The young Guerra, for her part, was still standing sentry. She’d stuck her daggers into the dirt at her feet, but kept the iron shield high on her arm.

  “You don’t suppose there’s anything edible nearby?” Jett asked. “Berries or…I don’t know, wild vegetables? What grows outside the wall?”

  Brock grunted. “As if any of us—”

  “Elfgrass grows around the city,” Liza interrupted. “It’s safe to eat. Also huntsman’s lettuce.”

  All three boys turned to stare at her.

  “What?” she said.

  “Just surprised that a noble girl knows so much about wild plants,” Brock said. “Tell me, which fork is the elfgrass fork? I always get them confused.”

  Liza scrunched her nose. “Well, excuse me for being prepared. At least one of us is.”

  “But how?” Zed asked. “I mean, how could you have known you’d be chosen for the Adventurers Guild?”

  Liza glanced back at him and sighed. She hesitated a moment, then seemed to make up her mind about something. “Brock isn’t the only one who volunteered for this,” she said. “I wrote to Frond in secret, weeks before the Guildculling, asking her to pick me for the Sea of Stars. Not even my parents knew. But unlike Brock, I didn’t walk in completely unprepared.”

  Zed was surprised by his reaction to this news. He felt…angry. He glanced around to find Jett biting his lip awkwardly. Even Brock seemed momentarily stunned into silence.

  “Why?” Zed asked finally, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Why would you volunteer to join the most dangerous guild in Freestone?” Even to his own ear he sounded accusatory, but he couldn’t shake away the anger. Her decision to volunteer felt like an insult to his own draft. Who would willingly choose this kind of life?

  “What does it matter how I got here?” Liza said defensively. “I’m no different from the rest of you.”

  Brock snorted. “None of us arrived already outfitted with fancy leathers and gleaming weapons. How much did the Noble Lord Daddy have to spend to get those on a day’s notice? Probably more than Zed’s family sees in a year.”

  Liza’s olive skin flushed to a brilliant pink. Zed guessed that he was a similar color.

  “You don’t know anything about me or my family,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” Brock continued, apparently on a roll. “You see, we met your brother in the market just yesterday morning, and he had no qualms about pushing past Zed in line. As if he was nothing. Admit it, a week ago you’d just as soon have spat on Zed as shake his hand. Don’t you tell us how we’re the same.”

  “Brock…” Zed said. “It’s all right.”

  “Listen to your friend,” Liza growled. “You really need to shut it.”

  Brock threw his hands into air. “And the noble tells the commoners to quiet down! Well, that didn’t take long. So much for everyone being judged equally.” His eyes took on a hard gleam, and he lowered himself into an exaggerated curtsy. “I apologize if our baseborn ignorance is slowing you down, Messere. If only we’d known one of the illustrious Guerras had chosen to slum it with us on our first day as Freestone’s human shields.”

  Liza’s face had gone totally still. Zed expected her to attack Brock, and readied himself to pull her off. So he was surprised when instead a single thin tear fell from the corner of her eye, juddering toward her cheek. Liza wiped it away impatiently and turned on her heel.

  “I’ll go forage,” she said. She was off before any of them could protest. In just moments she’d disappeared into the trees.

  The three boys looked after her, mouths agape.

  “She—she left,” Zed said. “She left the wall.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Brock said grumpily. “She’s so prepared and all.”

  “That was pretty harsh,” said Jett. “Even if you were right.”

  Zed frowned, and glanced at his friend. “I know you were defending me, but—”

  “Not just you,” Brock said. He sighed. “Maybe me a bit, too.”

  Zed looked back at the forest, amazed at how quickly it had swallowed the girl’s retreating form.

  “So, uh, do you guys think I have a chance with her?” Jett asked, absently stroking the fuzz on his chin. “I felt like I was getting signals.”

  Zed coughed out a laugh, in spite of himself.

  “She’s all yours,” said Brock.

  A shrill, gibbering cry cut suddenly through the forest, punctuated by abrupt quiet.

  It was not a human sound.

  Zed and Jett leaped to their feet, grabbing their weapons.

  “Oh, no…” Zed said. “What was that?”

  “Liza!” Jett shouted into trees. “Are you all right?” There was no response.

  “Her…her daggers,” Brock stammered, eyes wide. “She forgot her daggers.” He scrambled to grab the two blades poking up from the ground. In his hurry, he slipped, accidentally lobbing one of them over his shoulder. The dagger narrowly missed Jett, instead piercing the hide of the tentacle right beside him.

  “Be careful!” Jett shouted.

  Brock righted himself and yanked the dagger from the tentacle. Its blade was smudged with a green-black stain that clung to the metal. He rushed away without another word, plunging into the trees.

  Zed hesitated, frowning down at the wimpy-looking staff in his hands. Why had he chosen such a useless weapon? Back in the guildhall he’d thought…

  He shook his head. There was no time for this. He and Jett cr
ashed forward, following Brock into the woods.

  The interior of the forest was darker and much cooler than the area outside. Trees were everywhere. The air was crisp here, filled with a briskness that made Zed feel light and energetic. He searched around and just caught sight of Brock’s doublet flickering between the trees.

  “This way!” he shouted at Jett, following his friend.

  The two huffed as they scrambled forward. In the quiet of the woods, Zed could hear his own heart beating rapidly in his ears.

  Finally he glimpsed a flash of brilliance. Liza’s metal shield caught the light bleeding down through the branches like a signal fire. She held it with a skill that could only have been honed by practice.

  Liza’s eyes darted to the others. “About time!” she said. “Everyone, pull in! Make a V formation, so we look bigger.”

  In front of them stood three creatures unlike anything Zed had ever seen.

  They walked on two legs, like men, but their bodies were green and scaled like lizards. Each creature was a little taller than Jett, their bare feet ending in wicked talons. Their faces erupted into long, pointed snouts, from which rows of sharp teeth hung erratically, like gruesome icicles.

  Strangely, they all wore clothing. The three were dressed in a patchwork of leather rags. Two held curved, jagged blades that seemed to have been carved from bone.

  The third held a large femur, ornamented with a bloodred stone that was banded to the top in a grisly imitation of a mage’s scepter. This one’s scales were tinged with red.

  Zed could hardly believe what he was seeing, but there was no doubting it. These were Dangers. Real live monsters stood before him.

  Brock rushed behind Liza as she’d instructed, positioning the daggers in front of him. One blade’s tip was still smudged green-black, where it had stabbed the tentacle.

  “Don’t be fooled by their size,” Liza called. “These are kobolds. They’re smart, and they’re vicious.”

  At the sound of Liza’s warning, the creature with the bone scepter rolled its jaundiced yellow eyes toward her. It cried out in a high, yipping voice—it sounded almost like a dog—and the other two followed suit, barking quick responses.