Quest Call

by Kirk Dougal

I nodded and turned down the aisle Saleene had appeared from while the women continued toward the last row. It only took me a few steps to realize I was glad they had pointed me toward the armor I had worn before. Stacks of greaves and bracers were followed by full metal breastplates and more helmets than I had ever seen in one place. I was once again reminded that DeBrest's father had been preparing for war before the Long Night. It was a shame the battle came to him with such uneven odds. A few minutes of searching, and I found some armor to replace what I had lost on the plain and headed toward Saleene and Bree's voices.

  “I decided to go with the ring shirt this time,” I said, holding up my choices. “Most of the Farwolaethans were using spears, and I think this, with underleather and the padded cover, will stand up better to that kind of attack.”

  “Well, you've got your choices for swords, too,” Saleene said, gesturing down a row filled with different types. “Anything in particular you want?”

  “No, just a good long sword and shield.” Even after being inside the game for weeks, I still did not feel comfortable with a sword. I had never had training in the real world with them and the inexperience still followed me here. I took the sword and scabbard Saleene handed me and buckled them around my waist.

  “Now all you need is a shield,” Bree said.

  “What about this one.” I pointed at one hanging on the wall, the lamp light reflecting off its shiny surface, making the snarling bear head appear to move with the flames. I reached up and grabbed it.

  “No,” Saleene said, “that's only a ceremonial shield. It's not made for real…”

  I pulled on the shield. It came with me for a few inches, and then stopped. The scraping of metal on stone echoed through the room, and I lost my grip, falling backward onto the floor. Instead of clanging to the stone with me, the shield hung on the wall, the top pulled out at an angle.

  “How did you do that?” Saleene asked.

  “I, I don't know.”

  She stepped forward and began examining the shield, but my attention was drawn to an area behind the swords, near the floor. A dim golden light seeped out between the blades and called to me. I crawled forward, not bothering to stand, and moved the swords out of the way. Some clattered to the floor in my haste, but I did not care.

  “Did you find something?” Saleene asked.

  “I think there's a space behind the rack,” I said, finally clearing away enough weapons to see. “Yes, there's an opening back here. I think the door popped open when I pulled on the shield.”

  “Is there anything inside?”

  I reached forward, my hand trembling as I felt along a smooth stone shelf, fingertips searching where I could no longer see. My skin brushed against something soft, and I flinched, drawing my hand out a few inches before going back in again. This time when I touched the fur, I grabbed on and pulled, hoping I had not just found a dead rat. Instead, a pair of greaves lined with fur were in my hand.

  “Greaves,” I said, turning and holding them up so Saleene and Bree could see them as well.

  I glanced up at them when I heard a gasp.

  “Can you see it, Beast?” Saleene asked. Her hand had dropped to her knife, and Bree was coddling her right hand in her left, covering the black pyramid ring she had found in the healer's house.

  “See what?”

  “Look again at the greaves and concentrate.” Saleene's eyes never strayed from what I held as she spoke.

  I stared at the greaves, turning them over in my hands so the light played over metal etched with a bear's head. They were worn but well made, lined with supple leather and a fur inside that I had never seen before. I was ready to look up again when I finally noticed it. A pale blue glow seeped from the edges, barely bright enough for me to notice above the lamp in the armory. But it was there, and I knew what that meant.

  “Yes, I see the glow,” I said. “Do you know what they do?”

  Saleene took one from my hand and examined it, using her eyes, feeling with her fingers but, finally, she frowned and handed it to Bree. The second woman only held the greave for a few seconds before she shrugged and passed it to me.

  “Nothing I can feel,” Bree said. “But mostly I can only tell if it is something that will help me heal.”

  “What are you going to do with them?” Saleene asked.

  I shook my head back and forth before leaning forward to lever myself to my feet. My body froze halfway to a knee, my heart skipping a beat.

  The shelf was still glowing.

  I dropped the greaves and leaned forward, not hesitating as I thrust my hand into the opening again. This time, my fingers found something hard and cold. They wrapped around the object, and I pulled it out to the light.

  What I noticed first was there was not one item but two, made so alike that one spooned inside the other. Each one was about three fingers wide and curled in an arc, laced through on each end so they would form a complete circle. But what I thought at first was metal was clearly bone, stained yellowish-white with time, but obviously carved from the remains of a large animal of some sort.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “Arm bands,” Saleene said. “You wear them around your biceps. Hunters from our home in Baqui wear them a lot. They're usually made from the bones of an animal killed during a hunt. They hold a lot of personal value to the person wearing them, but they're not worth much. If you…” She stopped, her mouth hanging open.

  I had separated the two pieces, rubbing a dirty thumb along the plate of one. A blue line danced across the surface like lightning in my wake.

  I hated what I was about to say, but my gut told me it was the right thing to do.

  “Push the shield back and close the opening,” I said. “Grab anything else you may need, but I can't claim these without showing them to DeBrest first. It's his family home and everything in it belongs to him.”

  *****

  DeBrest blinked, his forehead still wrinkled as if he still did not understand what I was saying. The problem was, I had already told him twice.

  “They're yours,” I said again, holding out the greaves and the arm bands. “I found them in a hidden compartment in the armory. This is your house now, and your parents before. These are yours.”

  “It doesn't make sense,” he said. “Spoon never told me about any compartment in the armory. I don't know what they are. Even worse, I don't know what they do.”

  “Well, neither do I,” I said, still offering him the greaves and arm bands.

  DeBrest stared at both sets of objects again and then took the greaves. He glanced up and stared me in the eyes.

  “I give the arm bands to you as a gift,” he said.

  My heart leaped. The arm bands had whispered in my ear from the first second I had noticed the glow, and now they were mine.

  “I accept,” I said as I held the gift close to my chest. “Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, we leave for the tavern at Hart's Dale.” I glanced down. “Maybe someplace along the way we'll learn what these things do.”

  Chapter 29

  I laughed out loud when we rode through the gates of Hart's Dale. The same two guardsmen from my first night in Quest Call were standing their post by the opening, glaring at everyone who passed them. They stared extra long at me after they heard, but we rode by unhindered. The streets were busy but not so crowded we had trouble making our way to the tavern. I had been in such a hurry to leave and wait outside for DeBrest and the others that I never noticed the sign hanging above the door, the image explaining the name.

  “The Red Boar,” I said as I dismounted. “Back where we started again.”

  Saleene snorted as she tied her horse to the railing. “Don't let anyone hear you calling it that or they'll know you're from out of town. Everyone here refers to it as the Bloody Pig or just the Pig.”

  I nodded and waited until they had all passed inside before following them. We stood there for a few seconds, allowing our eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before I signaled t
hem all closer.

  “Move around the tavern,” I said. “Listen to the adventures that are being offered but remember, we want to know about the last dragon slayer. If any trouble starts, get out of town, and we'll meet at the clearing where I met you the first night. Card, stick with DeBrest. He knows where that's at. Any questions?”

  They all shook their heads. We broke into three groups. Card and DeBrest headed toward the bar while Saleene sauntered through the tables in the first room, Bree close on her heels. I noticed at least three offers to sit and talk before she was even out of my earshot. Shaking my head, I headed toward the back area that opened up into the largest room. Before I made it there, however, I had to walk through the gauntlet.

  “You look like a lad who can swing that sword,” said a gray-haired old man. “For a pint and a little of your time, I'll tell you where it can be put to good use.”

  “Excuse me, sir. Have you ever been to the Wind Harbor?” The woman who asked the question was the best-dressed patron in the tavern and looked completely out of place. The young man behind her trying to look tough must have been her escort.

  “So much gold a team of mules couldn't drag it out of there,” said one of the short bearded men I met the first time, or at least, one who looked exactly like him.

  I also heard three or four offers of how I looked like this Lord or that Baron, pleas for my help in righting an injustice, and several other offers that would have probably been a good kick off into the world of Quest Call. I bypassed them all with an, “Excuse me,” or a nod of the head.

  I finally reached the back area of the Pig. The lighting here was just as bad as it had been the first time but I stared into the gloom and shadows and tried to make out the feeling of the room. There were not as many computer constructs here, at least not ones that were programmed to start off a new player's adventures in the game. That might mean more of the characters were player avatars or perhaps the NPCs were just waiting to make higher-level offers. Either way, I needed to watch my step.

  A grunt and a muffled roar broke out in one corner where the shadows reached out the farthest. A smaller man, hair covering his entire face, rolled into view, a green-tinged arm withdrawing after the body slam.

  “Not again, rat dung.” The words were harsh and loosely pronounced as if the speaker had trouble moving his lips. “The next time you fail me, you'll be fed to your precious pets and they can eat their way to your face while you're still begging for mercy.” A harsh laugh followed the little man as he scrambled away on all fours.

  “Be careful with that one,” a voice said at my elbow. “Word is that he beat his mother for messing up a deal. He's a Fafnir and you know how temperamental they can be.”

  I glanced over at the man beside me. He wore a purple wool hat that flopped over one side of his head, gold embroidery sewn in an elaborate pattern that left me slightly dizzy after staring at it for a few seconds. His clothes were just as garish, purples and greens mixed together across a silk cote-hardie, fastened at his waist with a belt whose embroidery matched the hat. Even his stockings were dyed the same color green as in the top.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said.

  The man waved his hand as if swatting away a fly. “No thanks needed, friend, but if you think you owe me, perhaps you would take the time to listen to a business proposition. My name is Cornelius Hill.” He gestured toward the table behind him and then moved to a seat.

  “I really need to find out some information,” I said as I sunk onto the bench across from him.

  He waved again, and this time, a serving woman appeared with a tankard of ale for me and a cup of wine for him.

  “Information? Information can sometimes be more valuable than gold in Hart's Dale.” He smiled and leaned forward. “So what do you want to know, Searcher?” His smile grew larger when I stared at him. “Ah, yes. Searcher. I recognized the sign of your station on your bracers the moment you walked by me. So what are you searching for, young man?”

  I hesitated but decided to take a chance.

  “I'm searching for the last dragon slayer. The last time I was in the Pig, I heard someone talking about him.”

  The man clapped his hands together. “Ah, yes, I see. The dragon slayer. So, it is gold you seek, but there are many ways to find gold without all the nastiness of dispatching a dragon. Take my offer for instance. I deal in political matters. Very profitable those matters are, too. For instance, right now, I've been told that the Gargians are gearing up for a war. Those are very fluid times, leading up to war. The right push, the right word, even the right person suddenly not being around. There's gold to be found in times like these.”

  “Who are the Gargians fighting?” My stomach was flipping from side to side, afraid I already knew the answer.

  “Your interest is piqued, I see, but the who does not really matter. Apparently, a village full of their people was attacked by cowardly scoundrels in the middle of the night. Only the women and children escaped due to the brave sacrifices of their men.” He placed his hand over his heart, letting his head sink a few inches before he snapped upright again. “But that is no matter. It is the situation that is in our favor.”

  I downed half the ale and swung a leg over the bench.

  “Do you know where I can find the last dragon slayer, Hill?” I let a little anger bleed into my voice. The news about the Gargians, most likely a result of the Horde's actions at Bear Run, were not sitting well with me.

  The man's eyes opened wide, and he separated his hands. A push knife appeared in his right, the tip of the blade stained yellow by a sticky substance. I felt movement behind me and realized too late that someone had moved close.

  “No need to part ways in anger, Searcher,” Hill said. “Mine was an honest offer. But if you were offended, I urge you to take it up with my friend.”

  A hand dropped onto my shoulder, thick sausage-shaped fingers curling around to the front and digging into my chest. If not for the ring shirt beneath the padded cover, I imagined I would be on the floor screaming in pain. As it was, the left side of my torso felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I turned slightly and saw the hand was tinged green beneath all the dirt ground into the skin.

  “You insult my business partner, you insult me.” The words rumbled out of a chest above my head, stones grating against stone.

  I tilted my head back and received my first full view of the Fafnir. Standing more than a foot taller than me, his body was twice of mine across and nearly a stride thick. He glared down at me, forehead wrinkling and pulling his single eyebrow into a V shape. But it was his lower jaw, wide and massive, sticking out slightly more than his upper so two teeth stuck up through the gap in his lips, that caught my attention. He smiled, if you could call the teeth-baring grimace that, and the pressure on my shoulder increased.

  I spun toward the hand gripping me, breaking his hold. While his left hand was still coming up, I lashed out at his left knee, leaning in with the kick so my weight was behind the attack. He roared in pain as he dropped to the floor.

  I was already moving before the thud echoed across the suddenly quiet tavern. I thrust my right arm upward, allowing his fall to add power to my punch, catching him on the point of his chin with my metal bracer.

  But there was more strength in the strike than I had ever managed before. Heat raced down both arms, pulsing in waves from the bands I had found in the Breton armory. It surprised me so much that I paused before my next attack.

  That was all the time the Fafnir needed. Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, he reached out with both hands and grabbed my wrists, holding them together in front of me. Someone gasped in the room, and I knew what was coming. He jerked his hands out, as I imagined he had done countless times before, and tried to pull my arms out of socket, if not completely rip them off.

  Confusion rippled across the Fafnir's face when my arms stopped only about two feet apart. I grunted, muscles on fire, and my hands began to slowly inch back together.


  He roared, spit and hot breath washing over me as he stood and jerked my wrists out again.

  Straining, heart pounding loud enough to echo in my ears, my arms stopped, then inched toward each other, gaining speed as I moved. At the last second, my palms almost touching, I let my arms fly wide and moved them in a circle, breaking his grip. I leaped forward, punching into his chest with my right first, and then my left hand. The one-two staccato erupted from the Fafnir's mouth like a drum. With him off balance and woozy, I clasped my hands together and swung, catching him on the side of his jaw, cracking off a tooth and sending it bouncing across the floor.

  The Fafnir teetered, leaning forward, and then back before reaching a tipping point and tilting away, crashing onto a table behind him and smashing it to the floor under his body.

  I turned and stared at Hill. His pale skin stood out against the multi-colored outfit that was now ringed with dark sweat. He suddenly realized the push knife was still in his hand, and he flinched, twitching his arm and it pulled back up his sleeve.

  “I, I…” He stopped and swallowed.

  I leaned over the table, knuckles pressing down onto the wood. My arms were still on fire and sweat poured down my face, but when I spoke, my words were even and calm.

  “I'll ask again, Hill. Do you know how to find the last dragon slayer?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head back and forth in quick jabs. “But there are some here that can point you in the right direction, Searcher. There's…”

  “There is me. I can help you find the last dragon slayer.”

  I turned and was facing again the pale woman with the black on black eyes, her long braided ponytail pulled in front her shoulder so it draped over her chest. I glanced down before I could stop myself to stare at the razor sharp nails, glittering black in the lamp light, and I remembered how close I had come to feeling their edge.

  “I grabbed this for you as well,” she continued, holding up the Fafnir's tooth. “You might want it as a keepsake.”