by Drew Hayes
“Like a rapier?” Eric asked.
Elora frowned and nodded to the table. “It’s not too late to return your presents, you know.”
“Didn’t the money for those come out of my share of the gold?” Eric countered.
“No one likes a backtalker. May I continue now?” Elora asked.
“By all means.”
Elora shot him a glare, and then resumed her proper posture. “As I was saying, in spite of your eccentricities, you have potential. You’ve built on some of that talent yourself, and together, we’ve refined a bit more of it here under the capital. Don’t for a minute think your training to be over, though. The moment you get complacent, the minute your mind stops whipping through the possibilities of what might be around every bend, you stop being a rogue. Usually, it’s a short transition from there to being either a corpse or a prisoner. No slacking off just because I’m not around to watch you, is what I’m getting at.”
“I understand.” Eric did, too. He’d seen firsthand how adaptive Elora had needed to be to keep herself—and the others—alive when they raided that mercenary base. More than once, the whole endeavor could have been lost if she were a touch slower or less observant. The mind and skills of a rogue were a pair of blades, ones that would rust if not constantly sharpened. This wasn’t like muscle, which would stay for a while once built. Eric would always either be moving forward or backward at any given moment. For a rogue, there was no such thing as standing still.
“You’d better understand. I can’t have the others gossiping about how a rogue I trained got captured by some low-level foot soldier on his first outing.” Elora moved to the side slightly, putting herself in easier reach of the table. “But I also can’t let you go out in that half-wrecked equipment. While we rogues might be greedy, we aren’t cheap, and we certainly don’t shy away from letting everyone know that we’re skilled enough to afford the good stuff. So, on that note…”
Elora pulled a medium-sized leather satchel out from behind her back and set it gently on the table. “Satchel of Containment. Inside, you’ll find your share of the standard issue stuff I got for your friends. You’ll need to fill it with the rest of your gold from the hall, like they are, since there’s no guarantee you’ll want to come back this way after the Grand Quest.”
This much, Eric had been expecting. Elora had detailed what she considered to be essential equipment after the shopping trip with his friends. She felt it was important he understand both what the basics were and how much they cost, in case anything needed replacing down the line. Of all the items, Eric was most excited about the headband that gave him dark-sight. His last outing had made him realize how handicapped he’d been by depending on light.
“Next up is your sword.” Elora unwrapped a lean bundle and plucked Eric’s short sword from within. “Driscol did the best he could with the actual blade, using some enchanted sharpening stones and oils to shore it up, but there’s only so much you can do with an already-forged weapon. He did, however, hit a small stroke of genius.” With a nimble twirl, she flipped the sword around so that Eric could see the pommel. It had been slightly reworked to allow the addition of a dark red gem.
“That little baby will drastically augment your sword’s slicing power for a short while. It drains fast and takes a day to recharge, though, so it’s not the same as having an enchanted weapon. Still, for a smart rogue, one good strike is more than enough.”
Eric accepted his blade from Elora and tested it in his grip. The balance was better, and the whole thing felt lighter in spite of Driscol’s addition. Whatever the smith had done, it was impressive. It wowed the mind to imagine how fine a sword he could fashion when starting from scratch.
“Next up, armor,” Elora said, moving to a large, covered bundle. “Veilpanther is well and good for missions when all you’re doing is scouting, but as you’ve seen, not even the best of rogues is assured the ability to avoid battle. When that comes, you want something a little more durable. For all that I can say about my former student, Holdram did have good taste, so I didn’t see any reason to let his gear go to someone who couldn’t appreciate it.”
Yanking the cloth aside, Elora revealed Holdram’s armor. Or at least, some of it. Holdram had been a larger man than Eric, and the armor had clearly been refitted to reflect that. Moving closer to the table, Eric remembered how well it had deflected the blows of even Elora’s enchanted weapons. Clearly, there was serious spell craft laid upon the black leather.
“I thought we agreed to sell everything from the base and add the gold to our haul,” Eric said.
“We did. I just ‘sold’ the armor to you at an exceptional discount. None of your friends objected, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, I didn’t imagine they would.” Eric ran his hands along the dark, thick armor. Despite its durability, it was surprisingly pliable. True, he wouldn’t have the same freedom as he did in the veilpanther armor, but this would stop more than rusty swords and dull arrows. “Isn’t black armor a little... sinister?”
Elora set her hand on the chest piece. “Undoubtedly, which is probably why Holdram had this aspect installed.” Seconds later, the color of the entire set shifted to a dull, unremarkable brown. After that, it become a drab gray, then a bold blue, and then faded back to black. “One mental command and the color shifts as needed. Makes it easier to blend in, regardless of your environment.”
“That does seem pretty handy,” Eric said.
Mentally running over what he knew about the armor and adding in this new aspect, there was no way he should have been able to afford it. Part of his evening training with Elora had centered on knowing what the cost of various goods and enchantments were, since it would be easy to get fleeced if he didn’t have a baseline to work from. Making a few guesses at the level of magic woven through the armor, there was no denying that its worth well exceeded what he’d earned from his share of the treasure. Elora was greatly underselling the amount of discount she’d given him.
“Next up is a classic for every rogue who undergoes this training.” Elora reached into the next-to-last pouch and pulled out a repeating crossbow almost identical to her own. “There’s nothing special about this one, mind you—at least, not in a magical sense. It’s just well-made and has calibrated sights. Should make hitting your targets a lot easier.”
“The others will be overjoyed to have someone else with ranged attacks.” Eric accepted the crossbow from her. It felt almost like a different weapon compared to the near-broken one he’d been training on: sleek, light, and freshly shined. He could hardly wait to test it out in the target range.
“Last, but far from least, a purchase inspired by your own paladin.” Rather than opening this one, Elora shoved it across the table, where it stopped a few feet from Eric. He reached in, unsure of what to expect. Once he was sure of what lay inside, he looked up with unmasked confusion.
“Boots?”
“Enchanted boots,” Elora corrected. “Speed and maneuverability are among a rogue’s most trusted allies. Holdram’s armor is going to slow you down a little, but those will make up for it, and then some. They also allow you to maneuver across a lot of surfaces and keep a strong grip for when you’re creeping across rooftops. I should probably also warn you, once those were purchased, you didn’t have much gold left.”
“Do I want to know?” Eric asked.
“Let’s just say you don’t really need an enchanted bag to hold what you’ll be collecting from the hall,” Elora replied. “But given what you’re facing, I assumed you’d prefer to survive without much gold on hand than die with a small fortune in your bags.”
“A very fair assumption.” Eric pulled the new boots free from their wrappings and began to remove his old, worn out ones. “Thank you for getting all of this for me. I don’t know that I would have made the right selections without your guidance.”
“Comes with the territory of being a teacher.” Elora had reached into her own satchel and
was rummaging around. When her hand emerged, it held a parcel that was wrapped in white and gold paper. This wasn’t just something the shop had thrown over a purchase to keep others from seeing what she carried; this paper was stylized. Eric knew, even before she spoke, what it meant.
“All of that stuff was bought by you,” Elora said, setting the parcel on the table. “But this comes from me. A gift, something to remember your time with me by.”
Working slowly, Eric undid the white and gold paper, unwinding it bit by bit until the contents came into view. The most notable part was a leather-bound book with no title or markings on the outside. What remained was a series of glass bottles and tubes, along with elements Eric didn’t recognize.
“It’s a beginner’s guide to making your own accessories,” Elora explained. “Poisons, smoke screens, even stuff that explodes, that book will teach you what components you need and how to refine them. Make sure to store it in the enchanted bag so nothing gets broken, and also, try not to flash the book around. A lot of the information in there is frowned upon by certain kingdoms and law-enforcement personnel.”
“Does that include paladins?” Eric asked.
“Normally, I’d say yes, but with yours... well, Thistle doesn’t strike me as the type to condemn knowledge, only how you use it. And there are many ways to use that kind of information.”
With exceeding care, Eric stored every piece of the kit inside his new Satchel of Containment, parting with the book last. It vanished into the void as though it had never existed, yet he felt comforted by its presence all the same. “Thank you again, Elora. For the gift, for the training, and for not turning us in to get a bounty.”
Elora let out a small chuckle under her breath. “I didn’t really have a say in the last one, but all things considered, I’d say it turned out to be an interesting endeavor. Still, just so we’re on the same page, I hereby promise not to attack, impede, or share my knowledge of you with anyone else, meaning I can’t turn you in or pair with someone else to make them do it and split the money. And with that, along with all the other aid I’ve given, I consider our blood debt wiped clean. Do you have any objection to that?”
“None whatsoever.” Eric had known this was coming; Elora certainly wasn’t going to let him leave town with an imbalance between them. Some part of him had even speculated at the idea of trying to draw more from her, to press the advantage as far as it would take him. Ultimately, he’d realized how bad of a notion that was. Overextending his position with someone like Elora was extremely dangerous; even if he got what he wanted, she’d find a way to make him regret it. Better to part on good terms, with no animosity or grudges between them. Besides, in spite of everything he knew about her, Eric rather liked the elven rogue. He wasn’t sure if two rogues could ever truly be friends, but this was close enough to count by his standards.
“By Tristan, that is good to hear.” Elora leaned back and let out a long sigh. “You don’t even want to know how much I hate having one of those things dangling overhead. Don’t get me wrong, this really has been a fun change of pace, but I am more than ready to get back to my usual antics.”
“I’m sure there are nobles to rob and kingdom treasures to pilfer,” Eric said.
“No doubt about that,” Elora agreed. “Mostly, I just need to get ready for tomorrow, though.”
Eric suddenly felt as though the mood in the room had changed. It wasn’t aggressive or dangerous, yet all the same, it wasn’t as carefree as things had been mere moments before. “Tomorrow? Are you seeing us off?”
Elora chuckled again—this time, not so restrained as before—and shook her head. “You wish. No, I’m joining up with a party to head out on the Grand Quest. Or did you really think I’d pass up the chance for treasure and priceless artifacts?”
“Wait... but how? You’ve either been training me or with us the whole time. When did you have a chance to qualify for the Grand Quest?”
“Eric, I’m a skilled rogue with a reputation for doing good work. I just put out some feelers to groups that had already qualified, needed a rogue, and were willing to split the take. The hardest part was picking which party I’d join, honestly.”
With a soft thud, Eric fell into a nearby chair, trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. “Why not just join us? You know we’d have taken you.”
Elora was far more graceful as she sat, producing nary a sound as she settled into her own chair. “A six-way split is a little lean for my tastes. I prefer to take home a third of the haul, a fourth at the very least. Besides, we’ve spent the last month working and training together. I thought it would be more fun to see how you did when I wasn’t there to lend a hand.”
“And being our competition was the best way to do that?” Eric asked.
“Probably not,” Elora admitted. “But it did seem like it would be the most fun.”
Chapter 40
The sun rose over dozens of groups standing idly in the street, their horses saddled and provisions packed as they waited patiently. No merchants tried to move their stands into position for the day, nor did townsfolk wander about taking in the sight. They knew that this was not a day that anyone, at least in this group, would be buying wares. And they were all certainly smart enough to avoid what would presumably be a stampede the moment the quest’s location was revealed.
Instead, the townsfolk stared out from cracks in doorways and scarcely-opened windows. They took stock of the weapons, armor, and magical implements worn casually by the adventurers. One enchanted trinket would be enough to feed and clothe a family for years to come, yet these people wore such grandeur as openly as a woven shirt. One group, huddled together near the edge of the crowd, concealed their appearance with matching cloaks. Whether they wished to keep their wares secret or simply hated attention was open to speculation, but as they were the least interesting party, few stares lingered on them.
The one universal accessory was the golden coin clutched in the hand of one member in each group. Too large to be a real coin, this was unmistakably a talisman. Rumor on the underground market said that if one could be taken, it would sell for several thousand gold. Of course, the same rumors also said they were useless in the hands of those who hadn’t earned them. No one knew the truth of it, really. It had been many years since the last Grand Quest, and, according to legend, no two were every quite the same.
As the rays of dawn broke past the buildings, bringing true light to the sky, the more keen-eyed observers noted that those giant coins began to glow: softly at first, so gentle one could mistake the shine for the early sun’s reflection, but with every passing second, the light intensified. Some of the adventurers cringed, as though the act of holding on to the token had become difficult. Metal striking ground rang out as a tall man in red robes dropped his to the ground, where it promptly melted into a pile of dark slag. Another fell, and another, as the coins became impossible to hold. Curiously, none of those dropping their coins looked wholly surprised, which seemed to answer the question of what happened to those who attempted to use a stolen one rather soundly.
In the seconds after the third coin fell, another sound filled the air. This was no harsh clatter, however. It was a simple pop, like an old joint being properly stretched. And then, with no more warning or fanfare than that, most of the adventurers were gone. Some remained, including all those who’d dropped their coins. None of those lingering seemed to have a coin of their own, at least not visibly displayed. It was no secret that a few of the adventurers who’d come up short were hoping to follow those that qualified and worm their way onto the Grand Quest by force if needed. It seemed that the organizers had wisely taken such a possibility into consideration. With a single burst of magic, there was no longer any trail to follow. The Grand Quest had begun, and only they with the right to be there were able to see the next step.
After a few moments, the sounds of movement filled the streets as the first vendors began dragging their stalls into position. There were surely
going to be fewer customers today than in the weeks prior, but one never knew what disappointed adventurer might decide to buy some new items in the hopes of questing to regain their pride.
* * *
The world whipped by in a flurry of color, the gray streets of Camnarael suddenly replaced by the soft green of grass, the deep blue of unblocked sky, and the sharp red of a fire bursting up from a nearby mountain. That last one gave Thistle, as well as all the other adventurers around him, a long moment of pause. Some undoubtedly recognized the area; however, this was a new place so far as Thistle was concerned. They were some ways off from the mountain, meaning that the flame itself had to be of incredible height to manifest such a spectacle.
“Adventurers.” The voice came from both the coin in Thistle’s hand and a dwarf reading off a scroll nearby, just shy of the front of the crowd. Though it was hard to be certain through the mass of bodies, Thistle was almost positive that it was Thurm, the dwarf who’d helped them count and store their gold several weeks prior. Other heads turned to look toward him, while some merely glanced down at the coins.
“In my capacity as an overseer at the Hall of Adventurers, I have been chosen to set you on your task in the Grand Quest,” Thurm explained. Something golden glinted around his neck, most likely a magical device that allowed him to speak through the coins. “As you can see, we are at the far reaches of Alcatham. Beyond here is a dead land that acts as a buffer between our own kingdom and Urthos. Living in this stretch of godless existence are many fearsome, terrible creatures: horrible, hungry beings that would as soon turn you to food as smell you. Worse than those, tucked away amidst the mountains are the nests of dragon families. It is a nest of red dragons that has brought you all here today.”