The First Adventure

by Mark Boutros

  The Fool jumped around a tiled opening on a slant, clearly the entrance to the reverse tower. Tall stone totems surrounded it. They had the carved faces of what Karl assumed were once rulers of this mountain.

  The Fool looked at all the points of the summit in turn. It gazed at the solitary tree to Karl’s left, which leaned so far over the mountain edge it looked like it was trying to jump off it. Then the Fool looked at the sharp rocks opposite Karl, then checked around the totems, diverting its eyes back to the path.

  Karl wondered if he should wait for the others. They might be a while, and what if more Fools came? Karl was sure he could handle one Fool so needed to take the opportunity.

  He crept after the Fool’s gaze. He passed the tree and then crawled behind a rock. The Fool took a break and practised manoeuvres. When it turned back to the mountain path, Karl pushed through the thigh pain, ran and rolled into a crevice near the totems, evading the Fool’s spin. All he had to do was wait. He caught his breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

  He opened them.

  The Fool stood above him, pointing its sword at him. It grunted.

  ‘Hi there,’ Karl said. ‘I’m just relaxing in this comfortable rock hole. Care to join me?’

  The Fool gestured for Karl to stand so he did.

  ‘I mean no harm. I just love exploring, and that pretty door in the mountain looks like a fun place to explore.’

  ‘There’s nothing down there. I’d know. I had a look,’ the Fool said.

  ‘Well if there’s nothing down there you won’t mind me entering?’

  The Fool raised its sword. ‘Nobody can enter. Arazod has ordered us to guard all caves and towers, and to kill a man named Karl and deliver his head. Are you Karl? You look like him.’

  ‘No. I’m… Derlik.’

  The Fool released a disappointed grunt. ‘I lost the parchment with a likeness of him sketched on it and am going by memory.’ It shrugged. ‘I needed to blow my nose you see, and then the wind carried the parchment off the mountain.’

  ‘It happens.’ Karl scratched his neck. ‘If I meet a Karl I’ll be sure to send him your way.’

  ‘Arazod also said if we find any magical treasures to bring them back. You got any?’

  ‘Sadly not.’ It wasn’t good news for anyone if Arazod was hunting more power.

  Karl stepped towards the entrance, but the Fool blocked his path.

  ‘I told you. I have orders.’ It scraped a line in the rocks. ‘The moment you cross that line, I have to kill you. It’s nothing personal.’

  ‘I understand,’ Karl said.

  The Fools followed orders so obediently, but what if Karl could make something feel like part of the order? He remembered an incident from his childhood. Sabrinia once got punished for setting fire to King Sastin’s clothes and her toys were confiscated. To cheer her up Karl made her play with imaginary items, and they had more fun than they ever did with toys. ‘Well, if I can’t go in there, I’ll just look for invisible secrets around here instead.’

  ‘What? Invisible?’

  ‘Didn’t you know? There are invisible treasures all around. This is the Land of Invisible Loot.’ Karl grabbed nothing out of the sky. ‘A golden fly! These are so rare and meant to be really tasty.’ He pretended to eat it. ‘Oh that’s incredible. Like someone is cuddling my intestines.’

  ‘My intestines want a cuddle!’ the Fool moaned. It picked up nothing from the ground and held out its hand. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That’s nothing,’ Karl replied.

  It grabbed at the air and showed Karl its palm. ‘And this?’

  ‘That’s also nothing.’

  It tried again. ‘This?’

  ‘That? Well that is…’

  The Fool’s eyes lit up, hopeful.

  ‘Still nothing.’ Karl walked to the mountain edge and felt the air with his foot. ‘Oh wow! I knew it! It’s actually the start of an invisible bridge! It goes to a cave in that lower part of the mountain. I bet there’s loads of treasure. There might even be the legendary Golden Pig.’

  ‘Golden Pig?’

  ‘Surely you’ve heard of the Golden Pig? It’s rumoured to live in a mountain cave, with meat so tasty that anyone who eats it can never feel sadness. It even regenerates so you can eat from it every day. Maybe you should take a look.’

  ‘But I’ve been ordered to stay…’

  ‘Technically, you’re still guarding by searching potential hiding places. This Karl character may even be down there. It would be easy for him to live there forever.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘And Arazod did say to take magical treasures back...’

  ‘Good point.’

  ‘Think of how pleased Lord Ragnus and Arazod will be if you take the Golden Pig back with you? Lord Ragnus could probably do with some to force a smile.’

  The Fool stepped forward then stopped. ‘Must kill ugly Karl. Must return his head to Arazod. Must guard. Must bring magic treasure back.’ It stepped back behind the line.

  Karl huffed, annoyed that the orders seemed to be ranked by importance. He leaned on the rock on the edge of the cliff. He had to do the only thing he could to move the Fool from near the entrance. ‘I’m Karl…’

  The Fool stared at him, its expression dulled and its eyes glazed over. ‘Must kill ugly Karl. Must return his head to Arazod.’

  ‘You said that already.’

  It ran at him, its sword drawn back. ‘Must kill ugly Karl.’ It swung. Karl ducked behind the rock. The Fool thrust the sword but Karl stepped to the side and grabbed the Fool’s wrist.

  It bit his neck.

  ‘Argh!’

  Its teeth sunk deeper, trying to rip Karl’s head off his shoulders.

  Karl bashed the Fool’s arm against the rock, again and again.

  The Fool dropped the sword.

  Karl punched the Fool in its ribs and it released its bite. Karl kicked the Fool away, its mouth covered in his blood.

  It leapt at Karl but he grabbed its arms and pinned it to the rock. The Fool bit at him.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Karl threw the Fool off the mountain. It disappeared beneath the water, chewed up by the crashing waves.

  Karl buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath, his body shook. Was this how it had to be? Take lives or lose his own? His chest tightened. He sat and stared at the infinite sea. The Fool was like him, a prisoner in Arazod’s world.

  Karl listened to the wind and he cried. He decided it would be best to wait for Questions and Oaf. He wished he had from the start. He vowed to never kill another Fool, and he tore a piece of his sleeve off and used it to cover the wound on his neck.

  In the distance, a large, bird-like creature with tentacles flew towards the mountain. Waiting was probably a bad idea, because if it was looking for food, Karl was probably more appealing than rocks. He picked up the sword and made for the tower entrance. He had to escape Hastovia.

  17

  Oaf and Questions pushed their tired bodies up the ever-winding mountain path.

  ‘Is it Lomboni?’ Questions asked Tortured Soul. She loved trying to help Tortured Soul to return to her true self, and she was sure this was the name that would do it.

  ‘Nope. You’re not gettin’ anywhere. I’m goin’ bed.’ Tortured Soul floated on the water in her bottle and Oaf put her back in the pouch inside his vest.

  Questions dragged her feet.

  ‘Do you want to stop for a bit?’ Oaf asked.

  ‘What about Karl?’ How could they stop when he was waiting for them?

  The summit seemed to get further away.

  ‘You have to look after yourself, not just Karl,’ Oaf said.

  ‘What if he’s in danger?’

  ‘We don’t need to stop for long,’ Oaf assured her. ‘And if we turn up exhausted we won’t be much help.’

  Questions nodded. They sat against rocks and absorbed the silence, gazing out towards the east of Flowfornia. Beaches, forests and castle ruins all the way up to the
Dead Lands.

  Oaf stared at Questions. Was he going to say something? Why was he just staring? Should she ask him something? ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Questions asked.

  ‘Of course.’ Oaf smiled.

  Questions took her book and quill from her pouch, thinking about what she wanted to ask, but would it upset him? ‘Why did Lord Ragnus kill your people?’

  Oaf took bread from his pouch. Was he annoyed? Should she have asked a simpler question like, what's your favourite food? Or, do you like the night sun?

  Oaf tore a chunk of bread and offered it to Questions, leaving himself barely a mouthful. ‘Because Lord Ragnus only knows hate…’ Oaf took a breath. ‘I heard that when he was four, some travellers asked to stay in the village he lived in, and while the villagers didn’t want them to, his mother welcomed them. They deceived her and stole all the village’s gold and poisoned the crops. The people didn’t like the poorer way of life and turned on Ragnus’ mother, tortured her in front of him. Every day they would whip, wound and do whatever else they thought of to her and make him watch. They cut her tongue out, crushed her fingers, and bent her legs in ways they shouldn’t bend, all in front of him. Then they would heal her so they could start again. It went on for too many sunsets. They told him he could end her suffering by killing her, otherwise they would continue. After one year of saying no, he put her out of her misery. But he had to do it with just his hands. He was never the same.’

  Questions shook her head and couldn’t believe such cruelty existed.

  ‘They kicked him out of the village and left him to rot in the woods, but he was fuelled by hatred, and he trained. Trained and trained until he was so strong he could go back and kill them all.’

  Questions didn’t write anything down.

  ‘When he was with us he showed signs of goodness. But then he set horned wolves on us.’ Pain left Oaf’s body through a long breath.

  Questions knew that breath, she had breathed it.

  ‘He beat my mum into the sea until she disappeared.’ Oaf stared into the distance.

  Questions' eyes welled up. ‘Can I dedicate a page in my book to your mother?’

  Oaf looked confused. Was he insulted?

  ‘That would be really nice,’ he said.

  Questions smiled. ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Erm… She was kind, smart, and the best sculptor in Reech.’

  Questions wrote a description down, all in the form of questions.

  Oaf smiled warmly. ‘She cared about life… She used to put me on her hump and run around the beach…’ Oaf choked up.

  ‘Have I upset you?’ Questions asked.

  ‘In a good way. You’ve made me remember her properly, instead of at the moment she died… There was so much more to her life than the end of it.’

  Questions placed her hand on his.

  ‘Thanks,’ Oaf said. ‘I guess you know how it feels.’

  She nodded and rubbed his hand.

  SCREECH.

  A brown eagle the size of two Oafs, with three white, feathery tentacles hovered above them.

  'Watch out!' Oaf warned.

  It swooped at them and swung its tentacles. Oaf pushed Questions out of the way. A tentacle slapped against the rocks.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Octo-eagle,’ Oaf said. ‘They used to fly over Reech in the hot seasons on their way to the mountains. Watch out for the tentacles.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  The octo-eagle screeched again.

  ‘We run.’

  They sprinted up the path.

  The octo-eagle descended on them.

  Oaf jumped on Questions and shielded her. The creature’s talons tore strips off his leather vest.

  Oaf pointed to a narrow crack in the mountainside. ‘There.’

  The octo-eagle screeched and dived, but Oaf pushed Questions into the crack and blocked her. Their bodies pressed against each other.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Just stay in here.’

  It reminded Questions of her father standing in the doorway, blocking the icy winds from freezing her. She feared it would end the same way.

  A tentacle whipped Oaf. His body jerked and he groaned.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Questions asked. Why was his face twitching?

  Oaf nodded. ‘Just a bit paralysed from the neck down. Take Tortured Soul.’

  Questions reached into Oaf’s vest and took Tortured Soul’s bottle and placed it in her own pouch.

  The octo-eagle hovered, studying how to get its meal. It landed on the path and poked its head into the crack. It screeched and bit but thankfully couldn’t quite reach Oaf. Its beak scratched Oaf’s back.

  The octo-eagle whipped Oaf. His face jolted every time it did. Questions wished the creature would stop.

  She felt Oaf's breath quicken and his eyes reddened. 'Are you going to die?' What could she do?

  The octo-eagle wrapped a tentacle around Oaf’s face. It dragged him but Questions pulled Oaf tight to her. She strained but was no match for the muscular tentacles. The octo-eagle nearly had Oaf within eating range.

  Panicked, Questions felt around the rocky wall and broke off some loose stone.

  The octo-eagle craned its head through the crack. It opened its beak and screeched.

  Questions threw the rock into its mouth. It choked and tried to cough out the rock. It stumbled and bashed its face off the ground. It lashed at its throat with its tentacles then fell off the mountainside.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Questions asked Oaf.

  He foamed at the mouth. ‘Its tentacles… They cause… paralysis. I’ll be okay… in a… while…’ he struggled to say.

  ‘Why did you hurt yourself to save me?’ Questions wiped the saliva from Oaf’s mouth.

  ‘Why not?’ Oaf answered.

  Questions smiled. She realised their bodies were still touching. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Leave me here. I’ll move when I can. But you need to help Karl.’

  18

  Karl dragged his heavy legs down the stone steps that seemed to never end. The brown, rock walls were only illuminated thanks to occasional, window-like holes that provided a hellish whistling from the swirling wind, like he was inside a giant, out of tune flute.

  Tortured faces were carved in the rock. Karl worried they would come to life and attack him.

  He poked his head through one of the holes in the rock fang. The wind chilled his cheeks. Below was nothing but sea. The dead Fool crossed his mind, and probably would until Karl died.

  Mount Hastovia poked through the clouds in the north. The Dead Lands to the east looked like a tiny mound of sand. Karl had no idea what anything else was, but it astonished him how limited his life had been within the four walls of Flowforn.

  He sat to catch his breath and studied one of the faces in the wall. One eye was half closed and the mouth was twisted.

  Karl removed the bloody sleeve from his neck. He left it on the step, touched his wound and grimaced at the stinging sensation. He ripped his other sleeve off and covered the laceration.

  Something breathed and it wasn’t him. ‘Questions? Oaf?’ He hoped.

  ‘Who dares descend me?’ an authoritative voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere.

  Karl’s eyes settled on the face in the wall. ‘Are you alive? Were you the victim of some evil? Is there some annoying quest I have to fulfil to free you from your rock prison and get the Hat of Invisibility?’

  ‘Stop talking to the wall, idiot. I, the tower, Alseed, address you.’

  ‘What? How is a talking tower even possible?’ Karl shuddered. ‘Are you a god?’

  ‘No, I’m a tower created by people given power by the gods.’

  ‘And this face definitely isn’t alive?’

  ‘No. It is just part of the design. Atmospheric, you know? Now if you don’t mind, when you continue your journey, maybe don’t stomp so heavily… And take that dirty rag off me!’ Alseed moaned.

 
Karl huffed and picked up his bloody sleeve. ‘Just tell me where the Hat of Invisibility is… please.’

  Alseed whistled, ignoring Karl.

  ‘Okay. Well how about this?’

  Karl stomped hard and fast, but all that did was hurt his ankles. He scratched the walls.

  ‘That won’t work,’ Alseed said, stifling a laugh. ‘It won’t…’

  Karl persisted.

  ‘Stop it! You’ll make me sneeze!’

  ‘Then tell me what I need to know.’ A great gust blew down the stairs and smashed Karl against the wall. The sword flew out of his hand.

  ‘I warned you not to make me sneeze,’ Alseed said.

  Karl struggled to his feet. ‘Where is the Hat of Invisibility?’

  ‘Silence.’

  Karl grabbed a ledge and tickled the tower. Another gust blew but Karl held on. He tickled the tower again.

  ‘Okay! Okay. It’s at the bottom. It’s at the bottom! Obviously. Throne room,’ Alseed said.

  Satisfied with its cooperation, Karl continued his journey. ‘You’re not going to sneeze me out are you?’

  ‘Who do you know that can control their sneezing?’

  ‘Good point,’ Karl said.

  Karl dragged himself through the doorway to the round, rocky throne room at the bottom of the fang. The room was more of a semi-circle, because the wall opposite Karl was gone. It was a deadly exit to the sea. The throne faced it, as though the king of this place would sit and watch people be thrown or blown to their deaths.

  The wind slapped Karl's face with a stench he could only describe as death, rot, and old toilet bucket. A lonely pedestal with nothing to show stood next to the throne, like it had grown out of the ground, and it had a stone backboard, presumably to stop the wind blowing the Hat of Invisibility off it. Karl’s sword shone by the pedestal.

  He retrieved his weapon, and then the familiar sound of flapping and squawking distracted him. Peezant swooped in, killing Karl’s positive mood.

  ‘I can help you get the hat!’ Peezant threw his new silk scarf around his neck to show it off.