He shouldn’t even be out here, damn it. Serena ground her teeth while she waited for his body to swallow on its own, getting the much needed medicine into his belly. She should have insisted that he stay behind. There was a hostel owner in Overwatch who had been willing to look the other way when they weren’t on time with their dues. Which, she had to admit, was often.
Declan swallowed the thick syrup she’d poured on his tongue and beat at her hand ineffectually. Serena heaved a sigh that seemed to come from somewhere under her toenails and collapsed onto the soft moss beside her brother. This had been a bad one. She hadn’t been sure he was going to make it back, even with the medicine she’d forced on him. Her long brown hair, a shade darker than her twin brother’s, was plastered to her forehead with sweat. It was more than just the heat of the jungle. Ever since they were little, Declan’s attacks had scared her in a way that nothing else could. There was something very disturbing about the way he could be fine one minute and helpless the next.
“I wish you had stayed back in Overwatch,” she groused. “At least there you could get more medicine if you needed it.”
Serena fingered the thigh pocket of her breeches. There were two vials left. They’d used twice that many making it this far into the jungle. Even if they left now, with nothing to show for their endeavor, Declan might not make it back out. The healer had been very clear about his condition. The medicine kept it at bay for a while, but his attacks had become more frequent and more severe.
Declan’s laugh was mirthless.
“With what?” he asked, his voice weak. “My good looks?”
Serena sighed. She shut her chestnut brown eyes and pressed her palms to the closed lids, as if the pressure could drive away the sick feeling in her stomach. There were two sixteenth-Crown coins in the purse she and Declan shared. That wasn’t even enough to pay for a single vial. They hadn’t had much to start with, and what little they’d saved had gone into provisions for this trip. They had to find something worthwhile out here in the middle of the jungle. Otherwise, they’d be back out on the street.
Living on the street wasn’t anything new for either of them. Orphaned before they could walk, she and Declan had been passed from hand to hand, shelter to shelter, charity to charity, for as long as they could remember. They’d always had each other, though, which was more than some people could say. Declan’s disease might make him weak and subject to a fit at any time, but it left his mind as sharp as ever. Declan was the smartest person Serena had ever known. They’d made a good team. Declan would plan the petty thefts and schemes that would keep them alive, and Serena would put them into action. They’d never had very much, but they’d managed to beg, borrow, or steal enough to keep them out of the Militia’s dungeons for the past twenty-five years. That wasn’t to say they hadn’t gone to bed hungry more often than not, but they managed to keep going.
Serena took the map from her other thigh pocket and opened it with reverent fingers. She smoothed the creases out with a gentle touch, as if the meager handling would make its contents vanish into thin air. They’d lifted it from an adventurer passing through Overwatch. After a few drinks at The Bottle and Sword, he had loudly boasted about being on the verge of a life-changing discovery. On the off chance that he was right, Serena and Declan had come up with a quick plan to relieve him of his burden. So when the adventurer slipped out of the tavern, Serena did her best imitation of a drunk. When the solicitous adventurer caught her by the arm to steady her, she flowed up against him like molten honey. She wasn’t as voluptuous as many of the ladies who frequented the tavern, but she was pretty enough that he didn’t push her away. A moment later, she’d snaffled the document pouch from his rucksack. She thanked him for his concern and disappeared into the crowded streets of the city.
Later, in the hostel, Serena had laid out the scraps of paper, velum, and parchment that were stuffed in the pouch. She’d almost missed the map, scrawled on the back of a scrap of folded parchment, but Declan hadn’t. His sharp eyes and equally sharp mind had recognized its purpose as soon as he’d seen it. A trip to the library and several boring hours of research later, Declan had declared the map both genuine and valuable. It was a treasure hunter’s map, encoded with a derivative of a cryptic code that adventurers used to ensure messages to each other weren’t intercepted. Another few days of work, and Declan had broken most of the notes jotted down in the margins of the map. It would lead them to an ancient temple and, Declan was sure, lost treasures that would make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.
As soon as he had said rich, Serena was sold. From that point forward, none of the dire warnings Declan had bestowed upon her had penetrated the promise of a full purse. Every time Serena looked at the map, all she saw was a place of their own, a well-stocked larder, and clothes without holes in them. Clothes that she’d been the only one to wear and hadn’t come from a consignment shop or secondhand goods broker. She’d always wanted money of their own, money they could spend on things that weren’t necessities. It was her dream and she’d stop at nothing to see it realized.
“We should be getting close,” Serena said, folding the parchment and slipping it back into her breeches. “Do you think you’re strong enough to walk?”
Declan sat up. He was moving slower than Serena would like, but she knew from experience that pushing him wasn’t going to get her anywhere. He’d move when he was ready, and not before. Her brother wasn’t usually that stubborn, but when he dug his heels in on something, it was impossible to get him to budge until he was good and ready. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed all right. Maybe they were over the worst of it.
“I think so,” he said finally, getting to his feet with a little grunt. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Nope,” she replied with a toss of her head. “But if there’s money involved, I’ll find it.”
Declan made a face.
“Money isn’t everything, Serena. We’ve done all right so far.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she lifted the hem of his tunic and showed him the holes and frayed edges. The tunic was too big for his slender frame, and hung on him like a sail on the mast. Serena dropped the hem of the tunic and poked at the length of frayed rope Declan was using to cinch the shirt around his waist. He slapped her hand away.
“All right, all right. You don’t have to be obnoxious about it.”
“Oh Declan, I would have thought you’d know me by now.”
“Fair point,” he said with a faint smile. “Carry on.”
Serena cast an eye at the sky. Though the thick canopy of branches blocked out most of the sky, the sun was still bright enough to make its position readily apparent. For good measure, she checked the trees, looking for moss and vegetation that only grew on the north side of the rough trunks. Assured she had her bearings, she drew the short sword from her belt and began hacking a path through the dense foliage ahead of them.
Her exploration sword was one of the few things she had that was really hers. She’d gone to Gunther’s Warehouse in Overwatch and spoke to the surly dwarf herself, ensuring that he knew exactly what she needed and wanted. The ruddy-faced little man had promised that he knew a smith who could deliver what she asked for. In return, she’d worked in the warehouse for weeks, stocking shelves, moving barrels, and sweeping up after the doors had closed for the day. It was menial work, and she hated it, but it had gone to a good cause. A little over a month later, Gunther had presented her with the sword.
It was a thing of beauty. Twenty inches long and crafted of fine Iaorian steel, the blade was a curved edge on the bottom and straight on the top, save the first four inches of the top of the tip, which were serrated and sharpened individually for cutting through fibrous things like the vegetation she encountered on a near daily basis. The guard was a curved cup, the hilt wrapped in leather and capped with a sturdy, flat pommel that could double as a hammer when required. She’d specifically asked for a finger guard as well, as a seco
nd line of defense against the thorny brush she often had to contend with. In all, it was a beautifully made tool and she took great pride in it. As soon as she’d taken it from Gunther’s grasp, she’d informed him that she wouldn’t be back to work. She’d paid off her debt, and the sword was all she needed. The dwarf had shaken his head at her impudence, but said nothing as she left the Warehouse. She’d never been back.
For the scabbard, she’d conned a journeyman skilled in leatherwork into thinking that she had a commission for a Baron in one of the noble houses of Overwatch. Serena had overseen the construction of the sheath, ensuring that it fit her blade perfectly. The day it was complete, she told the journeyman that she’d deliver the Baron’s commission straight away. Instead, they’d left that day with the map to the temple and their riches. By the time they returned, she’d have the money to pay for the scabbard a thousand times over.
Lost in thought, Serena wasn’t paying attention to where she’d placed her feet. As she raised her arm to strike out at a particularly thick clump of undergrowth, the ground gave way beneath her. She clutched the sword and held it above her head as she fell. Landing on the wickedly sharp blade would end their expedition for good, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it in the fall. She landed on her rump, hard, and bounced down the steep-sided ravine. When she hit the bottom, her jaw snapped shut with the force of the impact. Her teeth clipped the edge of her tongue. She tasted copper and cried out.
“Are you all right?” Declan called from somewhere above and behind her.
Serena spat, her crimson tinged saliva staining the moist moss she’d come to rest on.
“My pride is broken, but I don’t think anything else is.” She flexed both arms and legs, and twisted at the waist to test her theory. She’d be sore in the morning, but she’d survive. “Don’t try to come down that way.”
“No, thank you, I won’t.” Declan’s chuckle rankled her and she made a gesture she knew he couldn’t see.
Serena got up, tucked her precious sword into its scabbard, and brushed the worst of the damp earth and plant matter from her breeches. As she was picking twigs out of her hair, she heard Declan curse. He was rampaging through the undergrowth like an angry rhino.
“Problems?” she asked, her tone sickly sweet.
“Thorns!”
“Awww.”
She smiled as she listened to Declan’s progress. She pulled her hair back and tied it in a rough knot at the base of her neck. She was lucky it hadn’t caught it in any branches on the way down. It could have hurt a lot worse than a few bumps and bruises or a cut tongue.
The sun was nearly overhead and shone down into the ravine over her shoulder. A glint amongst the moss caught her eye and she knelt down to take a closer look. There, nestled in the soft blanket of vegetation, was a thick gold coin. It was caked in grime, only the edge clean of the muck at the bottom of the ravine. She brushed its face with her thumb, wiping away the mud and dirt of who knew how many years.
It was smaller than a Crown, but thicker. It was probably worth about as much on the Exchange. With a bit of spit and a polish on the hem of her tunic, she had the coin restored to its former glory by the time her brother had made his way down to where she was standing. The head and tail markings on the coin were scrawled in a looping script she’d never seen before. It certainly wasn’t a coin of the Human Imperium, Overwatch, or Ethergate. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen associated with the Xarundi or the Gargoyles, though those two races tended to deal in precious stones and rough metals rather than currency.
Serena caught Declan’s eye and flipped the coin to him. He caught it in the air with deft fingers.
“What do you make of this?”
She felt a little stab in her chest as she let the coin go. It was hers by right. She’d found it, claimed it, and cleaned it. There was no reason it should be in anyone’s hand except hers. Still, she knew she could trust Declan, and he’d give it back after he had examined it. What she knew and what she felt were two entirely different things. She had to stop herself from taking the coin back before he could even get a good look at it.
Declan held the coin up to the sunlight. He turned it this way and that, letting the light play across the surface of the coin. He offered it back to her and she all but snatched it out of his grasp. Serena tucked the coin deep down in her pocket, so she could feel its cool weight pressing against her leg.
“The symbols look a little like Pheen writing, but not enough for me to be certain. Could be anyone’s.”
Serena wrinkled her nose.
“What would the Pheen do with money?”
Declan shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t say it was the Pheen who made it, just that it looks like Pheen script.”
“Think there are others?”
“How would I know?” He shrugged again. “Isn’t this ravine on the map? Maybe we’re getting close to the temple. Maybe that’s who the coin belongs to.”
“I don’t think so.”
Serena produced the map again and poured over it. She tilted her head back and did some quick calculations. Then she tipped the map so that Declan could see. She tapped it with her index finger. Her fingernails were chipped and had dirt under them. Maybe she’d take her newfound riches and have them made up the way ladies of the Baronies did.
“We’re standing in the middle of a river,” she said to Declan.
Declan looked down at his feet, then to the map, then to the trees surrounding them.
“Not much of a river. Doesn’t look like it has been in quite some time.”
“Which means that whoever drew this map is probably long dead, which in turn means that there probably hasn’t been anyone to swoop in and steal our treasure.”
“Or someone beat us to it a long time ago and there’s nothing left to find, so no one has bothered.”
Serena stared at him, aghast. How could he say such a thing? Their lives depended on this trip. They had to find something, anything, which they could sell. They needed to eat and they needed someplace to stay. The hostel owner wouldn’t take them in forever. More important than all those things was her desire to have wealth of her own. She needed it. As much as she needed the food, or shelter, or air to breathe. She couldn’t live like an urchin forever.
Declan must have seen the stricken look on her face, because he held up both hands in a gesture of supplication. His voice was low and even.
“Hey, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s just…” He gnawed on his lower lip, his brown eyes searching her face. “You’ve got a lot riding on us finding something here. There might be nothing. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I’ll be fine,” she snapped, stalking off.
“I said I was sorry,” he called from behind her.
It wasn’t Declan’s fault, and it wasn’t as if there weren’t a precedent for his concern. She’d spent her entire life hoping for a big break, and then being heartbroken when things didn’t work out the way she’d dreamed they would. A blown con could spin her into a funk that would last for days, or weeks, and she knew that Declan bore the brunt of her bad temper when she was in that bad place. She tried not to take it out on him, but her efforts weren’t always the best.
Serena was still stomping around in a fit of pique when she realized that it had gotten much darker. Darker than it should have been with the sun so high in the sky. She stopped and peered around. The earth arched high over her head. She was standing in the entrance to a cave that was easily a hundred feet tall and twice that wide. Declan walked up beside her, but was quiet. Serena glanced at him, cocking her head in apology.
“I’m sorry, Declan. I really am. But take a look at this!”
He nodded to her, both accepting her apology and taking in the massive edifice in which they found themselves. Serena swung her pack down off her back and rummaged around inside the waxed canvas. She produced a torch and a tinderbox, using the latter to set the torch ablaze. When she�
��d put everything away, they walked further into the cave.
The center of the floor was a rut that was worn smooth. In the center of the wide rut, the tiniest trickle of water snaked out from under the floor of the ravine to wind its way deeper into the abyssal cavern.
“Guess that’s what’s left of the river,” Serena said, pointing to the thin band of water. Declan nodded, but he was clearly preoccupied with something else.
“To the left, Serena.”
Serena followed his gaze. There was something lurking the shadows off to their left. She held the torch out and they walked toward it. Their pace was slow and deliberate, and as they walked, Serena freed the cutlass from her scabbard. She had no idea what they’d find, or what might be waiting for them, but she wasn’t going to be caught unawares.
What they found turned out to be as unthreatening as she could imagine. A set of stone stairs had been carved in the side of the cave, extending out from the wall. They began at about chest height and climbed up into the darkness.
“Here,” Serena said, handing Declan the torch. “Hold this. I’ll give you a boost.”
“Wait, I think—”
“Don’t think, just climb.” Serena twined her fingers together and glared at him until he placed his foot in the cup of her hands. She boosted him up, and he scrambled, without much grace, onto the lowest step. She put her hands on the bottom step and vaulted up behind him. Serena caught a flicker of shadow cross his face that had nothing to do with the torch. She glanced at him, but he looked away. Taking the torch back, she went up half a dozen stairs and found herself on a stone platform that stretched as deep into the cave as she could see.
Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology Page 5
