by Drew Hayes
“Deposited is fine,” Elora said, mind still numb from the shock. “Five hundred thousand gold. Coins. That are real and will be accepted across the kingdoms.”
“I can have them here within the hour,” she said. “What’s more, if you find any more of these, I’ll be happy to pay you the same amount, no questions asked.”
Elora finally kicked herself back into gear, shaking off the surprise and returning to bargaining mode. “I’m sure you would, but I think we’ll be reaching a new price next time. Given how easily you agreed to that number, something tells me you’ll get far more than a half-million gold for this. I’ll honor the deal. You met my price, and fair is fair; just be ready to pay more next time.”
The trader smiled, a charming grin carefully practiced and controlled. Elora saw more than just the cheerful trader in that smirk. There was also danger, and wisdom, and a sliver of warning right in plain sight. “If you find another one of these, then I look forward to it.”
“You know, don’t you? What this really is?” Elora asked.
“All I supply is the gold, Elora. If you want answers, you’ll need to pay a fair sum of it back to me.”
“Suppose I should have expected as much.” She sighed and paid one last look at the strange artifact. Five hundred thousand for a single piece of it, and she could probably get double for the next. But that might strain things with Eric a bit more than was strictly needed, and after the fight with Holdram, Elora was in no mood to deal with another spurned apprentice. Besides, it seemed prudent to educate herself more on these items before handing them off to anyone else... especially someone willing to meet such a ludicrous price without even batting an eye.
“Well then, call your people and get me the gold,” Elora told her. “You’ve built up some goodwill with me, but I’m going to have to see the gold hit my account at the Hall before I part with such a precious object. I’m sure you understand, Fritz. People must try to con you all the time out on the road.”
Fritz chuckled as she reached into her bag and pulled out a stone with runes on it. “I’ve seen my share of trouble. If there’s time, remind me to tell you about the bandits I had to circumvent several weeks ago. I ended up having to deal with adventurers to see it through, and that became a whole mess in and of itself.”
“Thanks, but it’s my turn to pass,” Elora replied. “After the last month, I’ve had more than my fill of anything involving adventurers for a while.”
* * *
Sylan stepped around the corner, mind already on the long shift ahead of him, and nearly collided with another person—one with surprisingly good reflexes who leapt back just in time to avoid smashing into the humble clerk.
“Sorry about that.” It was an adventurer, one of the group Sylan had been called to help count gold for. Eric was this one’s name, if his memory served. Behind him were the others, for the most part. The blonde woman seemed to have been changed out with one who had dark hair, except that she was actually the same person, when Sylan looked closer. Adventurers: did they have so much coin that they could waste it on paltry (and frankly unnecessary) cosmetic changes? That was not his place to judge, however, so Sylan merely lowered his head in apology.
“Not at all, it was I who should have watched where I was going. The hall is always bustling, with many coming and going, and as a clerk, I know well enough to stay away.” Sylan lifted his eyes and noticed that not only were all of them leaving in full armor, they also had sacks over their shoulders and what must have been every bag they owned strapped to their bodies. The dull brown pack on Eric’s back caused Sylan’s eyes to linger longer than was truly proper, and it was with a not unsubstantial force of will that he jerked them away. “I’m pleased to see you all survived the Grand Quest, but it seems you’re already off another adventure?”
“We... left the Grand Quest a little early,” Eric said. “Dragons are dangerous creatures, and we weren’t up to the task of taking on an elder one. So we’ve decided it’s time to hit the road and seek our fortunes elsewhere.”
It didn’t escape Sylan’s notice that Eric didn’t offer details about where they were heading, nor was he rude enough to ask for them. The life of an adventurer was wild and varied; such secrecy was woven into their inscrutable nature.
“Can’t linger, I’m afraid,” Eric continued. “We’re hoping to be saddled and on the road by morning. Thanks for putting up with us, Sylan. I’m sure we were needlessly troublesome in our ignorance.” He offered his hand out to shake, and Sylan reached forward to accept it.
“Think nothing of it, sir.” His hold closed around Eric’s, and for an instant, the whole world spun. It was fleeting, a sharp, mental discomfort that vanished so quickly it may as well have been imagined. Sylan blinked and realized he was staring at the backpack again. “Ignorance is at least unintentional, which is a dozen steps above the rudeness I so often encounter.”
Eric laughed, which was when Sylan realized what he’d actually said. That was wildly improper, something he’d barely say to a fellow clerk, let alone an adventurer. But it was done. Eric’s smile lingered even as he released Sylan’s hand.
“Next time we come through town, I hope you’re our clerk.” With that, Eric moved to join his friends, who were already heading toward the stables.
Sylan stood there for several more seconds, flexing his hand and trying to get his mind right after such a colossal slip-up. Except... was it really such a mistake? Adventurers were often utter asses to him and his coworkers. What did it matter if he spoke the truth of that? It wasn’t as though they’d stop using the Hall; this was where almost all the quests in Alcatham were gathered. If anything, they needed him far more than he needed them.
He wandered into the hall, past the staircase where an elf with an oversized bag was ascending past the guards, through the employee entrance near the rear, and into the back. Sylan stopped, however, in the room that hosted a large board featuring open quests. These were the calibration quests that were always open, left on display for all clerks to memorize so they could quickly walk new adventurers through whatever options were currently available.
Sylan was still staring at the board several minutes later when Delsup wandered in. The gnome stared at him curiously, waiting for a greeting, then seemed to give up and head for the door. Sylan barely recognized the voice that called out, even though it was his own.
“Delsup, how much gold do you need to start that restaurant you want to open?”
“Counting what I’ve saved so far? I’m probably still around a hundred short,” Delsup replied. “With any luck and a few bonuses, I might have enough in five more years.”
“I’m around ninety short,” Sylan said, eyes still locked on the board. “Ninety gold between me and learning from an established alchemist. At least another five years of my life—probably more, since I’m not as frugal as you. That’s how long it would take us to save up for our dreams. Or…”
He didn’t finish, not with words. Instead, Sylan walked over to the board and motioned to one of the quests. It demanded water from a stream that only appeared during full moons and was said to be guarded by nixies. Right there was the going rate: a hundred gold per glass jar filled to the brim.
“What about it?” Delsup asked.
“We know this quest, Delsup. We’ve had countless adventurers bring us those jars. We’ve listened to them tell rambling tales about how they managed the feat. We know the safest routes to take, the right precautions to stay unnoticed by nixies, even where to get the sturdiest jars. Why not just go out there on the next full moon? Five jars and we’d have enough to start our lives with plenty of extra in case things go awry.”
“But we can’t do that,” Delsup said. “Adventurers go on quests. You and I are clerks. Nothing more.”
Sylan raced over to Delsup, clapping him gently on the shoulder. For a split second, the gnome’s eyes lost focus, yet when they cleared, they housed more ferocity than Sylan had ever seen in his friend. “
Why not? Why are we sitting here, toiling away at jobs we barely care about, when we could be living our dreams? Any day in this kingdom could take our lives. Why not gamble them once on a night that could brighten all the rest of our days?”
“I don’t know... I can’t... seem to think of any reason we shouldn’t.” Delsup blinked, glancing over at the board with the same expression Sylan had worn moments prior. “You’re right. To hell with five more years. In five more days, we could be rich. How did we never think of this before, Sylan? Where on earth is this coming from?”
“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea,” Sylan admitted. He released his friend’s shoulder, eyes turning once more toward the board that held their future.
“But I must say, I rather like it.”
* * *
“I’m going to miss the food here.” Eric looked wistfully back toward the Hall of Adventurers until Thistle climbed aboard his own horse and blocked the view.
“Amen,” Grumph agreed. His headache had either subsided, or he’d gotten better at hiding the symptoms of it. With his natural stoicism, the difference was hard to determine.
“It was delicious.” Thistle took hold of his steed’s reins and adjusted its course until he was staring down the road ahead. It had been with great relief—and a small amount of surprise—that they had returned to find their horses awaiting them at the Hall. The mercenaries had demanded quite a sum for taking care of the mounts, and it had turned out to be gold extremely well spent. “But Lumal has some exceptional culinary options as well.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that back in the room? Let’s get a move on,” Gabrielle said. No one was entirely certain if she still needed food; however, they’d grabbed an apple while buying supplies and she’d confirmed it still tasted fine. That would have to do, for now.
Grumph and Eric brought their horses into formation—the rogue and barbarian at the front, wizard and paladin in the middle, and the knight with his boar bringing up the rear. Eric licked his lips and took one parting glance toward the town as the horses started moving. “I know we had to go, but it’s a pity we couldn’t stay for a parting meal. It’s going to be hard getting used to trail eating again.”
“Then take solace in the knowledge that the gear Elora made us purchase will at least offer somewhat more palatable meals,” Thistle told him. “And besides, it isn’t as though we won’t pass through here again sometime. Camnarael is the hub for Alcatham, and the best route to Baltmur.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Eric conceded. “Hopefully, everything stays as good as it is.”
Thistle reached forward to pat him reassuringly on the back, then thought better of it when his hand drew close to the pack with the artifact inside. His fingers returned to his reins as Thistle opted for verbal comfort instead.
“Change is inevitable,” Thistle told Eric. “But this place seems to resist it well. The names and faces might be different, but I’m sure we’ll find the capital of Alcatham much as we left it, should we be fortunate enough to return here one day.”
No one noticed the slight shudder that ran down Thistle’s spine almost as soon as the words left his mouth—a forgivable oversight, given that it was obscured by his armor. This time, it was the gnome who turned back toward the Hall of Adventurers as they moved farther and farther away from it.
The chill down his back was probably just a coincidence. Not everything was an omen, after all. Yet Thistle remained turned in his saddle, etching the sight into his mind carefully, just in case he never came upon it again.
With that done, he twisted around and set his eyes forward, focusing on the road ahead.
Other Novels by Drew Hayes
About the Author
Drew Hayes is an author from Texas who has now found time and gumption to publish a few books. He graduated from Texas Tech with a B.A. in English, because evidently he's not familiar with what the term "employable" means. Drew has been called one of the most profound, prolific, and talented authors of his generation, but a table full of drunks will say almost anything when offered a round of free shots. Drew feels kind of like a D-bag writing about himself in the third person like this. He does appreciate that you're still reading, though.
Drew would like to sit down and have a beer with you. Or a cocktail. He's not here to judge your preferences. Drew is terrible at being serious, and has no real idea what a snippet biography is meant to convey anyway. Drew thinks you are awesome just the way you are. That part, he meant. You can reach Drew with questions or movie offers at [email protected] Drew is off to go high-five random people, because who doesn't love a good high-five? No one, that's who.
Read or purchase more of his work at his site: DrewHayesNovels.com
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Epilogue
Other Drew Hayes Books
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