The Sword of Quartz-Chapter 1: It All Begins at an Inn
The Sword of Quartz
Chapter 1: It All Begins At An Inn
It was a calm night in The Immoral Serpent Inn. Most of the patrons had come and gone, and those that remained were enjoying a rather quiet evening. The barmaid, a pretty looking badger girl, wiped the bar clean with a dirty-looking rag as a lamp flickered dimly, casting shadows across the bar.
By the dying fireplace sat an old squirrel, stroking his long, wispy beard. Around his neck was a silver chain, from which hung a disc of pure sapphire that seemed to glow in the dim firelight. His eyes were cast down at an open scroll laid out on a dirtied wooden table. His dull brown eyes examined every aspect of the scroll, from the elaborate runes in a language lost for hundreds of years, to the lines upon shapes that held secrets long forgotten. A full mug of ale sat by the opened scroll, its contents going untouched.
The door swung open, and a tall young fox strode inside. He was clad in black robes with white trim around the cuffs and his raised hood. In his hand, he carried a staff of rough wood with a jagged white crystal attached to the top. His entrance disturbed some of the patrons from their meals and conversations, because they looked up for a brief moment and took in his appearance. The fox crossed the inn, approaching the elderly squirrel.
"Berian Thrain?" he said in a deep, controlled tone. The squirrel known as Berian Thrain looked over his shoulder, a sense of urgency apparent in his look.
"You must be Rohan Foy." He said in a quavering voice. "Good. Yes, very good. Please, sit, there isn't much time." He looked over to the barmaid. "Another ale over here please, Ciris."
Ciris took another mug and began to fill it with rich, deep brown ale straight from the keg. She stepped from behind the bar and placed the mug in front of the now seated Rohan.
"Thank you." Rohan nodded at Ciris, then turned to face Berian. "I received your message only a few days ago. I hope you don't mind that I brought some friends with me."
"Friends?" The old squirrel asked.
"Yes. They're just outside, tending to their horses." Rohan replied. "They'll join us momentarily."
"I see." Berian lifted his own mug of ale and drank deeply. "Can they be trusted? I have great secrets I wish to impart to you."
"I've been on many an adventure with them before. They're trustworthy, I assure you."
At that moment, the tavern door opened, letting in the breeze from the cool night outside. A procession of four others walked inside, the last one to enter closing the door behind them. They each took a seat by the fire, taking a moment to rest after what seemed like a long day's ride.
"These are my companions." Rohan gestured to the others. "You can trust them."
"I hope so." Berian replied. "The fate of Gendarria rests on this information." He pointed at the unrolled scroll. "This scroll has been in my possession for almost a year. For many a month I have translated these marks. Observe. They are the runes of the Ancients." Berian's eyes seemed to shine with excitement. "For months, I studied this scroll, labouring under the false assumption that it taught a spell, until I realised that it is, in fact, a map."
"A map?" One of the group, a tall brown horse wearing heavy-looking dull silver armour. The deep gashes on her pauldrons and the red marks around her exposed wrists indicated her status as a former Gladiator. "If it's a map, then where does it lead?"
"It leads to something that the Ancients left behind, and I think I know what it is."
"You do?" asked a purple rabbit dressed in simple blue cloth and carrying a mace.
Berian seemed to struggle with his words. "Oh, hells. I've forgotten."
"You what?" exclaimed the high-pitched hissing of a bright blue Cobra clad in black, a bow strung over his shoulder. "You forgot what the map leads to?" He turned to Rohan. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Not now, Aron." Rohan said dismissively, his attention still on Berian. "Are you sure you've forgotten?"
"No, no, no, wait. It's on the tip of my tongue." Berian shook his head with vigour unexpected in someone his age. "Oh, it had something to do with rocks."
At that moment, a terrified villager slammed the Inn door open.
"The village is under attack!" he exclaimed. The group looked towards the newcomer. Most looked concerned, but Berian looked absolutely terrified.
"It cannot be." The old squirrel gasped, snatching up the map and rolling it up. "How could they have tracked me here?!"
"What do you mean, Thrain?" Rohan asked concernedly. "Who do you think has tracked you here?"
Berian stared right into Rohan's face, the sheer terror obvious on his face. He looked as if he were about to face the headsman. To Rohan's surprise, he only said one word.
"Galaris."
"Um...gesundheit." Said the rabbit, tilting his head and letting his long ears flop to one side.
Rohan stared blankly at Berian. He had no idea what a "Galaris" was, but if Berian said it with that kind of terror in his voice, it must be something truly evil.
"No, no, no, no, no, Galaris is the one who's trying to find me!" Berian replied in a panicked tone. "You must protect the map!"
"And we'll protect you too!" The Gladiator exclaimed.
"I'm afraid there's nothing you can do." Berian replied. "Galaris will not rest until I am dead."
"Who is this "Galaris"?" A black bear in loose-fitting red clothes asked.
At that moment, the Inn wall exploded inward, scattering stone and glass everywhere. In the ensuing chaos, the group collectively reached for their weapons. The horse warrior stepped to the front of the group and pointed her greatsword at the dust cloud.
"Galaris!" she exclaimed in a booming low voice. "If you seek to harm this one, you will have to go through I, Theda Balthier, Champion of Osteth!"
A sinister, whispery voice spoke out as the dust began to settle. It seemed too unnatural to come from any living being, and chilled the group down to the bone.
"I am not Galaris." It hissed as it seemed to grow closer. "I am his Champion." As the dust settled, the source of the evil-sounding voice came into view. The group had expected a voice so wispy and faint to come from some hunched-over wizard-type wearing a black cloak, so they were surprised when what looked like a heavily armoured warrior stepped into the Inn. None of the group could make out what race it belonged to, only that the helmet of blackened metal it wore had been forged into a facsimile of the face of a snarling gargoyle, with no face visible beneath it. In its hand was an impossibly large sword with a long handle and the thickest blade any of them had ever seen. A torn green cloak hung from its back.
"We have to protect Thrain." Rohan said as he confidently held his staff forward.
"No." Berian's hand forced Rohan's staff downwards as the squirrel stepped out to face the warrior. "He's far too powerful even for all of you to handle." As Rohan watched, Berian raised his wizened hands and seemed to will blue flames into life. They danced around the squirrel's fingers and filled the inn with unnatural azure light.
"I know you can hear me, Galaris." Berian said defiantly at the warrior. "I know you can hear me through your mockery of a knight. I want you to know that you will never find what you seek." He directed his hands forwards, and the blue flames streamed towards the dark warrior, engulfing it completely and creating a small tower of blue fire where it had once stood.
For a moment, it seemed that the danger had passed, but before the group could let their guard down, the warrior stepped out from the flames, raised its large sword and cleaved it downwards. The looked on as Berian froze, then fell, a terrible wound in his chest. Rohan dashed forward and caught the wounded squirrel, momentarily forgetting the presence of the warrior. The rest of the group raised their weapons, anticipating whatever move Galaris' servant would make.
As he looked down at the gash across the old squirrel's chest, he saw the shadow of a sword rise above him. He turned and raised his staff, the crystal on the top glowing brightly as Rohan willed a shield into existence.
As the warrior swung its mighty sword down, it made contact with a luminous white bubble and glanced off. The bubble seemed to engulf Rohan and Berian, isolating and protecting them from the outside world. The warrior made no attempt to attack them, but instead swung its blade over its head and placed it over the ripped cloak it wore. It turned and walked out of the hole it had made in the Inn wall.
"Berian Thrain is dead." It hissed. "My task is complete." It disappeared into the chaos of the village, and none of the group could see it anymore. Rohan dispelled the shield with a wave of his staff and cradled the injured Berian in his arms.
"Berian? Berian, don't be dead!" he said nervously, looking frantically from the elderly squirrel's face to the wound and back again. "We still don't know where the map leads!" To his surprise, Berian's eyes opened partially and he took in several shallow breaths.
"T...take the...map to Se...Sergar...Sergarus..." Berian croaked. "My...gran...granddaughter ca...n....help...you...find..." Berian Thrain never got a chance to finish his sentence. As Rohan and the others watched, his eyes rolled back and he breathed no more. Theda knelt in reverence as Rohan laid him on the wooden floor of the Inn. The sapphire jewel around his neck began to glow brightly. Everyone took a step back as the pendant seemed to vanish. Everyone seemed to be at a loss of explanation as to why that happened, but questions would have to come later. Right now, they had more to do.
As the sun rose above the barely visible mountain range in the East, Rohan ventured out to the stables alone, a bulky bag strung over his back. Within the folds of his robes was the map Berian had shown them. After what happened, the small village was gracious enough to supply the group with food, as long as they helped fix the damage Galaris' Champion had caused to the Inn and some of the houses. Using magic, it had only taken a few hours. He'd chosen to spend the rest of the night studying the map. As he set the bag down on the ground, he heard the Inn door open and close. He looked and saw the black bear heading towards the stable.
"You're up early, Kubol." Rohan observed. "Are the others..."
"Aron and Brocas are still asleep, last I checked, but Theda's awake." Kubol replied. "Where are we heading next?"
"Sergarus." Rohan said. "It shouldn't take us more than a couple of days."
Kubol nodded. "Are you okay?"
Rohan raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just thought after what happened to Berian..."
"I'm fine, Kubol. Honestly, I am." Rohan affirmed, patting the folds of his robes. "I'd just like to know where this map leads."
"We all do, Rohan." Kubol agreed. "After last night, I think we could use a good adventure." The Inn door opened once more, and the other members of the group, Theda the horse, Aron the snake, and Brocas the rabbit, appeared from within the Inn and moved towards the stable.
"Are we all ready to leave?" Rohan asked the group. They all responded with different affirmations as they saddled and mounted their steeds. With Rohan leading them, and after a brief provisions check, they all began to travel North towards the town of Sergarus, hoping that the trail Berian had set them on lead to answers, if nothing else.