Chapter 7
THE FOLLOWING MORNING I DONNED the mantle of Ellinore the Brave and strode into the Griff-Inn, Zig on my heels.
I slammed the flat of my blade down on the table between the two mages.
Quip flinched, knocking over his cup of water, but Forto didn’t even look up from his meal despite the rattle of their breakfast dishes.
A plate tipped to the side under the edge of my sword, and a runny egg slid over the lip and onto the table in a yolky puddle.
Forto looked up at me, unperturbed, even in the face of my resplendent leather armor and magnificently brushed and styled hair. He arched a thin eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I accept your ridiculous quest,” I said with all the grace and aplomb I’d polished at the castle over the last few years. “I will find the Elder Beast and bring you its horn in exchange for the gold you promised my brother. And you will release him from the magical bargain.”
“Very well,” he said. Forto dabbed a napkin to each side of his mouth. “We accept.”
Quip cleared his throat. “We look forward to your return in fifteen days.”
“Sixteen days,” I corrected. “That’s what you said. I remember because it seemed like a weird number.”
He grinned like a weasel. “It was sixteen days when your brother made the bargain. A day has already passed.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Fine. Fifteen days.”
“Excellent!” He removed a sheet of parchment from the sleeve of his robe and rubbed the heel of his hand over the rectangular area, shimmers of light glowing from between his fingers.
A splash of ink appeared at each swipe of his palm, until a picture of a long candle with a flickering inky flame formed on the page.
He daintily rolled the paper into a scroll and tied it with a blue ribbon.
“This will keep you on task,” he said, offering it to me.
“Each day the candle will burn down a mark. You will need to be at this very inn before the flame burns out, or the magic will take your brother’s heart. ”
Zig emitted a high-pitched distressed noise behind me.
I took the countdown scroll, examining it with a wary eye before stuffing it into the bag at my hip. I wasn’t enthused to carry a magical item given to me by this guy, but it could come in handy.
“As long as you return with the horn in the allotted time, your brother will be saved.”
“Great.” I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. “Now that it’s all settled, I have a quest to complete.”
Forto raised his hand. “Just one more thing.” He tucked his jeweled fingers into the interior of his robe under his collarbone and removed a battered scrap of fabric.
He held it up. It was small, about the span of my hand, and it was vaguely oval in shape.
It appeared to have been torn from a larger bolt of cloth, but the ragged edges had been worn down with time and touch.
“You will need this to find the Elder Beast.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What is it?”
“A clue. Of a sort.”
I gently took it from his fingers and flipped it over. The fabric was strangely smooth but blatantly bare. Not a hint of dye or threads or even a bead. Just a plain scrap of cloth. Annoyance welled up within me, as hot as Dave’s breath. “It’s blank,” I said, handing it back. “It’s of no use to me.”
He scoffed. “Of course it’s blank. It needs to be activated with magic.”
“Well then, activate it and hand it over.”
The mages exchanged a glance. Forto cleared his throat. “It must be activated with a power that we do not possess.”
My frustration level rose, sloshing around my insides like the river after a hard rain. I wanted to throttle them both, erase their smug expressions and destroy their silly hats, maybe push their faces into their breakfast plates. But I couldn’t risk aggravating them, so I took a deep breath.
“What kind of power, then?” I said, smiling through gritted teeth.
“We don’t know,” Quip said, earning a glare from Forto. “Just that it must be saturated with it, or it won’t reveal its secrets.”
“Again, that doesn’t seem like much use to me. I don’t have any magical ability, despite what some people think.”
“Certainly, in all your travels, you’ve come across various forms of power.
” Forto stroked his mustache with his fingertips.
I expected him to twirl the ends and laugh maniacally, as I’d heard villains often did in stories.
He refrained, but I swore his fingers twitched, and a smile teased at the corners of his mouth.
“That is, if the bards are to be believed.”
My heart clenched. That jerk. Okay, just play it cool. “Yeah. I have. A lot. So fine. I’ll take it.”
I reached for it, but he snatched it back. “Wait, one last caveat.”
“Oh, what now?” I blurted. “Let me guess, it was stolen from a faery’s grove, so if I use it, a nasty horde of them will come after me.
Was it ripped from the hand of some knight by a Harpy, and you took it from her, so she’s always looking for it?
Oh, will it only work if I mend it back into whatever larger piece it was torn from? ”
Zig poked me in my back, right under the fraying strap of my pauldron.
“What?” I said, looking over my shoulder.
Zig had parked himself on top of the neighboring table and was swinging his legs like a little kid, but his hands gripped the edge of the wood so tightly, his knuckles stood out as white bumps.
“Magic always comes with a price,” I told him.
“Always. It’s, like, rule three of questing. ”
Forto pouted. “She’s right. Spell magic demands balance. Energy requires energy, be it from living things, the pull of the tides, or even from another spell. And that means if perchance you figure out how to activate this scrap, then that will decrease the time of your quest by three days.”
“What?” I demanded. “You mean you’ll skim three days off the allotted time?”
“We won’t,” Quip said to clarify, raising one finger. “The magic will.”
“That’s absurd,” I shot back.
Forto shrugged. “Sorry.”
He wasn’t sorry. He was smirking, because this placed me in a difficult position.
I had no idea where the Elder Beast was, and I didn’t have any idea how or where to begin.
Chances were I could spend more than a few days wandering around the countryside looking for directions.
But I also didn’t want to spend time trying to figure out how to activate the scrap, only to find out it was a false lead and lose three days of Zig’s remaining time.
No. I didn’t want to be sidetracked. And these mages had already proven they were tricky.
And jerks. They were definitely jerks. They would get a payoff either way—my brother’s heart or the Elder Beast’s horn.
“No thanks,” I said, sheathing my sword and wincing at the dried yolk left on the edge. I’d have to wipe that down later. “We’re good.”
Forto didn’t expect that. He tucked the scrap away with a huff and a frown. “Fine. Best of luck.”
“Fuck off.” I gestured for Zig to follow me out of the inn.
Zig jumped from his perch, promptly tripped on a wonky floorboard, fell into the table with the mages’ breakfast plates, and sent a carafe of coffee flying. Coffee spilled all over the place, soaking Forto’s robe.
Forto’s face turned an interesting shade of red. “How dare you—”
“I’m so sorry!” Zig interrupted, grabbing a napkin and lurching forward, awkwardly patting down the front of the mage’s robe.
“Get off of me, you utter imbecile.”
Zig ignored him and continued to try to mop up the mess with the wet cloth napkin, while the mage attempted to bat Zig’s hands away.
“I will take care of it myself! Off!”
“I’m sorry,” Zig said again, taking a step back and waving the drenched napkin around.
“I’m so sorry. My mistake. Your breakfast is on me.
” He took a few coins from the pouch at his side and set them on the table.
“Here. This should cover it and the mess. Sorry again. Anyway, see you in fifteen days!”
Zig beat a hasty retreat and made a beeline for the door. I rolled my eyes and followed him out.