Chapter 3: My First Quest

Maiden chapter 3: My First Quest

Walking out of the gate, I stare at the sunrise. “Early mornings, yippie,” I mumble under my breath. I tap my old farm boots into the ground, making sure all my equipment is in place. Black tights connect the gap between my boots and my shorts. I count the runes and other oddities in my purse strung across my red t-shirt. Pulling out a piece of paper, I read it over again. Hmm, so I need to look into this rumor about a wrecked ship near Flavian Creek.

The birds chirp in tandem with my stride. The castle walls are getting smaller and smaller each mile I trek. Flavian Creek, huh, that's not too far from Mom and Dad. Maybe it'll be nice to visit them. My head shakes away the thought as I pull out a map of the island. Placing myself on a nearby rock, I pull out one of my water runes from last night. Ok, so according to Elise, if I put in a little bit of magic for activation, I can- Ice cold water shoots out, splashing into my face. The pressure from the water causes the rune to slip out of my hand into the dirt…yay, wet hair, and now my boots are super muddy.

Reaching for the flower on my shoulder, I tie my hair up into a ponytail. My once straight, flowing hair, is now wet and put up like your typical adventurer. My inner monologue paints this quest even more adventurous than my hopes and dreams ever could. Picking the water rune back up, I try to focus once again, this time succeeding in making a small stream right above my mouth. This will certainly be useful in the future. Now, where is that map? I look to my side, and that's right where it is, by my side, on the ground, in the mud. I sigh as I pick it up. I've walked roughly seven miles, maybe a little more, which leaves me about one more mile to go. I pack up my things, stand up, and I brush off my legs.

I reach the shallow creek. Its depth reaches up to my ankles; no way a boat can wash up here. I walk upstream, causing the creek to deepen. Its body is swirling in multiple directions. Spotting a brown object in the muddy water, I investigate and find a piece of iron driven into a piece of wood. The dark brown looks unnatural in a field of oak trees. The iron nail holds together a piece of green, ripped fabric. I place the wood into my purse and continue upstream.

At a fork of the stream,stands a large dam consisting of driftwood. It’s the same color from before. The wood looks different, however. Several pieces of wood stand straight up in the stream's bed, their bodies dug deep into the mud in a jail bar pattern, while several broken pieces take up a horizontal approach. Their bodies are tied to the vertical beams with rope. At the bottom of the dam, a woven basket of thin bark sits catching water. The basket has holes in its bottom, causing water to flow clean out of it, but catching larger objects inside of it. I pull out a notepad from my bag, sit against a tree, and write down what I have seen so far, drawing a cute little doodle to go with it.

Burning through the daylight, I continue upstream. I'll have to hurry this up if I want to get back home before sunset. I step on sticks cracking them in the process. My feet are burning with each step I take. Man, I'm so tired. I spot a large object in the distance. As I get closer to a huge mountain of broken wood, strips of iron broke from the wood making the wood look as if it was bleeding daggers in certain parts of the wood. I think I may have found that fabled ship wreck.

I step into the creek, the water tunneling its way into my boots. Each step I take is dragging me deeper and deeper, my tights getting soaked as the bottom of my shorts turns a darker tone. It's for the money, the money, Olivia. The ship’s hull sustained a giant hole. Each snap of the wooden planks leaves jagged edges, some with cloth hanging off them. Walking into the broken hall, the edges of my eyes catch the crawling of insects. Their silent movement sent a shiver down my spine. I look around the hollow center, the walls lined with weapons from spears to curved blades. Rounded shields stacked next to a pile of daggers. Yikes, this does not look like a normal ship. My feet trip into a pile of something heavy that shifts with the flow of each of my steps. I jump up, my hand punching the pool. The water is moving from the vibrations of my attack, but nothing else. It's hard to tell through the foggy creek water, but I reach into it anyways. My hand brushes against something hard but light. Gripping the thing I pull out a large piece of flexible metal, chain mail.

Emerging outside the wreck, I look around the edges of the water bed. My eyes glance in different directions, looking for anything amiss. Some piles of dirt catch my attention as I trudge through the water to investigate. Looking over the edge, disgust takes over. I twist to the side as I puke up whatever remains from breakfast. Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Several dead human bodies. My arms clasp at my sides shivering at the thought of the dead bodies. I take a moment to allow my body to revive itself from the shock. Wiping away the gunk from my mouth, I peer over the edge once again. My body churns as puke tries to boil up again, but there is nothing left to even throw up. The smell hits me, but it's nothing I wouldn’t say it is worse than a rotting animal. I sit on the edge of the pit, letting my legs hang over. Letting myself fall off the edge, my boots land with a thud. The mud absorbs my weight as I slightly sink. The body looks to be a male, maybe around his early to mid twenties. He is lying on his side, fully clothed, but pieces of wood are scattered inside his body. Lots of blood stains dot his clothing. His face was covered by a tan scarf that went up to his head and all the way down to his neck. I unwrap his face, his body tanned compared to my own. I try to fit the stain scarf into my purse. Hopefully it doesn’t stain it-. It doesn’t fit. Sigh.

My head goes down in thought, ah ha, that's an idea. A perfect idea in fact. Let’s not even think about the bodies shall we? I pull myself out of the grave and return to the inside of the sunken boat. Grabbing one of the spears from the wall, I tie the scarf around it. I could use this as a cane as I walk back home and transport some goodies. I grab another spear, tying the scarf between the two pieces, making a twin pole. Grabbing a shield, I place it in between the two poles, creating a floor where I stacked two swords, a dagger, and several pieces of chain mail. Heave ho, I carry the platform out of the water. Setting it on the ground, I write down more notes…writing about the bodies as briefly as I could. Stretching a little bit, “This’ll be a nice haul of gear for me.” I give a little chuckle to myself. I grab one of the daggers as I continue my investigation of the area.

Moving slightly into the forest, I looked around for anything that might look different, or at least might look like something from the crashed ship. The leaves dance around me as the wind blows, the sounds of autumn. This reminds me of living on the farm: The peace from the animals, the chirping birds, the insects buzzing around, and the flowing wind brushing against my hair. I take it all in, letting my mind wander around. My eyes are closing as I walk, using my hands to push off each tree to the next. Pictures of Mom and Dad laughing as I push our weak fence posts down. Their laughs turned into horror as they rushed over to me when the cows from the pen started to charge towards me.

I open my eyes, tears running down my cheek as I come face to face with a man. His body is pinned to a tree by a spear. His weight leaning to his left as blood flows from his right side where the metal tip plunged itself. His body was covered in a black robe that had a white line running straight down its left side, with a horizontal white line cutting it in half. A helmet often issued to the knights of this region sat on his head. I’ve seen these men before, walking across the country roads as they march to the wars afar. My hand covers my mouth as I gasp.

The man lifts his head, his eyes dead, but his body fighting for its life. He reaches out with his plated left gauntlet. The black rope pulls back to reveal chain mail under armor. He points at me, “I….” his breath shakes as he struggles to get out a word, “call…” blood spurts out of his mouth, “you…” His body drops. His muscles surrendering to the call of death. My feet are taking a thousand tiny steps back. I spin around, looking for anything. Anything behind me. What does that mean? Call me to do what? Report to the adventurer guild? To the military? I dig my heels into the ground as I spin my body around and sprint back towards the creek. My eyes navigate through the trees as each step pounds through my body. The weight of this whole situation, of this responsibility he shoved on me. No, no he is dead. Who killed him? This is a local knight, and he was here? Was there a survivor from the crashed ship? I pass each tree, my heart skipping a beat when I notice on the ground, lightly covered by the fallen leaves, a pile of wood, firewood. A tiny smudge of smoke was still rising from it.

I break through the treeline. Reaching the location of the boat, I look for the makeshift shelf on the ground. Coming across it, I reach down to grab it. Muscle memory takes over as I squat down and lift with my legs. Adrenaline pumps through my body as I begin my run down the creek, back the way I came. It's midday; if I leave now, I'll arrive just before nightfall. I can't stop. I need to report this now.

My heels pound into the ground to stop myself as a giant of a man walks out of the forest in front of me. His body was bandaged with cloth. A scarf covering his face. He has a shield in his left hand and a spear in his right. A curved sword sat on his belt. A man, armored and dangerous, stood in front of me. This is why I wanted to be a city girl. I drop the items in my hand, scattering the gear on the ground as I reach for one of the swords.

Do I run? Do I fight? Can I even outrun him? His figure was at least six feet tall, if not more. His body heaved, each breath showcasing an undershirt of chain mail under the cloth. I have a water rune, a small fire rune, and a sword to my name. Is he going to let me reach into my purse? Does he have magic? What if he has magic? How would I defend that? My body slips into the quicksand of my imagination. My feet refuse to move as I stare directly into the eyes of this man. Think Oliva. Please think. Calm down. Do something. What should I do? Do I wait for him to move first? Do I move first? What if he has ranged magic?

The man takes a slow step forward. My body reacts with a small step backwards. Oliva, please think. Get a hold of yourself. The man continues to walk towards me slowly. My body is trembling in response. The reaction of my parents when I broke the fence comes back to me. Their expressions changed quickly, their bodies reacting before their frowns fully formed. Their arms reached for me before the sounds from their mouths could escape their prison. I dig my left foot into the ground as I push off into a sprint, my sword held steady at my side. Its weight is making me second-guess myself, but I let those thoughts pass through. I don’t have time to think as I close the distance between myself and the man. My sword swings at his side, bouncing off his shield as he blocks. His eyes grow in shock at my sudden aggression.