The Quest

Another One?

"You are a monk. Like the ones who lived in the temples?" Timothy asked. He was amazed any were left. The way Pendleton had described it none remained.

The man nodded.

"I thought the monks had died out."

"You would be correct in thinking that. Hundreds of years ago when the order protected the land, a small party was sent out to defeat a group of demons to the west. My ancestors were in that party. Upon returning the group could not pass through the forest that surrounds the mountains upon which thier homes sat. The temples had been locked by a powerful spell even the monks could not break. With the passing of years the group set up small villages around the mountain. This is one of them. As time passed people stopped needing the power brought by following the way of the monks and the teachings have all but died out. I am the last to learn and train myself as they did all those years ago."

"So you really are the last. Wait, did you say the mountain was locked by a spell?"

"I did. What is your companions interest in the mountain?"

"There's something in the temples that we need." Timothy remembered what Pendleton had told him about telling others about thier quest.

"The forest surrounding this village has been locked in a similar spell, as you noticed. This does not bode well for the future. We can not get supplies from merchants for none of our traders can leave the village. Do you or your companion know why?" The man rose and opened his eyes. They were bright emerald that pierced Timothy's very soul.

Timothy was quiet. He didn't want to five anything away about thier quest. It wouldn't be had to figure we had something to do with it. First the forest is enchanted and then two strangers show up. It all is to much of a coincidence.

"We don't really know anything."

"Very well. My healing has done all it can, all you need now is rest."

"I can't rest any more. I need to get to the temples now."

"Why such a hurry?"

"It's nothing." Timothy said with a whisper.

The man towered over Timothy. His face was darkened, and he stared at Timothy.

"Don't keep to many secrets. Each one is a weight to carry and they will soon crush you."

With that he left the tent. Timothy pulled himself up and stoody. He felt nauseous for a few seconds but he was able to move around slowly. He stepped out of tent into the bright sun. The camp was lively with people bustling back and forth carrying wares. All the houses were tents like the one he had come out of. Brown cloth draped over branches to hold it up. He wandered and found himself in a marketplace. Shops were set up like the tents but we're open in the front with a table to divide the seller from the shoppers.

"You there, young man, I know you would like to buy my amazing brews." A man from a nearby shop beckoned him over.

"I'm sorry I don't have any money."

"We don't use money here. We all deal in barter and trade."

"Oh, then what do you have."

The salesman lifted a small vile with a swirling orange liquid inside. "This is Potion of Liquid Flame. When opened it reacts with the open air and causes a fire explosion. Or this one," He lifted another vile this one was light blue and had frost growing on the outside. "This one will cause anything it touches to snap freeze. Be careful not to get it on yourself."

Timothy was overwhelmed with all the potion to buy. The man kept talking about every potion he had in stock.

"And buy today and I'll throw in this," He pulled a strip of leather from underneath the table. "This is my homemade potion bandolier. It had tempered glass vials to hold all the potions you may find or buy. They will not break when subjected to worst conditions."

"I'm sorry I don't have anything to trade for any of this."

"That's a mighty fine ring you have there." He pointed to Clarent.

"There's no way I could trade this."

"Are you sure? Could I at least see it."

Timothy shrugged. He pulled it off his hand and gave it to the shopkeeper. As soon as he touched it, it burned his hand. He pulled his hand back and the ring fell to the grass. The shopkeeper looked at him with anger.

"I'm sorry sir. I don't know what happened." Timothy bent down to pick up Clarent and when he looked up the man was changing. He had grown at least three feet taller, sprouted three more arms and an eye opened in the middle of his forehead. Each hand of the demon glowed a different color to match the potions he had been selling.

"Looks like I need to kill you to get the sword." His voice had changed from smooth and fast to like nails on a chalk board.

People now noticed the giant demon in the market place. Merchants threw swords to those willing to fight. Timothy stood in shock of what had happened. The demon aimed a hand at him. It glowed orange.

"Prepare to die tiny human."

A throwing knife flew through the air and stuck to the demons eye. It roared in pain and turned to where it had been thrown from. There stood a boy about Timothy's age. He held three more daggers in his hands. He held another ready to be thrown.

The crowd broke it's silence and they charged the demon. Timothy ran the other direction. He broke from the group and ran through the tents. He looked back and saw the demon leap out of the group and land close to the tree line.

"I'll get that sword from you, boy."

It threw down a potion and it was gone. Timothy lowered his head and let out a sigh of relief. He looked back up and there stood the boy from before.

"Why are the demons after you?"

"What's it to you?"

"Cause I'm here to protect it and you aren't helping if the demons are after you."

"Well who are you?"

"You can call me Drake. I'm a monk."