Quest (OLD: the new version MIGHT be posted shortly)

Chapter 6-Sage

Sometime in the middle of the night, out of necessity to do something, I had decided to write down another entry.

Day 8 of Spirit Season: It isn’t dawn yet. We met with a group of men who called themselves the “Brothers” and met their elder, the “Shepherd”. They’re werewolves. We didn’t get out by night like the legend had warned us to and were trapped in a room with one. Carson and I killed it with a silver sword that held the Moonstone in its hilt.

Before he turned he told us to go left down every fork in the road to get to our next task. The gift of natural fibers is a rope. It was woven thousands of years ago by a single mage. I don’t quite know what we could use it for yet, but any help matters. At dawn we will get as far away from this village as possible. The growling is torturing. We are surrounded by wolves; and the only reason they aren’t in the room with us is because the wood is infused with mistletoe, which the wolves hate, apparently.

The first rays of sunlight came through the small window in the ceiling. I sighed, ready to leave.

A knock sounded through the room.

“Travelers, are you still in there?” a human voice asked. I stood up.

“Yes, we will be right out,” I replied. Everyone got up, eager to get out of this place. I pulled the doors open and the brother that we had first met was standing out there, waiting for us. He looked at me and smiled.

“I am glad that you are still here, Sage,” he simpered.

“Shut up and show us the way out of this stinking village,” I snapped. “Oh, and you need a new elder.” The brother’s smile faded.

“You killed our alpha?” he asked.

“Yes, because he tried to eat us. Now, show us out or get out of our way.”

“It is our instinct to feed when we are in our wolf skin, and it is our instinct to mate when we see a female,” the brother defended.

“Well, he didn’t eat and you won’t mate,” I barked. I was done with this place. Even the men looked wolfish now, and I was sick of it. It was only the first task and I was already sick of it.

Sure, during the night I had contemplated going back to the circular clearing and trying to go back home and dealing with my life, but then I remembered my father, the reason I was here. Magicians needed proper treatment, and I would make sure Talisman granted my wish. I didn’t care if I’d have to fight dragons, I would get my wish granted.

And at least dragons wouldn’t turn into humans once they were stabbed through the heart.

I had never coped well with death. In the Hole people were dying left and right. The guards were allowed to brutally beat the magicians. Somehow no magic would work in the Hole. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t conjure so much as a flicker of light in the dark, mildewed cells. At least once a week they had taken me out of my cell to question me. They would shove me down the long hallway and into a large room. There I would be strapped onto two wooden planks and interrogated. If the answers I gave weren’t what the guards wanted to hear I would be tortured.

It wouldn’t just be me in the room, either. Sometimes ten people were interrogated at once. It got so packed that sometimes you didn’t know which screams were yours. Sometimes you would be conscious enough to see a man actually drown in the Dunk, or actually bleed out from the Lashes, or actually get run through by the Lance. Sometimes you would be conscious enough to understand what was happening, and you would recognize the person who tortured you as they patrolled the halls. Sometimes you got your revenge.