Quintessential Tales: A Magic of Solendrea Anthology by Martin Hengst Page A

them to an ancient temple and, Declan was sure, lost treasures that would make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.
    As soon as he had said rich, Serena was sold. From that point forward, none of the dire warnings Declan had bestowed upon her had penetrated the promise of a full purse. Every time Serena looked at the map, all she saw was a place of their own, a well-stocked larder, and clothes without holes in them. Clothes that she’d been the only one to wear and hadn’t come from a consignment shop or secondhand goods broker. She’d always wanted money of their own, money they could spend on things that weren’t necessities. It was her dream and she’d stop at nothing to see it realized.
    “We should be getting close,” Serena said, folding the parchment and slipping it back into her breeches. “Do you think you’re strong enough to walk?”
    Declan sat up. He was moving slower than Serena would like, but she knew from experience that pushing him wasn’t going to get her anywhere. He’d move when he was ready, and not before. Her brother wasn’t usually that stubborn, but when he dug his heels in on something, it was impossible to get him to budge until he was good and ready. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed all right. Maybe they were over the worst of it.
    “I think so,” he said finally, getting to his feet with a little grunt. “Do you know where we’re going?”
    “Nope,” she replied with a toss of her head. “But if there’s money involved, I’ll find it.”
    Declan made a face.
    “Money isn’t everything, Serena. We’ve done all right so far.”
    She didn’t reply. Instead, she lifted the hem of his tunic and showed him the holes and frayed edges. The tunic was too big for his slender frame, and hung on him like a sail on the mast. Serena dropped the hem of the tunic and poked at the length of frayed rope Declan was using to cinch the shirt around his waist. He slapped her hand away.
    “ All right, all right. You don’t have to be obnoxious about it.”
    “Oh Declan, I would have thought you’d know me by now.”
    “Fair point,” he said with a faint smile. “Carry on.”
    Serena cast an eye at the sky. Though the thick canopy of branches blocked out most of the sky, the sun was still bright enough to make its position readily apparent. For good measure, she checked the trees, looking for moss and vegetation that only grew on the north side of the rough trunks. Assured she had her bearings, she drew the short sword from her belt and began hacking a path through the dense foliage ahead of them.
    Her exploration sword was one of the few things she had that was really hers. She’d gone to Gunther’s Warehouse in Overwatch and spoke to the surly dwarf herself, ensuring that he knew exactly what she needed and wanted. The ruddy-faced little man had promised that he knew a smith who could deliver what she asked for. In return, she’d worked in the warehouse for weeks, stocking shelves, moving barrels, and sweeping up after the doors had closed for the day. It was menial work, and she hated it, but it had gone to a good cause. A little over a month later, Gunther had presented her with the sword.
    It was a thing of beauty. Twenty inches long and crafted of fine Iaorian steel, the blade was a curved edge on the bottom and straight on the top, save the first four inches of the top of the tip, which were serrated and sharpened individually for cutting through fibrous things like the vegetation she encountered on a near daily basis. The guard was a curved cup, the hilt wrapped in leather and capped with a sturdy, flat pommel that could double as a hammer when required. She’d specifically asked for a finger guard as well, as a second line of defense against the thorny brush she often had to contend with. In all, it was a beautifully made tool and she took great pride in it. As soon as she’d taken it from Gunther’s grasp, she’d informed him that she wouldn’t be