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

back to work. She’d paid off her debt, and the sword was all she needed. The dwarf had shaken his head at her impudence, but said nothing as she left the Warehouse. She’d never been back.
    For the scabbard, she’d conned a journeyman skilled in leatherwork into thinking that she had a commission for a Baron in one of the noble houses of Overwatch. Serena had overseen the construction of the sheath, ensuring that it fit her blade perfectly. The day it was complete, she told the journeyman that she’d deliver the Baron’s commission straight away. Instead, they’d left that day with the map to the temple and their riches. By the time they returned, she’d have the money to pay for the scabbard a thousand times over.
    Lost in thought, Serena wasn’t paying attention to where she’d placed her feet. As she raised her arm to strike out at a particularly thick clump of undergrowth, the ground gave way beneath her. She clutched the sword and held it above her head as she fell. Landing on the wickedly sharp blade would end their expedition for good, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it in the fall. She landed on her rump, hard, and bounced down the steep-sided ravine. When she hit the bottom, her jaw snapped shut with the force of the impact. Her teeth clipped the edge of her tongue. She tasted copper and cried out.
    “Are you all right?” Declan called from somewhere above and behind her.
    Serena spat, her crimson tinged saliva staining the moist moss she’d come to rest on.
    “My pride is broken, but I don’t think anything else is.” She flexed both arms and legs, and twisted at the waist to test her theory. She’d be sore in the morning, but she’d survive. “Don’t try to come down that way.”
    “No, thank you, I won’t.” Declan’s chuckle rankled her and she made a gesture she knew he couldn’t see.
    Serena got up, tucked her precious sword into its scabbard, and brushed the worst of the damp earth and plant matter from her breeches. As she was picking twigs out of her hair, she heard Declan curse. He was rampaging through the undergrowth like an angry rhino.
    “Problems?” she asked, her tone sickly sweet.
    “Thorns!”
    “Awww.”
    She smiled as she listened to Declan’s progress. She pulled her hair back and tied it in a rough knot at the base of her neck. She was lucky it hadn’t caught it in any branches on the way down. It could have hurt a lot worse than a few bumps and bruises or a cut tongue.
    The sun was nearly overhead and shone down into the ravine over her shoulder. A glint amongst the moss caught her eye and she knelt down to take a closer look. There, nestled in the soft blanket of vegetation, was a thick gold coin. It was caked in grime, only the edge clean of the muck at the bottom of the ravine. She brushed its face with her thumb, wiping away the mud and dirt of who knew how many years.
    It was smaller than a Crown, but thicker. It was probably worth about as much on the Exchange. With a bit of spit and a polish on the hem of her tunic, she had the coin restored to its former glory by the time her brother had made his way down to where she was standing. The head and tail markings on the coin were scrawled in a looping script she’d never seen before. It certainly wasn’t a coin of the Human Imperium, Overwatch, or Ethergate. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen associated with the Xarundi or the Gargoyles, though those two races tended to deal in precious stones and rough metals rather than currency.
    Serena caught Declan’s eye and flipped the coin to him. He caught it in the air with deft fingers.
    “What do you make of this?”
    She felt a little stab in her chest as she let the coin go. It was hers by right. She’d found it, claimed it, and cleaned it. There was no reason it should be in anyone’s hand except hers. Still, she knew she could trust Declan, and he’d give it back after he had examined it. What she knew and what she felt were two