Adventurous Victory
An excerpt of the first chapter of my work-in-progress, cozy YA Fantasy novel, Adventures For Hire
Arrows flew past her head in sharp zips, striking the trees behind her as Ryel Layn ran through the forest with her two companions trailing behind her, struggling to keep up. The young elf woman darted behind a particularly large tree, short of breath. After a few seconds the two Dwarves finally caught up and joined her. The three of them exchanged nervous, but excited glances.
“We know you’re back there. Give us the artifact,” called a small voice from one of the three bandits who now had them trapped. “We’ve got you cornered so don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” called a slightly bigger voice.
The adventuring trio had just finished escaping ancient ruins after collecting a long-lost magical artifact held deep within. They braved traps, puzzles, and trials of strength before finally getting their hands on the artifact which would save the City of Crex from its poisoned water supply. After a narrow escape from a shrinking room that dared to crush the life out of them they found themselves in the forest near a well-worn path.
With a collective sigh of relief they set on their way back toward the city, their mission to recover the artifact and bring it back to headquarters was nearly complete. But then the bandits tracked them down. They wanted the artifact for themselves.
“I don’t know how they knew we were here, but we’re in trouble,” Ryel told her party mates. “The moment we come out from behind this tree we’re going to be pincushions. We’ve got to get the artifact back to headquarters. It’s the only way to save the city.”
Three cloaked and hooded figures had their short bows drawn with arrows nocked and ready to pull, aimed at the tree. “You know what we want! We might as well do this the easy way and kill you before you can put up a fight!” shouted the smallest of the bandits, whose thin, black cloak was adorned with a large embroidered fireball.
Normally, Ryel would enjoy taking on bandits but this time she had two inexperienced customers in tow. The truth is, Ryel didn’t even know her traveling companions names. The fact that they were paying customers was all that really mattered to her. Her task was simple, escort these two young dwarves to retrieve the artifact needed to save the City of Crex, and then get them and the artifact back to headquarters in one piece.
But Ryel knew the two young Dwarves lacked any real adventuring skills. She would be so distracted protecting them that she wouldn’t be able to fend off their attackers and protect herself. She knew the two Dwarves could barely read a map, let alone engage in a fight with someone who actually knows how to hold a dagger.
More arrows whizzed past them as even more thudded against their sheltering tree. “What do we do?” asked one of the Dwarves.
“I think we don’t have any choice but to make a run for it. If we follow the path it’s only about 50 yards to the edge of the forest,” Ryel explained. “You two take the artifact and go first. Torch and I will bring up the rear.”
The dwarves nodded and prepared to make a run for it.
“Move on my signal,” Ryel said firmly before drawing her dagger and taking one more look around them to check for any new dangers. Satisfied their situation had not changed she snapped, “Go!”
The young dwarves sprinted down the path with Ryel following a few yards behind. As if on cue, arrows started flying at the trio again as they made their hasty departure. Arrows bounced off trees, deflected off rocks, and stuck in the mud just behind the party’s boots.
The dwarves made it to the edge of the forest but Ryel still had about 10 yards left to go when a sharp pain struck her in the backside. She fell face first to the ground, taken down by one of the bandits’ arrows. Her pet weasel, Torch, jumped off her shoulder as she landed chittering angrily at their attackers, his tiny fists pounding the air in anger. Ryel howled in pain before composing herself for a moment.
“Run back to headquarters! Save the city!” she called breathlessly to the dwarves, who had already disappeared from sight.
The grim reality of her situation sunk in as she lied face down on the ground dying- loudly. “Oh! The darkness is creeping in! This is the end of me. Oh, woe! Struck down by bandits with questionable aim at the young age of only 80! I thought I had more time, but this … this is it. I’ll never get to see all the great wonders or experience true adventure!” She coughed dramatically and fell silent as her body went limp.
The only sound to be heard in the forest was the two dwarves furiously making out just beyond the tree line. They stopped snogging only long enough for one of them to say, “Best wedding gift ever!”
With a groan, Ryel slowly lifted herself to her feet and turned to her attackers as she grumpily shoved her rubber dagger back into its sheath on her belt. “Okay, who shot me in the butt?” The two taller bandits both pointed at their goblin counterpart.
“For goodness sake, Inga! That hurts!” Ryel admonished the guilty bandit. “The arrowheads are only rubber coated; there’s still iron on the inside!” Inga the alleged bandit winced. The goblin tossed her hood back revealing her wide, nearly egg-shaped face.
“Sorry, Ryel. I was trying to make it look realistic. And you know I’m much better with a ukulele than a bow!” the same small voice from earlier replied.
The elf sighed, running her hand through her messy, shoulder length teal, purple, and pink hair tucking a tuft of it behind her long and pointy ear. “It’s okay. Just please be more careful for the afternoon group. I know you’re still getting the hang of it but I don’t need any more holes in my arse, thank you very much.” Torch climbed back up Ryel to return to his perch on her shoulder, all the way chittering as if saying, “Yeah, no more holes!”
The guilty goblin was Inga Firestorm, one of the new bandits this season. Inga slung her short bow over her shoulder (though on someone her size it looked far more like a longbow) then pulled a weathered and beaten ukulele out from under her cloak. “Maybe I could play a song instead of shooting arrows. I’ve got a great song about archery. It’s really loud! It’s in the key of A for arrows!” She enthusiastically strummed what she thought was an A chord using her long and jagged thumbnail on her pale green right hand as though it were a guitar pick.
“No, Inga. No songs.” Ryel sighed. Inga was enthusiastic but not the best at following a plan. “Please, try to stick to the script.”
“I went to bard school for this?” Inga muttered under her breath. Thankfully for her, Ryel did not hear.
The other two bandits, a stocky dwarf and a tall half-elf stepped forward. “I dunno, Ryel. This encounter seems a little off,” the dwarf said. “Why would you hide behind a tree like that? If we were real bandits we’d just surround you.”
The dwarf was Braemma Sorensen, the second of the three new hires for the season. “You wouldn’t do that on a real adventure would you? You’d be so dead so fast.”
The third newly hired bandit, a half-elf named Evra Prin, spoke up as well. “Braemma, be kind to Ryel. This is the first tour she created and I think she is off to a great start. It is not perfect, but it does not have to be. We have a reputation to uphold at Adventures For Hire, after all.”
Ryel chuckled. “A reputation to uphold, eh?” she asked. “A reputation for mediocrity you mean.”
“Even that is a reputation,” Evra replied.
Ryel shook her head at the trio of bandits. “The three of you are the hardest thing about this job, I hope you all know that.” She smiled at her friends as they chuckled. “Come on, I need to get the happy couple back to headquarters and run them through the gift shop. We have an afternoon tour to prepare for.”
The dwarves on the other side of the tree line had progressed from intense kissing to showering each other with lovey nicknames like “honey” and “dear” and … “platinum nugget.” Ryel wanted to vomit at the cuteness.
“Ugh,” she said as the four nodded to each other and went on their way. The three bandits made their way to the service road leading back to headquarters while Ryel made her way to the dwarves to escort them back on the main path, rubbing her freshly bruised butt cheek.